#while running in circles managing the chaos

[sevsevteen]

I ADORE hurt/comfort but what about a reverse comfort where the 14th member catches someone after practice obviously exhausted or stressed about tour. Maybe scoups or dk?

i miss miss miss svt sm these days & i blame it all on nanabnb !! i avoided the us, again part bc i knew i would bawl my eyes out (and i did) so this is dedicated to our general leader 최승철 ❤️

-- જ⁀➴°⋆

The dorm lights were dimmed, the living room nearly silent except for the low hum of the air purifier and the occasional shuffle of papers on the dining table.

It was nearly 2am.

You padded out of your room in search of water when you noticed a familiar silhouette hunched over the table. The glow of his laptop cast sharp shadows across his face - brows furrowed, fingers running endlessly through his hair.

“Cheol?” You called softly, voice careful not to startle him.

He didn’t even look up. “Yeah. Go back to sleep. I’m just finishing something.”

You frowned. “Still working?”

“Mmm. Tour logistics. Final revisions for the medical team, travel schedules…that kind of thing.”

Your eyes scanned the clutter - notes, tabs, forms. You saw the highlighted sections for members with chronic issues, the careful scheduling of rest days, the meticulous notes about stage conditions. He wasn't just managing the tour; he was meticulously planning for every potential discomfort, every possible injury, especially after Hoshi's arm sprained recently.

He was carrying everyone's worries.

One glance at the dark circles under his eyes, and you knew this wasn’t his first late night.

“…When was the last time you slept properly?”

He exhaled, chuckling as he finally leaned back in his chair. “Don’t remember.”

“You’ve been doing too much.”

“It’s my job,” he replied, with a tired smile. “I’m the leader. I’m supposed to make sure everyone’s taken care of. Seungkwan’s been having sore throats, Joshua’s back is hurting again, Hoshi’s arm– every detail needs to be right for the kids.”

You stepped closer, watching him carefully. “And what about you, Cheol-ie?”

His smile faltered.

You reached for the laptop and gently pulled the screen shut. “You’re the reason this team moves forward. But it’s not your job to carry the whole weight alone.”

He stared at you, visibly worn.

You pulled the chair beside him and sat. “You’ve been the backbone for all of us for years. But…it’s okay to lean back, too. Let someone else hold you up for once.”

He didn’t speak for a while. His hand, still tensed from hours of typing and highlighting, slowly relaxed against the table.

“…I just want the tour to go smoothly. For everyone.”

“I know,” you said softly. “And we all feel that. You’ve protected us so fiercely, that you forget you need protection too.”

Your voice dropped into a whisper. “I know I’m not the one who can do much. Not like you. But I’m here. And I’ll always be here.”

Seungcheol’s shoulders trembled, barely noticeable ‐ a crack in the armor. And when you gently reached over to cover his hand with yours, his grip turned soft and tight all at once.

“Alright, I get it,” he whispered, voice low, raw.

You leaned your head against his arm, offering a quiet presence. Not as a member this time, or a responsibility he had to carry - but just someone who would stay. Always.

And for the first time that week, Seungcheol let himself close his eyes - letting someone else take the weight, if only for a moment.

.

When morning came, the dorm kitchen buzzed with the usual sleepy chaos: cereal being poured too loudly, hairbrushes being passed around like currency, and a very groggy Dino trying to figure out which pair of socks were his.

It was Mingyu who noticed Seungcheol first. He paused mid-bite, squinting suspiciously.

“…Why do you look like you slept before midnight for once?”

Cheol blinked. “I did.”

The entire room stilled for a second.

“HUH?” Seungkwan’s spoon clattered into his bowl. “You? Slept? Before midnight??”

You emerged from your room right then, hair tied up lazily, already heading for a cup of iced coffee.

“Morning,” you greeted, barely awake.

“Morning!” a few chorused back.

But your eyes naturally drifted toward the figure at the end of the table - Seungcheol, coffee in hand, looking…well.

Not dead-tired. Not hunched with stress. Just quietly sipping while he scrolled through his phone, shoulders a little less tense, a lightness to his eyes.

Joshua turned from the fridge, visibly stunned. “You never even left your laptop this past week.”

Jeonghan narrowed his eyes, immediately catching on. “Wait…someone was also up late last night, right?”

You froze mid-sip, turning to look at the pair of eyes on you. “What do I have to do with anything?”

“Oh, everything,” Woozi murmured, now smirking into his mug as he sipped.

Dino gasped. “Wait, wait, wait– did something happen last night?* Is that why you finally slept?”

“No! What are you thinking of?” You were fully awake now.

“She did, didn’t she?” Hoshi grinned, elbowing Seungcheol from the side. “Hyung, you’re glowing. It’s suspicious.”

Seungcheol rubbed the back of his neck, ears tinting red. “Can’t I just be well-rested without being interrogated?”

“No no,” Vernon deadpanned.

Seungkwan pointed dramatically. “We’ve been trying to get you to rest for weeks. Suddenly she spends one night talking to you, and now you’re a new man?”

Mingyu gave you a teasing thumbs-up. “You’ve done what the rest of us couldn’t. Leader whisperer.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the fluster behind your cup. “I just told him to go to sleep.”

Seungcheol let out a soft chuckle. “More like reminded me I’m human.”

The teasing paused for a second. The rest of the members exchanged small looks - quiet, knowing ones - before Hoshi broke the silence again.

“Well,” he declared, “if you’re in charge of leader maintenance now, I fully support this new development.”

“Seconded,” Seungkwan chipped in.

You laughed despite yourself, cheeks warm. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Just accept it,” Jeonghan added, “this is a huge honour for you, going forward.”

You opened your mouth to protest.

Then glanced at Seungcheol.

And found him already watching you - with a look you’d never seen before. Soft. Grateful.

Your smile faltered, just a little, as you looked away. “...Then I'll accept it with open arms.”

And for once, the teasing stopped.

Because they all understood - some people had powers for people others didn't, and for you? It was Seungcheol.

--

[tragicallyinevitable]

Extended

Word Count: 636 - @wolfstarmicrofic

Remus was concerned. His extended family were all muggles on his mum's side. They weren't mildly psychotic, occasionally violent, blood supremacists, thank Merlin. (Yes, he was aware that the bar was in the ninth circle of hell.) Unfortunately, Remus still felt his blood pressure spike when he realised he'd lost Sirius.

They were at a wedding - his cousin's - and he'd been foolish enough to bring along a plus one. "Come on, Moons," Sirius had whined. "When else am I going to get to meet everyone?" Hope hadn't helped, insisting that his boyfriend just had to attend.

To be fair, it had gone swimmingly right up until now, when Remus turned around and realised, to his horror, that Sirius had wandered off. While the Howell family was certainly no Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, they were slightly…eccentric.

Remus ran through the possibilities in his head. Sirius might've been intercepted by his Auntie Sammi, who was no doubt frolicking around in a flowy skirt and matching scarf. She would likely comment on Sirius' aura, fawn over the patterned suit he donned, and try to lure him into the "wonders of herbal magic" - (as if Sirius needed that lecture). A bit overwhelming, Remus thought, but unlikely to send his boyfriend running for the hills.

A slightly worse scenario crossed his mind. Somewhere amongst the crowded reception hall were Oscar and Erin. The four year olds looked angelic. Remus had seen picture after picture of the twins peering up at the camera with big, round eyes and adorable grins. Bringing them to a family event, however, was a recipe for disaster. Oscar would scream his head off and Erin would manage to destroy some priceless antique. If they had gotten a hold of Sirius, the poor man would either be found tied up - maniacal toddlers hanging off his limbs - or he would inevitably join their quest for chaos. Either way, the affair would likely end in embarrassment and a great deal of apologies. Remus grimaced at the thought.

