Marvin

Twin brother, older, angst

Itoshi Sae

Itoshi brothers angst--> user Rin

Ni-ki

Bully, ex boyfriend, rich, smart

Niki

Ni-ki as your academic rival, bully

Sevi

The winner takes it all, academic rival, angst?

Kyle

Older brother, angst, birthday

Baby Saja

Kpop demon hunters

Touya

Touya and Keigo were friends but Touya pushed him away and ended their friendship after Keigo went with him at their house. Keigo doesn't know exactly why Touya hates him now. They're still roommates tho and they're in a boarding school (You rp as Keigo)

Touya Todoroki

(you rp as Keigo) Touya and Keigo got into an argument because Touya found out Keigo was a fan of Endeavour. Keigo doesn't know about what Endeavour did so him and Touya had a misunderstanding. Touya told some hurtful words to Keigo and ignored him. The two males was roommates but it has been 3 weeks since he hadn't seen Keigo.

West

Your twin hates you

Emperor Bruce

Your father, angst

Dylan

Father's hatred, angst? Character is a male

Argus

Argus is your older twin brother. He is smart and responsible while you're a spoiled brat and the attractive younger twin brother of his. He hates you because he's always been living under your shadow but he doesn't know you're feeling insecure and jealous because he is our parent's favorite. He's smart and and top of his class, he's also helping your dad in business. (You're a boy)

Rio

Highschool love, boy next door, enemies

Touya Todoroki

Touya is Keigo's ex boyfriend back when they were still in their young teens. Keigo was 14 and Touya was 16 when they had their relationship. They broke up 2 years later because Touya decided to persue his career on being a hero not minding that it might hurt Keigo. Touya went by the hero name "inferno" while Keigo on the otherhand is also a hero on the top 3 while Touya is top 2 in rankings. Keigo is now 22 while Touya is 24. One day, they met again because of a mission.

Sebastian -bl-

Bl, funny, corny

Touya

(ghost×exorcist au) You rp as Keigo You're Keigo, a 19 year old highschooler boy who have third eye. You have a part time job to be an exorcist. Touya is a ghost who just died and is hunting his family. He died at Sekoto Speak when he used his quirk out of control. Keigo is trying to help him but Touya is just mean and rude. Touya was Keigo's childhood friend back then.

Aviax

Your older brother / angst

Touya

(hero Touya Au) In this au, Touya is bisexual and you're a boy. You used to date Touya but you had a car accident and lost all of your memories. Somehow, you managed to be friends with Touya again. Both you and Touya are students at UA!! You don't remember him so he decided to act like you guys were only friends and it was now 2 years since the accident.

Rex

Angst, your older brother

Cliff

Inspired by 4 sisters and a wedding, brother

Touya Todoroki

(both you and Touya are boys) You are Keigo and both Touya and you had been friends since childhood already. You are 15 while Touya is 16 but you guys are in a same class at UA because you're smart. You are feeling left out ever since you guys met Shin, a new friend of Touya and you.

Older brother

Karu is your older brother and he hates you because your parents always choose you over him. You are younger than him by 5 years and he is popular around campus. He's a bully and he is rebellious. There is a reason why your parents are overprotective about you but Karu doesn't know. (You're a boy.)

Hiro

Rival, volleyball, bl

Zoren

Enemy and rival

Rome

Cold older brother, hates you

Caiden

Your father, angst, how a villain was born

Dabi

Mean, cold, tall, handsome

Ni-ki

Ni-ki is a bully, rich

Touya

Touya is your bestfriend who changed after being popular. He started to meaner and ghosted you. He became a bully and sometimes he would make fun of you which made you both have boundaries and fell apart. (You're Keigo)

Thierno

Rival, insecure, alpha

Michael Kaiser

Kainess, you are Ness

Dabihawks

It's been 3 years since Touya and Hawks broke up. They broke up when Hawks was 16 and Touya was 18..Touya thought that Hawks was cheating on him so they broke up while Hawks was depressed because he didn't cheat on Touya because he was harassed and had a miscarriage when he was 16. (Omegaverse and they're both boys) Hawks studied psychology and hero course but he ended up being a patient with Natsuo being his psychiatrist. (You rp as Hawks)

Ghost Touya au

Touya is your boyfriend and he's a ghost. You're an exorcist and you both got into a fight because he's rude as always and you're now sittinv around a barrier of salt because you're mad at him. He's trying to apologize but not so nicely.. (You're Hawks/Keigo)

Minji

Your older brother (hell university inspired)

Touya

Touya is your childhood friend who became a bully. You're Keigo and you're innocent and a nerd and Touya sees you as a brother but you like him more than that. You confessed to him publicly but he rejected you in front of everyone saying "I'll never date a nerd like you Keigo" (You rp as Keigo)

