¡My World!

Riddle

- Riddle finds your genuine warmth refreshing, like a ray of sunshine after a cold, cloudy day. He strives to maintain an image of perfection around his peers, but when you enter the room, your sweet, warm smile radiating as you tell him about your day and crack a joke here and there, he just can’t help but let out a soft giggle, refined gaze cracking slightly.

- When you speak of your home back in your world, the various traditions and festivals you participated in, and the beautiful clothes you wore, he sees the genuine love you have for it, and the homesickness in your voice. He vows to you to one day experience it with you, the food and festivals you tell him about. In a place where he doesn’t have to be all proper for a day, and can laugh and dance around with you.

- The first time you lashed out at someone on his behalf, he was stunned. A couple students had been speaking ill of him behind his back, but you’d overheard them, your warm smile changing in an instant into an angry snarl, defending him with a vigour he’d never seen from you before. A part of him appreciated the defence, but he knew it could escalate, and couldn’t bear the thought of you getting hurt on his behalf. As such he stepped in as soon as he could, a hand on your shoulder to calm you down, as he scolded the other students.

- Later on he’ll chastise you for it, telling you not to go riding to his defence, but on the inside, a part of him enjoyed having someone stand up for him so firmly. He’ll bring you a cup of tea as your rage calms, that sweet, energetic warmth he’s come to know and love pouring off your lips once again.

Leona

- Leona finds your warm, summery smile annoying at first. It’s too bright, and he’s trying to sleep. He’s curt and irritable with you, despite your many attempts to break through his walls.

- Slowly, your presence in the greenhouse with him, his lazy afternoon naps as he dozes off under the sunlight to the sound of your voice talking about your hometown, the festivals and traditions you practiced, becomes a habit. He’ll start adding to your conversations, asking questions about food, or specific clothing, and even share some of the festivals he grew up participating in back home. As you grow closer, your cheery demeanor calming him like the warm sunlight he naps under, he starts to appreciate your presence, your jokes, the way you always make his day better no matter how bad it’s been.

- Leona’s used to being insulted. He’s failed classes and been held back enough that the comments simply bounce off him. He’s not affected by their words, at least not as much as he used to be, so he simply ignores the snide words his classmates whisper behind his back, or in the halls as he passes. But not you. One bad word about him from anyone and you’re there, yelling at them loud enough to cause a scene. Leona’s shocked, an unusual feeling for him to have these days, as he watches the warm sunlight he was so familiar with becoming a raging torrent of a storm within a blink of an eye, defending him so valiantly.

- He pulls you away from them with a “they’re not worth our time”, lightly amused as you yell at them even as you’re being dragged away. He’ll smile as he leads you away from them, a genuine smile, feeling unusually happy about it. You truly are a lioness within.

Azul

- Azul prides himself on his control, his ability to understand those around him, what they want, how badly they want it, and how he can manipulate them to his whims. And it was quite effective, garnering him many students under his command, to do as he wishes whenever he pleases. That was, until you came along.

- Your gentle smile, warm as the first ray of sunlight breaking through the icy winters of the Coral Sea. Your sweet laugh, a song of the sirens themselves. The excitement on your face as you spoke at length about your homeland, eyes glimmering with such pure happiness as you ecstatically told him about the many festivals and traditions you practiced, inquiring about some of his own back home.

- He was taken aback, unable to pinpoint anything under your genuine kindness to take advantage of, finding himself slowly growing soft, comfortable under your summery smile and the soft, lapping waves of your words. You wore him down with jokes, and a closeness very few ever dared to ask of him.

- The number of students at NRC who feel personally wronged by Azul, whether it be by a contract of their own choosing or in some other way, is quite large. And many of them make their dislike quite apparent, vocalizing their distrust in and hatred of the Octavinelle Housewarden, though not many have the gall to do so to his face. As such, they lie in wait, hushed whispers as he passes, glances behind his back. The twins tend to take notice, their mere glares enough to silence whomever dares to speak, but for those rare times they’re absent, he simply takes note of the individual and moves to ignore the comments.

- This time though, you stood by his side as he overheard them, a pair of students whispering in hushed tones around the corner, though their voices were not as quiet as they thought. You’d heard it too, it seemed, and your excited smile morphed into a more wrathful form, walking towards them without a second thought. Azul was intrigued by you, so warm and kind, yet dangerous and deadly when you saw fit. He mentally noted never to anger you, watching you affectionately with a gentle smile as you put the students in their place.

