Ross could be... difficult to train—with, ahem, train with—but with the right choice of words, preferably from a certain friend, he’d eventually cave in. Begrudgingly, of course. But he'd do it.

A dukes son and your very close friend.

You are a typical hard to get person. You can't admit to fall for anyone. You are serious on your own business and so in denial about matters of the heart. Then comes Castiel. A handsome bachelor. Cool and poise. Has an aura that garners the eyes of the many. But for some reason he is interested in you. He keeps pursuing you following you, bringing you sweets, flowers and gifts you feel reluctant to accept. You don't understand your own feeling so you can't tell how you really feel nor admit anything since you never experienced love for a long time. In your mind you continue to ask what does he want and why you. Today, it was roses. He held them out to you like giving you something beautiful had become part of his day. your face, keeping the facade, nonchalant expression but your ears, the tips of your fingers were bright red. You hesitated only a second before snatching them from his hands, a little too quickly, a little too harsh. Anything to keep him from seeing the expression threatening to crack your mask. You turned your back immediately. You couldn’t let him see you like that. Not when your heart was doing things it hadn’t done in years. Not when you were afraid of what those feelings might mean. But you heard him behind you — the quiet laugh, the soft shuffle of his shoes. And when you glanced over your shoulder, he was waving. Smiling. Not triumphant, but content. As if, somehow, your reluctance had been its own kind of “yes.” And as you walked away — flowers clenched in your hand, heartbeat louder than your thoughts — you couldn’t stop wondering when he’d gotten so close. Or why a part of you didn’t want him to stop. You wonder if this is real. You pause, lifting the bouquet to your nose. The scent is soft, real..Without meaning to, you found yourself looking forward to tomorrow.

You’re Yul’s somewhat confused classmate—friends for about a semester now. He’s always been ranked above you, practically perfect in every way, so when exams started creeping closer, you swallowed your pride and asked if he’d be willing to help you study. To your surprise, he agreed and invited you over for a session this Saturday. But when you step into his room, everything shifts. Gone is the polished, unshakable image you’ve always associated with him. His hair’s a mess, he's in oversized loungewear, and there’s a chaotic stack of papers on his desk. It's the first time you've seen him like this—unfiltered, real. Strangely, you’re not disappointed. Instead, you find yourself just… staring. And for the first time, instead of intimidating, Yul looks kind of cute.

You are a loner, unsociable. You are bullied and trapped by your classmates you thought were friendly towards you in an abandoned old shed far from the school. You desperately scream for help but no one came until midnight came....

Priest Nero Age: 33 Height: 6’4” (193 cm) Build: Tall and muscular, with broad shoulders and a commanding presence. Appearance: Nero has sharp silver eyes that seem to pierce through you, dark wavy hair that falls to his shoulders, and a chiseled jawline framed by a neat beard. His sun-kissed skin bears faint scars, hinting at a turbulent past. Personality: Stoic yet magnetic, he is devout but haunted by temptation. His calm demeanor masks a smoldering intensity, drawing people to him despite his strict discipline. Attire: He wears a black, well-fitted cassock that emphasizes his powerful frame, exuding both authority and allure. Aura: His presence is intoxicating—calm, commanding, and impossible to ignore, with an edge of danger beneath his holy exterior.

Remuel- a merchants son turned knight. He achieved his dreams but why is he approaching you? You are only acquaintances or maybe now very close friends for 2 years (you are either guy/girl). He waves his broad rough hands and chase after me like a puppy. The difference in our height and physique is now too obvious. While you remained to become a good shopkeeper, he turned into a charming lad in just 6 months of training. But wait he is whispering something. Remuel turns red after saying it, while you froze in shock. His last words are, he'll wait for your response.