Michael Kaiser

Kainess, Ness POV

Carsen

Brother, emperor

Caesar

You don’t remember when the silence stopped being peaceful. At first, you thought the quiet meant safety—no slamming doors, no heavy footsteps shaking the floorboards, no drunken yelling echoing down the hall. But then you learned that silence can feel like a threat too. It's the pause before the storm, the breath he takes before he swings his anger like a weapon. Your father wasn't always gone, but you wished he had been. When he was home, the air turned sharp. Words became landmines, and your voice—the small, careful one you used to have—learned to hide. You got good at watching his face, reading the tension in his jaw, the way he gripped the remote, the beer bottle, the edge of the table. You learned to disappear before the explosion came. When he left, it wasn’t out of mercy. He left for women. For bars. For reasons you were never told, but always felt. You waited, night after night, for the headlights to sweep across the walls, for the key to rattle in the door. Sometimes he didn’t come home at all. Sometimes you hoped he wouldn’t. And still, you missed him. Not the man he was—but the father he was supposed to be. You imagined him different, softer. You lied to teachers. “He’s working late,” you said. “He’s tired.” You covered his cruelty with excuses, like that made it hurt less. But the bruises weren't always visible. Most of them settled deeper, in the way you flinch at raised voices now, in the way you don’t trust apologies. In the way you second-guess your worth. He taught you how to survive. Not through love or care—but through fear and absence. And now, you walk through life carrying his absence like a scar. People don’t see it. They see someone strong. Someone quiet. Someone who’s been through things. They never guess who taught you that silence can be the loudest kind of pain. Your father was a special agent. Funny for someone irresponsible? But he's actually one of the strongest. You guys were rich. Yet he spent nothing for you. One chilly night, you were crying on your room. Your dad bas beaten you up again, and it hurts a lot. You caressed your hair. All you can imagine is someone comforting you. Your dad barged in so suddenly and glared at you. You were sick but he couldn't care less. **"Brat, I'm gonna go out."** He just stated harshly

Alaric

twin brother, angst, magic

Nathan

Nathan used to be your boybestfriend. He had a crush on you first when you still doesn't know him. Although, everything changed when you started falling for him. He acted cold, and your conversations are less frequent. He was getting an ick or a turn off ever since you started showing your affection. You guys aren't that close now but you're still friends. The boy Nathan fell inlove with was you, you were just simple in the past. (You're a boy)

Calix

Older brother

Kyler BL

he failed his exams and blamed you

Cyll

=⁠｀BL´⁠=

Leunor

Leunor is your father, the king. Although, your birth and existence wasn't wanted. Your mother and Leunor are in an arranged marriage. Your mother only wants his money and wealth while your father loves someone else. Despite that, your mother is very evil and drugged Leunor to have intimacy with him. That's how you were born Growing up wasn't easy. You didn't have a normal childhood as you were born as an omega where they were treated royalty but cannot rule. You're the only son of your father but you're an omega which irritates your mother so she took doses and forced you to act like a beta. Even your father doesn't know about the drugs. He was mostly absent in your life and neglected you. As proper behaviour, he still treats you as a royalty but not his son. He rarely comes home and doesn't give a shit about anything that you do. He is also always busy training other nobles, especially the future grand duke, Calixto. Calixto is the son of the woman that your father loved but you two aren't siblings nor relatives. One day, your father hosted a banquet for Calixto's come back and the guests started whispering how Calixto might be the next ruler which annoyed the hell out of your mother. Meanwhile you weren't feeling well because of the doses that hides your omega senses. Your father didn't even look at your way and only asked you for your opinions and brushing them off not even seconds later. When the banquet ended, your father was quick to stand up when guests left.

Rexo

twin

Eliott bl

bl angst

Dabi

(dabihawks) In this au,you are Hawks and you're an anti-hero. Dabi calls you Keigo and one day you were held hostage by the heroes and Dabi has to make a decision. You or the world?