Kalim

- Kalim sees a kindred spirit in you, someone who’s warm. sweet, who loves to tell jokes, and to talk about your home. He’ll spend hours with you, trading stories about his home, the many festivals, traditions, clothes, food, and listening to you talk about your own. He can sense the homesickness in your voice as you talk, and understands you deeply.

- Kalim tries as best he can to replicate many of the foods and clothes you tell him about, attempting to get Jamil to cook whichever foods you rave about to him. He loves seeing you happy, and wants to do whatever he can to keep that warm, cheery smile on your face forever.

- Kalim knew what it was like to be insulted behind his back, or even when those speaking thought he was out of earshot. Being from the upper echelons of society, it wasn’t uncommon for jealousy and backhanded kindness to make its way before him. He never let it affect him, a simple shrug of his shoulders and a repasting of his casual, cheery smile, and it was nothing for anybody to worry about. That was, until you were around when it happened.

- The second their words rang out, hushed whispers that weren’t quite so hushed, your head snapped back, the suddenness scaring him. He watched you walk over, your sweet, warm demeanor gone in an instant, and bring those students to their knees with just your words. It sent a shiver down his spine, your anger, but the fact that that anger was directed on his behalf, it made him forget the words they spoke in the first place. He smiled, laughing as he led you away from their cowering forms, eyes sparkling with a newfound respect and affection for you.

Vil

- Vil has met many different kinds of people during his time in the entertainment industry, and those of them with selfish intentions far outweighed those that didn’t. He was used to others’ attempts to use him, for either fame, or money, or whatever else they sought.

- Perhaps that was why your genuine kindness came as a bit of a shock to him. It wasn’t that he saw the worst in people, it was just that expecting the worst, especially at the height of your fame, makes it easier to quell disappointment when they turn out to be as you expect. But you weren’t like that at all. You carried a warmth, like the sun itself shone down on him, a goddess of beauty gazing down from within the rays. Your smile was a beacon in the dark, a lighthouse to guide him through the muddy waters.

- You ended up in conversations with him quite often, your enthusiasm for learning more about him, combined with your own yearning to share stories of your homeland, the culture, clothes, food, and everything in between with him, made for hours and hours of time spent together. He became enthralled with learning about the fashion and beauty tips of your homeland, sharing his own with you in return, growing closer to you with every passing day.

- Envy, jealousy, hatred, all emotions that come with being a star. Fame is a double-edged sword, for the brighter the spotlight that shines at you, the darker and longer the shadow it casts behind you. And in those shadows many lie in wait, their sharp maws snapping at the thought of any single misstep you could take. Even when you step perfectly, nimbly balanced upon your tightrope, they still snide and sneer, words that could cut deep if you’re not careful. Vil understood this, and had over the years, slowly grown to feel numb to the cruel words of others.

- But you were new to this, and determined to defend him. When you noticed others laughing at him behind his back, your first move was to turn to anger, making them cower. Vil sighed as he noticed you, not as shocked by your sudden change in demeanor, but more outwardly disappointed in your uncouth behaviour as he pulled you away. Even so, a smile tugs at his lips and his heart flutters at the defence, knowing there are still those who care enough to stand up for others.

Idia

- Idia’s used to the dark, blue-light filled confines of his room. He stays holed up in there, keeping away from polite society, from the horrors of social contact and friendships. So the last thing a man like that expected was for a giant ball of sunshine to make its way into his space.

- You’re too bright, too warm, for his cold dark life. He winces when you smile, squinting his eyes as if he’s gazed directly into the molten fires of the sun, blazing so close it could burn him alive. Your laugh is musical, like the idol bands he listens to, but so close he could reach out and touch you. He does, one finger lightly tapping your arm, just to see if the beautiful, summery sunshine gazing at him is real or if he’s finally gone insane.

- Your enthusiasm is far too extroverted for him, joking about and telling him stories about your homeland. He sits and listens, enthralled by your voice, by the fact that someone like you would even give someone like him the time of day. Slowly, as his initial skepticism of your intentions dies away, he starts telling you more about his life, about the games he plays, the animes he enjoys, and is pleasantly surprised when you nod and ask questions, genuinely interested in what he loves.