Of course, there was the horrifying possibility that Sirius had been pulled aside by his Granda. The man hadn't taken kindly to his daughter running off and marrying a wizard. The whole werewolf thing hadn't helped - all the moving around had left Remus feeling quite estranged. That wasn't what worried him, however. Remus could practically hear the older man's gruff voice passing judgement on Sirius' rings and meticulous eyeliner. The thought of his boyfriend having to silently suffer through snide remarks about queers made Remus' stomach turn.

Before he could truly succumb to his anxiety, and start yelling Sirius' name like a madman, Hope placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Looking for Sirius, love?" At his frantic nodding and the pure terror on his face, she burst into poorly restrained giggles. "Mum, it's not funny! He could be anywhere with anyone, and-" Remus was shocked into silence as his mother steered him towards a quiet corner of the room.

Away from the blaring music and the ceaseless chatter, Sirius was carefully holding little Sioned. In the fray of things, his boyfriend had somehow landed the responsibility of the bride's four month old. Rather than seeming perturbed by this development, Sirius wore a fond smile as she tightly clutched his black curls. Maybe it was overly soppy of Remus, but seeing his boyfriend like this was doing things to him. When Sirius' eyes met his, brimming with warmth, Remus could practically hear him say, "I want this."

Maybe it was the love that came with a wedding. Maybe it was the happy baby in Sirius' arms. Maybe it was simply the joy of being surrounded by family, chaos and all. It didn't really matter. Remus grinned back at him and hoped that was enough to say, "I want this too."

[fruitless-vain]

Shams been dealing with some really rough separation anxiety following Jack being gone for an entire month, kicked up about two weeks in to her absence and now peaks with her having to leave every day for work

We’re making progress and helping him realize she’s not disappearing for egregious amounts of time anymore and he’s slowly but surely getting there

One adorable note to this is that typically when sham is expressing a lot of stress Yoshi will make herself scarce - if we have to do nails or something that makes him slightly uncomfortable she will leave the room until it’s done. She’s always hated being near stressed out dogs.

But in this case she’s been avidly trying to help him 😭 I’ll be sitting on the floor near him trying to help him progress towards self soothing and she’ll just walk over, sniff from a respectful distance, then plop down in to a relaxed settled down with her head down or flopped on her side.

And he watches her and follows her lead 😭

He’ll go from full stress panting and shaking, to watching her, to then slowing his breath, displacement sniffing, then laying down and resting his head while glancing over at her periodically like he’s making sure she still thinks everything’s chill and fine

She’ll glance over at him every now and then like she’s making sure he’s got the memo and chilling out. The tiny 10lb nugget providing confidence and security for the rugged 50lb street dog 🤦‍♀️

He’s starting to settle quicker with each day now and I’m hoping that returning to our standard routine will bring everything back to level for him. Already seeing some good hints of progress in the right direction from how severe his anxiety got but definitely a ton of work left to go to help out the lad

[lets-try-some-writing]

I got the image of the Jack, Miko and Rafael learning to imitate Distressed/terrified Sparkling cries and using them against the decepticons. It’s a very efficient defense mechanism. Every cybertronian who heard them is freaking out because oh primus how is the squishy thing making that noise and I gotta protect it at all costs. The sheer chaos that would ensue as the ‘protect/rescue the sparkling’ programming kicks in full force.

——

The vehicons are clustered at the other end of the room panicking. They don’t know what to do. The human sparklings are looking right at them and making distress noises. The guilt is killing them.

Knockout going “is the car form less alarming?! If I turn into a car will you stop seeing me as the threat?!”

Breakdown is having a breakdown.

Starscream pinned to the wall on the other side of the room having an internal crisis. He doesn’t like this. Make it stop.

Soundwave makes no noise but you can FEEL the sheer distress radiating off of him.

Megatron is frozen. No thoughts, head empty. He’s not moving at all. He doesn’t know how to handle this.

——

The autobots have mixed feelings about this. They’re glad the kids have a way of defending themselves but please don’t do it near them. They’re stressed out enough as it is.

(This might sound kinda dumb but I thought it was kinda funny. Very tired while writing this)

Wait no this is actually brilliant.

The Decepticons never anticipated their long buried parental nature to be used against them. No one did. But they day the human children turned up on the battlefield looking far too confident, every Bot and Con present had the all encompassing feeling that something was terribly wrong. Their suspicions were quickly confirmed when, before the Decepticons could do much of anything to get the relics they were after, Rafael began to wail.

Normally, human screams meant nothing. But there was a certain pitch that sounded so close to a cry of distress from a sparkling that, to warriors who had not heard a sparkling in millennia, it was enough to send them running to help. In this case, the issue was only compounded as the children scattered like mice and started making the same noises. The Decepticons could hardly focus on the Autobots booking it to the relics as they frantically tried to locate the fictitious sparklings calling for aid.

The Vehicons managed to get to Jack, but he just kept looking up at them defiantly. Every time one of the dozen or so Vehicons on the field tried to grab him, blast him, or otherwise hurt him, Jack would chirp like a sparkling and send all of them scurrying back. It wasn't cute to the Vehicons. Having never seen actual sparklings but still having the coding needed to adore them, they looked at Jack and saw a weird frame-walker. They weren't sure what to do about it except try to haul themselves away while also keeping a vague circle around the human male.

Miko on the other hand made it a point to chase after Megatron and Soundwave, screeching like a sparkling about to be shredded. Neither stopped for her, but Megatron completely lost his train of thought every time that screech rang out. He could have been aiming at Optimus with a perfect head shot and he would be unable to fire as Miko's distressed sounds rang out in his audials. He KNEW she wasn't a sparking. His coding wasn't even that strong. But by Primus, hearing her screech was the same as watching a civilian get run over by a bus, repeatedly. Focus was impossible.

Soundwave wasn't much better. He didn't react outwardly, but the slowing of his steps and the way he tried to sidestep Miko gave away his distress. He avoided her like the plague, trying to refocus but being unable to really get far as Miko screamed like a demon. It was a fight against the Unmaker himself to keep Soundwave from bolting over to collect the sparkling who sounded so very upset.

Rafael, for his part, followed Miko's lead and harassed the other three members of High Command most often found out on the field. Breakdown ran screaming the moment Rafael started chirping at him. This was both out of fear of the frame-walker and to escape the inevitable overreaction of his coding. He may or may not have attempted parkour once or twice to get as far away from the smallest of the humans as possible.

Knockout tried to ignore Rafael when the kid chirped up at him, he really really did. But how does one ignore the Cybertronian equivalent of a soaking wet kitten meowing up at you? Simply put: you don't. Knockout gave in and quickly dropped down to try and soothe the non-existent sparkling every. single. time. Rafael pulled his noise trickery. He never fails to panic and attempt to flash colorful things at Rafael to get him to stop. Every Decepticon has since been endlessly disappointed in him.

Starscream, being terrified of things that really shouldn't be there, took the skies the instant the trio began screeching. Nope. Not today Unicron. He'll get the mission done or get the heck out of dodge to avoid coding coming online. He doesn't need empty nest syndrome on top of a crippling case of "I Love Power." He also doesn't need to deal with the horrific mental image of a squishy somehow managing to sound like a sparkling. Nope. Nope. NOPE.