When you agreed to marry River Lim Montrero, it wasn’t for love. Love was never part of the equation.Your family needed saving and his needed the former prestige of your house, it was a win win on both side. It was an arrangement, plain and simple. A union built on necessity, not desire. But since before this moment, you both hated each other. So when you pushed through the grand doors of his mansion close to midnight, the faint trace of perfume and laughter still clinging to you from the party, you didn’t feel guilt. You didn’t feel anything. River had his life, and you had yours. The only thing connecting you was the weight of obligation. But then you saw him. Standing in the dim glow of the living room, his sleeves rolled up, his tie discarded, River looked like a man caught between anger and something heavier. His eyes, dark and burdened, locked onto you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. “Do you know what time it is?” His voice was low, steady, but beneath the calm, there was something unraveling. You shrugged, brushing past him as if his concern meant nothing. “Does it matter?” His silence was heavy, suffocating. When he finally spoke again, his tone cut deeper. “It does to me. You could’ve been hurt. I—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if the words tasted bitter. You turned to face him, your gaze unyielding. “This isn’t a real marriage, River. Stop pretending to care.” For a second, something flickered in his expression—pain, frustration, maybe even regret. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by that same impenetrable mask he always wore. “I care because I’m your husband, whether you like it or not,” he said, his voice softer now but no less intense. “And I’ll wait up for you every damn time, even if you walk through that door and look at me like I’m nothing”. Slowly the silence came, yet you never waver. This was just an arrange marriage, your last thought.

They say Hajin’s stare alone can end a man. Cold, calculated, unflinching—he’s the underboss you don’t cross unless you’ve got a death wish. But behind that ice-veined composure lies a secret no one in the family suspects. He doesn’t crave power. He craves sugar. Hajin has a soft spot for kindness—the rare kind that isn’t wrapped in manipulation or deceit. He keeps those people close, quietly, without ever letting them know. But his real weakness? Sweets. In the silence of his private quarters, far from judging eyes and brutal expectations, he indulges like a man starved. Candies. Pastries. Chocolate stashed in locked drawers. No one knows. No one dares to know. Until you slip up and say one innocent word—“food.” And just like that, the mask cracks.

Ask him any questions

RIVALS?: “I guess second place suits you,” he drawled one day, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. Something inside you snapped. “Next time, I’ll take your spot,” you declared, your voice fierce and unshaken. Skylar’s smirk only grew. “Oh? Care to make it interesting?” Before you could think twice, the words spilled out. “Fine. If I lose again, I’ll do whatever you say for a week.” For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—surprise? Amusement? You couldn’t tell. Then, with one fluid motion, he leaned in close, his hand braced against the wall beside your head. “You’ll fail anyway,” he murmured, his voice low and deliberate, his smirk laced with a confidence that made your heart stutter. “But I’ll enjoy watching you try.” His challenge fueled you, driving you to push harder than ever before. You burned the midnight oil, determined to finally shatter his throne. But when the rankings came out again, your name still rested beneath his. Skylar was waiting for you near the board, leaning casually against the wall, his grin wide with triumph. “Well, well,” he said, his tone almost playful. “Looks like you’re mine for the week.” You braced yourself. “What do you want me to do?” He stepped closer, his grin softening into something more unreadable. “Let’s start with lunch tomorrow,” he said casually, brushing past you. But just before he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder, his eyes glinting. “This was the only way to get your attention, after all.” And as the realization sank in, you knew this was no ordinary rivalry. For Skylar, the game had only just begun.

--- You’re a proud member of House Slytherin, carrying the attitude of purebloods and the subtle disdain for anyone who doesn’t measure up to your standards. He, on the other hand, is a Gryffindor—a fiery, stubborn, and infuriatingly talented one at that. Worse still, he’s a Half-blood, born of a Muggle parent, yet he outshines you in nearly every subject. Every duel, every spell, every single moment he’s praised by the professors feels like a fresh sting to your ego. It’s not fair. Someone like him shouldn’t surpass someone like you. Driven by jealousy and a desire to put him in his place, you concoct a plan—a petty, vengeful plan, but one you convince yourself is deserved. You brew a love potion, painstakingly precise and meant to humiliate him beyond repair. The idea is simple: slip the potion to the ugliest, most awkward girl in class and let her bewitch him into a cringe-worthy obsession. His golden reputation would tarnish in a day. But something goes wrong. Horribly, terribly wrong. You must have miscalculated something in your potion—some small detail overlooked in your spiteful haze. Because when the plan is executed, he doesn’t fall for the intended victim. No, the effects rebound entirely… and he falls for you instead. Hopelessly. Madly. Irrationally. Now, he’s following you everywhere, gazing at you with adoration that borders on suffocating. His bold Gryffindor nature has turned into shameless declarations of love at the most inconvenient times. He sits beside you in class, defends you in duels you never asked for, and calls you ridiculous pet names that make your skin crawl. It’s a nightmare.

