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well-look-at-this · 4 days ago

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❝That sort of edging, eager, virgin happy show!❞

in which, your relationship with the twst boys is described as a season…

弹簧 — SPRING ˀˀ [ FRESH, BLOOMING ]

ʚĭɞ ׅ Affection arrives gently , like the first signs of Spring.

love with DEUCE SPADE is like watching a flower fight its way through the last of winter’s frost — clumsy at first, a little uneven, but determined to bloom regardless of the odds. His affection is a quiet thing that builds slowly, stumbling forward in fits and starts, much like him. Every confession, every touch of his hand, feels heavy with meaning because he has no idea how to take these steps with grace. But that is precisely what makes it beautiful. With Deuce, spring love is full of “firsts”: first shy glances that leave him red-faced, first hesitant brushes of his fingers against yours, first promises spoken too quickly but meant with all his heart. His sincerity has no room for games or hesitation — when he gives you his heart, it is whole and unpolished, clutched in both hands and offered with every ounce of trust he can muster. It is a love that grows with you, not ahead of you. He does not always have the right words, nor the smooth gestures of others, but he learns. For you, he will stumble forward, pick himself up, and try again. Loving Deuce is like standing in a meadow of newly blooming flowers: fragile, tender, but overflowing with hope. It is not perfect, but it is pure — and in its honesty, it is unshakably precious.

love with KALIM AL-ASIM is radiant and boundless, like the first day of spring when the world bursts alive in color and song. His affection is not something that creeps quietly — it arrives all at once, like sunlight pouring into a room and banishing every shadow. With Kalim, love is warm, open-armed, and endlessly giving, the kind that sweeps you up and makes you forget that loneliness ever existed. There is no hesitation in him; he wears his heart on his sleeve and delights in letting you know just how much you mean to him. Expect laughter echoing in wide, golden spaces, the thrill of spontaneous adventures, and gifts that are given not for grandeur, but because he simply thought of you and wanted you to smile. His joy is infectious, his devotion unconditional — he does not love in halves. And yet, beneath the bright, bubbling surface, there is something even more precious: the quiet way his eyes linger on you, full of trust and an unshakable certainty that you are his safe place. He does not fear the vulnerability that comes with love — he embraces it, celebrates it, and teaches you to do the same. With Kalim, spring love is eternal morning: the thrill of new beginnings, the warmth of being cherished, and the promise that even in the heaviest rains, he will find a way to bring you sunshine. His love is abundance itself — not measured, not rationed, but given freely, endlessly, because in his heart, you are his brightest bloom.

love with EPEL FELMIER is like standing in an orchard just as the blossoms begin to bloom — fresh, lively, and tinged with a sweetness that lingers long after. His affection carries both the eagerness of youth and the determination of someone who refuses to be underestimated. Loving him is like witnessing the delicate balance between tenderness and pride, vulnerability and strength. Epel doesn’t always know the right way to express himself; sometimes his words come out rougher than he intends, sometimes his gestures clumsy or defensive. But underneath the bravado, there is a boy who wants desperately to be seen — not as fragile, not as replaceable, but as someone worth choosing, worth staying beside. With you, he finds the courage to lower his guard, to let his softer self peek through, like shy petals curling open beneath sunlight. His love is fiercely protective, though he’ll deny it if teased. He wants to be the one to shield you, to stand tall, even if he hasn’t fully grown into the strength he imagines. Yet what makes his affection beautiful is not his striving for toughness, but the way he allows you to see the gentleness he hides from the rest of the world. The laughter you share, the quiet moments of vulnerability — these are his treasures, more precious than any proof of his pride. With Epel, spring love is restless and sincere, full of energy that sometimes trips over itself but never falters in intent. It is the promise of new growth, the thrill of change, and the quiet beauty of blossoms braving the wind. His love reminds you that even the smallest bloom can grow into something strong and steadfast, and that in his orchard of devotion, you are the apple he’ll never let fall.

love with SILVER is serene, like the stillness of dawn when the world is just beginning to wake. His affection blooms quietly, never demanding attention, but rather unfolding with the kind of natural grace that makes you feel as though it was always meant to be. Loving him is like finding peace beneath cherry blossoms drifting on the breeze, a love that is soft, steady, and infinitely patient. Silver does not need grand gestures or dramatic words to express what he feels. Instead, his devotion shows itself in gentle touches, in the way he watches over you when you’re tired, in the soft murmur of your name as if speaking it aloud is an honor. He listens, truly listens, and each moment spent by your side is cherished as though it were the most precious treasure in the world. There is a timeless quality to his love — an unhurried rhythm that reminds you to breathe, to savor, to rest. With him, there is no pressure to perform or pretend; you are free to simply exist, knowing he will be there with quiet strength and unwavering loyalty. His affection is the kind that lingers like the scent of blooming flowers, delicate yet enduring. With Silver, spring love is a gentle awakening. It is the steady beat of a heart that chooses you, again and again, not with fanfare, but with the simplicity of truth. In his arms, the chaos of the world melts away, leaving only the reassurance that no matter how fleeting the seasons may feel, his devotion will remain constant — like blossoms returning each year without fail.