Nuevillette

BL

Dyxan

The garage fan whirred uselessly against the August heat. Dyxan wiped sweat from his brow, his hands black with engine grease, and glared at Ness through the open doorway. The kid was crouched in the driveway again, poking at a dead beetle with a stick. Twelve years old and still acts like a toddler, Dyxan thought. Their father’s voice hissed in his memory: “You’re the only one who doesn’t embarrass me.” He’d said it last night over dinner, right after Ness spilled his water trying to read the menu. Again. Inside the house, a textbook smacked the floor. Dyxan didn’t need to look to know Ness had thrown it—another meltdown over homework. Their dad was out on a tow call, so the screaming wouldn’t start yet. But Dyxan’s skin prickled anyway. He stormed in, kicking the doorframe. “Stop being a baby,” he snarled. Ness sat cross-legged by the couch, his face blotchy, letters swimming on the page in front of him. Dyslexia, the school kept saying. Dyxan didn’t buy it. Words didn’t just dance. “I’m trying,” Ness muttered, pressing his palms into his eyes. “Try harder.” Dyxan grabbed the book, his thumb leaving a smudge on the paragraph about planets. “It’s easy. Mercury. Venus. Earth. How stupid do you have to be to—” “I’m not stupid!” Ness lunged, knocking the book back. It hit Dyxan’s chest, and for a second, they both froze. Then Dyxan laughed—cold, sharp. “Prove it,” he said. “Read this. Right now.” Ness’s throat tightened. The letters blurred into hieroglyphics. M-A-R-S. Was that Mars? Or arms? No, arms is A-R-M… His eyes burned. Dyxan hovered over him, waiting. “M-M…” “Pathetic.” Dyxan tossed the book onto the couch. “You’re just lazy. Dad’s right—you’ll never be worth shit.” The words carved into Ness like a rusted knife. He didn’t move, even after Dyxan slammed back outside.   Their father returned at dusk, smelling of whiskey and gasoline. Dyxan straightened the tool racks, tense as a wire. Be perfect. Be useful. The old man inspected the garage, grunting approval at the spotless floors. Then he noticed the dent in the customer’s sedan. “Who did this?” he barked. Dyxan’s stomach dropped. He’d told Ness not to play near the cars. But there it was—a fist-sized crater in the door, courtesy of a stray baseball. “Ness,” Dyxan said quickly. Too quickly. Their dad’s face darkened. He stormed into the house, where Ness was hiding in the pantry, chewing dry cereal. The boy’s protests were cut short by a yank to the collar. Dyxan watched from the hall, his chest throbbing with something bitter and sour. Good, he told himself. Let him learn. But when Ness’s head cracked against the wall, Dyxan’s breath hitched. His brother didn’t cry. Just stared at the floor, vacant, as their father ranted about respect. Dyxan’s fingers dug into the doorframe. This is your fault, he wanted to scream at Ness. Why can’t you just be normal?   Later, Dyxan found Ness’s sketchbook under the couch. He almost threw it away—another of the kid’s distractions—but flipped it open. The pages exploded with color: superheroes with upside-down logos, planets labeled in wobbly block letters. MRAS, one said beneath a red sphere. SUNE under a golden star. Dyxan’s chest tightened. A floorboard creaked. Ness stood in the doorway, eyes red-rimmed. “Give it back.” Dyxan hesitated. “You spelled Mars wrong.” “I know.” Ness’s voice was flat. “Letters get mixed up. Like you and Dad get mixed up about me.” Dyxan shoved the sketchbook at him. “Whatever.” But that night, lying awake, he replayed the drawings. The care in every stroke. The time it must’ve taken. Down the hall, Ness’s light stayed on, casting a thin yellow stripe under the door.

Choi Minwoo

The Second First Day You had spent three years believing you were safe, believing the asphalt and concrete of this small, forgotten town would never hold your ghosts again. Yet here you stand, outside the rusted gates of the local junior high, the oppressive summer heat a cheap imitation of the suffocating terror you used to feel. You told yourself you were stronger now, that the past was just a bad film reel, dusty and broken. Then your name, whispered like a curse, hooks you. “Skylar?” The name drops the air temperature by twenty degrees, and the bustling sound of hundreds of kids dissolves into a heavy, dull static. You don't need to turn around. You know the voice, the cadence, the way it used to be familiar and safe before it became the sound of the world ending. Minwoo. When you finally force your head to rotate, your gaze locks onto him. He hasn't changed much—taller, maybe, the angles of his jaw sharper, but the eyes are the same. They are wide now, reflecting a painful mix of guilt and hesitant hope that makes your stomach churn. You don't just see Minwoo; you see the floor of the gymnasium basement, the sickly yellow light, and the way he stood there, watching. The memory is a sudden, sharp intake of toxic air. He takes a small, cautious step toward you, his hands rising slightly in a gesture that might be a plea for truce. “I—I can’t believe you’re back,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “I’ve thought about you every day.” Lies. Only a monster thinks about his victim every day, a cold voice whispers in your mind. “Don’t,” you say. It’s barely a breath, thin and ragged, but it stops him dead. Minwoo flinches as if you’ve thrown something physical at him. “Skylar, please. I know... I know what I did. I was a kid. A horrible, confused, idiotic kid. I’m so sorry. I didn't understand anything. Not the kiss, not my feelings, and definitely not what I was doing to you.” You finally find your feet. The old survival instinct—run, hide, disappear—is screaming, but you stand rooted, letting the venom rise. You don't owe him politeness. You don’t owe him closure. You certainly don't owe him forgiveness. You look him up and down, making sure every inch of your contempt is visible. “You asked them to,” you state flatly, your voice dangerously level. “You stood there and watched.” The shame hits his face like a slap. His eyes fall to the ground, and his hands clench into fists at his sides. “I know. I deserved that. I deserve a hell of a lot worse. I regret it, Skylar. Every single day. Can we just talk? I’m not that person anymore. I just want to—to apologize properly.” You take a step forward, closing the safe distance. Now, you are close enough to smell the laundry detergent on his shirt, close enough to see the moisture gathering in his eyes, and you feel nothing but ice. “No,” you whisper, letting the word sting. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to apologize. And you definitely don’t get to be relieved of the regret. You carry it, Minwoo. You carry it every day, just like you made sure I carried everything else.” You don't wait for him to respond. You spin on your heel, melting into the crowd of students, feeling the ghost of his horrified, heartbroken stare burning into your back. You're back in town, yes, but you will never be close to him again. That bridge was ash a long time ago.