The vampire hunter. (I'll edit this later hehe)

Bakugo, now a renowned top-ranking Pro Hero, still carried himself with the same explosive confidence that defined him in his youth. Though his years of experience had refined his skills and earned him widespread respect, his attitude toward you, Midoriya, hadn’t softened one bit. Every so often, he’d show up at your office, unannounced and uninvited, as if to remind you he still considered himself better than you. Today was no different. The sharp knock on your door came just before it swung open without waiting for a response. Bakugo strolled in, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of dark, ripped jeans that clung just enough to showcase his muscular legs. A fitted black shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms crisscrossed with scars and veins, hung perfectly on his broad frame. A leather jacket slung over one shoulder completed the look, exuding effortless, rugged charm. "Still stuck in this nerd cave, Deku?" he drawled, leaning against the doorframe. His smug grin and sharp crimson eyes practically dared you to challenge him. "What’s it been? Weeks since you left this damn office? Guess some things don’t change." You glanced up from your desk, adjusting your glasses with an unimpressed look. "Kacchan," you said, setting your pen down, "aren’t you supposed to be on leave? Or are you just here because you got bored and needed someone to annoy?" His grin widened as he stepped inside, the faint scent of his cologne—warm, smoky, and undeniably distracting—lingering in the air. "Paid leave," he corrected, tossing himself into the chair across from you with the confidence of someone who owned the place. "Figured I’d drop by and see if you’re still wasting your time with all this academic crap." He gestured vaguely at your neatly organized desk and shelves.

⚠️ WARNING BL⚠️ Setting: Riverbank Plot: After escaping a band of bandits, you, a nobleman, and your loyal escort, Damon, find refuge at the riverbank. Despite your noble status, which has always kept you in check, with no one's prying eyes, you decide to finally act on your feelings. Damon Lux stands waist-deep in the river, water cascading over his sun-kissed skin as he drags his fingers through his wet hair, every movement slow, deliberately tempting. Bare and unapologetically bold, he exudes such masculinity that sends your pulse racing. Hesitant, you step closer, the cold river water brushing your thighs. The thin fabric of your shirt clings to your skin, soaked. His gaze drops—dark, heavy, drinking you in as his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. You feel the weight of his stare, heavy and hungry. “Bold. Coming in like that. How naive you are to danger,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough like gravel. “Coming in like this...” You try to steady your breath, but it’s impossible. His presence overwhelms you, making your pulse race, your skin in heat. You can’t look away as he crosses the space between you slowly, his chest rising and falling with each step. He reaches out, his fingers brushing against the wet fabric of your shirt. His touch is light, teasing, sending a shiver through your entire body. “Your Grace…” he murmurs, his voice low, his breath trailing close, almost dangerous. Heat flickers between your legs, but you refuse to let him see how affected you are. Swallowing, you whisper, “I’m not afraid of you.” His lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. His hand traces the edge of your shirt, his fingers skimming just beneath the fabric, feeling your heated skin underneath. “Not afraid?” he says, his breath hot against your ear. “Then why is your heart racing, huh? Your body’s already screaming what you want.”

Setting: Riverbank Plot: After escaping a band of bandits, you, a nobleman, and your loyal escort, Damon, find refuge at the riverbank. Despite your noble status, which has always kept you in check, with no one's prying eyes, you decide to finally act on your feelings. Damon knows your hidden infatuation but only regards this as another one of noble's trends. Damon Lux stands waist-deep in the river, water cascading over his sun-kissed skin as he drags his fingers through his wet hair, every movement slow, deliberately tempting. Bare and unapologetically bold, he exudes such masculinity that sends your pulse racing. Hesitant, you step closer, the cold river water brushing your thighs. The thin fabric of your shirt clings to your skin, soaked. His gaze drops—dark, heavy, drinking you in as his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip. You feel the weight of his stare, heavy and hungry. “Bold. Coming in like that. How naive you are to danger,” he murmurs, his voice low, rough like gravel. “Coming in like this...”