夏天 — SUMMER ˀˀ [ PASSIONATE, BOLD ]

ʚĭɞ ׅ Affection strikes hot, sudden as a midsummer storm.

love with ACE TRAPPOLA is like a summer afternoon that sneaks up on you — loud, a little chaotic, but unexpectedly golden when you least expect it. His affection doesn’t come in soft whispers or shy glances; it crashes into you like a cannonball into a pool, all teasing grins and eyes that dare you to keep up. At first, it might feel like a game — one where he’s always one step ahead, always ready with a smirk or a joke to throw you off balance. But underneath the mischief, there’s a loyalty that runs hot and deep, like the sun beating down on your back while you run full-speed toward something real. With Ace, summer love is a whirlwind: playful arguments that end in laughter, spontaneous adventures with no set destination, and that one look he gives you when he thinks you’re not watching — the one that says he’s already in way deeper than he lets on. He doesn’t hand his heart over easily, but when he does, it’s the real deal — a little reckless, a little messy, but completely, unapologetically his. He’ll tease you mercilessly, but he’ll be the first to defend you, to show up when you need him, to be there even when the fun is over. There’s heat in the way he loves — not just passion, but fire. It crackles in the tension between your fingers just before they touch, in the laughter that echoes long after the joke has faded. With Ace, love is not still or serene. It moves, it burns, it dares you to chase it. But in those quiet moments — when the games pause, when his hand lingers in yours just a beat too long — you realize something: behind the bravado is a boy who’s afraid of losing something real. Loving Ace is like chasing the sun — wild, radiant, impossible to hold onto without getting burned. But oh, how worth it is to feel that warmth, to know that even in the chaos, you’re the one he always circles back to.

love with CATER DIAMOND is like the golden hour of a summer evening — glowing, fleeting, and almost too beautiful to be real. At first, it feels like a dream, all filtered smiles and playful snapshots, like you’ve stepped into one of his picture-perfect stories. With Cater, love is vibrant and full of movement: spontaneous road trips to nowhere, laughter echoing under string lights, late-night heart-to-hearts set to a playlist he made just for you. He’s the type to sweep you off your feet with charm so effortless you almost miss the way his hands tremble ever so slightly when they touch yours. He gives affection in flashes — a wink here, a surprise gift there, an “omg you’re the cutest” tossed like confetti — but behind the sparkle, there’s depth most never get to see. Because Cater doesn’t just love the moment — he loves you, even when the moment fades. He knows how to curate happiness, to make life feel like a highlight reel, but with you, he longs for something unfiltered. Something real. His heart, usually hidden behind hashtags and emojis, starts to peek through — in quiet glances, in the way he remembers the smallest things about you, in the silence he lets exist between you because, for once, he doesn’t feel the need to fill it. With Cater, summer love is both a party and the quiet walk home after — exhilarating, yes, but also unexpectedly intimate. He’ll make you feel seen in ways no one else has, not just with his eyes, but with his whole being — because when he’s with you, he’s not performing. He’s present. And once he lets you past the filters and the edits, you’ll see the truth: that Cater Diamond is aching to be loved for who he is, not just who he pretends to be. With him, love is dazzling but delicate, like sunlight through stained glass — colorful, radiant, and refracting more than you’d expect. Summer with Cater is more than a season — it’s a feeling, a warmth that lingers on your skin, in your heart, long after the sun goes down.

