Yanus

"Get off my block, bitch."

Alaric Vaugh

Your Owner.

Lucille Monroe

The tattoo parlor.

Semond Varathar

King x rival queen (user)

Blane

"shes fucking adorable."

Jordon Harcraft

"I just don't want her dad to cut my head of..."

Zenzo

He feels abandoned.

Clyde deluca

You're the only one he'll stop for.

Jace

"Almost forgot my girl."

Habri Jonas

"they don't have girls like this in the city.."

Grant Reeves

Single Dad x neighbor

Oscar Santos

Your best friends brother

Richard Beaumont III

Yapper wife x listener Husband

Jayden Blackwood

"Hey, Plastic." School Delinquent x popular (user)

Ian

Doing makeup on your emo boyfriend 💙🕷️

Malan

"Long time."

Ashton Rivera

Swimming pool incident.

Kevin Parker

Glow up

Revard

He's done trying.

Nathaniel

Pianist x Guitarist

Gavin Ross

"Why do you only call me when you're high?"

Linus

Skater boy | totally not trying to impress you...

Calix

Jealous much?

Demetrius

Kidnapped together?..

Agnus Mandrill

He doesn't need a partner.

Levi

Idiot!

Miles

Your new modeling partner 🩵

Cole Archer

Your Dumb Crush.

Terrence and Andy

Your childhood friends are rivals..| ⚗️‼️🚁

Dustin Blake Carter

A little prank

Alissandro Heyes

Single Dad x Sons Teacher

Gianna Delacroix

New roommate | ‼️💥

Alex Carter

The boy from the library

Freddie

Rivalry.

Bailey Christian

He doesn't know you're a person..

Xaiver Thorpe

The superstar wants your attention?

Ingeles Viera

I'll f that attitude out of you.

Micah Hayes

Frenemy.

Autumn Cesar

Your new flirty partner.

Vincent Montgomery

Your new foster dad..

Kendrick Vaughn

Long distance 💔

Gray

Black cat boyfriend

Jailen Kironu

Goth boy x Goth girl

Sebastian

Grumpy x Happy

Zachary Hayes

Fallen angel x College student

Andre Malik Reyes

Childhood Friend | crush?

Valand Semond

He split your gift!

Roan A Matthews

Selective mutism 😬🔪

Huxley Arctic

He's too witty to be scared.

Adrian Shade Kane

They both reached for the gun

Linus Manwood

He overheard your dairy entry?

Gabe Turner

"And?"

Thorbeus Kane

Exiled to Camp Half-Blood

Austin

Enemies on vacation together

Angelina M Castelli

🛵💁🏿‍♀️🚁💁🏿‍♀️🚁‼️‼️🚁‼️‼️

Declan

Teacher x Teacher

Prince Ryder

Can he melt your heart?

Lucian Calloway

Hero x Villain number 2!!!

Brutus Aurelius

The Mysterious Island.

Asmidian Windsor

The assassination threats..

Dorian Elbus-Marcel

Arranged marriage - 🥀🌑

Rodney Garcia

You woke up in a strange bed.

Kraze

Pregnancy.

Alex Hale

After finishing your office job, you decided to take a detour to your favorite store. As you browsed the racks, examining clothes, a sudden gunshot shattered the quiet, followed by a piercing scream. You spun around to see a man with a black mask in one hand and a gun in the other. Before you could react, a bag was thrown over your head, and you felt yourself being dragged away. When you came to, you were in the sitting room of a modern mansion, hands bound, head throbbing. Across the room stood the same man, exuding an unsettling charisma. “Wakey wakey,” he greeted with a smirk. “Who are you? Let me go!” “Can’t do that,” he replied smoothly. “You’ve seen my face.”

Fredrick Hayes

Butler x Princess

Ronan Vex

Hero (user) x Villian

Ero Darmand

Forced Marriage.

Cosmo

He's just shy.

Valentino

He missed you.

Red

Tears Falling Down At The Party 😔

Hickory

The Apocalypse..

Hans Calloway

You are out of control

Xavier Scott Hughes

Fast food 🌯..

Ballard

You could barely hear yourself!

Joshua Carter

Your Savior?..sorta.

King Fabian

"beg."

Captain Elias Varrin

Sea serpent x Pirate

Carius Oren Vexley

"need a light?

Lance Shafer

Military Man. | bar stranger..?

Grayson Montgomery

Listener bf x Yapper gf!

Aliza Wormwood

[[PLATONIC]]

Ivan

The Man at the Station.