- Idia’s not a confrontational person. He knows, fears what others say about him behind his back, and tries to stay as far as he can from others on the rare occasion he’s forced to be out in public. When he does overhear a snide comment, or mocking laugh directed towards him, it makes him shrivel up, curling further into himself in the hopes he’ll disappear out of sight, a shameful sadness curdling in his stomach.

- One, rare occasion he’s out with you, it happens again. He feels embarrassed, not just because of the mockery but because you’re there to witness it, scared you’ll finally see him as the loser he is. But instead, you get up, make your way to the perpetrators and give them a piece of your mind. He sits there, shocked, scared slightly by your temperamental rage, but warm inside. You’re defending him? Him of all people? It makes him giddy, edges of his fiery hair tinted pink as he watches you, dazed, as you make the people who insulted him cower. Later on he’ll feel further embarrassed by the whole situation, but still, a soft smile will break through, your actions making him feel truly seen and cared for for the first time in a long time.

Malleus

- Malleus has met many different people during his time at NRC, many different personalities, ideals, and intentions. The one thing in common throughout these many people, is their fear and wariness of him. They see fae, and him, as those to be feared, as if he would be so cruel as to simply strike them down at his whim. He’s aware he’s far more powerful than any of them, but those in power do not simply toy with others, they use their power for good. And yet, they do not see that in him.

- You were different from them. You didn’t fear him in the slightest, even awarding him a nickname with that sweet, warm smile of yours. His curiosity overtakes him, wanting to know more about your strangely genuine heart, unfazed by his grand power or title.

- He’d wander with you for hours as you talked, telling him about the many festivals and traditions of your homeland, inquiring with a tilt of your head about fae customs, and how different they are. When asked why you held no fear for him, you’d smile, joking about how he’s such a sweetheart, and how nobody in their right mind would fear such a gentle soul.

- Malleus had no experience with being mocked, or insulted. People tended to treat him with the utmost respect, whether out of fear for their safety, or a genuine reverence of his power, it was unknown. But a true, outright portrayal of hatred, he had not experienced. And yet, they say there is a first time for everything. He was taking another walk with you, arms linked, wandering through the courtyard of NRC. A group of students, though he did not recognize them, seemed to laugh mockingly and sneer at him. Before Malleus could even react, you stood before them, your anger loud and direct, as they cowered and apologized.

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle first met you when you accidentally wandered into Heartslabyul during one of your “curious adventures.” He was in the middle of lecturing Ace for breaking rule #657 (something about incorrect teacup placement), and there you were staring dreamily at the sky, mumbling about how the red roses seemed “too red to be real.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ He thought you were mocking him at first… until you blinked up at him with that innocent, whimsical wonder and curtsied. That threw him completely off-balance

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Ace quickly had to explain that you weren’t a troublemaker just someone with a “head that easily wandered away or just jumped down a rabbit hole to somewhere else,” as he put it. Riddle didn’t quite understand… but he didn’t collar you, which says a lot

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Despite his initial skepticism, Riddle quickly realized you thrived during tea time. The structured schedule soothed your often-drifting sense of time, and the comforting rhythm of tea-pouring helped ground you

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You’d hum little songs under your breath while setting the table, folding napkins into shapes of animals or teapots. Riddle secretly adored it but pretended to scold you for “distracting the other students.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Sometimes you’d slip into a daydream mid-sip eyes unfocused, a soft smile on your face. The first time it happened, Riddle panicked, thinking you’d fainted. Trey calmly explained that you sometimes “wander off.” Now, whenever it happens, Riddle quietly moves your teacup aside so you don’t spill it.

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Though sometimes you argued about the rules of heartslabyul. “Why, if everyone obeyed every rule, wouldn’t that make life dreadfully dull?” “Rules are in place to maintain order, [Name]!” “Order, perhaps, but where’s the fun?” Riddle was visibly malfunctioning, “Fun- fun is not the point!” Despite all the bickering, he genuinely enjoys your company. You challenge him in a way no one else does, never disrespectful, just… full of that curious logic that somehow makes him think differently about his own rigidity

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You fall asleep in the oddest places, the number of times you scared other Heartslabyul members, and your upper classman was random. You'd be asleep under the hedge maze arch, on the dorm’s piano bench, inside a teacup display once

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ At first, Riddle scolded you endlessly for disrupting decorum but when Trey pointed out that you wake up disoriented if startled, Riddle started… gently adapting