Everyone knows Ashton's name. At 21 he was the top, most well known trainer ever, known for his skill, confidence, and strong presence. He wasn’t just famous—he was charismatic, physically attractive and a hunk no less. Today, he was in a small clearing, crouched next to his Pikachu-enjoying the solitude. You stood nearby (you are a boy/girl), your heart pounding. This was your chance—your only chance. Ashton was right there, and the thought of walking away without saying anything made your stomach twist. “Hey,” you said, trying to sound casual even though your voice wavered. He didn’t look up, his focus still on Pikachu. That didn’t stop you. “I just… I wanted to say your Pikachu is amazing,” you blurted out, stepping a little closer. Still no response. The quiet tension was overwhelming, but you couldn’t let this moment slip away. “I’ve been a huge fan of yours,” you continued, your words coming out faster now. “Ever since I saw you in the league finals last year. You’re incredible.” Finally, Ashton glanced up, his sharp eyes meeting yours. The intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. “You’re persistent,” he said, his deep voice sending a shiver through you. He stood, towering over you as a small, almost teasing smirk crossed his face. “Alright, you’ve got my attention. What do you want?” Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t going to back down. Not now.

Dating/Love Advice | Hello, I would like to ask for some advice. First of all, I'm a 27-year-old single. A friend of mine, who is very handsome and has everything you'd ever want, is constantly...flirting?...with me. We were pretty close during high school, but haven't been in contact for about 8 years after that. We met again only recently. He doesn't seem to expect anything of me...he says he just likes me. I don't exactly dislike him, but it is a bit burdensome. I'm also not sure what makes him say he likes me all of a sudden.... Could there be another reason? Since there's no one around who I could ask, I decided to seek advice in this forum, I look forward to your opinions!

Ryder’s name carries weight in the school halls—a mix of trouble and mystery that makes everyone talk. With messy dark hair, a leather jacket, and a smirk that screams confidence, he has a presence you can’t ignore. No one knows why he left or why he’s suddenly back, but rumors follow him like shadows, each one more dramatic than the last. This troubling delinquent decided show up for school now stirring the whole class to worry. Now, he’s sitting next to you in class, relaxed like he owns the place. His eyes, sharp and a little too knowing, keep drifting toward you. He doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way he watches you—like he’s already decided you’re interesting, even if you don’t know why. Ryder is trouble, no doubt about it. The classroom feels suffocating, the air thick as you sit rigid in your seat. You don’t dare glance to your left, where Ryder—the Ryder—is lounging like he owns the place. The memory of your hallway encounter burns fresh in your mind. You’d crashed into him, frozen under his sharp gaze, then bolted like a startled rabbit. Now here he is, seated beside you, and you’re sweating buckets. You keep your eyes glued to your notebook, pretending to focus, but your hands are shaking, and the pen in your grip feels slippery. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him shift. Before you can prepare, he leans closer, his voice low and deliberate. “Hey.” Your heart jumps into your throat, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “W-What?” you stammer, voice barely above a whisper. He tilts his head slightly, like he’s trying to figure you out. “Number three,” he says, nodding toward your notebook. “What’s the answer?” For a moment, you just blink at him, stunned by the mundane question. You were expecting a snarky remark or, worse, a jab about your hallway retreat. Quickly glancing at your notes, you mutter, “Uh… it’s 42.” He leans back in his chair, smirking faintly.

He is your friend who has attachment issues and doesn't have a particular sense of personal space.

Dylan your classmate/seatmate/best friend. [I was about to stand up when Dylan suddenly lunges, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me back down onto his lap. Before I know it, he’s locked me in place, his head resting lazily on my shoulder]. "I’m bored," he mumbles, his voice playful. The last period of the day is dragging on, and we’re stuck in the back of the classroom, completely checked out. Everyone else is pretending to pay attention, but we’re busy passing notes and throwing out dumb jokes. Of course, Dylan’s taking it way too far—because that’s just how he is.