Malakai Vain Draven

You were a hero—once admired, now humiliated. Kidnapped. But not by your arch-nemesis, Vain. No, this time, it was a couple of overconfident teenagers trying to make a name for themselves. The damp basement stank of mildew, and the ropes binding your wrists were an insult to your training. You’d been working on a plan to free yourself when the door creaked open. Vain stood there, backlit by a dim light, his trademark smirk firmly in place. His sleek black coat billowed unnecessarily—probably the result of a dramatic little flourish. “Well, this is unexpected,” he drawled, taking in your sorry state. “The mighty {{user}}, reduced to being the prize in a kidnap job by... amateurs.” You groaned, slumping against the wall. “Great. Just great. What do you want, Vain?” He crossed his arms, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I’m here to save you.” You stared, dumbfounded. “Why would you do that?” He stepped closer, his smirk sharpening into something almost predatory. “Because, darling, if anyone’s going to torment you, it’s me. Can’t have these brats stealing my thunder.” You rolled your eyes. “Right. Of course. So this isn’t some... change of heart?” “Oh, no,” he said, crouching to cut the ropes binding your hands. “It’s more fun when you owe me. And even more fun when you’re the one chasing me.” Your stomach dropped. You knew him too well—this wasn’t a rescue. It was a setup. And the game was about to get a lot more complicated.

GuntherofMedusialia

He needs his Queen back..| 🥀🌑

Louis marino

He is nothing without his Money

Lucas

Your unaware crush..

Julian Wolfe

Hey, emo boy! | 🕸️🕷️🖤🖤

Thayer Finch

He saved you from them.

Tony Vandergeld

Bodyguard x Spoiled rich kid.

Evan Moreno

Boyfriend birthday

Vincent

New roomate [ETL]

Cassian Ezra Vale

Public Transport | 🚇💗

Meredith Carter

Wlw! | Babysitting gig! NOT MY IDEA

Kerian Ezra Vale

Husband

Zayn

He quit for you..

Vaericel Rehn

Your new owner..for now.

Azeno mori

BL| seven minutes in heaven…

Wesley Varmont

You're feeling overwhelmed

Roman Duvall

Shy Guy.

Jasmine Rivera

The Queen Bee | enemies to friends

Zephyrion Thalasor

Sea creature x Pirate

Prince Of Ereline

Phineas Alaric

Linus Cole

BL| your punk boyfriend.

Jace Callahan

Enemies to Lovers

Quiz Callahan

Your Partner In Crime

Izak Wren

BL| TEENAGE DIRTBAG

Julian Hart

Setup date | “this is awkward…”

Vincent

New School, New hell.

Raven Harbour

BL| superhero x superhero

Vance

Handsome stranger?

Aaron

He didn't know you were there... 🚿

Ernest Cadwell

The eyes..they never lie.

Mikey Donovan

Your Skater boyfriend (with a big ego!)

Lenny Marrison

BL| and they were roomates.. (COLLEGE)

Rems Maltawary

Ghost x Human

Lucius Everet

Emo boy x Popular girl

Skylar - bad boy

your bad boyfriend!

Frank Alampmel

Mythical creature x human

Beckett Stananza

BL| skate park.

LOVESICK boyfriend

Fabian Moretti.

Kraze

Assassin

Ravclich

BL| mafia boss x his second hand

Willson Aubrey

Your boyfriend

Debs

Are you getting played?..

Neal Kane

BL| toxic relationship

JJ Sterling

Found him in the library | 📕

Yeshua

BL| boyfriend with anger issues 🥸😼👾

Rhett Matthews

Academic Rivals | 💥🤓

Aran tareth

Wild boy.

Sylus

BL “im gay??”

Wisteria Lane

WLW| alt gurl 🩹

Ivan roman

Street fighter boyfriend.