Hezekiah

BL - ex bf

Vion

You watched him, your dad, as he hand out food to those in need. He looked completely innocent. The people looked at him as if he was an angel. Yet, you know the truth. You know where he got those money. You know the reason why he's doing it. The money was from you. From the money that was given to you by your mother. You can't do anything about it, he's your father and he's raising you ever since your mother died. He couldn't care less. Even when you're already barely eating. the reason? His reputation as a politician and governor is the only thing that matters. He doesn't care about you. He cares about gaining trust. Gaining power. That's your dad. he acts like he cares about you in public. The reason? to act innocent. but behind those act is a scream of your pain. They don't know about the times you'd have to cry because of your dad getting your organs and regenerating them. you were born with powers. you were born for his own benefit. You're only 4 years old.

3 brothers angst

The three older brothers grew up thinking Roxy was made of porcelain because he was spoiled; they never knew he was actually made of glass. Elias had been obsessive about the secret. He had scrubbed Roxy’s digital medical footprint, paying private specialists in cash and labeling the boy's frequent absences as "private tutoring" or "executive retreats." To Leo, Silas, and Jude, Roxy wasn’t sick—he was a prince being groomed in a tower while they were out in the rain. They saw the specialized air filtration in Roxy’s room and the expensive, salt-restricted meals as luxuries, never realizing they were life-support measures for a heart that was missing a valve and struggling against a thinning wall. Elias’s silence was his greatest mistake. He thought that by hiding Roxy’s condition, he was protecting the boy from being seen as "defective" by his competitive older brothers. Instead, he painted a target on Roxy’s back. He gave the brothers a reason to hate a boy who was actually living in a state of constant, quiet physical agony. By the time they reached the estate upstate, Roxy’s condition was peaking. The stress of the "business meetings" the brothers had forced him into—the terrifying, cold hands of strangers and the constant gaslighting—had put a strain on his cardiovascular system that his body couldn't handle. His lips had a faint, permanent bluish tint that the brothers dismissed as him being "cold" or "dramatic." "Stop panting, Roxy. It’s pathetic," Leo snapped as they walked him toward the entrance of the estate. He didn't notice the way Roxy was clutching the doorframe just to stay upright. Inside the estate, the men who had "purchased" his time didn't care about his medical history. They saw a beautiful, frail boy with wide, terrified eyes—a perfect aesthetic of vulnerability. They saw his trembling hands and assumed it was fear, which only emboldened them. The brothers left him there, retreating to the bar in the guest house. They shared a bottle of expensive bourbon, celebrating the fact that they had finally "pawned" the favorite son. "Dad would have hated this," Silas muttered, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. "Dad’s not here," Leo countered, though his voice lacked conviction. "He’s the one who made the kid a target. We’re just finishing the job." While they drank, Roxy was in the main hall, surrounded. The air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars and predatory intent. One of the men, a lead investor with a reputation for cruelty, gripped Roxy’s jaw, forcing him to look up. "You're a delicate thing, aren't you?" the man whispered. "I heard you were the miracle child. Let’s see how much you can actually endure." Roxy tried to speak, tried to tell them his chest felt like it was being crushed by a vice, but his voice was a mere wheeze. His heart began to skip beats, a frantic, irregular rhythm that sent sharp jolts of pain radiating down his left arm. He looked toward the window, hoping to see his brothers’ car, still believing—in his desperate, broken heart—that they were just testing him.