The Autobots are grateful the kids can protect themselves a bit now. But by Primus, they have known NO peace since the kids figured it all out.

[debonairprincesposts]

Boneless Whimsy

Summary: Jason comes home from patrol to find you delirious from exhaustion, flopped on the couch like a limp sack of potatoes. He takes care of you while trying to stifle his amusement. He fails miserably.

Warning(s): Crack? Curse words. Read at your own risk.

Words: 1.2k

Jason Todd knew something was different the moment he climbed through the window of your shared home after his evening patrol. The usual warm welcome he received – whether it was your bright smile or your playful commentary about his dramatic entrances – was notably absent. Instead, he found you sprawled across the couch in what could only be described as the most boneless position he'd ever witnessed on a living person.

Your limbs were arranged in that particular way that suggested you hadn't so much chosen to lie down as you had simply surrendered to gravity's insistent pull. One arm dangled off the edge of the couch, fingers barely brushing the hardwood floor, while the other was flung dramatically across your face. Your legs were a study in comfortable chaos – one hooked over the back of the couch, the other stretched out along its length.

"Baby?" he called softly, removing his helmet and setting it aside. When your only response was a vague sound that might have been meant to be words but came out more like "mrrghphf," his lips twitched into an amused smile.

As he approached, he noticed more details that painted a clear picture of absolute exhaustion. You were still wearing your work clothes, though they were thoroughly rumpled now. Your shoes lay haphazardly by the couch, as if you'd kicked them off with your last remaining energy before collapsing. Your hair, usually neat even at the end of a long day, was a wild tangle that suggested you'd been running your hands through it repeatedly.

"Long day?" he asked, crouching beside the couch near your head.

You made another indistinct noise, this one slightly more vowel-heavy than the last, and managed to shift your arm just enough to peer at him with one tired eye. "Everything is effort," You mumbled, your voice carrying the particular quality of someone who had completely run out of fucks to give. "Breathing is effort. Existing is effort. I have become one with the couch. The couch and I are now a single entity."

Jason couldn't help but chuckle, reaching out to brush some wayward strands of hair from your face. "That bad, huh?"

"Jason," You said with all the gravity of someone imparting great wisdom, though the effect was somewhat undermined by how you could barely keep your eyes open, "I had to think thoughts today. So many thoughts. All the thoughts. My brain is now soup."

"Brain soup, huh?" He gently ran his fingers through your hair, working out some of the tangles. The way you immediately leaned into his touch, like a tired cat seeking affection, made something warm and protective surge in his chest.

"Mmmhmm," You hummed, eyes fully closing now. "Soup. Tired soup. With extra... tired... in it." Your words were starting to slur slightly, exhaustion clearly winning its battle against coherence.

Jason observed you for a moment, taking in the dark circles under your eyes and the way every muscle in your body seemed to have declared independence from any form of tension. He made a decision.

"Alright, sweets, let's get you somewhere more comfortable." He moved to scoop you up, but your protest was immediate and remarkably articulate given your current state.

"Nooo," You whined, making no actual effort to resist but managing to convey profound disagreement through tone alone. "Moving requires muscles. Muscles are on strike. They've formed a union. They're demanding better working conditions and more naps."

Jason couldn't suppress his laugh this time. Even completely exhausted, you managed to be ridiculously entertaining. "Come on, sweetheart. Bed's more comfortable than the couch."

"The couch is my friend now," You declared with surprising passion for someone who couldn't even open their eyes. "We've bonded. Breaking us apart would be cruel. Inhumane. A tragedy of... of... something tragic."

"The couch will understand," Jason assured you solemnly, though his eyes danced with amusement. He slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your shoulders, lifting you as carefully as if you were made of glass.

You immediately turned your face into his chest, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "my hero" but could just as easily have been "warm pillow." Your body was completely limp in his arms, trusting him entirely to keep you safe even in your exhausted state. The implicit trust in that surrender made his heart clench with emotion.

As he carried you to your shared bedroom, you nuzzled closer, one hand weakly grasping at his jacket. "You smell like leather and gunpowder and crime-fighting," You murmured against his chest. "S'nice."

"Pretty sure crime-fighting doesn't have a smell, baby," he responded softly, maneuvering through the doorway with practiced ease.

"Does too. Smells like justice. And leather. Lots of leather." Your words were becoming more spaced out, sleep clearly pulling at your consciousness.

Jason gently laid you on your bed, immediately moving to help you out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable for sleep. You attempted to help but mostly just managed to flop your arms around in what you probably thought was a helpful manner.

"Evil buttons," You declared as he worked on your blouse. "They're conspiring against me. Have been all day. You show 'em, Jay."

"I'll protect you from the evil buttons," he choked back a laugh as he promised with faux seriousness, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice as he helped you into one of his old t-shirts – your preferred sleeping attire.

Once he had you changed and tucked under the covers, he quickly stripped out of his own gear and joined you. You immediately gravitated toward him like a heat-seeking missile, though a very slow and uncoordinated one. You ended up half-sprawled across his chest, face pressed into his neck.

"My hero," You mumbled again, more distinctly this time. "Saving me from buttons and couches and... and thinking thoughts."

"Get some sleep, Angel," he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"Already sleepin���," You protested weakly. "This’s all jus’ ... sleep talkin’. I'm actually... alr’dy..." Your words trailed off into steady, deep breathing, your body somehow managing to become even more relaxed against his.

Jason lay there in the quiet darkness, one hand absently stroking your hair while the other rested protectively across your back. He thought about how you could be so vibrant and dramatic when you wanted to cheer him up, trusted him enough to let him see you at your most vulnerable and exhausted. How you didn't feel the need to maintain any pretenses with him, comfortable enough to just be completely and utterly yourself.

As your warm weight pressed against him and your steady breathing tickled his neck, Jason felt that familiar surge of protective love that you always inspired in him. He tightened his arms around you slightly, earning a contented little sigh from your sleeping form.

"Sweet dreams, baby," he whispered into your hair, letting himself be lulled toward sleep by your peaceful presence and the knowledge that, at least for tonight, he could keep you safe and comfortable while you recharged.

The last thought that crossed his mind before sleep claimed him was that he'd never seen anything quite as endearing as your complete surrender to exhaustion, buttons conspiracy and all.

[peachypixelpop]

Paws and Claws

✩‌ logan howlett/wolverine x curvyf!reader | smut | 6k

SUMMARY | Your dog Bert accidentally knocks up Dogpool which leads to a meet cute with an angry Wolverine.

WARNINGS | Meet cute (but make it intense) kinda enemies, to friends to lovers, mutual yearning, daddy wolverine, flirting, mutual yearning, immature humour, oral sex, swallowing, fingering, piv s*x, what refractory period? we die like men, You know he talks you through it.

RATING | Explicit

NOTES | Okay so this is my first ever Tumblr spicy oneshot, soooo thoughts and feedback are so welcome. Enjoy my loves <3

“You,” he snarled, teeth bared as he thrust what could only be described as a pot-bellied gremlin toward your face.

“Me?” you splutter, glancing between the feral-looking man in front of you and the small creature he held in his hands.

“Yeah! You’ve got some audacity coming back here after what you’ve done,” he spat, gesturing around the park while transferring the small creature to his large bicep, cradling it against his impressively muscular chest.

The ‘here’ he was referring to was your local park, currently hosting its weekly ‘Social Snout Society.’ You had moved for work, and the event seemed like a great way to meet fellow dog owners.