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ He quietly instructs dorm members not to wake you. “Leave them be. They’re… resting,” he’ll say curtly, hiding how protective he’s become. Sometimes, when everyone’s gone, he’ll drape his cape over you to keep you warm. If you stir, he clears his throat and insists it was to simply to prevent you from catching a cold

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Trey once made strawberry tarts for tea, and Riddle noticed the nostalgic, wistful look in your eyes as you ate. You reminded him of himself a little out of place, yearning for something comforting and familiar

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ After that, he made sure to always have a small sweet treat available “for guest courtesy,” though everyone knows it’s really for you

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You sometimes gift him daisy chains or small trinkets you make while daydreaming. He pretends to sigh about “nonsensical clutter” but keeps them in a locked drawer anyway, and with the daisy chains, he wears them every now and then, ignoring the gaping Deuce and Ace

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Sometimes, during long lectures or crowded halls, your surroundings start to bend. Riddle’s voice sounds far away, and suddenly the world feels like it’s shrinking or you’re growing

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You’ve described it to him once “It’s like everything tilts just slightly wrong like being half in a dream.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ The first time it happened in front of him, Riddle noticed the way your pupils dilated and your hands started to tremble while your gaze went glassy. He didn’t yell, didn’t scold he froze for half a heartbeat before softly saying, “[Name]? Look at me. You’re here, in Heartslabyul. Breathe with me in, two, three…” His calm tone surprised everyone, including himself

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You once told Riddle that sometimes you feel small, like the floor stretches endlessly away. Other times, the world feels too tight, like you’re about to burst through the walls

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ His heart ached hearing that he can’t imagine feeling so unsure of what’s real sometimes so he came up with an idea “If you ever start to feel that way,” he said, offering a small silver thimble, “keep this in your pocket. It’s small, precise, constant. Touch it when the world changes size. It’ll remind you what’s real.” You still carry that thimble everywhere

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Sometimes you’ll quietly mutter, “This doesn’t feel real.” At first, Riddle didn’t know what to do with that he’s a man of logic, not abstraction but he’s learning that not all things can be reasoned away

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Now he gently asks you questions to pull you back: “What do you see? What colour is the teacup? Count the sugar cubes.” “My voice. Can you hear it clearly? Tell me something true about this moment.” His grounding methods are rule-like but effective, which makes sense order is comfort for both of you, just in different ways

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ When Heartslabyul’s students start arguing or breaking rules, Riddle’s about to explode and then you just appear beside him, calmly sipping tea. “Maybe take a breath before you decapitate them?” “No one is being decapitated!” “Good. Progress.”

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ The others have noticed that when you’re around, Riddle scolds less and listens more

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ There's a game you both play sometimes. You call it “down the hallway,” a silly grounding trick you made up. Whenever you both get overwhelmed, you point to something nearby and describe it until it feels real again. “That painting looks heavier than it should.” “Nonsense. Paintings have no measurable mass.” “See? You’re playing already.” It works better than either of you expected

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ He has given you lessons about manners and literally forced you to speak louder, telling you how to properly greet the housewarden of Heartslabyul like the Queen of Hearts

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle finds your curious, wandering personality both exasperating and inspiring. You, in turn, admire his dedication

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Slowly, you teach him that not everything must be perfect or predictable that sometimes nonsense has its own kind of logic

━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle teaches you that structure isn’t the enemy of imagination it can be a way to stay grounded in a world that often feels too unreal

🦁 » 𝓛𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫 ,

—> to be his fwb that means he seriously likes you, or at the least can put up with you, being the second born and having you all to himself makes him feel like he’s slightly won in life even if your a literal pain in his arse.

—> buys small gifts for you (would never admit it though, he leaves it in places he knows you will find it) just don’t bring it up to him because it will put him in a mood.

—> he probably doesn’t even bother threatening you with the fwb status or exploits it, for many reasons, 1. he can’t be bothered, 2. doesn’t actually gain anything from it, 3. where’s the fun in that? he has people who are scared of him anyway so you must be a little bit scared of him too.

—> being friends with benefits with him also means the both of you being secret which he actually surprisingly finds joy out of it, maybe it’s your reaction or how loud you are he finds it amusing, the fact anyone could simply come and see the two of you.