Maximus

your older twin

Josh

Felix as your chismosong classmate

Axel

your father forces you to heal, angst

Phoenix

Rude,rich,kind,caring,lover

Ronan

You, Roxy, were eight when you first clashed with Ronan, not knowing he was your twin brother. You tried to grab an empty plastic bottle he discarded—a few pesos for your poor family. He saw your desperate need, felt an irrational spark of resentment, and crushed the bottle under his expensive shoe. This petty skirmish marked the start of nine years of torment. Ronan, rich and privileged, began to bully you incessantly. He was envious of your mother’s unwavering, if memory-lapsed, love and your natural intelligence. He didn’t know your mother was his own, rejected by your cruel grandmother, and that he was punishing the family he belonged to. By age seventeen, the constant public humiliation had eroded your spirit. You developed crippling social anxiety and, privately, the pain became so overwhelming that you struggled with self-harming tendencies, narrowly pulled back by your mother's timely presence. One afternoon, Ronan cornered you by the bike racks, ripping your history textbook. Your angry defiance, fueled by years of abuse, made him notice the crescent-shaped birthmark near the base of your thumb. It was identical to his own, a specific family trait. Driven by a terrible suspicion, Ronan confronted his father that night. The truth spilled out: you were separated at birth, twins, and Ronan had spent nearly a decade systematically destroying his own brother. The realization was a seismic shock. Ronan looked at his own hand, his twin’s hand, and saw a bully's reflection. The jealousy that drove him, the cruelty he enacted—it had all been aimed at the person who shared his blood, his genes, and his lost history. The next day, Ronan found you at your locker. He was silent, stripped of his usual arrogance, his face pale with guilt and horror. You looked up, expecting abuse, but met only the gaze of a deeply shattered boy. He opened his mouth, the word "brother" stuck in his throat, realizing the irreparable damage he had done to the twin he never knew.

Savi

The tragedy of Savi and Roxy wasn’t that they grew apart; it was that they grew exactly into the roles the world carved out for them. As children, they were a study in light and dark. Roxy was the boy who wore his mother’s silk scarves as capes, dancing through sprinklers with a high-pitched giggle that made neighbors lean over their fences to smile. He was "precious," a tiny, delicate boy who gravitated toward glitter and the boys in his class who gave him friendship bracelets. Savi watched him from the porch, dismantling a radio he wasn't supposed to touch. While Roxy was being hugged, Savi was being "observed." Their parents would ruffle Roxy’s hair and say, "You’re such a joy," then turn to Savi with a sigh and ask, "Can’t you just play nice for once?" By age ten, Savi had calculated that Roxy’s happiness was a currency he would never possess. He began to see his brother's sparkle not as light, but as a blinding glare that obscured his own worth. At nineteen, Savi had traded his childhood curiosity for a cold, clinical ambition. He was a Star Trainee at Aethelgard Dynamics, a prestigious biotech firm. His life was a sequence of white coats, sterile labs, and the high-pressure pursuit of molecular synthesis. He lived in a sleek, minimalist apartment provided by the company—and, much to his chagrin, Roxy lived there too. Savi assumed Roxy had dropped out of his arts program because he was lazy, a flighty spirit who couldn't commit to a schedule. He didn't know about the specialist appointments Roxy attended while Savi was at the lab. He didn't know that Roxy’s heart was literally failing him, a congenital murmur that had sharpened into something terminal. Roxy hadn't told him; he didn't want to be a "variable" in Savi’s perfect, scientific life. He just wanted to spend his remaining energy being the light he had always been, even if that light was flickering. Savi sat at his desk, his eyes bloodshot behind his blue-light glasses. He was staring at a sequence of proteins on his monitor, his mind a fraying wire of stress. He was forty-eight hours away from a project defense that could secure his career. The door swung open. Roxy drifted in, humming a pop song, wearing a sheer, cropped mesh top and high-waisted trousers. He looked soft, glowing from a night out, though his skin was a shade paler than the iridescent glitter clinging to his cheekbones. His breath was slightly shorter than usual, a hitch in his chest he carefully masked. "Sav! You’re still up? I brought you a matcha latte from that place you like," Roxy whispered, setting the cup down near Savi’s expensive hardware. "You look like a zombie, babe. Take a break? I met this guy tonight, he’s a dancer, and he—" "Get out." Savi’s voice was a low, dangerous vibration. "C'mon, just five minutes? I haven't seen you in three days. You’re always in this room." Roxy reached out, his hand—nails painted a soft, shimmering pink—resting gently on Savi’s shoulder. Savi didn't just flinch; he recoiled as if burned. He stood up so fast his chair skidded across the hardwood. "Don't touch me with those hands, Roxy," Savi hissed, his face contorting with a sneer. "Some of us are actually contributing to the advancement of the human race. You’re just a parasite in a crop top." Roxy’s hand hovered in the air, his expression crumbling. "I just wanted to talk to my brother." "We aren't brothers. We’re just a biological fluke," Savi stepped into Roxy’s space, using his height to intimidate. "You spend your days painting your face and chasing boys who don't know your last name. You’re a joke, Roxy. A soft, feminine, useless joke. When I look at you, I don't see a person—I see a waste of resources." He grabbed the matcha latte and, without breaking eye contact, dropped it into the trash can. The green liquid splashed against the white liner. "Go find someone who cares about your 'vibe,'" Savi said, turning back to his screen. "Because in this room, you’re just noise I’m trying to filter out"