And in a way, it had. You’d made friends with.  many of the regulars and had grown your social circle considerably. There was the sweet young couple who kept trying to set you up with their ‘friend,’ and the lovely old lady, Barbara, who always offered your dog peanut butter-filled treats.

But then, there was him. The one person you couldn’t quite figure out. He was always standing off to the side, averse to socialising, with his thick arms crossed over a plaid shirt as he watched the dogs run around. There was something about his presence—an air of brooding mystery—that made it hard to ignore him. You’d caught yourself staring a few times—how could you not? He was handsome in a rugged, roguish Clint Eastwood sort of way. But more than that, he was The Wolverine. Yes, that Wolverine—the legendary superhero from the X-Men who fought bad guys and saved the world.

Each time he caught you looking, you quickly glanced away, your face turning a brilliant shade of red as you desperately tried to distract yourself by calling your dog over.

You had pegged him as the type who would own a large, intimidating dog—a mastiff, a rottweiler, or maybe a German shepherd. So, when the social was winding down and you saw a tiny Pugese bounding over to him, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The little dog, all stubby legs and wrinkled face, leaped into the gruff man’s arms with surprising agility. Its long tongue lolled out, swiping affectionately at his mutton chops as he caught it effortlessly. The sight of this fierce-looking man cradling such a small, adorable dog was almost too much to process, and you had to stifle a laugh at the unexpected contrast.

“What’s going on?” you finally manage to ask, your voice shaky as you look at the small creature nestled against his chest.

“Listen, bub, this clueless act ain’t gonna cut it with me. You can see what you’ve done,” he said, his voice rough like gravel. He adjusted his grip on the little dog, gently supporting its neck and bum as he sat it up slightly. You leaned in, taking in the wide brown eyes that blinked up at you as the dog gave a quick yawn, shifting in the man’s arms. Its little red leather outfit was twisted slightly around its body, looking snugger than usual.

“This—” he growled, nodding toward the Pugese, “is Mary. And thanks to your sausage, she’s gonna have puppies!”

You blink in confusion. “My—wait, Bert? You’re talking about Bert?”

“Who else?” he huffed, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Your daschund knocked up my dog!”

As if summoned, Bert appeared between your legs, huffing loudly from his sprint back from Barbara, a smudge of peanut butter on his lips. He looked up at you and the angry man with a proud expression, oblivious to the chaos he had caused.

“Bert?” you repeat incredulously, trying to process the information. “But… but I swear he’s been fixed!”

“Yeah, well, he figured it out somehow,” the man muttered, still fuming. “Found out today at the vet—Mary’s knocked up, thanks to him”

You glanced at the small dog again and noticed how her little pot belly did seem more rotund than usual. She was happily wagging her curly tail, completely unaware of the drama unfolding.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, covering your mouth as you look at the little Pugese. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea…”

“Neither did I!” he retorts, though his tone softens slightly as he sees the genuine surprise and concern in your eyes. “I mean, Mary is the last dog I’d expect to end up pregnant. She’s never even shown interest in other dogs.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you. Of all the things I expected today, getting chewed out by a grumpy, muscle-bound guy over a pregnant dog wasn’t one of them.

“How do you even know it was him? There are hundreds of dogs around here”

He huffed as if appalled you would even ask that.

“How could it not be him, I’ve seen him - sniffing around her” he spat. 

You side eyed Bert who had the audacity to flop on his back for a belly rub. It sounded exactly like him to your dismay. 

“I honestly don’t know what to say except sorry” you finally manage wincing as Bert let out a long whine at being ignored. 

“Just… keep an eye on your little Casanova,” he grumbled, rubbing Mary’s head. “We’re in this together now, whether we like it or not.”

“I really am sorry,” you say, reaching down to scoop up Bert, who was sniffing at the man’s shoes. Holding his little sausage body in one hand, you thrust a hand forward toward the man. “I’m Y/N. You’ve met Bert.”

The man eyed your hand for a second before clasping it in his own large one. “Logan,” he spoke, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine.

“Listen, don’t worry. Bert won’t be an absent father. I’ll step up—I mean, he’ll step up—well, I suppose we’ll be there for you.”

“Uh huh.”

“And Mary, of course. Listen, I’m a girls’ girl, and the last thing I would do is—” You freeze as you realise you’re still gripping Logan’s large hand and shaking it like you’re sealing the most important business deal of your life. Quickly releasing his hand as if it were on fire, you take a step back and stare at the grass in embarrassment.

Taking a deep breath, you looked up and tried not to get lost in his warm brown eyes. “Listen, can you give me your number or something so you can keep me updated?” You asked, shifting Bert on your arm.

“I don’t have a phone,” he said awkwardly.

“Right,” you responded, feeling mortified. It seemed clear he wanted nothing to do with you.

“Okay, well, I’ll be around if you need me,” you said dejectedly. With twenty minutes left of the social, you just wanted to escape the awkwardness.

Before he could respond, you turned away and left the park, your ears burning red with embarrassment as Bert gently gnawed at your fingers.

You didn’t see Logan again, a couple of weeks had passed since the man had confronted you about Bert’s promiscuous behaviour so you were surprised to find a bright pink envelope on your floor when you arrived home from work.

🎉🐶 PAW-TEE ALERT! 🐶🎉 Hey there, Fur-tastic Friends! Guess what time it is? It’s time to celebrate the most adorable, waggliest, and undeniably cutest thing in the universe—PUPPIES! Yep, you heard me right. Wade is throwing the ultimate Puppy Shower and you’re on the VIP list. 🎉 Come dressed in your finest puppy-themed attire or don’t—either way, you’ll look fetching! 🐾 Please bring a treat for Mary, our star-of-the-show, and no, we’re not talking about your grandma’s fruitcake. 🍪 If you can’t make it, don’t worry. I’ll be sure to send you a selfie of me and Logan covered in puppy slobber. 📸 RSVP: Hit me up with your best bark or, if you’re feeling fancy, just send a text to [Contact Information Here]. Either way, let me know if you’re coming so we can prepare an appropriately excessive amount of dog treats and possibly a few questionable dog costumes. Pawsitively Excited, Wade & Logan xoxoxo P.S. If you think this is just a ploy to get free snacks and a chance to see Logan out of his grumpy shell, you might be right. But you’ll also be helping celebrate the imminent arrival of tiny, adorable puppies!

“Wade?” You murmured, running your finger over the red glitter hearts on the page. It made sense why Logan wasn’t single; he was undeniably gorgeous. But your brows furrowed as you tried to recall whether you had given Logan your address.

Glancing at Bert, who was sitting in front of his empty bowl and giving you a reproachful look, you sighed. “Time to step up, buddy.” You spoke to Bert, who huffed slightly in agreement and continued to paw at his dish.

When you arrived at Wade’s flat, you were surprised to realise it was only a few streets away from your own place. Bert whined softly as you lingered outside the door, feeling the weight of nerves flutter in your stomach. You could hear voices and music drifting from inside. Glancing down at your dog, you took a deep breath before rapping your knuckles on the door.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall man covered in a patchwork of scars. His expression was animated, and before you could say anything, he flashed a blinding smile.

“You must be Y/N! Come in, come in!” he greeted, his voice brimming with enthusiasm as he ushered you and Bert inside.

“Thanks,” you replied, stepping into the cosy flat and carefully setting your wet umbrella near a pile of shoes and coats. Wade gave you a friendly hug as you shrugged off your raincoat, leaving you momentarily startled.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Wade said, his tone warm and welcoming.