love with FLOYD LEECH is like swimming in the ocean during a heatwave — thrilling, unpredictable, and just a little bit dangerous. It crashes into you without warning, drags you under and spins you around, but never lets you drown. Being loved by Floyd is an experience — all-consuming, chaotic, and unlike anything you’ve ever known. One minute he’s clinging to you like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded, the next he’s drifting away with a lazy smirk, daring you to chase him. His affection comes in waves: wild laughter, bone-crushing hugs, sharp teeth brushing your skin in playful threats that make your heart race. He’s intense, always, but never boring — summer love with Floyd is adrenaline, the kind that keeps you on your toes and makes your pulse dance beneath your skin. He doesn’t follow rules — not in life, and certainly not in love. He’ll show up at your window at 3 a.m. just because he missed your voice, or drag you into the ocean fully clothed because the water “looked fun with you in it.” It’s impulsive, unfiltered, and impossibly alive. But buried beneath all the teasing and mood swings is something quieter — something vulnerable. When Floyd loves you, really loves you, it isn’t just fun and games. His possessiveness sharpens, his eyes soften when you’re not looking, and his laughter quiets into hums as he rests his head on your shoulder and murmurs, “Don’t go.” He doesn’t say why — he doesn’t need to. The way he holds you tighter than usual says everything. With Floyd, summer love is fierce, a storm dressed in sunshine — blistering in its highs, sudden in its lows, but always, always real. It tests your limits, asks you to keep up, to adapt, to feel as deeply as he does. But for those who don’t fear the tides, who are willing to dive into the deep end, his love is breathtaking. It’s freedom and fire, salt-kissed and soul-deep — the kind of love that leaves a mark. You don’t come out of it unchanged — and neither does he.

love with ROOK HUNT is like wandering through a sun-dappled forest in midsummer — enchanting, intense, and filled with moments that make you pause and wonder if you’ve stepped into a dream. With Rook, love is an art form, a poem always in progress, a chase that never truly ends — not because he refuses to be caught, but because the joy is in the pursuit, the fascination, the knowing. His affection is unrelenting in its passion, burning bright like sunlight through leaves, warm and golden and just a little too much if you stare at it for too long. Every glance from him feels like being seen through and through — not just noticed, but understood, down to your very soul. To be loved by Rook is to become his muse, his obsession — but not in a way that consumes you. Rather, he lifts you up like a marvel, like a secret he’s thrilled to have discovered. He’ll whisper sonnets against your skin, call you très magnifique when you’re half-asleep, memorize the way your lips move when you smile and compare it to the curve of a summer moon. But behind the florid words and theatrical flair is sincerity so sharp it stings. He is not simply charming — he is devoted. Every affectionate nickname, every poetic metaphor, is rooted in a genuine, unwavering adoration that runs deeper than most can fathom. Yet summer love with Rook is not idle or languid — it’s active, alive, pulsing with energy. He will pull you into midnight adventures, declare a spontaneous picnic under the stars, or chase after fireflies just to see them reflected in your eyes. And all the while, he watches you like you’re the most captivating mystery he’s ever had the honor to unravel — not to solve, but to admire forever in its complexity. With Rook, love is a wild, golden thing: part hunt, part hymn, always intense. It’s the kind of summer that hums with life, where every breeze carries your name and every moment feels like it was made just for you. It may leave you breathless, overwhelmed, known — but never unloved. For once you are his, he treasures you like the most beautiful secret nature ever revealed.

love with SEBEK ZIGVOLT is like standing beneath the noonday sun at full blaze — intense, unyielding, and impossible to ignore. There’s no such thing as subtlety when it comes to Sebek’s affection. It arrives like a declaration, shouted at full volume and backed by unwavering conviction. He doesn’t flirt — he announces. He doesn’t pine — he pledges. Loving you is a mission, a duty, a sacred oath he has assigned himself with all the gravity of a knight sworn to their sovereign. And yet, despite the thunder of his words and the stiff posture of his pride, his love is… earnest. So painfully, wonderfully earnest. He worries over you like the sun worries the fields — not knowing how to soften his rays, but always shining with purpose. He scolds you for walking in the rain without a coat, then stands guard outside your door to ensure you rest properly. He calls your name in frustration, then says it again, quieter — like he’s still not used to how it feels leaving his mouth in a moment of peace. Sebek may not understand how to express tenderness, but his devotion seeps into every action. You’ll find it in the way he listens (even when he pretends he’s not), in the way his hand hovers near yours, in the silence that falls when he looks at you and forgets what he was about to yell. You are, to him, something extraordinary — not because he thinks you’re fragile, but because he sees strength in you that others overlook. He admires you with all the fire of a midsummer sky: loud, blazing, but breathtaking if you dare to look directly at it. And when he learns to temper that heat — not diminish it, but refine it — you’ll discover a kind of love that’s steadfast and proud, the kind that doesn’t just protect, but believes in you. He won’t always say the right thing. He may embarrass you in public. But Sebek’s love is the kind that would march across the world barefoot if it meant making you smile — and he’d do it loudly, so everyone knew why.