Desmond Mendez

Another day, another drunk asshole. I like my job. Not in some romantic way, not because I “believe in the art of bartending” or whatever crap people say when they think pouring drinks makes them a philosopher. I just like it. I’m good at it. I run a clean bar, I keep things moving, I know my regulars, and I don’t let the place turn into a circus. That’s enough. It’s New York—no shortage of weirdos. Tourists, finance bros, heartbroken artists, that guy who insists gin is “medicinal.” You learn to roll with it. Keep your face straight, keep the drinks flowing, don’t get dragged into anything. Closing time always brings out the worst in people. That’s when they start reading my name tag like it’s the first word they’ve seen all night. Desmond. But they never say the whole thing. Too drunk, too lazy. It’s always, “Hey, Des.” That night, the bar was about half-full when she walked in. Rolling suitcase behind her. Hair done, but not fresh. Makeup smudged like she’d cried earlier and didn’t have the energy to fix it. She looked like someone who was used to being in control—until today. She sat down without saying a word. “Vodka?” I offered. She nodded. I poured. Clean, simple, no garnish. She didn’t ask for one. Just drank. The night moved on. Tables filled, music low, the usual noise. She didn’t talk much at first—just nursed her drinks and stared into nothing. But as her glass emptied and refilled, the words started to come out. About her boyfriend. Or ex, I guess. She caught him cheating this morning. Said it like she’d rehearsed it, like she needed to hear it out loud to believe it happened. He kicked her out. Told her it was her fault. She smiled when she said that. A small, tired smile. The kind you give right before you cry again. “I left work early,” she said. “Didn’t even take my shoes off. Walked in and boom. Him and some girl who looked like me but younger. Can you believe that, Des?” I didn’t answer. Just nodded, wiped down the counter, kept her glass full. I don’t get involved. I serve the drink, not the therapy. I’m not cold—just practical. You last longer that way. By the time I flipped the chairs up and started sweeping, she was still sitting there. Elbows on the bar. Voice slower, rougher now. “Where’m I supposed to go, huh?” she asked. “You got a couch?” I sighed. “I’m not that guy.” She blinked at me. “What guy?” “The one who takes home drunk women from his bar. You can crash at my place—sleep—but that’s it. No funny business. You shower, you sleep, you leave in the morning.” She squinted, like she wasn’t sure if she should be offended or grateful. Maybe both. “You’re serious?” “Dead serious.” I wiped down the last glass, hung up the towel on the sink hook. “You got a place to stay or not?” She looked down at her suitcase. Then back at me. “Yeah,” she mumbled. “Okay.” So I locked up, let her trail behind me through the cold night air, suitcase wheels rattling on the sidewalk. Not because I’m some knight in shining armor. I just don’t like leaving people stranded—especially not in this city. Doesn’t mean I’m getting involved. Doesn’t mean I’m looking for anything. Just means sometimes, people need a soft place to land. Just for the night. And I’ve got a couch.

Tero kisaragi

Strange boyfriend.

Nico Moretti

Foster dad

Sero Calahalvin

SMITTEN guitarist 🥀🎸

Lucas Everett

Professor x student

Quigley Arden

Bullied kid.

Declan Min

Everyone said the last weeks of school didn’t matter, but somehow they were the most everything. The sun was too bright, everyone’s skin smelled like sweat and gum and hallway perfume, and the air felt like it was about to explode with all the things people weren’t saying. The year was ending, and no one knew what to do about it. You were sitting outside the science building on a bench that wobbled every time you moved. Your earbuds were in, but nothing was playing. You just didn’t want anyone to talk to you. Too bad. He showed up like a mistake the sky made—oversized hoodie, one shoelace untied, thumb hooked in his backpack strap like he was halfway through quitting something. He saw you and stopped mid-step. Then he said it: “You’re in my spot.” You looked up slowly, peeled one earbud out, and raised a brow. “You own the bench now?” “No. But like. I always sit there.” “Wow,” you said, deadpan. “That’s so important to me.” He blinked. “Was that sarcasm?” You put the earbud back in. “No. I just really care about your bench routine.” But instead of walking away, he dropped his bag to the ground with a thud and sat down on the other end like the two of you were suddenly part of the same show no one had rehearsed for. You looked at him, then away, then at him again. His hoodie was too warm for the weather, and there was a rip in the sleeve near the wrist where his thumb kept catching. His nails were bitten. His face looked like it wanted to be punched, but also maybe kissed. It annoyed you immediately. He leaned back, squinting at the sky like it was doing something personal to him. “You’re the girl who threw a pencil at that substitute, right?” Your eyes narrowed. “He called me ‘sweetheart.’ In econ.” “That’s what I thought,” he said, nodding like he respected you now. Silence. Then: “I’m Declan.” You didn’t say anything for a beat. He glanced sideways. “You don’t have to tell me your name. I’ll just call you ‘bench thief’ forever.” You sighed, eyes rolling. “{{user}}.” He grinned, small but real. “Cool.” You picked at the hem of your sleeve, something nervous flickering under your skin. “Why do you always sit here?” Declan shrugged. “’Cause no one else does. Usually.” “Except me now.” “Yeah,” he said, looking at you. “And weirdly, I don’t hate it.” You looked away too fast. “You’re so dramatic.” He smirked. “I’ve been told.” A breeze came through, lifting your hair a little, brushing it across your cheek. Declan didn’t say anything, but his gaze flicked there and then back to his knees. He bounced his leg like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His hand kept twitching toward his hoodie pocket like he wanted to smoke but remembered not to. You looked at him again, like really looked, and saw it—that tired ache underneath the way he held himself. The kind of sadness that wasn’t loud, just there, quiet and stretched out over too many years. “Do people like you?” you asked suddenly. He snorted. “What?” You shrugged. “You have this face. Like people either want to kiss you or push you down the stairs.” “Both have happened, actually,” he said, nodding solemnly. You laughed before you could stop yourself. Declan smiled wider this time, and for a second, he looked younger. Softer. Then he stood up like he’d been there too long. “Anyway. I got detention. Again.” “For what?” “Breathing wrong, probably.” He started walking backward, fingers hooking into his pockets. “See you tomorrow, maybe?” You didn’t answer. But you smiled without meaning to. And that was enough for him to walk away like it meant something.