“You too! And, er, sorry again about the whole… getting your dog pregnant,” you replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Pshhh, don’t worry about it! Our little Puppins is 90% G-spot, it was bound to happen sooner or later, the little tease,” Wade jokes, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Oh-oka—wait, Puppins?” you asked, trying to keep up with the rapid-fire conversation.

“Yeah, Mary—Mary Puppins,” Wade clarified with a wide grin, clearly proud of the clever name.

“Ah, now Bert’s name is starting to make sense,” you mused, the pieces finally clicking together in your mind.

“Yep, it’s very on-brand,” Wade replied, a mischievous glint in his eye as he let his thoughts wander for a moment. He shook his head slightly, snapping back to the present. “Anyway,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of exaggerated seriousness, “where is our little absent father?”

You glanced down, spotting Bert near your feet, his little tail wagging as if he understood that the spotlight was now on him. Bending down, you scooped up the dachshund, who was proudly sporting a tiny yellow bow tie, and handed him over to Wade.

“There he is!” Wade cooed, holding Bert up like a prized possession. “Someone went out for milk these past two weeks, huh? Poor Wolvy has been looking for your mama,” he added with a wink, turning to lead you both into the lounge.

Wade marched into the room, lifting Bert high above his head in a dramatic gesture. “Everyone, I present to you the baby daddy!” Wade declared with flair, holding Bert up like Simba in The Lion King. The room erupted in laughter and applause as the small group gathered around, showering Bert with attention and affection.

But then your attention shifted to your usual target, who was brooding near the kitchen, lingering near some red velvet cupcakes. You moved closer, your heart pounding as you took in his form that seemed to take up most of the kitchen.

“Hey, how’s it going?” you asked, reaching past him to grab a cupcake. His dark eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah, alright. How’s it going with you?” he replied, his voice low and gravelly.

“Good, great actually. Bert hasn’t gotten any other dogs pregnant,” you joked lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“That’s good,” Logan replied, his tone a bit flat.

“You know what blokes are like, only thinking of one thing,” you blurted out without thinking, immediately regretting the words as they left your mouth.

Logan raised a brow at you, his expression unreadable. “That right?”

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. To avoid saying anything else, you took a bite out of the cupcake. The texture was unexpectedly tough, and you found yourself chewing more vigorously than you’d anticipated.

Logan’s gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes narrowing slightly. After a moment, he reached out and gently wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

“There was some icing,” he murmured, his voice suddenly softer, more of a rumble than his usual biting growl. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as your heart pounded in your chest.

He held your gaze a moment longer, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You know, that’s for dogs, right?”

Your eyes widened in horror as you looked down at the half-eaten cupcake in your hand. “What?”

“Wade’s idea of a joke,” Logan explained, clearly amused by your reaction. “He put them out with the regular food to mess with people.”

You felt your face flush with embarrassment. “Oh my god…” you whispered, just before gagging as the aftertaste of beef hit your tongue. “Oh no, that’s disgusting!” you spluttered, wiping your mouth furiously as you tried to rid yourself of the flavour.

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a grin. You were momentarily taken aback, surprised by how the smile transformed his face, softening his usual stern expression and making him look years younger. 

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation dawning on you as your cheeks flushed a tomato hue. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the first one he’s tricked,” Logan said, his smirk widening into a genuine grin that took you by surprise. The smile lit up his face, making him look years younger, almost boyish.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you as your cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red. “Well, I guess it’s fitting. Bert and I are just full of surprises.”

“Seems that way,” Logan replied, his tone now more relaxed, a subtle hint of flirtation lacing his words. His eyes held yours, and for a brief moment, the air between you felt charged with an unspoken connection.

“Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” he grumbled, the corners of his lips twitching upward.

“Maybe not,” you teased back, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. The intensity of his gaze made it hard to think straight, and you wondered if he could hear your heart racing.

Logan’s nostrils flared slightly, as if he were picking up on the tension between you. But before anything more could happen, Wade’s voice broke the moment.

“Ooh, this looks all cosy, doesn’t it, Wolvy?” Wade chirped smugly, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took in the lack of space between the two of you.

“Fuck off,” Logan muttered, his jaw clenching as he shot Wade a glare.

“Spicy, this one isn’t he? Muy, muy caliente,” Wade ribbed, his grin widening as he revelled in the discomfort he was causing.

You glanced down to see Logan clenching his whisky glass tightly, a small hairline crack forming in the glass, his expression one of barely contained irritation.

“Could you pass me the little tux behind you?” Wade asked, clearly enjoying himself.

Logan turned around quickly, grabbed the small tux, and tossed it at the scarred man without a word.

“Thanks, Peanut,” Wade winked before chasing after Bert with a mischievous glint in his eye.

As you watched Wade prance off, you noticed the pained expression on Logan’s face. Trying to smooth over the situation, you decided to make conversation.

“So… how long have you two been together?” you asked, your tone light but genuinely curious.

Logan, who had just taken a swig of his whisky nearly choked, sputtering slightly as he wiped away the spilled liquid with a large hand. “What?” he spat, clearly taken aback.

You blinked slowly, suddenly feeling a wave of embarrassment. “Oh, sorry—I shouldn’t have presumed.”

“Listen, we aren’t together,” Logan clarified, his voice firm, though there was a hint of something more beneath the surface.

“Oh… right,” you stammered, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “Sorry, I just… assumed.”

Logan shook his head, exhaling out of his nose “We just live together while I look for a new place.”

“Got it,” you replied, feeling both relieved and a little silly for jumping to conclusions. The tension between you eased slightly, though you couldn’t help but notice the way Logan’s gaze lingered on you just a moment longer than necessary.

You were soon swept into a whirlwind of party games organised by Wade, each one more spirited than the last. During the festivities, you met their third roommate, known as "Blind Al," though you quickly insisted on simply calling her Al. You chatted to their other friends too, laughing at some of their wild stories until your stomach got a stitch and your jaw ached. 

As the evening wore on, the sky outside grew darker and darker, the stars twinkling faintly in the chilly night air. Feeling the onset of sleepiness, you decided it was time to head home. Logan, having observed your growing fatigue, volunteered to walk you back. At first, you insisted it wasn’t necessary, pointing out that you had Bert with you. 

Logan, however, let out a dismissive snort at the sight of your chunky dachshund, who was currently curled up and snoozing with half his face buried in a muffin. “Seriously, you’re letting this guy be your bodyguard?” Logan remarked with a smirk.

You sighed at the sight of Bert’s icing coated snout and, realising Logan’s offer was genuine, you conceded. “Alright, if you insist.”

With that, you both left the warm, lively flat, stepping out into the crisp night air as Logan guided you through the quiet streets toward your home. The walk was peaceful, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and the occasional rustle of leaves the only sound in the quiet neighbourhood.

When you reached your door, you lingered for a moment, cracking it open just enough for Bert to scamper inside and head straight to his bed, exhausted from the day’s excitement.

“Thanks for today. I really like your friends,” you said with a grin, noticing the unexpected softness in Logan’s eyes—a stark contrast to your initial meeting.

“Just my friends, huh?” he teased, a small smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh yes, I suppose Mary is lovely too,” you teased back, looking up at him with a soft smile. The warmth between you was palpable, his large frame nearly filling your small hallway, making the space feel even more intimate. You could hear the faint buzz of your neighbours’ TV through the walls, a reminder of the world continuing on around you, yet in this moment, it felt like it was just the two of you.

Logan’s gaze held yours for a beat longer, his eyes flicking down to your lips for a fleeting second before he straightened up, breaking the tension just enough to breathe again. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice low and slightly rough. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside you. “Goodnight, Logan.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, his voice softening.