秋 — AUTUMN ˀˀ [ WARM, REFLECTIVE ]

ʚĭɞ ׅ Affection falls gently, inevitable as the turning leaves.

love with RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS is like the turning of autumn leaves — crisp, vivid, and deliberate in its change. It doesn’t come all at once. It unfolds in quiet, careful moments, each one measured, each one meaningful. Riddle is not reckless with his heart. In fact, he’s spent most of his life locking it behind rules and rituals, believing that love — like everything else — must be earned through order and perfection. But then there’s you, and you don’t fit neatly into any of his carefully drawn lines. He doesn’t know how to handle it at first. The way your laughter pulls him off course. The way your presence feels less like a distraction and more like a question he suddenly wants to answer. So he tries to love you properly — with scheduled study dates, handwritten notes, and an overabundance of reminders to “stay hydrated.” But beneath the formal gestures is something softer, something unspoken: a boy who is learning how to make space in his life for chaos, and finding that your chaos feels a lot like freedom. You’ll notice the changes before he does. The way he stops correcting your every misstep. The way his hand lingers at your back when guiding you through a crowd. The way his scolding turns gentle when it’s only the two of you, voice dropping as if afraid to hurt something delicate. Loving Riddle is watching someone relearn the meaning of softness — not as weakness, but as choice. As strength. And when he finally lets go of the rules he once held like armor, what’s left is devotion in its purest form: steady, fierce, and utterly unshakable. Autumn love with Riddle is more than change — it’s growth. It’s the first leaf that dares to fall. The warmth in the air before winter arrives. The quiet promise that even after the coldest seasons, there will always be color.

love with TREY CLOVER is like warm bread just out of the oven on a chilly fall morning — comforting, familiar, and far more tender than it seems at first glance. It’s not loud, it’s not flashy, and it’s never in a rush. Trey’s affection doesn’t announce itself — it simply is, present in the small moments that most people overlook. A jacket slipped over your shoulders before you realize you’re cold. A hand at your lower back guiding you through a crowd. A slice of your favorite dessert appearing before you even ask. He’s observant like that — not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he cares, and he shows that care through steady, quiet consistency. Being with Trey is realizing that love doesn’t always come with fireworks — sometimes, it arrives in the scent of cinnamon, the warmth of laughter shared over tea, the way his eyes linger just a second longer when you talk about something that excites you. He won’t always say what he feels outright — not because he doesn’t feel deeply, but because he believes love should be shown more than spoken. Still, when he does say it — when he finally lets those words slip past his usually calm smile — they mean something. They’re solid. Real. Trey’s love is mature, steady, and patient — but never dull. He’s full of little surprises, subtle mischief tucked behind that easy smile. And every now and then, he’ll take your hand and remind you that even the most grounded hearts can still steal a breathless moment or two. Autumn love with Trey is the kind that stays with you — not because it demands to, but because it knows how to belong. It’s the warmth you didn’t know you needed until you had it, and the calm that lingers long after the storm has passed.

love with LEONA KINGSCHOLAR is like the first cold wind of fall cutting through the heat of summer — sharp, unexpected, and impossible to ignore. It’s not easy. In fact, loving Leona can feel like a losing battle at times, all growls and dismissive glances and a refusal to call what you have anything but a hassle. But that’s only the surface — and if you stay long enough to weather the storm beneath his lazy exterior, you’ll find something raw, something aching to be held. He pushes you away before you can reach too close, because deep down, he doesn’t believe he’s worth holding onto. He’s been passed over too many times, heard too many empty promises. So when he starts letting you in — slowly, grudgingly, and always with a sarcastic remark — it’s not out of convenience. It’s trust. Real, reluctant, fiercely protected trust. You’ll feel it in the way he lets your presence soften the hard edges of his silence. In the way he starts sleeping just a little lighter when you’re not around. In the way his tail flicks toward you — barely noticeable — when he’s pretending not to care. His affection is dry, biting, sometimes exasperating — but it’s real. It’s the way he remembers the things that bother you even when he pretends not to listen. The way he watches you from across the room with eyes that say more than his mouth ever will. Leona doesn’t offer love like a gift — he makes you earn it. But once it’s yours, it’s fiercely loyal, utterly consuming, and fiercely protected. Autumn love with Leona is jagged and golden — full of brittle truths and quiet sacrifices he’ll never speak aloud. It’s lying beneath a canopy of dying leaves and knowing that even decay can be beautiful if it means making space for something new.