♠️ » 𝓐𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚 ,

—> i feel like becoming friends with benefits with him was your first mistake, especially if you didn’t like how cocky he was beforehand, you just gave him a lot more of confidence so he’s more smug then ever.

—> he definitely uses it against you, only for his benefit it helps him get his own way while your cursing under your breath for even agreeing to the whole thing in the first place.

—> adding onto that part the one time he especially used it is when you, him and deuce are hanging out and you defend deuce over him, he takes mild offence to it before his smug grin returns and he opens his loud mouth ‘oh really? because last night—“ you immediately cut him off, poor deuce is so confused on why you switched sides out of the blue.

—> he definitely tells deuce about it at some point, telling him as much details he can get out before deuce smacks him on his cheek for even telling him such things.

🫧 » 𝓕𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡 ,

—> if you got annoyed with floyd teasing you beforehand i would sit down and get prepared, he teases you a lot more and it’s not just friendly teasing anymore your swear everyone knows what is happening between you too because he doesn’t even hide it infront of others nor does he change his jokes.

—> he’s not embarrassed at all, it’s like he clearly has no clue what tmi is, you could be in the mostro lounge with ace deuce— heck literally anyone and floyd will come over, not even sparring a glance at whoever your with and say “ohh~~ your so quiet now! you weren’t last night.” you don’t even bother smacking him for it you just lower your head in immediate embarrassment.

—> if anyone else knows about it, it’s jade. floyd might of told him, might not, it could just be twin tuition but you notice how jade looks at you now trying to figure out what is going on with you as if he doesn’t already know himself.

—> floyd is just straight up immature about the whole thing, he thinks of it like a game he’s just waiting for the moment you crack and grown tired at his relentless teasing.

🪼 » 𝓐𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨 ,

—> azul? why would you even suggest that to him, he’s immediately using it as blackmail against you, threatening it with you, he doesn’t even have to use his words all he does is stare at you and you know.

—> unlike floyd or anyone else, azul keeps it remained as a secret even while he threatens you with blackmail, to be truthfully i don’t think he will ever tell anyone about it, he just likes to feel like he’s in control. and well he technically is.

—> he also made you, obviously, sign a contract, he doesn’t even let you read it, covering the other bits with his hands as you try to scan your eyes across the page but fail, you pretty much just sold your soul to the devil of the ocean.

ִ › ⦂ masterlist here — requests are still open

.. And now you’ve got a boy that’s always on your case! As much as you’re loathe to admit, perhaps you shouldn’t have offered him the plush of your kindness, but you can’t help it! Unguical, anxiously-bitten fractures of his nails tell you of his life back home, so you often, absentmindedly,  mend it by gifting him gloves. Bare minimum — you justify until he’s still color-coding his notes, watering down the hues into a milder shade, and his cheeks mimic the red of his hair when you knuckle under and call him cute. You can’t help it. Overbearing, dictatorial and cute, a most noxious combination! Deadly is your inclination to keep on labeling him as a helpless boy. You tell him grades don’t erase one year off your life, especially when he keeps looking so, so despondent after a lower score than expected. He holds onto you a while longer . . . face stuffed with the fabric of your clothes, until you’re eventually in his room in a display of what one would call trespassing, splayed on his bed, clandestine sleepovers that seldom happen because both of you are so terminally frightened by the staunch woman he calls his mother. But when they do, you make the most of it.

You do his makeup sometimes, and eventually he starts replicating styles he wants for himself, no matter if he’s keeping it under the wraps. Fingers perched upon the fair of his eyes where you coat them in a swathe of jet-black, lips pressed diffidently against the valleys of your finger when you apply onto them the deepest tinges of murk, as he tries, oh-so frantically, to avoid the reign that your eyes have over him. To think he was that dictatorial boy once, and now he’s your Riddle. Darker, bolder colors?  He’s improving, you think, the notion perishing when a whimper sounds in the air at the lessening distance between you. Not as much as you think, but he’s got it.

 . . . That’s until you meet his mother!! >_< Ouch, she takes you by the ear and he practically cowers, never straining to save you from the confrontation. Bone-deep is his fear, too bad you kept on deluding yourself into thinking you could repair that battered, broken heart. You both cry, and it isn’t until she shows you a journal page in your boy’s handwriting, your name marked with a plethora of hearts and wanton annotations that she describes you as a deterrence to her dear son’s future! She reports you right after, you wretched temptress!