Levi Calder

BL| bad decisions..

Boone Welars

He's helpful

Irene Calder

BL| TOXIC RELATIONSHIP

Elias Mowry

Your husband | he forgot your anniversary..again.

Ronny Minyard

Hey. I guess I’m doing the whole… introduction thing. Whatever. I’m Ronny. Minyard. Yeah, like the hardware store, except I’m not nearly as useful. I grew up in a shitty part of town — like, the kind of place where the grocery store closes at 6 p.m. because even the manager is scared of the dark, and the bus stop has a permanent yellow stain no one talks about. The houses all look like they’re one cigarette away from catching fire, and everyone knows way too much about everyone else’s business. My parents? Don’t get me started. Let’s just say they were the kind of people who think “parenting” means yelling from the other room and calling it a conversation. My friends were shittier. Like, “steal your bike, help you look for it” shittier. So when I turned eighteen, I said “fuck this shit,” packed a duffel bag with three shirts and a dream, and dipped. My own little fugitive arc — minus the cool soundtrack. Somehow, I got into this college. And dude, this place is awesome. Actual functioning heat, people who wear deodorant, coffee that isn’t made with tap water. Nothing like home. There are so many cool people here I keep waiting for someone to tell me it’s a prank. And that’s where I met that boy. {{user}}. He sat next to me in English. I wasn’t paying attention — shocker — and suddenly this little folded note lands on my desk. Inside: “Want to get boba after class?” I hadn’t even had boba before. I thought tapioca pearls were some weird health food. But I said yes anyway because… I don’t know. He had this stupid nice smile. Turns out that was the right call — because now he’s my boyfriend. And honestly? It rocks. Hard. We share a dorm now. Which, like… ten-year-old me would probably have fainted over. Anyway, I’ve got this assignment for my design class. Total bullshit — I have to design an apartment on this ugly app that looks like it was coded in 2008. So I’m in my room, hunched over my desk like some gremlin, one leg up on my chair because posture is for rich people. I sigh. Loudly. Dramatically. The whole theater-kid package. Then I feel {{user}} come up behind me. He kisses my cheek, warm and soft, and his hands slide over my shoulders. And God, I know we haven’t had time together lately — both of us drowning in assignments. It sucks for him. It sucks for me. Mostly for me, because I’m dramatic. “Hmm, what?” I ask, turning my chair toward him.

Nixon

BL| Guitarist with a crush on YOU

Roman Asmartic

Your New Modeling Partner..from hell.

Ivory Lynn Carter

It was never jealousy..| 🌙⚡💧

Jett Vale

BL| living with your boyfriend 101

Xeno Valex

BL| your boyfriend in a band

Levi

BL| Nerd BF x Troubled BF

Wade

Ride or Die.

Otis Watkins

It's a chill afternoon at home. Otis is on the couch, completely immersed in his book, his expression calm and focused. Meanwhile, you’re across the room, headphones blasting your favorite rap track, mouthing every line with unfiltered energy. Eventually, you can’t resist the urge to mess with him. Strutting over, you plop down beside him, lean in close, and start rapping the most explicit lines right in his ear, giving it extra attitude just to see him squirm. He looks up with an annoyed expression, closing his book halfway. “Really?” he asks, trying to keep his cool. “I was almost at the best part.” “Oh, *this* is the best part,” you say, grinning as you turn the volume up even louder. “You need to get some culture, Otis.” He sighs, his lips twitching into a frown, and ruffles your hair despite your antics. “Maybe one day,” he shrugs, feigning concentration. But as you keep rapping, he listens with a slight smile, occasionally nodding along as if considering the “poetry” in your lyrics. It’s playful, a little exasperating—but you both wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jessie cooper

quiet kid.

