Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw, Octavinelle, Pomefiore ,Ignihyde ,Diasomnia , Scarabia
a/n: Since every post got over 100 likes each, here's the promised RSA version
warnings: fluff, ooc
word count: 1.8k
Neige was humming a song that sounded like it belonged in a forest clearing surrounded by bluebirds. He had prepared a beautiful, wholesome fruit and honey parfait. It was topped with perfectly whipped cream, edible flowers, and sweet apple slices cut into the shapes of little hearts. He was entirely confident, flashing a sparkling smile at his classmates.
Then the Head Chef walked by, wiping his hands on a towel. "Keep your fingers crossed, LeBlanche. Today's judge is a legendary picky eater. One weird texture and you're getting a zero."
Neige’s cheerful humming faltered by a fraction of an octave. "Oh? A difficult guest? Don't worry, Chef! Food made with love can make anyone smile—"
The cafeteria doors swung open. You walked in, giving a small, apologetic wave as you took your seat.
Neige’s jaw dropped. The little apple hearts in his hands suddenly felt like ticking time bombs. "[Name]?!", he squeaked.
His cheerful, bright-eyed persona momentarily fractured under a wave of sheer, internal dread. He knew your eating habits perfectly. You hated anything with an "unpredictable crunch." You couldn't stand the texture of edible flowers because they felt like "eating lawn clippings." And you absolutely despised it when honey made things too sticky.
Neige approached the table, his smile incredibly wide but visibly stiff. "H-Hi, [Name]! Fancy seeing you here! I made a special parfait... um, if you don't like the flowers, you can just blow them away like wishes, okay?"
You smiled up at him, wanting to support him so badly. You picked up your spoon. But as you lifted a bite, a stray flower petal got caught in a sticky swirl of honey, jiggling ominously. Your face instantly, involuntarily collapsed into an expression of quiet, profound sorrow.
Neige gasped, his hands flying to his rosy cheeks. The face! They're making the face! Oh no, the forest animals never look at my food like that! Am I a terrible boyfriend?!
To save him from a public crisis, you quickly took the bite, avoiding the petal. The whipped cream was light and perfect. You swallowed and smiled warmly. "It's alright, Neige! Really! The cream is so fluffy and sweet." Neige let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, his sparkling aura instantly returning as he clutched his hands together. "Oh, goodness! 'Alright' is a wonderful grade from you! Next time, I'm making a completely smooth vanilla pudding with absolutely no surprises!"
Che'nya (Alchemi Alchemivich Pinker)
Che'nya was upside down, dangling his legs over the kitchen counter while tossing a ball of dough between his hands. He had prepared a vibrant, multi-colored berry tart with a neon-pink glaze. It was chaotic, whimsical, and entirely uniquely him.
"Get down from there, Pinker," the Head Chef scolded. "And you better hope your flashy tart tastes normal. The judge today is a total nightmare to please. Super particular."
Che'nya let out a wide, mischievous purr, his eyes curving into crescents. "Nyahaha~ A picky mouse is just a fun mouse to tease! My flavors are magic—"
Then you sat down at the table.
Che'nya’s body instantly turned completely invisible, leaving only his floating, wide-eyed face and a static tail in the air. [Name]?!
His head materialized back onto his shoulders as he slid off the counter, a rare bead of sweat forming behind his cat ears. He knew your strict food laws. You hated berries with prominent seeds because they got "stuck in your teeth." You couldn't stand neon-colored food because it looked "unnatural." And his tart was currently a kaleidoscope of bright pink and seed-heavy raspberries.
"Heeeey there, [Name]~" Che'nya grinned, his floating head bobbing closer to you than usual as he slid the plate forward. "Look what I made! It's very shiny, isn't it? But, uh... if the colors make your eyes dizzy, you can just close them while you chew!"
You gave him a sweet, brave smile. "Thanks, Che'nya. I'll give it a try."
You picked up your fork and sliced off a small piece. But as you did, the bright pink glaze oozed out, revealing a dense cluster of raspberry seeds. Your face automatically contorted into a look of pure, instinctual, tragic dismay.
Che'nya’s tail stood straight up like a lightning rod. "Agh! The look of absolute defeat! You haven't even chewed it yet and you look like you've been hexed! Come on, don't look at my masterpiece like it's a hairball!"
To calm his frantic tail-swishing, you quickly popped the bite into your mouth, swallowing it fast to avoid the seeds. You offered a reassuring smile. "No, Che'nya, it's alright! The pastry crust is actually super buttery and delicious."
Che'nya blinked, his floating grin slowly returning to its usual massive width as he melted back into invisibility, leaving only his purring voice behind. "Nyahaha! 'Alright' is a passing grade in my book!"
Minajael stood at his station, completely composed and practical. He had approached the exam with the sharp, calculated precision of a prince who excelled at everything he touched. He had prepared a traditional, aromatic meat flatbread from the Scalding Sands, beautifully folded and lightly brushed with clarified butter. He was completely unbound by the stress of the kitchen, looking thoroughly relaxed.
Then the Head Chef called out, "Watch out, Rajah. The judge today has a reputation for being an absolute terror with textures. Don't let your guard down."
Minajael smoothly adjusted his patterned headband, his dark brown eyes cool and focused. "My, really? Maybe I might finally get my first ever critic since—"
The doors opened, and you walked in.