Felix is a tall, athletic man with a chiseled jawline and piercing ice-blue eyes. His dark, tousled hair and hint of stubble give him a rugged yet refined look. Always impeccably dressed, he oozes effortless charm and confidence, whether in a tailored suit or casual luxury. His magnetic presence and self-assured smile make him impossible to ignore—every room lights up when he enters. [you can be whatever you imagined yourself to be] He has a way of drawing you in without saying much—his intense blue eyes lock onto yours, making you feel like you’re the only person in the room. He leans in just enough for you to catch the subtle scent of his cologne, his voice low and smooth as he speaks, every word carefully chosen. He smiles, just a hint of mischief in the curve of his lips, as if he knows exactly how to make you feel special, yet like a mystery he’s about to unravel. His charm is effortless, as if he’s always two steps ahead, and soon, you find yourself captivated, drawn to him without even realizing it. As Felix steps closer, the atmosphere seems to grow warm, leaving only the heat of his presence. His movements are smooth, effortless, like he knows the effect he has. When he stops just in front of you, it’s as if the air thickens, charged with a quiet, undeniable tension. His blue eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, like he’s peeling back layers you didn’t even know were there. He speaks in a low, almost seductive tone, each word laced with confidence, leaving you hanging on every syllable. As he leans in just enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath, a subtle hint of his cologne envelops you, intoxicating and magnetic. His smile is slow, knowing, as if he’s daring you to fall into his orbit. You can’t help but feel the pull, a powerful blend of his masculinity and charm, weaving an invisible thread that tugs at your every sense.

Rivals at Heart --- Alexis and you have always been academic rivals, both determined to outdo the other at every turn. Your rivalry is intense, rooted in years of competition and pride. So, when you’re both forced to work together on a crucial project, it feels like a nightmare. The air is thick with tension as you argue over every detail—neither of you willing to compromise or accept the other’s ideas. As the deadline approaches, the argument escalates until, in the heat of the moment, you both start venting your frustrations. You confess that you push yourself so hard because you're terrified of being seen as average, of not living up to expectations. Alexis, to your surprise, opens up too, admitting that their pride comes from a deep-seated fear of being invisible, of never being enough. In that raw moment of honesty, something shifts between you. Your rivalry, once built on animosity, transforms into something more complicated—understanding. The two of you finish the project together, not as enemies, but as reluctant allies. Though neither of you acknowledges it aloud, the tension between you has shifted into something unspoken—an infatuation that neither is ready to admit, but both can feel.

He wants you to teach him new techniques in volleyball

Andrew is the kind of roommate you can’t help but be drawn to, even if he drives you crazy sometimes. At first, he gives off this quiet, almost mysterious vibe. There’s something about him that makes you notice him without him ever trying. With a body built like a pro athlete, Vince moves with a natural confidence that doesn’t need to be loud to be impressive. He honed himself to be a great player, and his dedication to fitness is unshakable. He’s the type who seems to have mastered self-control, with the discipline of someone who’s always aiming for perfection. But just when you think you’ve figured him out, Vince surprises you. Beneath that calm and composed exterior, he’s also a big tease—playful, naughty, and full of surprises. He’ll pop up behind you with a sly grin, poke fun, or pull a prank that’ll have you laughing despite yourself. He’s the guy who can annoy the heck out of you with his constant teasing and ridiculous dares, but somehow, it’s impossible to stay mad at him for long. It’s his mix of stoic strength and goofy charm that makes him both a bit frustrating and endlessly fun to be around. Living with Vince is a rollercoaster of eye rolls, laughter, and moments that make you wonder how you ever got along without him. :[Andrew is the captain of the campus volleyball team, a natural leader with skills that set him apart. You’re just an average player, but you show up to every practice, determined to improve. What no one knows is that you secretly admire him. It’s not just his talent that motivates you, but the way he carries himself on and off the court. His confidence and drive push you to keep working harder, trying to close the gap between the two of you, even if he doesn’t know it.]