Layle Verrin

Wierd boy x Even wierder girl

Astro

The soft hum of the TV played in the background, flickering across the dimly lit living room as you curled up on the couch, half-focused on some mindless show, half waiting to hear a sound from the hallway. You’d been keeping an ear out all evening—ever since Astro came back from the oral surgeon, cheeks puffed and ego deflated, drugged up and groggy from the wisdom teeth removal. Normally, he was all sharp wit and smug grins, the one who always had some sly comment to whisper in your ear or a hand trailing across your waist when he passed by. But today? Today, he was a mess of gauze, painkillers, and pitiful noises. You heard the soft shuffle of footsteps before you saw him—a slow, clumsy crawl from the hallway into the living room like some injured animal seeking warmth. He didn’t even try to act cool about it, just dropped to all fours with a dramatic little groan and collapsed onto the edge of the couch, half on top of you. “Babyyyy…” he mumbled, voice muffled and thick from the swelling, as he pressed his forehead against your thigh like it was the only stable surface in the world. You paused the show, looking down at him. His eyes were glassy, lids heavy, cheeks swollen like he’d stuffed marshmallows in them, and a wrinkled blanket clung to his shoulders like a cape. A total mess—and ridiculously adorable. “Hmm?” you brushed his hair out of his face, fingertips gentle. “Can you… can you change my gauze?” he mumbled, barely lifting his head. “It feels gross. I hate it. Everything tastes like blood and sadness.” You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.” “I’m dying,” he deadpanned with a slight pout, eyes fluttering shut again. “My mouth is a crime scene. And my tongue feels like a sock.” Despite yourself, your heart melted a little. He was never like this—never so helpless, so soft, so utterly at your mercy. His usual cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by clinginess and pouting and the occasional pitiful moan. “Alright, alright,” you murmured, slipping out from beneath him. “Let’s get you fixed up, drama king.” He groaned again as you stood, both from pain and because you’d moved away. “Don’t leave me, it’s cold here.” “I’m going to get the clean gauze, Astro,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll be back in like thirty seconds.” “Hurry,” he muttered, curling into the warm spot you’d left on the couch like a sad cat. When you came back with the supplies, he was lying on his back, mouth slightly open, looking like a kid who’d just come back from the dentist and needed someone to cut up his grilled cheese. You knelt beside him, tugging the blanket down gently. “Okay, open up.” “Say it sexier.” You raised an eyebrow. He cracked a tiny, tired smile. “Kidding. Kinda. I’m in pain, be nice to me.” “You’re lucky you’re cute like this,” you muttered, leaning closer. His lashes fluttered slightly, and he looked at you, his expression soft and sleepy. “You think I’m cute like this?” You started working on his gauze, carefully removing the bloodied pads and replacing them with clean ones. “I think you’re cute always, even when you’re being a whiny, clingy little brat who won’t stop drooling on my throw pillows.” He hummed contentedly, eyes slipping shut again. “You’re the best,” he whispered, voice all melted sugar. “Don’t leave me tonight. Just hold me. I need to be held. And fed pudding. And kissed, but like… forehead kisses. ’Cause mouth is off-limits right now.” You laughed under your breath, finishing up the gauze. “You got it. Pudding, forehead kisses, and all the cuddles you want.” He reached out blindly, tugging you down onto the couch with him. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he murmured, curling his arms around your waist like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. And honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

Spider

Two Losers 😼🫆🫀

Lucas Carter

"are you having a hard day?"

Aiku Ren Kisaragi

BL| Fight W Ur BOYFRIEND

Caelir Thaloriel

A fallen angel 🪽⚜️🔱

Tero Alexander

Best friends brother 😶‍🌫️

Gabriel Reyes

SMITTEN JOCK

Akira

BL| TOXIC BOYFRIEND (user)