Minajael’s posture locked up. For a fraction of a second, his gold and teal eyeshadowed eyelids fluttered in absolute, uncharacteristic shock. [Name]?
His brilliant, versatile mind immediately shattered his calm facade and threw him into a high-speed strategy meeting with himself. He knew your eating restrictions inside and out because he actively tried to help you avoid them. You hated flatbreads if they were "too chewy" or "too doughy." You couldn't stand strong, overlapping herbs that "fought each other" in your mouth. And his flatbread was loaded with a robust blend of traditional spices.
Minajael approached your table, his baggy Sarouel pants flowing gracefully, though his hand shook slightly as he set the plate down. The gold coins and chains on his belt gave a frantic, nervous jingle.
"I have prepared a spiced flatbread, [Name]," Minajael said, his voice smooth but lacking its usual relaxed, casual air. He leaned in slightly, his long cloth tassels swaying near his waist. "I rolled the dough extra thin so it wouldn't be too dense. If... if the spices are too aggressive, please do not force yourself."
You smiled up at him, wanting to be a good partner to the brilliant prince who always looked out for you. You tore off a piece of the bread. But as you did, a heavy pocket of green herbs and melted butter became visible in the center. Your face instantly, involuntarily fell into an expression of profound, silent suffering.
Minajael’s left eyebrow twitched violently. They’re is doing the face. The 'this is a royal execution' face. For a man who prided himself on his freedom and ability to handle any situation, he felt completely trapped. "If it displeases you to that extent, [Name], I can throw it away. I don't care about the grade."
"No, Minajael, I want to try it!" you insisted. You took a bite, chewing through the initial burst of herbs. To your relief, the bread was light and crisp. You swallowed and smiled warmly. "It's alright! Truly. The bread is so crispy, and the butter makes it really savory."
Minajael stared at you for a long moment, the tension completely leaving his shoulders as he let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose. A practical, slightly relieved smirk finally graced his lips as he crossed his arms. "Alright? Well... considering your usual battle with anything green, I'll take 'alright' as a total victory. Next time, I'll omit the herbs entirely and just make it plain for you."
Rielle was practically vibrating with hyperactive energy, his long, wavy red hair bouncing past his waist as he proudly displayed his dish. Having longed for the surface world his entire life, he had eagerly prepared a classic "land dish": a rustic, hearty potato and leek soup with toasted croutons. He was smiling wide, his turquoise eyes shining with absolute optimism.
"Calm down, Prince Rielle," the Head Chef sighed. "And brace yourself. The judge today is incredibly finicky. If your soup has a weird film or texture, you're done for."
Rielle laughed heartily, adjusting the messy bun held together by a fork at the back of his head. "Haha! Don't worry, Chef! Everything on the surface tastes amazing to me! I'm sure the judge will love the adventure of—"
He froze mid-laugh as you sat down at the table.
Rielle’s jaw dropped. The gold, marine-themed hair cuffs on his head seemed to rattle with his sudden, immense panic. [Name]?!
His headfirst, reckless optimism completely crashed into reality. He knew your eating habits because he spent all his time trying to understand surface customs through you. You hated cream-based soups if they were "too thick." You thought cooked leeks felt like "slimy strings." And his croutons were currently soaking up the soup, becoming exactly the kind of mushy texture you despised.
Rielle marched over to your table, his dark blue button boots clicking loudly, the dozens of seashell and character charms hanging from his brown belts clattering frantically like a wind chime in a hurricane.
"Here is my surface soup, [Name]!" Rielle blurted out, his face flushing pink to match his blush. "I... I know you don't like mushy things! The croutons are getting soggy really fast! Oh no, the Flounder charm told me I should have kept them on the side! Don't eat the soggy parts!"
You smiled up at him, deeply touched by his enthusiastic, sweet panic. "It's okay, Rielle, it looks lovely."
You picked up your spoon and scooped up a bite, but a long, stringy piece of cooked leek wrapped itself around the spoon next to a melting crouton. Your face automatically contorted into a look of pure, instinctual, apocalyptic dread.
Rielle looked like his soul was being sucked out through his teal-eyelined upper lashes. He threw his hands in the air, his long red hair flying wildly. "Aaaagh! The face of ultimate surface despair! I've failed you! I should have stayed in the ocean! I'm a terrible land-boyfriend!"
To stop his dramatic downward spiral, you quickly swallowed the bite. The actual flavor of the potato broth was wonderfully seasoned and warm. You smiled brightly at him. "Rielle, stop! It's alright! The soup itself is so warm and comforting, and the seasoning is perfect!"
Rielle blinked, his chaotic energy instantly pivoting back to pure, blinding joy. He beamed down at you, his turquoise eyes sparkling. "Really?! It's alright?! Whew... you totally scared me with that look, [Name]! 'Alright' means I'm doing great for a sea prince, right? Next time, I'm blending it until it's as smooth as water!"
a/n: heh i need me more RSA content i love RSA sm, i should write more RSA
Do not steal/copy my ideas/writings, inspiration is okay but please credit me for all that's good. DO NOT use my writings to train ai or put in anything that has anything to remotely do with ai
ⓘcopyright, fic belongs to
@velsettetine 2026 only on tumblr!
origamiaround
areudirty
prguitarman
theartofmadeline
andulkaphoto
romaincrisis
titsay