love with RUGGIE BUCCHI is like the golden light of late autumn afternoons — warm, unexpected, and gone before you realize how much you needed it. It sneaks up on you, gentle at first, like the rustle of leaves beneath worn sneakers or the soft laughter echoing down cobbled alleyways. Ruggie doesn’t announce his feelings. He slips them into your life the way he slips through crowds — quiet, clever, and always with a grin that means more than it lets on. His affection is easy to miss if you’re not paying attention, tucked between teasing remarks and casual touches, but it’s there. In the way he always saves the last bite of food for you. In the way he notices when you’re tired before you even say a word. In the way he offers comfort not with grand gestures, but with presence — unwavering and familiar, like your favorite hoodie on a chilly day. He’s not the type to shower you with flowery words or sweeping romance. That’s just not how he works. But make no mistake — when Ruggie loves, he does so with every ounce of his sharp, resourceful heart. He’s spent too long scraping by to waste anything, least of all something as precious as love. So when he gives it to you, it’s deliberate. Earned. Real. There’s a certain magic to it, the way he makes you feel like home even in the most chaotic moments. With Ruggie, autumn love is laughter shared over stolen snacks, sleepy mornings tangled under threadbare blankets, whispered dreams traded like secrets in the quiet hours. It’s the steady hand that finds yours when the wind picks up. The voice that jokes to hide how much he’s afraid of losing what he’s finally found. And though he hides behind that sly smile and too-cool-to-care swagger, you’ll catch glimpses — raw, fleeting, but unmistakable — of just how deeply he feels. The way his voice softens when he says your name. The way his eyes linger just a second longer when he thinks you’re not looking. Ruggie may be used to going without, but with you, he wants more. Not riches or fame — just the simple, quiet kind of happiness he never thought he’d get to have. Loving him is like chasing the last light of fall: sometimes elusive, sometimes frustrating, but achingly worth it. Because when Ruggie lets you into his world, you realize — he doesn’t just love you. He trusts you. And for someone like him, that’s everything. Autumn love with Ruggie is a stolen moment that lingers, long after the leaves have fallen. Fleeting, maybe — but unforgettable.

love with JACK HOWL is like the quiet strength of a late autumn wind — steady, grounding, and far more gentle than it first appears. It’s not a whirlwind, not a firestorm. It’s the kind of love that takes its time, that waits for the leaves to fall naturally, one by one, and learns to cherish each small change as it comes. Jack doesn’t rush into anything, least of all something as important as love. He’s careful with his heart, not because he’s unsure of what he feels, but because he respects what it means to feel it. He approaches you the same way he approaches everything that matters: with quiet determination, honest intentions, and a sense of loyalty that refuses to waver. At first, it might not look like romance at all. It’s in the way he carries your bag without asking. The way he positions himself between you and a passing crowd. The way he remembers every little thing you say, even when you think he’s not listening. His love speaks through action long before it ever finds its way into words — and even then, his words come slow and a little clumsy, as if he’s worried they might come out wrong. But when he says them, he means them with everything he is. There’s nothing half-hearted about Jack. Once you have his heart, you have all of it. With Jack, autumn love is about the long walks in chilled twilight, when the air smells like earth and fading sunlight, and the silence between you feels more like comfort than emptiness. It’s the security of knowing someone’s always got your back — not because he thinks you can’t stand on your own, but because he knows life is easier when someone stands beside you. He won’t make a scene. He won’t try to sweep you off your feet. But when your hands brush and he lets his linger, when he meets your gaze and doesn’t look away — you’ll know. He’s already yours. There is something unshakably safe about being loved by Jack Howl. Not safe as in boring — safe as in solid. As in real. It’s a love that grows like the changing season: slow, beautiful, and certain. You may not even notice the moment it begins to bloom, but one day, you’ll look around and realize how much brighter the world feels with him in it. He doesn’t promise you forever with flashy words — he shows it, every day, in everything he does.

love with JAMIL VIPER is like the hush of autumn twilight — subtle, smoldering, and layered with things left unsaid. It doesn’t blaze like summer or bloom like spring; it simmers beneath the surface, a warmth that builds slowly, intentionally, until you realize it’s been wrapping itself around you all along. Jamil is cautious with his heart — not because he doesn’t feel deeply, but because he feels too deeply, and has spent most of his life hiding that truth behind perfect control. To love him is to witness the careful unraveling of someone who’s never been allowed to want things just for himself. He doesn’t fall easily — he calculates, hesitates, overthinks. But even in the early days, when he’s still holding back, you’ll see it. In the way he watches you when you speak, quiet and observant. In the way he remembers the little things, even if he pretends not to care. In the way he makes your favorite dish without asking, setting it down with a shrug and averted eyes. These are the moments where his affection slips through — quiet, unspoken, but impossible to miss if you know how to look. Jamil’s love is deliberate. Not flashy, not loud — but purposeful. Every glance held a second too long, every word carefully chosen, every accidental touch that lingers just a heartbeat more than necessary. He’s not the type to shout about how much you mean to him. But he’ll take your hand when no one’s looking. He’ll wait up for you, even when he pretends he just happened to still be awake. He’ll share pieces of himself slowly, like secrets he’s afraid you’ll turn away from — and when you don’t, when you stay, that’s when you see the real Jamil. The soft, unguarded one beneath all the layers of composure and restraint. And make no mistake — he will protect you fiercely. Not with loud declarations or flashy heroics, but with a quiet, constant presence. You’ll never have to ask if he’s there. He just will be. Autumn love with Jamil is like walking through a dusk-colored world where everything is just beginning to glow. It’s a love that deepens over time, not all at once — but when it roots itself, it does so with unshakable depth. Because once he chooses you, truly chooses you, that loyalty runs deeper than words. He may never be the easiest to read, but you’ll never doubt how much he feels. Not when his love is in every detail, every glance, every breath he takes when you’re near.