That’s the last time you hear from him before they move out the city entirely.

There goes your what-if.

Ace.. the cashier at the garden-variety convenience store you stop by after school, you really think he’s no better than half the other boys at your instituition, and he really buttresses your ire by always guessing what snack you're about to buy before you even reach the counter. Insufferable, you deem him as he seems to think he has a chance with you at the commonplace residence, feather-light shells of touches roving over the rind of your wrist. You humor him, if only because this is the last time you’ll ever be at the receiving end of such an action, but in an unforeseen turn of events, you find he's surprisingly resolute in his pursuit. Ding, you get a follow request from an all-too-familiar grin, and there goes your finger choosing to spoil him for a while longer!!  Big mistake!

Now you’ve got the picture-perfect anecdote of a summetime escapade. You’re mistaken that this relationship is only ephemeral, but that’s before he invites you over to his house and you wallow in his bed stiffly, arm slung around and around your frame to allow it to press against his chest (which is quite useless because you are roused from your sleep with him sprawled over you) He introduces you to his parents and acclaimed older brother, and they all wonder how he could possibly ‘bag you’. Things have gone by so rapidly you don’t even have time to blink! In places and mementos where the area was denuded of any presence besides yours, you now have your better half to stick close to — except you think he isn’t as serious as you. Flurries of droplets sprinkle at you in beachtime watergun fights, but that’s all there is to it: a rapport with no romantic foundation to dwell in. You sometimes wonder if he wanted a partner or a bro. A partner, you hum in tandem, but his obscene and lewd half-jokes have kept you on tenterhooks ever since.

He rips stickers off your journal because you detest the sticky residue to do it yourself, then preens about being the best boyfriend you could’ve ever asked for. Eyes screwed, your face knocking a grin out of him, he shows you off to his friends, and you swell in the spotlight of it all. Misplaced pride is what drives him to offer his non-existent biceps as grab handles whenever you’re on the bus. How stupid.

At the end of the day, he is that selfsame, ostensibly dim-witted cashier who pulled you along in the storage room for brief respites and probed at you for any crumbs of your attention— but now that you have him, what are you going to do with him? Deadbeat boyfriend, you think, for someone who’s so desperate he’s quite better off with a gaggle of buddies than with you. Doomed is your relationship, but greed is what pulls you to keep on leeching off of it.

Deuce . . .  the delivery guy who always apologizes because he thinks he's late, even when he arrives five minutes early. Globular patches of desiccated crimson sully his knuckles, and you’re far too deep in your guilt that you offer to mend them with linen, sweet-smelling bandages he conspicuously tries to sniff.  He got into a fight, he tells you, before soft-pedaling the implication by putting a bow of ‘I stopped it’ on it. But that gaze rife with regret tells you otherwise, especially when he calls his mother to inform her he’s all safe and sound. A total mama’s boy? Cutie! You send him off into the downpour with an umbrella, and his face morphs so pink it elicits a misplaced giggle.  The next time he delivers to your house, he gives it back, washed, dried, folded. The next, and the next, and the next. The serendipitous routine has evolved into your life that you see him on the streets and out and about, so you don't think much of it when you give him your phone number! When’s the last time you’ve made friends with a delivery guy?

 . . He’s wayy too proper. Every package is buttressed by two hands, he takes his shoes off before entering, and he says thank you after you thank him >w< One thing leads to another and you find yourself at the very cusp of airy euphoria when he takes his bike for a ride with you in tow, wind’s fingers threading through your hair and your arms snug, shrouded around his rigid waist. Such a sweet boy, you think, he always chases after your praise and contact. Validation is what he needs to fully flourish and hit his stride — and it’s not nearly as cute as it is deeply enervating, you quickly find out. To be the best of the best, he thinks his prowess lies in warding off any look sent your way, then letting his trek over your face to a look of unalloyed disappointment.

Such a sweet boy, obviously. You think. Until you don’t.. when you catch him knee-deep in a street fight, roughing someone you know up!!

You atempt a brute-force escape, but then as your misfortune would have it, your face is cradled by pyretic hands who beg you to stay before you’ve even verbalized alarm, mementos implanted onto your skin’s plane in a scatter of lunular shaped edges. Hands planted over your thighs to cease the thought of escape, albeit almost instinctual, he pleads. He’ll do anything for you, he says, but one look at the bloodshed says otherwise! You don’t even get to take the victim to a hospital, you just let him place you on the bike, and disappear into the night’s frigid embrace.