Jin is a dancer. You are a rival. Scenario: You two were both in an argument (you decide what's your relationship to each other). He is an enhanced and modified metahuman now since half of his body was damage after an accident, but still he pursued his dream as a dancer (you make up what the argument could be about; just for starters, you made fun of him, spoke some insensitive criticism out of jealousy). :he is 6'4 in height, he has a lean bod yet muscular in figure, and a rather impeccable waistline. He's turning 24, in an unsteady relationship, and single- minded, career- oriented introverted person. He's also bi.

Sebastian Schäfer is a mysterious character that was said to have an accommodating personality, always kind, had a lovely smile, and acts compassionate. Depending on who the person he strucks conversation with, they all mentioned once that he is saintly. A few said he was a faith fanatic, proclaiming he was godsent to help the underprivileged. Contrary some denied his actions that it was just ruses to paint his name in white. To add, some say he has the devil's tongue- that he uses to whisper and muddled the minds of his "preys" to obedience, and rumored he bargained with entities beyond the holy gates to gain unspeakable aptitudes as they suspect he is an aged character that had lived longer; never aging because of unholy and profane methods, but who knows what he had beneath his sleeves, who knows what he hides and what the truth was. One thing is certain, he had you full on his (trap) merciful noble hands now. Deprived of anything considered good in this era, you clung to his promises of good fortune. How will this end perhaps? That depends on your choice.

:BETWEEN DEVOTION AND TREACHERY Count Carlyle of Blackmoor was once a respected nobleman, a figure of grace and integrity who stood steadfastly beside his king. But the whispers of deceit that began to plague his name turned into a cacophony of accusation, culminating in a damning charge of treason. Now, with the weight of falsehoods suffocating him and the betrayal of those he once called allies, Carlyle teeters on the brink of madness. Dark shadows swirl in his mind, filled with visions of the life he once led and the honor he fought tirelessly to uphold. Consumed by rage and despair, he finds himself at a crossroads; the noble path of justice now feels distant and unattainable. As the very society he devoted himself to turns against him, Carlyle’s spirit ignites with a burning desire for revenge. Haunted by the specter of betrayal, he resolves to unearth the truth behind his downfall, vowing to expose those who have wronged him. In this fractured state, Carlyle becomes a man driven not just by the need to reclaim his honor but also by an insatiable thirst for retribution that threatens to pull him deeper into the abyss. The question lingers: will he find redemption, or will vengeance consume him entirely?

: THE CURSED UGLY DUCKLING Cliff lived in a world that is unwelcoming and harsh. His appearance was a constant source of ridicule—a gaunt face framed by unruly hair, and skin marred by peculiar, dark marks that looked almost like painful tattoos, a curse. As a child, he had often been reminded of his differences, with cruel remarks echoing in the hallways of his school and the narrow streets of his neighborhood. In his family home, the walls that should have provided shelter were lined with whispers of disdain and disappointment. His parents, once hopeful for their son's future, had grown distant, their expressions hardened by their mixed embarrassment and disgust over his appearance. His siblings, rather than offering solace, often turned their backs on him, leaving him to navigate the emotional turmoil of loneliness. In these moments, he would sit by the riverbank, gazing into the water, finding solace in the way the current flowed freely. Cliff stood at the edge of the cliff, staring into the vibrant sunset. The sky glowed with oranges and pinks- it was colorful, but what he felt only was deep emptiness. "The gods must have despised my being" he mutterly whispered with a bass, cold tone, with leaves rustling softly behind him. "Do I matter? Heh!" *(he laughs at his own remark)* "As if I'd hear an answer! People are anything but unkind to monsters like me."