love with LILIA VANROUGE is like the last breath of autumn — fleeting and eternal all at once, a dance between dusk and memory. It arrives unexpectedly, like wind shaking loose the trees, rustling something old and powerful inside you. Loving Lilia is like stepping into a story already in progress, one he’s been writing for centuries with laughter, loss, and everything in between. You are not his first love — and he won’t pretend otherwise — but the way he looks at you? Like you are the most alive thing in his entire, timeless world? That is real. That is now. He flirts like it’s second nature — playful, teasing, almost too easy. But beneath the jokes, beneath the mischievous smiles and dramatic declarations, there’s something older. Quieter. Something watching. Because Lilia notices everything. The way your hands tremble when you’re nervous. The things you don’t say when you’re tired. The thoughts you try to hide behind brave smiles. And in those moments, he shifts. The humor softens. His gaze lingers. The ancient stillness in him leans closer — not to consume you, but to understand. His love doesn’t follow a path. It meanders like falling leaves on a breeze, carrying you from laughter to silence, from playful banter to strangely tender moments that feel like they’re echoing from another life. One moment, he’s stealing your dessert and teasing you relentlessly — the next, he’s cradling your hand like it’s made of glass, as if to touch you too roughly might shatter something sacred. There is a balance in him, between shadow and warmth, wisdom and chaos. And his love — his true love — exists in the space between. To be loved by Lilia is to be remembered. Truly, deeply, in a way that survives the turning of seasons and the slow creep of time. He will not always be easy to understand. He is too old, too layered, too fond of letting others underestimate just how deeply he feels. But he will show you. In lullabies sung low when you can’t sleep. In the way he always positions himself at your back, watching where you can’t. In the softness of his voice when it’s just the two of you, and there’s no one left to perform for.

冬 — WINTER ˀˀ [ ENDURING, ETERNAL ]

ʚĭɞ ׅ Affection rests steady, unyielding as ice under moonlight.

love with AZUL ASHENGROTTO is like the first frost settling quietly over still water — pristine, deliberate, and far more fragile than it appears. There is elegance to it, a kind of composed beauty that makes you hesitate to touch for fear of leaving a mark. Azul has spent years building up his defenses — walls of glass and ink, contracts and charm — each one carefully placed to keep others at a distance. Love, to him, is not just vulnerable. It’s dangerous. Risky. A gamble he’s spent his entire life too afraid to lose. And yet, with you… he begins to wonder what it would be like to stop playing defense. He doesn’t fall easily. His affection reveals itself in small, calculated increments — a sudden generosity with his time, a rare moment of honesty, a gaze that lingers just a little too long. His compliments are laced with elegance, but when they concern you, there’s a slight tremble beneath the polish — like he’s still not sure if saying how he feels will cause everything he’s built to collapse. He’ll deny his heart at first, maybe even scoff at the idea of being “soft.” But then he’s adjusting his glasses to avoid your eyes. Then he’s stammering when you compliment him. Then he’s rearranging his schedule just to cross paths with you — and calling it coincidence. Azul’s love is not flashy, nor is it rushed. It is deliberate, like every word he speaks, like every plan he crafts. He studies your needs before you even voice them. Learns the rhythm of your day. Remembers every detail you offer him — not for leverage, but because to him, nothing about you is forgettable. There is a deep yearning beneath the surface, one he doesn’t quite know how to tame. It shows itself in moments he can’t plan for: when he clutches your hand a little too tightly, or when his usual composure breaks just enough to show you how much he truly fears losing what you share. Winter love with Azul is slow and intense, like snow gathering quietly on the windowsill. It demands patience. It asks you to read between the lines, to hear the meaning behind his hesitant words, to see the ache behind his pride. But if you stay — if you prove to him that he is not a transaction, not a deal to be struck or a favor to be earned — he will open in ways he never has before. He will protect you with every resource he has. He will treasure your trust like it’s the rarest pearl in the sea.