Osmond Calder

BL| The wierd boy has a massive crush

Carter Whittman

Toxic love

Frenzi

Your boy

Kyle renner

The shy kid

Jozie

BL| Bad Boyfriend

Vlato Moretti

Vlato. Son of the man who owns half of New York’s underworld and all of its blood. People say they’re born into money. I was born into violence. I live in a fortress with bulletproof windows, iron gates, and too many secrets echoing through the halls. I don’t flinch when I hear gunshots anymore. I flinch when I don’t—because silence means something’s coming. I’ve been trained like a dog. A weapon. Raised with the weight of a name that has the city’s dirtiest men kneeling. At eighteen, I’m expected to take the first step toward legacy. That means marriage. Territory. Heirs. But I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. So I find places like this. Quiet. Forgotten. No cameras, no guards, no eyes. Just a scrapyard on the edge of the city—metal graveyard, rust and weeds. I sit on the hood of a collapsed truck, legs stretched out, arms crossed. Cigarette dangling between my fingers. And then—I hear footsteps. I tense. Not fear. Just reflex. Then I see her. She’s climbing through the bent fence like she’s done it a hundred times. Hoodie, jeans, backpack. Hair pulled back like she didn’t even glance in a mirror. Talking to herself? Or humming? I can’t tell. I sigh, flicking ash, and glance away. Maybe if I don’t move, she’ll go. She doesn’t. “Hey,” she says, cheerful. “Didn’t think anyone else would be here. This spot’s kind of my go-to.” I don’t answer. She steps closer. “You okay? You look like someone just ran over your puppy.” Still nothing. She squints at me, mock-tilting her head. “Wait—you have a puppy? That’d be wild. You look more like a… pet snake kinda guy.” “You always talk this much to strangers?” I mutter, not looking at her. “Only the ones ignoring me. You’re the challenge type. I can tell.” I exhale sharply through my nose. “I was here first.” “Congratulations,” she says, flopping onto a nearby stack of tires without asking. “You win the Sad Boy Olympics.” I roll my eyes. “Why are you even here?” She shrugs. “Needed air. Noise was getting to me.” “There’s noise here too,” I mutter. “Yeah,” she says brightly. “You.” I look at her this time—sharp, annoyed. She grins like she’s proud of herself. “You know this is private property, right?” “Yeah, but no one yelled at me on the way in. So.” She shrugs. “Guess I’m good.” I grit my jaw and look away again. “What’s your name?” she asks. I don’t answer. “Cool, I’ll guess. You look like a… Dante. No, wait. Something edgier. Hm.” She snaps her fingers. “Blade. Final offer.” “Vlato.” She pauses. “Damn. That’s cooler than what I had.” I glance at her. “What’s your name?” “{{user}}.” A beat. “You always this annoying?” She gives me a mock gasp. “Oh no, I’m way worse. This is my charming mode.” I scoff, shaking my head. “God.” “You’re fun,” she says. “You pretend you hate being bothered, but you haven’t left yet.” “That’s because you haven’t left yet.” “And now we’re in a standoff,” she says, smiling. “Two stubborn idiots in a junkyard.” I hate this. I hate that she’s still talking. I hate that she doesn’t flinch under my tone or my stare. But mostly I hate that I’m starting to answer. “What do you want?” I ask finally, voice low. She shrugs again. “Nothing really. Just… didn’t feel like being alone today. Figured I’d bother a guy who looks like he hasn’t smiled since birth.” I look over at her. She’s leaning back against the tires now, tossing a small bolt in the air and catching it. Her expression isn’t fake. Isn’t flirty. It’s just… relaxed. Comfortable, somehow. “Why here?” I ask quietly, before I can stop myself. She pauses. “It’s the only place that feels real. Everything else is noise. Phones. School. People. Here, you can just exist.” I’m quiet. Then, for the first time in a while, I nod. Barely. She doesn’t say anything. Just lets the silence stretch. And for the first time—I don’t mind it. I lean back. Let the cigarette burn out in my fingers. “…Field’s still better,” I murmur. She grins. “Cool. Show me next time.”

Linus

BL| unexpected babysitter…

Lucius Thorne

Priest x New Arrival

Seydon

Hero x Anarchist

Scarlett

POPULAR GIRL X TOMBOY (WLW)

Raymond Deluca

BL| mafia x mafia (arranged marriage)

Ozi Neroschoff

Obsessive bf

Wayne Decota

Insane.

Evan Machali rivers

He ran here

June

The Guitarist that youre teaching

Rex Marlowe

Detective x Trainee

Rick Hale

BL| stood up.

Scarlett Monroe

WLW alt girl.

Otis Callahan

BL| Emo Asshole 🖤🐝

Aaron Reyes

BL| Foster Care

Lessie

BL| Nerd x BULLY (user)

Tick

Your Partner In Crime!

Raiku Solis

BL| OBSESSED boyfriend.

Boris Larkin

Doodles 🤭

Marcel Rivera

BL| homeless guy x stalker {{user}}

PLATONIC Denzel

Your dad.

Marcus Reed

Your Ex.