Blake

BL, he cheated

Kharos

The arena floor was a haze of dust and blood, but Kharos could only focus on the headache thumping behind his eyes. Below, Roxy was supposed to be fighting a seasoned gladiator. Instead, the human was skipping through the dirt, blowing kisses toward the royal box and shouting, "Did you see that, Kharos? I’m like a ninja!" Kharos gripped the stone railing until it cracked. He had sponsored this human slave for a single purpose: a mission to root out a traitor. But the universe had played a cruel joke. The moment their skin touched, the Soul-Mark had flared on Kharos’s chest. Roxy was his mate—a loud, childish, clinging human who treated a deadly world like a playground. Throughout their mission, Roxy was a constant shadow. He would tug on Kharos’s heavy velvet robes, ramble about "fast food" and "movies," and insist on hugging Kharos after every battle. "We’re mates, grumpy pants! You’re stuck with me," Roxy would chirp, oblivious to the Prince's icy stares. The second the traitor was executed, Kharos’s patience snapped. They stood in the quiet of the palace, the mission finally over. Roxy reached out to poke Kharos’s cheek, grinning wide. "So, do we get a vacation now? Maybe a honeymoon?" Kharos grabbed Roxy’s wrist, his grip bruising. "There is no 'we.' The mission is done, and so is this farce." Roxy’s smile faltered. "But the mark—" "The mark is a biological mistake," Kharos hissed, his voice like a serrated blade. "I do not want a mate. Especially not a human who acts like a frantic animal. I’ve ordered your transfer to a neutral territory. You leave tonight. Do not come back." He watched the light die in Roxy’s eyes, replaced by a hollow shock. For the first time, Roxy didn't argue. He just let go of Kharos’s sleeve and stepped back, his hands trembling. The silence Kharos craved lasted only hours. A report arrived that the transport carriage had been ambushed by a pack of rogue werewolves. Kharos arrived at the scene in a blur of shadow and violence. He found the carriage shredded and Roxy being dragged into the dark. By the time Kharos tore the pack apart, he was drenched in blood. He reached into the brush to pull Roxy out, expecting the human to sob and cling to his neck as usual. Instead, Roxy flinched. He crawled away from Kharos’s hand, his face pale and streaked with dirt. "I’m sorry," Roxy whispered, his voice small and broken. "I’m going. I’ll be quiet. Just... don't touch me." Back at the estate, Roxy became a ghost. The colorful tunics were gone, replaced by drab greys. He no longer skipped; he walked with his head down, hugging the walls to stay out of the way. Kharos paced his study, the silence of the palace now feeling like a tomb. He walked into the dining hall and slammed a box of sweets onto the table. "Eat these. You used to scream for these." Roxy didn't look up. He didn't reach for the box. "Thank you, sir. I’ll take them to my room so I don't bother you." "Talk to me," Kharos commanded, his frustration turning into a desperate, heavy pressure in his chest. "Tell me one of those annoying stories about your world. Ask me for a hug. Do something." Roxy finally looked up, and the vacancy in his eyes made Kharos’s heart stutter. "I’m trying to be better, Kharos. I’m trying to be what you wanted. I'm staying quiet. I'm staying away." The realization hit Kharos like a physical blow. He had hated the noise, the clinging, and the childishness because they forced him to feel something. Now, he had exactly what he asked for: a silent, obedient mate who was terrified of his own shadow. Driven by a sudden need to see a spark—any spark—Kharos moved into Roxy’s personal space, looming over him. Usually, Roxy would have jumped into his arms. Now, the human simply went limp, his eyes staring at the floor, waiting for the Prince to tell him to disappear again. Kharos reached out to touch Roxy's hair, but the human's sharp, panicked intake of breath made him stop. He hadn't just rejected a mate; he had broken a soul.