love with JADE LEECH is like wandering through a snow-covered forest — serene, mysterious, and full of quiet, hidden depths. Nothing with Jade is ever exactly as it seems. His love isn’t loud, nor is it easily understood. It unfolds slowly, in hushed tones and sidelong glances, like frost forming intricate patterns on glass — deliberate, beautiful, and impossible to replicate. With him, winter is not cold — it’s still. Reflective. Intimate. The kind of season where silence carries meaning and even the smallest gestures echo like snowfall. He doesn’t offer his heart with fanfare. In fact, you might not notice it at first. Jade is a master of restraint, of holding his cards close — testing, watching, waiting. He approaches love the way one might approach a rare, delicate bloom: with fascination, with patience, and with the knowledge that rushing could ruin everything. And yet, when it comes to you, something shifts. His smiles soften. His words—still laced with mischief—gain a quiet sincerity. The sharp edges dull, just slightly, like icicles melting in the sun. You’ll know he’s falling not when he tells you — but when he begins to show you. In the way he remembers the things that bring you comfort. In the quiet cups of tea he makes without asking. In the way he stands just a little closer when he senses you’re uneasy, not quite touching, but always there. His affection is a collection of details, of carefully chosen moments: a hand at your lower back as he guides you through a crowd, a thoughtful gift left without explanation, a look that lingers too long and says far more than words ever could. But don’t mistake subtlety for a lack of passion. Beneath that composed exterior lies something far more intense — a quiet, possessive devotion that burns cold and bright. If you are someone he allows into his inner world, it means he has decided, in no uncertain terms, that you are worthy of being kept close. And Jade keeps what he values very close. Winter love with Jade is a slow descent into something profound. It doesn’t crash into you — it wraps around you, inch by inch, until you’re cocooned in it completely. Until the quiet becomes comforting. Until his silences feel like safety. Until his gaze, sharp and all-seeing, feels like home. He will not give you every piece of himself all at once. But the pieces he does offer are priceless — and once given, they are never taken back.

love with VIL SCHOENHEIT is like standing beneath a glassy winter sky — breathtaking, sharp, and achingly precise. It is beautiful in the way that freshly fallen snow is beautiful: untouched, deliberate, and almost too perfect to disturb. With Vil, love is not a careless thing. It is sculpted, refined, chosen. He does not fall in love without intention — and he certainly doesn’t give his heart away to just anyone. No, with Vil, love is earned. But once it is yours, it is nothing short of radiant. He approaches affection like he approaches everything else: with discipline, with elegance, and with impossibly high standards. You might think he’s keeping you at a distance, holding you at arm’s length behind layers of polish and poise. And in some ways, he is. Vil is not quick to trust. He has been judged, envied, adored, and misunderstood too many times to offer vulnerability lightly. But if you look closely, you’ll see the cracks in his perfection — the way his hand hesitates before reaching for yours, the way his voice softens when he says your name like it’s a secret, just for him. Loving Vil means learning to read the quiet beneath the glamour. It’s the way he notices when you’re tired before you say a word. The way he picks out your favorite tea before you even knew you needed it. The way he brushes lint off your jacket with a frown that’s more tender than annoyed. He doesn’t love loudly — he loves intentionally. Everything he gives, he gives with purpose. Because to him, love isn’t something fleeting or casual. It is sacred. It is serious. But winter love is not without its chill. Vil can be harsh in his honesty, cutting in his critiques — not out of cruelty, but out of care. He believes in the best version of you, and he expects you to chase it, just as he chases his own. He will push you. Challenge you. Not because he doesn’t accept you as you are, but because he sees your potential — and wants the world to see it, too. It can be difficult, at times, to bear the weight of being seen so clearly. But it’s also a gift. Because when Vil sees you, truly sees you, he does not look away. Winter love with Vil is like wearing couture in a snowstorm: stunning, precise, and impossible to forget. It demands effort. It demands presence. But in return, you are loved with a kind of unwavering grace that few ever get to experience. You are chosen, intentionally, every single day. And in the quiet hours, when the mirrors are turned away and the world’s gaze has softened, he will let the mask slip. He will touch your cheek with reverence. He will speak your name like a prayer. And you will understand — beneath the glamour and the standards and the frost, Vil’s love burns with the steady heat of a star that refuses to dim.