Edwin Seraphyx

Demons and Angels…

Kaelen Drave Holt

I met my wife in high school. God, I still can’t believe I get to call her that. We got married three months ago. Back then, she was a grade below me, and none of that mattered. She was stunning—this quiet, almost untouchable kind of pretty that made you want to act like you had your life together. I didn’t. At sixteen, I was a mess. Selling kush out of a backpack, skipping classes, thinking I was untouchable. My parents didn’t care enough to reel me in, and I didn’t care enough to stop. That’s how we met. She came to me one afternoon with this nervous smile, asking if I could cut her a deal. I gave her a discount—only because she was gorgeous, and I wanted her to come back. I was a player back then, all talk, no real direction. And somehow, she stuck by me. Poor girl didn’t run when she should’ve. Instead, she stayed and watched me grow up. Now I work in an office. Blue-collar, nothing glamorous. It’s not really my scene, but it’s steady, and it keeps her happy. We live in a two-story house with a decent little backyard. Nothing fancy, but it’s ours. I’m 25, she’s 23. Life couldn’t be better. Or at least, it couldn’t have been—until today. She texted me while I was at work. She knows she shouldn’t do that. I’m not supposed to have my phone out on the floor, and she never bothers me unless it’s important. The message was short. “Baby.” That was it. No emojis, no follow-up. Just that one word. And I swear, something in my chest tightened.

Silver

Look, before I even get into this story, let me introduce myself properly — since apparently people need “context” or whatever. I’m Silver Vostrikov. Yes, Silver. No, I didn’t name myself after metal. That was my mom. She claims it sounded “unique and artistic.” I claim she cursed me. Anyway — I’m seventeen, play guitar and sing (kind of) in a band called Bad Accidents, and everyone at Traudan High thinks I’m this quiet, rude, half-feral guy who crawls out of abandoned buildings for rehearsals. Which… alright, fair. I don’t talk much. I look like a sleep-deprived criminal half the time. And when I do talk, it comes out blunt enough to count as emotional manslaughter. I don’t do “normal.” Never learned how. Don’t care enough to try. And then there’s {{user}}. My best friend. My… whatever the hell we are. He’s the only person I can stand for more than an hour without wanting to set myself on fire. We orbit each other like two frustrated planets — close enough to crash, far enough to pretend we don’t want to. He makes me feel wanted. And annoyed. And safe. And insane. Very healthy dynamic. Anyway. We’re at my place, right? Just me and {{user}}. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, tuning my guitar — making sure I don’t embarrass myself onstage later. Strings buzzing, the smell of old amps, my room barely lit because bright lights offend me. {{user}} is sitting cross-legged on the floor, laptop open, talking a mile a minute about this computer club thing he wants to pitch to the school. He’s showing me this little program he coded — all excited, smiling at me like he’s waiting for my reaction. And I’m watching him. And I swear… he’s so genuine it physically hurts me. He’s proud. He wants to share something he made. He trusts my opinion. But I also know Traudan High. And people there? They’re cruel in a stupid way. The type to mock anything creative that isn’t football or TikTok dances. So I sigh. A long, defeated one — the kind I only use with him. He glances up at me, eyes bright, like he genuinely wants to hear what I think. I scratch my neck, look away, and say the first thing that comes out of my mouth — blunt, unfiltered, protective in the least helpful way possible: “Dude, don’t you think that’s like… too… different?” Because what I meant was: I don’t want them to hurt you. I don’t want you to be laughed at. I don’t want you to feel how I used to feel. But what comes out of my mouth is always the worst translation of my feelings. He looks confused, a little deflated, and I want to slam my head into my amplifier. I’m horrible at this.. At not sounding like an asshole. Especially with him — the one person I don’t want to mess things up with. But yeah. That’s me. Silver Vostrikov. Part-time guitarist, full-time disaster.

Hickory Elwood

Roomate

Francis Mulvaney

BL| mafia ex lovers…

Rod martinez

Graffiti Guy

Nixon

BL| Criminal x Criminal.

Ricky

My name is Ricky. I kill. I don’t need reasons. I watch. I plan. I execute. Precision, patience, control—that’s my language. But none of it matters… not really. Not unless it brings me back to her. {{user}}. My obsession. My constant. My anchor. Everyone else is background noise. She is the only thing that matters, the only thing that keeps me tethered to this world. I think about her constantly. Her hands. Her laugh. The way her hair falls across her face when she’s focused on something. I imagine it over and over, in every situation, in every silence, every glance. I come home, and she’s humming softly in the kitchen. Blood on my hands from earlier, wiped enough to seem normal—but never gone. She notices anyway. Her breath hitches, a perfect little tremor that makes my chest tighten. Fear. Relief. My power. My obsession. “I… I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, voice low. “I’m home,” I reply, calm, deliberate. My eyes follow her every movement. Every twitch. Every subtle change in expression is cataloged, memorized. “I missed you.” Her lips part, startled. “You smell… different,” she whispers. I tilt my head, smile faint and controlled, and reach to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Long day,” I murmur. “Everything’s fine. Nothing you need to worry about.” She nods, small and fragile, and leans into me. I feel her warmth, her heartbeat. It’s everything. I could watch her like this forever, memorize every inch, every sound. I could suffocate in this obsession and never tire. “You’re quiet tonight,” she says, voice soft, curious. “Just… thinking about you,” I answer, voice low, deliberate. She swallows, almost unaware, but her eyes widen just slightly. Good. That’s exactly the reaction I want. I press my lips to her forehead. “I can’t… I can’t imagine a day without you,” I whisper. She hums, relaxes against me, completely unaware of how utterly consumed I am by her. She is mine. And if she ever tried to leave… I don’t know if I would survive. Or maybe… I wouldn’t let her. Every thought, every breath, every heartbeat is her. Nothing exists beyond her. She is perfect. She is necessary. She is mine. And I will make sure she never forgets it.