As he turned to leave, you felt a sudden tug in your chest, an impulse you couldn't quite suppress. Before you knew it, you were calling out to him.

"Logan, wait."

He stopped and turned back to face you, his expression unreadable in the dim light of the hallway. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension that had been simmering all evening. You took a small step closer, closing the gap between you.

"Today was... nice," you said, your voice almost a whisper now, "and I don’t really want it to end."

Logan’s eyes darkened slightly, the playful banter from earlier replaced by something much more intense. He took a step closer, his presence overwhelming in the small space of your hallway. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of him—something warm and earthy—filling your senses.

“It doesn’t have to,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this charged moment. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers lightly brushing against the stubble on his jaw. Logan’s breath caught at the touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

In that instant, the tension snapped. Logan closed the distance between you in one swift motion, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he had been holding himself back. His hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, your heart racing as you responded with equal fervour.

The world around you blurred as all your senses focused on the feel of his lips, the strength of his arms around you, the roughness of his stubble against your skin. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you—like he was claiming you, yet with a surprising gentleness that made your knees go weak.

You felt the arms round your waist pull you closer to his solid body, causing you to whimper and him to slip a tongue gently into your mouth.

You broke apart just enough to catch your breath, your foreheads resting against each other as you both struggled to steady your breathing. Logan’s hands were still on your waist, his grip firm yet comforting, grounding you as you struggled to level your breathing. 

“Come inside,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your hand slid from his jaw to rest against his chest, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath your palm.

Logan hesitated for a brief moment, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read what you truly wanted. Whatever he saw there must have reassured him because he nodded slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint, almost teasing smile.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

You stepped back, pulling him gently inside your flat, closing the door behind him. The click of the lock sounded louder in the quiet of your home. The cosiness of the small space wrapped around you both, the warmth and intimacy of it only heightening the tension that hummed between you.

You took his hand, guiding him deeper into the flat, past the soft glowing lamps outside and Bert who was already snoring softly in his bed, oblivious to the charged atmosphere filling the room.

Logan’s gaze was intense as he followed you, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. When you reached your bedroom, you turned to face him again, your heart in your throat as you searched his face, wondering if this was really happening.

Logan’s hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sent another shiver through you. He leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss, slower this time, savouring each moment. Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer, the feel of his solid frame against yours grounding you even as your head spun.

Without breaking the kiss, Logan’s hands slid from your waist to your hips, pulling you flush against him as he walked you backward toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding with anticipation and need, the heat between you building with every passing second.

When the back of your knees hit the mattress, you sank down onto the duvet, pulling Logan with you. He followed without hesitation, his body covering yours as you both tumbled onto the bed, the kiss never breaking, never slowing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, marvelling at the feel of him—so strong, so present, so overwhelmingly real. Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound sending a thrill through you as his hands began to explore, tracing the curves of your body as if committing them to memory.

You arched into his touch, a soft sigh escaping your lips as he kissed his way down your neck, his stubble grazing your skin in the most delicious way. The sensation was electrifying as you gulped back another whimper as his tongue slipped back into your mouth, tasting the whisky on his lips. 

As he slowly begins to undress you, You feel an overwhelming sense of vulnerability as he unzips your last article of clothing and pulls your skirt down. Sensing you freezing he stops.

“Hey, where did you go bub?” He whispers, pulling back to meet your eyes.

“It’s just, er, been a while and I've put on a bit of weight recently” you mumbled, unable to hold his gaze. 

Logan paused, his hands gently resting on your hips as he looked at you, his brow furrowing with concern. The intensity of the moment faded slightly as he took in your words, understanding the vulnerability you were feeling. He tilted your chin up softly, urging you to meet his gaze.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised you. “You don’t have to hide from me. You’re beautiful, just the way you are.”

You felt your breath catch in your throat, the sincerity in his words sinking in. It had been so long since anyone had looked at you like this, let alone made you feel beautiful. Logan’s eyes were full of warmth, no judgement or hesitation, just blown pupils and an open gaze that made your chest tighten and your panties soak. 

He gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light. “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that resonated through you. “Every inch of you.”

His words were like a balm, easing the anxiety that had been bubbling beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way his hands held you with such care.

“Logan…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

The sincerity in his voice was undeniable, grounding you in the moment. You felt the tension in your body slowly melt away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your chest, as your heart started to race with excitement rather than fear. 

You took a deep breath, letting the anxiety flow out with the exhale, and nodded slightly. “I just… it’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way.”

Logan’s expression softened further, his gaze never leaving yours. “I get that,” he said, his voice low and reassuring. “But you don’t have to worry, not with me. I’m here, and I see you. All of you.”

He kissed you again, slower this time, with a tenderness that made your heart ache. His hands moved with reverence, as if he was rediscovering every part of you, appreciating each touch, each breath, as if it was a gift.

Logan pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression one of quiet reverence. “You’re beautiful, Y/N, but if you want to stop I will respect that, what do you want?”

“No I want this, I want you Logan.” You whispered, biting your lip. 

He leaned forward to kiss you again before pulling away your skirt and panties. He groaned at the sight of you glistening and swollen. “God you are incredible sweetheart” he groaned before leaning down.

“I wha-” You started before cutting yourself with a loud moan as he swiped over your clit. 

He drank from you like a man without water. The silence of the room is broken by the sound of his slurping and suckling. “I’ve been smelling you for weeks and you taste even sweeter than I imagined’ he whispered against you. 

Unable to answer him you continued to pant as he greedily ate you out. Grunting like an animal, his oral could only be described as animalistic as he pushed you towards that high. It was only when he added two thick fingers did you begin to wail as the stimulation overwhelmed you.

“That’s it sweetheart, I know, it’s okay, let go for me” He grunted as he continued to eat you out, the prickle of his beard between your thick thighs adding to the sensations as he rubbed his face into your pussy. 

When he crooked his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion that hit that sweet spongy spot inside of you. Something snaps inside as you whimper his name and come panting and wiggling on his face. 

As you came back to yourself you let out a whimper as you saw him smugly looking at you from between your thighs. Slowly rubbing you as you came down from your high. 

Standing up, you have to resist the urge to whine at the lack of fullness you feel and spy him suck his glistening fingers.  As Logan swiftly removed his clothes, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him—his body was beautiful, all toned muscle and solid mass, every muscle defined and glistening under the soft light. The intensity in his eyes never wavered as he tossed his shirt aside, revealing the expanse of his toned chest.

He moved with purpose, crawling onto the bed towards you like a predator closing in on its prey, his movements slow and deliberate, each one making your pulse race. The heat between you was palpable, electrifying the air as he inched closer, his gaze locking onto yours with a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, the sheer magnetism of his presence drawing you in, making you feel both excited and slightly nervous. 

When he finally reached you, his large hands framed your face as he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both fierce and gentle, full of the passion you had felt building between you all night.

“I’m on the pill” You blurted out as he pulled back and you watched as his pupils dilated wider. 

“You sure bub?” he questioned.

You nodded fervently as a surge of confidence rushed through you and you pushed him back onto the mattress so you could climb on top of him. It really was unfair, he made it look so natural as he laid back on the duvet like a modern day adonis. 

Logan cursed when you sank on top of him. It took a few moments for you to be fully seated. When you were, you took a slow and deep breath as you felt his entire length inside of you. You had never felt so full. 

You wiggled your hips slightly as you tested the length of him inside you and his hands shot out to grip your soft hips. 