love with IDIA SHROUD is like watching snowfall through a window at midnight — quiet, private, and almost too intimate to put into words. It doesn’t come with grand gestures or sweeping declarations. It arrives in fragments: in the soft glow of a screen shared between you, in a hoodie tossed your way because “you looked cold,” in a late-night message sent when he’s too nervous to say what he really means out loud. Loving Idia is not loud. It is hidden in the shadows, in the spaces between words, in the silence that means everything. He doesn’t flirt — he panics. He doesn’t confess — he short-circuits. The very idea of romance terrifies him, not because he doesn’t want it, but because he does — so badly, so deeply, it makes him feel like he’s glitching from the inside out. He’s convinced he’ll mess it up. That he’s too much, or worse, not enough. And yet, you keep showing up. You don’t turn away from the awkwardness. You don’t flinch at the weird. And little by little, something incredible happens: he begins to believe that maybe, just maybe, he’s allowed to want this. You’ll recognize his love in the way he curates playlists for you, even if he never admits what the songs mean. In the way he opens up his world — the one he never shows anyone — and lets you sit beside him in the quiet. In the way his voice gets softer when you talk about your dreams, like he’s memorizing every word. He won’t always look you in the eye when he says he cares. But he’ll say it in his own language: in game lore references, in custom avatars, in snacks left by your door after a rough day. Winter love with Idia is cautious, yes — but it’s also constant. He doesn’t fall easily, but once he does, he’s in it completely. His loyalty is absolute. His care is relentless in its own quiet way. You’ll notice how he starts logging off a little earlier just to hear about your day. How he lets you into spaces that once felt like a fortress. How his silences are no longer walls, but places of peace — because with you, he no longer has to perform. And one night, maybe, when the lights are low and his voice is barely above a whisper, he’ll say it: “I never thought someone like you could love someone like me.” And in that moment, you’ll know — not just that he loves you, but how much it means that he let himself. Winter love with Idia is fragile, yes — but not weak. It’s strong in the way icicles are: sharp, beautiful, and formed in the coldest places. It’s the warmth of a monitor’s glow in a pitch-black room. It’s two hands brushing in the dark and not pulling away. It’s learning that love doesn’t have to be loud to be life-changing.

love with MALLEUS DRACONIA is like the hush of a snow-covered world beneath a midnight sky — vast, ancient, and achingly still. It is not the winter of harsh winds or biting frost, but the kind that silences all else, demanding reverence with its beauty. To love Malleus is to step into a cathedral of stars, where time slows and every heartbeat echoes like a prayer. His affection does not burn fast. It lingers, settling over you like snowfall — quiet, patient, and impossible to ignore once it’s there. You won’t notice the moment it begins. He won’t proclaim it with grand gestures or dramatic confessions. No, his love comes in the stillness between words, in the way his gaze lingers too long on your silhouette, in the way the night always seems to stretch a little longer when he’s near. For one who has known centuries of solitude, every moment shared with you is a miracle he does not take lightly. With Malleus, love is laced with awe. Not because he sees you as fragile, but because he sees you as new — something unshaped by the patterns of the world he’s long since memorized. You are a question he does not yet have an answer to, and that wonder pulls him toward you like a lodestar in a sky he thought he had already mapped. He learns your rhythms the way one learns to read constellations: slowly, reverently, afraid to miss a single detail. In return, he offers you glimpses of himself that no one else has seen — not the prince, not the dragon, but the man who stares at the moon and wonders if you’re thinking of him too. There is a weight to his love, but never a burden. It is the kind of devotion that waits centuries without complaint. The kind that stands guard through every storm, not asking for warmth but offering it. He does not rush to claim you. Instead, he circles you like a great, winged shadow — watching, protecting, hoping. When he speaks of forever, he means it in ways few can truly grasp. And when he calls you mine, it is not with possessiveness, but with a sacred kind of trust — as if naming you is the same as placing his heart in your hands. Loving Malleus is like walking through a winter forest untouched by time — breathtaking, solemn, infinite. It is the crackle of magic in the cold air, the stillness before a snowfall, the promise of light in the longest night. It does not melt easily. It does not fade with the season. It endures, carved in frost and moonlight. And once you are his, you are written into the very fabric of his eternity — not as a fleeting warmth, but as the one bright flame that made the endless winter feel like home.

formats nd styles will continue to switch up until i find one i like 🫩

yes, ik i flip flopped around with the paragraph formats and they are veeery inconsistent..apologies and tears 💔.

if ur wondering how i got this out so quickly, i was alr working on this and this at the same time

#LOVE this #omg #deuce spade #ace trapolla #trey clover #azul ashengrotto #jade leech #idia shroud #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt

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