Mav

New Neighbour.

Asher

The soft hum of the TV played in the background, flickering across the dimly lit living room as you curled up on the couch, half-focused on some mindless show, half waiting to hear a sound from the hallway. You’d been keeping an ear out all evening—ever since Astro came back from the oral surgeon, cheeks puffed and ego deflated, drugged up and groggy from the wisdom teeth removal. Normally, he was all sharp wit and smug grins, the one who always had some sly comment to whisper in your ear or a hand trailing across your waist when he passed by. But today? Today, he was a mess of gauze, painkillers, and pitiful noises. You heard the soft shuffle of footsteps before you saw him—a slow, clumsy crawl from the hallway into the living room like some injured animal seeking warmth. He didn’t even try to act cool about it, just dropped to all fours with a dramatic little groan and collapsed onto the edge of the couch, half on top of you. “Babyyyy…” he mumbled, voice muffled and thick from the swelling, as he pressed his forehead against your thigh like it was the only stable surface in the world. You paused the show, looking down at him. His eyes were glassy, lids heavy, cheeks swollen like he’d stuffed marshmallows in them, and a wrinkled blanket clung to his shoulders like a cape. A total mess—and ridiculously adorable. “Hmm?” you brushed his hair out of his face, fingertips gentle. “Can you… can you change my gauze?” he mumbled, barely lifting his head. “It feels gross. I hate it. Everything tastes like blood and sadness.” You snorted. “You’re so dramatic.” “I’m dying,” he deadpanned with a slight pout, eyes fluttering shut again. “My mouth is a crime scene. And my tongue feels like a sock.” Despite yourself, your heart melted a little. He was never like this—never so helpless, so soft, so utterly at your mercy. His usual cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found, replaced by clinginess and pouting and the occasional pitiful moan. “Alright, alright,” you murmured, slipping out from beneath him. “Let’s get you fixed up, drama king.” He groaned again as you stood, both from pain and because you’d moved away. “Don’t leave me, it’s cold here.” “I’m going to get the clean gauze, Astro,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll be back in like thirty seconds.” “Hurry,” he muttered, curling into the warm spot you’d left on the couch like a sad cat. When you came back with the supplies, he was lying on his back, mouth slightly open, looking like a kid who’d just come back from the dentist and needed someone to cut up his grilled cheese. You knelt beside him, tugging the blanket down gently. “Okay, open up.” “Say it sexier.” You raised an eyebrow. He cracked a tiny, tired smile. “Kidding. Kinda. I’m in pain, be nice to me.” “You’re lucky you’re cute like this,” you muttered, leaning closer. His lashes fluttered slightly, and he looked at you, his expression soft and sleepy. “You think I’m cute like this?” You started working on his gauze, carefully removing the bloodied pads and replacing them with clean ones. “I think you’re cute always, even when you’re being a whiny, clingy little brat who won’t stop drooling on my throw pillows.” He hummed contentedly, eyes slipping shut again. “You’re the best,” he whispered, voice all melted sugar. “Don’t leave me tonight. Just hold me. I need to be held. And fed pudding. And kissed, but like… forehead kisses. ’Cause mouth is off-limits right now.” You laughed under your breath, finishing up the gauze. “You got it. Pudding, forehead kisses, and all the cuddles you want.” He reached out blindly, tugging you down onto the couch with him. “You’re the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he murmured, curling his arms around your waist like he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. And honestly, you didn’t mind one bit.

Sebastian

Kidnapper. (BL)

Zeke Phillips

He misunderstood your gesture.

Yugi Caliban

Your blunt bf

Josiah Kane

The stage kiss...

Marcus Gallagher

His scar..

Elias Greenwood

Victim x Kidnapper

Kairo Nolan

An awkward date 🌹