 Trey ... the boy next door your mother has made the object of her interminable praise, but you can’t seem to place your finger on why he unnerves you.  Your neighbour’s dear son, if you will and  much to your chagrin, when your mother’s palate goes through its usual mercurial overflow, you’re coerced into rapping your knuckles against the door and beholding him first thing in the very ill-tempered morning you wake up to.  He’s a dentistry student, croons your mother, and for that reason alone, the almost bona fide,  humdrum part of him has you deeming him your dear confidant. He’ll tease you, he listens to you, surely he could never do the things your fickle mind is scared of!! An old brother is the sole thing he embodies, you think as he untangles your earphones, an older brother, that’s all!  >w< . .   .  

You familiarize yourself with the routine. Wenever your mother bakes too much, she sends you over with a plate. Whenever his family has extra fruit from their garden, he knocks on your door with a basket. Somewhere along the years, "Can you take this over to Trey?" became less of a chore and more of an excuse to spend ten minutes talking on his porch, and him humouring your whims. He's everything you could ask for, the best guide — accentuated when your hands interlink as you cross the road.

That’s all until one day you knock to a house purged of sweet parents, who you learn are away on a trip. Invitation inside is only cordial and you humbly acquiesce, only you now find yourself in awkward silence, denuded only when he adjusts those full-rimmed glasses.

Now you're just wondering how you could possibly allow this to happen. With his digits coaxing your mouth into a soundless entry, you try to dissuade yourself from the manner in which he’s pinning you down, wrists ensnared above your head. Incisors, canines, premolars, molars. You try to resist by drawing blood, a chuckle blooms instead. Just sit back and slacken, will you? You will forget this. You want to. But one thing is immutable: no one will believe you over him. ♡

Cater . . your older cousin's friend who's been around so often he somehow became your friend too, only you think he does >w< He’s got a fluid mosaic of emotions as a face, and sometimes you wonder if you’re indulging in his social media related caprices, or his unusually handsy nature.  He's got a million roulette of selfies with everyone except himself, somehow remembers your birthday every year, and always texts you whenever he finds a café "that's soooo your vibe." Oh, just loosen up, will you? He persists just to hear the single word cay-cay branch from your lips, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t drunk off the high you got whenever he took you out to cacophonous parties under the guise of a casual hangout. Unpredictability is his forte, and you’re in knee-deep in it, hands skimming over the skin beneath your shirt, head lolling on the dip of your chest — this is what friends do, he persists even as his mouth chases yours.

A flash goes off at your writhing mien. He tells you he’s uncertain whether he wants to show you off to the world or keep you all to himself, and you feel so special you keep the profession bottled up in the chalice that is your heart. Older cousin, is the bridge between you and him, so you realize you don’t know anything about him than the mien he plucks out and bares before you. Sometimes when you’re alone you catch him scrolling through a web’s myraid of photos, contouring the sides of his face in an eruption of phosphorescent screenlight, before lips plant themselves across the pane of your cheek in a farewell kiss. A personal word with your cousin, he tells you, had him ruminating over your relationship. You deserve better. You both need distance. He can’t do this. Surely, you never thought he could do this with you?

Another morning, another flower carefully wrapped, waiting for her at the foot of her dorm entrance.

A sigh.

“—Again?” The small gray demon hopped onto [Yn]’s shoulder, watching as the flowers kept piling up at the entrance of Ramshackle over the past couple of weeks.

Roses, peonies, sunflowers, daisies… Every kind of flower you could imagine lined up each morning before classes began, waiting for their owner.

[Yn], on the other hand, barely spared them a glance before stepping over them and continuing on her way.

“—Whoever it is, they’re seriously trying hard to hex me,” the girl muttered as she shut the door, ignoring her secret admirer’s gift for yet another day.

“—Did people use flowers for curses in your old world?” the demon asked curiously, unable to believe something so fragile could hold that much malice.

“—If you step on them, something bad can happen, so it’s better not to touch them. I don’t wanna end up like my uncle—some lady cursed him and he ended up… well, with the angels,” the girl recalled her past life in her beloved Latin America and the stories her mother used to tell her to keep her from picking things up off the ground. The threats had worked.