“Just a second darlin’” He growled, his face looked strained as he held you in place. 

“If i’m too heavy we can turn over” You spoke shyly conscious of how he seemed to grip tightly at your hips.

He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth “No, No, It’s not that darlin’ you’re just so tight” He muttered before starting to thrust at you. 

You bit back a moan as you rode him. Large hands guiding you up and down as you bounced up and down, his cock rearranging your insides to make room for him, all of him. 

Leaning forward he took one of your nipples in his mouth and gently nibbled and sucked on it before moving on to the other one. You were unsure of how much time had passed but you soon found yourself coming on his cock. 

Unlatching from your nipple his hands went to your ass, taking over moving you as you came down from your high. “That’s it, such a good girl taking all of me” he rumbled before flipping you over and pushing your knees back to your chest. 

In this position he felt even deeper inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way and nudging the spongy wall of your cervix. “Logan” you whimpered as you pulled him forward to kiss his lips as he lazily thrust into you stoking the fire in your stomach again. Wrapping your ankles above the curve of his ass you dreamily sighed into his mouth as the taste of whisky hit your tongue. 

Your skin was damp with sweat as you clung to him desperately as his thrusts built up again. 

“Think you can give me another one darlin’?” he questioned after he broke away from your lips and started kissing down your neck nibbling as he went. 

At this point you were on fire, legs numb and eyes rolling back into your head. You felt like he had taken everything from you, yet, as his fingers rubbed over your clit a spark shot through you as you keenly lifted your hips upwards to his barraging cock. 

“That’s a good girl, gonna fill you up” He grunted, taking the hand that wasn’t rubbing your clit and pressing down on your abdomen to make the space inside you even tighter. 

“Logan, I’m close” You whimpered at the stimulation. The sounds of his animalistic grunts and squelching filled the quiet room. 

“That’s it darlin’ come all over this cock for me” he growled as you felt the air get stolen from your lungs as you spasmed around him, muscles pulling him in as deep as possible. Hips stuttering, Logan followed you into your release pumping you full of his thick spend. You could feel the heat of it filling you up as some of it leaked out of the sides of his cock, your body simply incapable of holding the sheer volume of it. 

Rolling to the side he pulled you with him to lay on his chest as his cock stayed nestled deep inside of you twitching occasionally with the odd spurt, not quite finished filling you up. You hummed gently against his chest as his arms circled around you, warm and safe. 

"You okay, bub?" Logan grumbled softly, his deep voice carrying a warmth that sent a wave of comfort through you. He gently smoothed a few stray strands of hair back from your face, his touch tender against your skin. You sighed happily, nestling into the solid warmth of his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

Tilting your head up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but smile. “I’m so glad Bert knocked up your dog,” you said, a playful grin tugging at your lips. The absurdity of the situation, which had once felt mad, now seemed like the best thing that had ever happened.

Logan’s eyes softened as he looked down at you, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, who would've thought?" he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting in a rare, genuine smile. He reached down, brushing a thumb gently across your cheek. 

You shifted slightly and froze. Eyes widening in realisation at what was happening.  

“Logan…are you still?”

“Let’s hit number four” he growled.

[applecaviar]

Hey love, your LADs fics are 🥵🔥🫠.

If you are accepting requests, could you pls write a College AU with the LADS men?

A study sesh leads to smut (can include love confession if not in established relationship).

Have a lovely day/night~ 💖

I hope I did it right. Enjoy!

College AU with the LADS men 🎓

Part 1: Zaynexreader

TW: SMUT

**Both reader and Zayne are Med students**

Zayne looks up from his textbook, his eyes meeting yours as you walk into his dorm room. His room is tidy, almost clinically so, really different from your own chaotic space down the hall. Zayne has always been the organized one, the responsible one, while you...well, you were something else.

"Your room is still a disaster zone, I take it?" he asks, arching an eyebrow. When you smile and nod, he laughs softly and shakes his head. "I don't know how you manage to live in such chaos."

Zayne's gaze drifts over your textbooks stacked in your arms, his eyes narrow slightly as he takes in your appearance, noting the dark circles under your eyes and the way you seem to be running on pure adrenaline. He sets his textbook aside and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees.

"Tell me you got some sleep last night," he says, there is concern in his voice. "You look exhausted, y/n. I know this semester has been tough on you." he looks at you like a parent waiting for their child to confess to staying up too late. "And your test?" he asks when you don't immediately answer. "How did it go?" Zayne knows you had an important test this morning. He's been quietly supportive, offering to quiz you or just listening as you vented about the material leading up to it.

"I survived," you sigh, as you flop down on the bed across from Zayne's desk. "But I don't think I did as well as I needed to. I swear, every time I think I've got it, I realize there's a whole other layer to learn."

You groan, burying your face in one of his pillows for a moment before sitting back up to look at him "I don't know how you do it Zayne. Don't you ever just want to give up?"

He stands and walks over to his mini fridge, pulling out a bottle of water. "Here, drink this. You look dehydrated." Zayne gives you the bottle before sitting on the edge of his bed next to you. His brow furrows with concern as he watches you drink deeply from the water bottle, his eyes searching yours.

"Y/n, how many hours of sleep did you actually get last night?"

"Two," you say quietly. " Maybe a little more". His expression softens as he listens to you. He knew you were pushing yourself too hard, but hearing the confirmation of just how little sleep you'd gotten hits him like a punch to the gut.

"Lay down for a bit. I'll wake you up in two hours, and we can continue with your study session then." There's a gentle authority in his voice, Zayne's not going to let you talk your way out of this one. He knows you need the rest, and will make sure you get it.

As you hesitate, he reaches out to take the now empty water bottle from your hands, setting it aside on the nightstand. His fingers linger on yours for just a moment, a silent plea for you to listen to him.

"Please," he murmurs, his eyes holding yours. "You can't keep doing this. You need to take care of yourself if you want to make it through this program." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing softly over the dark circle beneath your eye. It's a tender gesture, full of care and concern. He's not just your study partner and best friend, he's the one person who truly sees you, exhaustion and all.

"Fineeeee, whatever you say Dr Zayne"

He watches as you lay down on the bed, your head coming to rest on the pillow. He feels a bit of concern seeing you so drained, but also a sense of relief that he convinced you to get some much needed rest. Almost as soon as your head touches the pillow, your eyelids flutter shut and your breathing evens out.

You startle awake, your heart racing. You're not used to sleeping so deeply, especially not in the middle of the day. As you blink the sleep from your eyes, you become aware of a warm, solid presence next to you on the bed. Turning your head slowly, you find yourself face to face with Zayne, his body next to yours. He must have dozed off while you were sleeping, still clutching his textbook in his hands, now lying open and forgotten. Soft snores escape his slightly parted lips, a light frown etched between his eyebrows as if even in sleep, he's focused on the complex medical diagrams. He looks almost boyish in sleep, the hard lines of his face softening, a lock of dark hair falls across his forehead, and there's a vulnerability to his stillness that makes your heart clench. For a moment, you just watch him, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the long lashes casting shadows on his pale cheeks. Then, carefully, you reach out and pluck the textbook from him setting it aside. Zayne stirs slightly at the loss of the book, but doesn't wake. In sleep, his hand finds yours, as he settles closer to you. Your fingers intertwine instinctively, and you feel a rush of warmth spread through you at the contact.