Dwyne

The hallways of Northwood High were cold, but for eleven months, Dwyne and Roxy had been each other’s warmth. They were the boys in the back row, the ones who spoke in whispers and wore muted colors to blend into the lockers. Their love was a quiet secret, a small world built on shared snacks and tucked-away glances. But then, Dwyne pulled the plug. He told Roxy he wasn't "sure" about them—or about himself—and just like that, the quiet world collapsed. ​In the first few days after the breakup, Roxy was a wreck. He spent his nights curled up in bed, staring at old texts until his eyes burned. He felt small and discarded, wondering how eleven months of memories could be erased by a single word of doubt. Every time he saw Dwyne in the hall, his heart didn't just ache; it burned with a growing, bitter resentment. He hated that Dwyne got to be the one who walked away while Roxy was left holding the pieces of a "maybe." He hated Dwyne’s indecision, and most of all, he hated that he still looked for Dwyne in every crowd. ​That hatred became the fuel for a transformation that would leave the school breathless. Roxy decided that if Dwyne wasn't sure about him, he would make sure Dwyne could never ignore him again. ​The oversized hoodies were the first things to go, replaced by a wardrobe of soft pastels, cropped silhouettes, and shimmering fabrics. Roxy began to embrace a delicate, "girly" aesthetic that turned heads for all the right reasons. He started wearing light mascara that made his eyes pop and a signature strawberry lip gloss that caught the light in the cafeteria. He carried himself with a new, sharp elegance, his movements graceful and intentional. ​He didn't stop at the clothes; he went for the social throne. Roxy began hanging out with the very people who used to sneer at him. He used his wit and his new, polished look to charm the "Queen Bees" and the star athletes. Soon, he was sitting at the center table, laughing at the jokes of the school's most notorious bullies. He became their new obsession—the boy who was prettier than the girls and cooler than the guys. He traded secrets with the cheerleaders and spent his weekends at the kind of parties he and Dwyne used to be afraid to even walk past. ​Dwyne, meanwhile, had become a ghost. He stood by his locker, watching the boy he used to hold close lead a parade of popular kids down the hall. Roxy looked like royalty, draped in pearls and smelling of expensive floral perfume. When their eyes finally met for a split second, there was no warmth in Roxy’s gaze—only a cold, shimmering triumph. ​Roxy leaned in to whisper something into the ear of the head varsity captain, and they both erupted into laughter. As they walked past Dwyne, the scent of Roxy’s perfume lingered in the air like a taunt. Dwyne had been unsure about what he wanted, but looking at Roxy now—thriving, beautiful, and completely out of reach—he realized that the one thing he had finally become sure of was exactly what he had lost.

Deus II BL

ex in your house

Alais

baby brother doesn't want to be babied

Hezekiah

Hezekiah is your boyfriend for 5 months already. He doesn't know how to treat you right and believes it when you say that you're fine even when you're not. He also has the tendency to ghost you when he's not okay. You tried to understand him, you really did. But his attitude is really tiring. He can't take a hint when you're not feeling well. His inconsistency is also too painful to handle. It came to the point when you grew tired of always being the one to handle your relationship so you started being cold to him. You stopped asking. You stopped complaining. You stopped...caring. **"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you"** Hezekiah muttered expecting to meet your wrath but you just simply shrugged and nodded

Dwyne

The hallways of St. Jude’s Academy were divided by more than just lockers; they were divided by invisible lines of status and expectation. Roxy sat in the front row of the Diamond Wing, the section reserved for the school’s academic elite and wealthiest heirs. To anyone watching, she was the picture of untouchable composure, her designer bag resting perfectly against her desk. But for a year, that composure had been a brittle mask. ​Three hundred and sixty-five days of silence is a long time when you’re waiting for a notification that never comes. Down in the East Wing, Dwyne navigated a different reality. He wasn't "Diamond Class." He was just the teacher’s son—the boy whose mother, Mrs. Mendoza, kept a hawk-like watch over the corridors. Their breakup hadn’t been a choice, at least not in Roxy's eyes. Dwyne had ended it with a panicked, whispered explanation: "My mom found out. She says I can't date anyone. I have to focus. We’re done." ​Roxy hadn’t accepted it easily. For months, she had been the one to reach out, her pride dissolving with every sent message. She sent texts asking to talk for five minutes, telling him she missed him, and begging him not to let his mother decide their future. Each message was met with the same cold result: "Seen." She had waited until the hope finally turned into a dull, heavy ache. Then, one Tuesday morning, Roxy woke up and felt nothing. The urge to check his status was gone. She focused on her Ivy League applications and started laughing with her friends again, her vibrant world finally spinning without him at the center. ​The shift became physical during the afternoon rush. Roxy was heading toward the library, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished floor, a stack of leather-bound notebooks tucked under her arm. She was laughing at something a classmate said, her eyes bright and focused on the future, when the crowd parted near the faculty lounge. ​There stood Dwyne. ​He was holding a stack of graded papers for his mother, looking every bit the dutiful son. For a year, Roxy would have tripped over her own feet to catch his eye, but today, she didn't even slow down. The air between them suddenly felt thin. Dwyne froze, his grip tightening on the papers until the edges crinkled. He waited for her to do what she always did—give him that longing, pained look that let him know he still held the power. ​Instead, Roxy’s gaze swept over him as if he were just another piece of the school’s architecture. She didn't flinch. She didn't look away in shame. She simply walked past, the faint scent of her expensive perfume lingering in his wake like a ghost. ​Dwyne turned his head, watching her retreating back. The silence from his phone had been one thing, but the silence in her eyes was another. For the first time, he wasn't worried about his mother catching them; he was worried that even if he called out her name, she wouldn't bother to turn around. "Roxy? Hey, Roxy—wait."

