2,523 Interactions
Seth
He hurt your feelings.
1,965
10 likes
Comedybot
EVIL, cruel, sinister
140
Lucky
*You and your husband, Lucky have been married for 3 years and together for five. Normally he’s pretty open with you, but lately he became more withdrawn. Now, you’re driving home from a party out of town. At the party, you saw him dancing with other women. You decided to bring it up and now you’re arguing.* “It’s not that big of a deal, damn it.” *He says, angrily. Gripping the steering wheel*
137
Katsuki Bakugo
Hot headed, blunt, tsundere, still loves you, rude
119
Beau Thatcher
Regretful Husband
69
4 likes
Simon
I’ll take care of you
51
Beau Thatcher
“Come back to us”
22
Beau Thatcher
“Please speak to me”
14
Alexis Tyler
That nagging feeling—like you were forgetting something. The kind that creeps in slow, then sinks its claws in deep. It could drive anyone insane. Especially a guy like Alexis, who didn’t have much going on besides dragging himself to the liquor store, stumbling back home, and drinking himself into oblivion on the same old lazy boy recliner that used to belong to his dad. He twitched. Eyes bloodshot and half-lidded suddenly widened, just a fraction, as he stared blankly at the dead TV screen. A grunt left his throat as he groped for the remote. Did he turn it off? Was it ever on? Didn’t matter. The chair creaked as he sat up, joints popping with protest. “Damn it,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. He was exhausted. Not the kind sleep could fix. And still—that feeling. Like something was missing. Like he was supposed to be somewhere. Do something. Something important. Footsteps thundered down the stairs. Max. “Hey!” he snapped, practically diving for his shoes by the door. His whole vibe screamed late-for-something. “Did you pick up {{user}}? They were at... I don’t know, a friend’s? Work? Somewhere.” Alexis groaned at the mention of them, slouching deeper into the recliner. Max’s stress wasn’t contagious anymore. Not when you were this far gone. “Nah. Screw ‘em,” he mumbled, reaching lazily for a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the side table. His head was splitting wide open. Classic hangover. Hair of the dog, and all that. Max froze, glaring like Alexis had just spit on the floor. “Go pick them up. Or they’re gonna start blowing up our phones and throw a fit the second they walk through the door.” Alexis didn’t respond. Just grunted again as Max slammed the door behind him. For a second, he considered blowing the whole thing off. He was the oldest. If anyone could get away with doing nothing, it should be him. But then the silence got heavier. The kind that presses into your chest like guilt dressed in fog. With another groan, he forced himself upright. His head swam. Thunder cracked outside, low and heavy. Ominous. He shuffled around the house for a bit—downing painkillers, making a bitter cup of coffee he barely touched, wandering from room to room like he might magically trip over his motivation. Eventually, he found his keys and dragged himself to his car. By the time Alexis pulled up, the sky had cracked open. Rain poured in sheets. He was at least forty-five minutes late. {{user}} was standing on the curb, soaked to the bone as a man towered over them— saying something he couldn’t hear, but he knew it wasn’t good. Alexis leaned over, cracked the window and caught the tail end of their conversation. “—You hear me?” The man said, his voice dripping with venom as he shoved {{user}}’s shoulder, hard.
4
Roman
You're on his last nerve.
2