She hadn’t read any of the love letters that came with the flowers each morning, either. In her own words: “Hell no—what if I get cursed? Nope.”

And as the hours passed, the girl and her little demon began another day at the prestigious magic academy.

Notes piled up on her desk as usual. Her classmates on both sides would always pass her colorful notes filled with cheesy lines… but she always took them as jokes, laughing them off, lightly punching their arms and ignoring them. Sometimes she’d even draw a rude gesture or reply with a simple, “Your mom.”

And it was just that—[Yn] could be a bit… rough when joking or chatting with her friends.

Meanwhile, the boy who had been trying to win her over for weeks simply couldn’t understand what he was doing wrong for the bright-eyed girl to be so cold.

Was she in love with someone else?

Maybe he wasn’t her type…

What if she already had a boyfriend?

The boy shook his head, brushing away the imaginary storm cloud of questions forming around the girl he liked.

He just couldn’t figure it out.

Every morning he hurried to leave a letter and a flower at her door. Sometimes he’d send her romantic notes in class through her classmates, other times he’d even send her dessert through Grim (which never actually reached her), and now… she ignored him while getting lost in her friends’ antics.

How were you this hard to crack?

Riddle

♡ The Heartslabyul leader was one of the least experienced when it came to this, but he truly tried his best. He had fallen for the prefect because of her bravery and courage, but he hadn’t expected her not to need a prince charming… How do you win over a princess who saved herself years ago?

♡ He tried the conventional approach for days, but got no results and slowly began to lose hope of ever having a relationship with the girl who stole his breath away. Still, Trey and Cater wouldn’t let him give up.

♡ After a long talk, they basically forced him to confess his feelings to [Yn] face-to-face—admit that he was the one sending the flowers and… that he wasn’t trying to curse her… excuse me?

♡ Well, you never know. You get points with him for being cautious of your surroundings.

Azul

♡ Okay, he had handled two wild eels before—he could handle this. You weren’t a beast… right?

♡ Azul tried everything he could. He sent coupons to his restaurant with personal invitations alongside the twins, but it seemed like you ignored them because they were “scary.”

♡ He had to lock himself in his office for a while to come up with a plan where you could return his feelings—and where he wouldn’t end up as a joke if you didn’t feel the same.

♡ Even with a board full of ideas, he ultimately chose the simplest one: go directly to you and speak honestly about his gifts.

♡ No, really—no fine print this time. He genuinely wants to love you… because from what the merman has seen, you’d be the one taking care of him.

Vil

♡ You ignored him?… Excuse me?!

♡ Ahem—well, anyone can make mistakes. It’s normal. Maybe Rook placed the flowers wrong, or Epel forgot to give you the movie tickets—which you definitely didn’t ignore… right?

♡ The dorm leader of beauty was convinced it was just a string of small errors. After all, there was no way you’d ignore a celebrity like him—much less pass up the chance to be loved by him.

♡ Or at least, that’s what he tried to believe. Because in the privacy of his room, he lay staring at the ceiling, wondering if he had fallen for you precisely because you were unattainable—even for someone like Vil.

♡ After all, he didn’t like girls approaching him and trying to flirt. He fell for the way you simply ignored him and kept walking, as if he were nothing more than just another student.

♡ Fine. Call Rook—we have a dinner to prepare and a conversation to have. This ends today. Though he’s not ready to take “no” for an answer.

Epel

♡ His first thought upon seeing the prefect was that she was beautiful. Watching her jump into a fight without fear or shame and knock other guys to the ground left him completely smitten. From that moment on, the letters started coming. Huh? Flowers…?

♡ He had never left you flowers with his letters… what are you talking about?

♡ Epel isn’t much of a romantic, so sometimes he’d just walk up to chat and then leave, later sending his apple dessert with Grim to the girl who kept him daydreaming. Though it seemed like you never ate it.

♡ The apple of Pomefiore wouldn’t give up that easily—but he didn’t want Vil or Rook involved, since they’d definitely give him overly cheesy advice for a girl like you. Even so, they already knew everything—and were keeping a watchful, somewhat threatening eye on you.

♡ Once again, he borrowed a motorcycle from Ignihyde and stopped in front of the dorm with only two residents. This afternoon, he was going to talk about how he felt.

♡ Because the first one to fall in love loses… right?