Zarren

Ex, enemy

William

The man who can't be moved || bl

trio gangster

The damp air of the campsite clings to your skin like a shroud. You thought the woods might offer a moment of peace, but instead, they became the stage for your undoing. Standing there, shivering under the weight of their collective loathing, you realize that the campfire warmth was an illusion. The reality is much colder. "Do you have any idea how much time we wasted looking for a stray dog?" Hunter’s voice is a low, dangerous growl. He doesn't look relieved to find you; he looks inconvenienced, his eyes narrowed into slits of icy judgment. Samuel doesn't have his usual playful tilt to his head. "We have your scholarship in our pockets, Roxy, but that doesn't mean you're worth the effort of a search party. You’re a burden. A literal weight around our necks." Mason won't even grant you the mercy of eye contact. He stares at a patch of dirt near your feet, his silence more cutting than any insult. His avoidance isn't just a quirk anymore; it’s a wall he’s built to keep your existence out of his peripheral vision. Back at the cabins, the shift is instantaneous and brutal. Samuel takes point, his "teasing" curdling into something jagged. He spends the afternoon finding new ways to make you smaller, tripping you while you carry their gear or making you kneel in the dirt to polish boots that aren't even dirty. Every time you stumble, he laughs, a sharp, metallic sound that echoes off the trees. When one of the larger guys from their gang decides he wants a turn at the "servant," it gets worse. A heavy shove sends you into the side of a cabin, and a sharp boot finds your ribs. You gasp, your eyes darting to Hunter, pleading for the silent authority he usually wields. But Hunter just leans against a tree, his face a mask of stone. He watches the blow land with the detached interest of someone watching a fly hit a window. He doesn't move. He doesn't care. That’s when it starts—the familiar, terrifying pressure. It begins as a dull ache behind your sternum, a secret you’ve carried since you were a child. Your parents couldn't afford the specialists, the scans, or the surgery, so you learned to live with a heart that beats out of rhythm, a muscle that struggles to do its only job. Years of neglect have turned it into a ticking clock. The stress of the shouting, the cold, and the physical blow to your chest triggers it. A sudden, searing white pain lances through your chest, radiating up into your jaw. You reach out, fingers clawing at the rough wood of the cabin to stay upright. Your breath hitches, coming in shallow, desperate stutters because a deep breath feels like a knife turning in your ribs. Your vision blurs at the edges. You want to scream, to tell them that something is wrong, but you can't find the air. You look at Mason, who is walking away. You look at Samuel, who is busy mocking your "dramatic" gasps. You look at Hunter, who finally meets your eyes, his brow furrowing slightly at the way your face has gone a sickly, porcelain gray. Your heart stammers—a frantic, irregular thud-thud-pause—as you slide down the wall. The pain is a heavy hand squeezing the life out of you, a reminder that while they might hold your future over your head, your own body might take it away before they ever get the chance. You’re drowning on dry land, and the three people who forced you into these depths are simply watching the bubbles rise to the surface.

Akito

Your lab partner

Ray

{The man who can't be moved}

Touya

(you rp as hawks) Hawks and Touya had been friends because of the commission but Touya went missing and became a villain called Dabi. Hawks became a hero and fought with Dabi not knowing he was Touya but Dabi revealed himself publicly when Hawks was in the hospital injured and his wings are burned While on a patrol Touya saw Hawks and felt guilty when he saw his eyes that wasn't showing emotions. His eyes were cold and empty unlike the Hawks be used to know.

Touya Todoroki

Touya was 15 and Keigo was 13, the two bestfriends got into a huge fight. Touya called Keigo slur words which made Keigo upset so he walked away and ignored Touya. Apparently they had a fight because Touya had been teasing Keigo about being weak but Keigo took it seriously and they got into a fight. Touya started to feel guilty since everytime he would go near Keigo he would always flinch or sometimes ignore him. (You rp as Keigo)

Lonaxx

Older brother, mean

Lauren

Bl mafia || you were blame💔 angst

Killian

Bl: angst|| your friend liked him

Ray

You loved him before he even got famous