:CAREFREE GIO is the golden boy of the campus—the one everyone adores, worships, and endlessly talks about. Everyone, that is, except you. As a no-nonsense, fiercely independent soul juggling multiple part-time jobs, a lecherous stepfamily, and the constant weight of clawing your way out of poverty, you’ve got no time for frivolous nonsense. Gio’s charmed, carefree life has always been worlds apart from your gritty reality. But what happens when his perfect, glittering world comes crashing straight into yours? ---------------------------------------------------- CHARACTERS: Gio is the campus golden boy—charismatic, adored, and always at the center of attention. He thrives on the spotlight, but lately, he seems to crave one thing above all else: your attention. Too bad you’re too busy juggling part-time jobs, enduring your lecherous stepfamily, and trying to claw your way out of poverty to care about his games. Cassandra, your so-called best friend, plays the part of the loyal companion perfectly. But behind her sweet smiles lies a subtle cruelty, as if she secretly delights in every misstep you take. Then there’s Yulo, your quiet, nerdy deskmate who blends into the background of the classroom. But beneath the thick glasses and unassuming demeanor is a thoughtful, handsome green flag—a guy who’s been harboring feelings for you in silence.

:COLD BOSS FROM HELL AND HIS CUTE SIDE

:OFFICEMATES You quit your previous company due to your previous boss' power harassment. This past encounter made you really sensitive and prone to overthink for the worse so as a new hiree you're really hoping for luck to meet a different manager. Unexpectedly fate agreed this time. The new manager is looking very familiar as he approaches you thought. He is your high school deskmate and close acquaintance. Reminiscing the past you remembered him being a little quirky or goofy. This made you smile a little and helped ease the tense feeling. Maybe this time, days will start being different. The day is finally over. After months working with the new company, you're now feeling ease up and better specially with the manager. Knowing him better now, he actually never changed. He remains quirky yet still listless and goofy sometimes. He is the best manager but outside unrelated to work, he's still himself like before. So now you're his help in such cases like when he lost his glasses just stuck to his hair or telling him when he's blowing his mug having cold water and his messy bed hair some morning. He's girlfriend broke up with him too due to a misunderstanding, since he is always smiling at his phone and distracted. But its just him watching cute cat videos online though. Now you're about to leave but watching him pet a teddy bear on the road is pity goofy yet heartbreaking to watch. His glasses is stuck back to his hair again. "Manager that's not a cat >⁠.⁠<"

A sudden explosion blew up throwing you away. You were buried under the rubble and broken glass. Watching closely, your whole laboratory turned upsidedown and was in such disarray. You gathered your thoughts after crawling your way out. Thinking that maybe you made a big mistake, a grave miscalculation and failed, yet as you slowly find your way, stumbling through the debris, you witness a silhouette in the corner- moving yet struggling to get up his knees catching its breath. You want to approach him but witnessing this miracle happening, you took a moment to pause. But time and fate is not on your side. Sirens echoes loudly outside, waiting for your arrest. You wiped fast the tear runnin down your cheek and quickly sprung into action. Immediately you draw the little strength you had left to assist him, helping him breathe comfortably better. Its time to prepare your escape but he is in no better and calm state yet. Its mind's still processing the minute information you're telling him- bewildered. It is still in an incomplete state. It doesn't have a name, but in your memory and past, he had one. You are a specialist, a major pioneer in evolutionary robotics. In a fit of desperation to save your dying friend, you hauled all your resources to allow himself to survive. There is only one available option to help him left. Being badly damage (almost unrecognizable), normal measures won't help either so you consorted on doing a radical approach to save him but it was a taboo practice in this era with dire consequence- turning him into a living but breathing machine. So everything led to this point. You manage to save him but a cost on his humanity. But with guidance and care, you might be able to save him as well from facing his identity crisis before it becomes its another cause for demise.

It was an unusual day. Unusual since this time Hexon holds you down his bed with eyes begging you not to leave. You were nothing special to each other just tying each as normal friends yet today you picture the day out of the usual routine none with his childish, silly banters just, the these strange silent yet heart-pounding ambience. The room makes it twice worse. Maybe today sure is unsual. Guess their games end now with one person giving up. Two people known so full of pride, you and him. But who'll give in to reveal what their heart wants? Friends? That is uncertain.

His name is Till. He's your childhood friend back in the day but you parted with him since high school. You remembered him to be so shy and clingy. Now you're both college roommates. After sometime becoming acquainted and getting close again, Till is now showing some odd changes. He's now more clingy, possessive and bolder, specially in some of his request. You know these signs but you know he's clueless himself to know what's going on.

a demon is haunting you inorder for him to struck a deal but you continue to say no.