You feel the heat of Zayne's breath ghosting over your face. Even in sleep, he seems drawn to you, his hand tightening around yours as if he's afraid you might disappear if he lets go. A soft blush rises to your cheeks at the intimacy of the moment, at the way Zayne's face is inches from your own. Your heart starts to race for a different reason now, a fluttering sensation that has nothing to do with the sudden awakening and everything to do with the man next to you.

You've shared countless study sessions, late night talks, and inside jokes with Zayne, but this...this feels different. More intimate. More charged with a tension you've never dared to acknowledge before. His eyelids flutter, and for a moment you think he might wake. You hold your breath, but he doesn't wake. Instead, he just sighs softly, his breath fanning over your lips. You know you should pull away, give him space, but you find yourself rooted to the spot. Captivated. Your free hand comes up to brush a lock of hair from Zayne's forehead, your fingertips lingering on the soft skin. He's so warm. So real. So...inviting.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry despite the water Zayne had given you earlier. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, and you see Zayne's eyes flutter open at the movement. For a moment, you're frozen, caught in the hazel gaze that seems to see right through you. Then, slowly, Zayne's eyes focus on you. Confusion clouds them for a moment before a flicker of something else, something hotter, sparks in their depths. His grip on your hand tightens.

"You're awake," he murmurs, his voice husky from sleep. His gaze drops to your mouth, stays there for a long, charged moment. You feel your heart pounding against your ribs, your breath coming faster. The air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you've never dared to put a name to before. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a sensual caress that sends a shiver up your spine. "How are you feeling?" he asks, but there's something else to his question, a double meaning that makes your cheeks flush hotter. And you know you should answer, should break this moment with a silly comment or a joke but you can't seem to find your voice. You're too busy drowning in the heat of Zayne's eyes too busy wanting...wanting more. Wanting to close the small distance between you and feel his lips on yours, wanting to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer until there's no space left between your bodies.

But you don't. You can't. Because this is Zayne. Your best friend, the one person you trust above all others. The one person you can't afford to mess this up with, so instead of giving in to the temptation, you take a deep, shuddering breath and try to gather your composure. You wet your dry lips again, your voice a bit husky as you manage to choke out an answer.

"I...I feel better," you whisper, your eyes still locked with his. "Thank you for...for letting me sleep." It's a clumsy reply, but it's the best you can manage in this moment.

Zayne's eyes search yours for a moment, as if trying to find the true meaning behind your words. Then, slowly, he nods and starts to sit up, his hand sliding from yours and leaving you feeling suddenly cold. "I'm glad, you needed the rest." He glances at the clock on the wall and frowns slightly. "I'm afraid I may have let you sleep a little longer than we intended though."

He starts to gather up the scattered pages of his textbook, his movements a little stiff, a little self-conscious. It's clear that he's feeling the shift in the atmosphere as much as you are. "We should probably get back to studying," he says, not meeting your gaze as he stacks the pages neatly. "You've got that big test coming up, and you need to be ready." He says it lightly, but there's a tightness to his voice that wasn't there before. A tension that has nothing to do with the impending test.

You nod slowly, sitting up as well and swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You feel a little unsteady, a little off-balance. And it's not from the sudden awakening.

"Yeah," you agree softly. "You're right. I should get back to it."

You stand up, stretching slightly to work the kinks out of your muscles. As you do, you catch Zayne watching you from the corner of your eye, his gaze intense and unreadable. A shiver runs down your spine at the weight of it, and you quickly busy yourself with straightening out the rumpled blanket on the bed, avoiding his stare. "I'll just...I'll just go freshen up real quick" You say, hurrying towards the bathroom, needing to put some space between you, to collect your racing thoughts and calm the frantic pounding of your heart.

Once you are in the bathroom you splash water on your face, and take a few deep breaths, trying to will the blush from your cheeks. But no matter how much cold water you use, you can't seem to banish the memory of Zayne's sleep-roughened voice, the heat of his breath on your face, the way his hand felt curled around yours.

You shake your head sharply, pushing the thoughts away. You can't afford to think like that, not about Zayne. He's your rock, your constant, the one person you know you can always count on. You can't risk destroying that.

Squaring your shoulders, you take one last deep breath and step back out into the bedroom. Zayne is sitting on the bed, his textbooks spread out in front of him, his glasses perched on his nose as he scans the pages intently. For a moment, he looks like a picture of concentration, the very image of the dedicated medical student. As you approach, he glances up, and you see the flicker of something else in his eyes. Something warmer. Something that makes your heart stutter in your chest. "Is everything all right?" he asks softly, a note of genuine concern in his voice. He stands up, taking a step towards you, and you find yourself looking up at him, your breath catching in your throat.

"I...yes," you manage to say, your voice a little steadier than before. "Everything is fine.

"Good," he says, and there's a quiet satisfaction in his voice. He gestures to the bed, "It will be good for us to review the material together," Zayne continues, his voice warm and encouraging. "We can go over the key points and make sure you've got a solid grasp of everything before the test"

He steps closer to you, his hand coming to rest lightly on the small of your back as he guides you towards the bed. The touch is innocent, a gesture of friendship and support "Sit down," his breath stirring the hair at your temple. "Let's get to work."

Zayne watches as you chew thoughtfully on a grape, your eyes scanning the medical text. Hours have passed, and despite the late hour, you're both still engrossed in the material, determined to ensure you're fully prepared for the upcoming test. As Zayne sits in his chair, he flips to a new page in his textbook, his brow furrowed in concentration. When he glances up at you, ready to ask a question, he notices a small, glistening droplet of grape juice on your lower lip.

For a moment, he's distracted, his focus torn between the anatomical diagram on the page and the tempting sight before him. He clears his throat softly, trying to regain his train of thought.

"Y/n," he begins, his voice a little rougher than before. "What are the primary symptoms of acute kidney injury?"

As he waits for your response, Zayne finds himself leaning forward slightly, his gaze still fixed on your mouth. The drop of juice on your lip, threatening to drip down at any moment.

He swallows hard, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He knows he should look away, should focus on the important task at hand. But he can't seem to tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing sight of you.

Finally, as if sensing his stare, you glance up from the textbook. Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, time seems to slow. Zayne's breath catches in his throat as he realizes he's been caught staring, his pulse jumping at the realization.

"The primary symptoms are...decreased urine output, blood in the urine, swelling in the legs or ankles, nausea, and fatigue." You begin, your voice clear and confident despite the late hour.

As you speak, he watches, as the grape juice slowly slides down the curve of your lip. It leaves a glistening trail in its wake, a path that draws his eye like a magnet.

"And then there's the secondary symptoms," you say, unaware of the effect you are having on him "Hematuria, azotemia, electrolyte imbalances..."

As you speak, he feels a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to lean in and catch that glistening drop of grape juice with his tongue.

When the thought hits him it leaves him momentarily breathless. In this moment, with the late hour and the intensity of your study session, he finds himself fighting with a desire he's long suppressed.

As you wrap up your explanation, Zayne quickly looks down at his textbook, needing a moment to collect himself. He clears his throat, trying to will away the sudden tightness in his pants and the heat rising in his cheeks.

"That's...that's correct, y/n," he manages to say, his voice a little rougher than intended. "You've got a solid grasp of the material. That's impressive."

You smile at Zayne's praise, feeling a surge of pride and accomplishment. The late-night study session had been intense, but seeing the approval in his eyes made it all worthwhile. As your smile widened, the droplet of grape juice that had been perched on the curve of your lower lip began its descent.

Zayne, already on edge and distracted by his sudden surge of desire, doesn't hesitate. Acting on pure instinct, he reaches out and across the short distance between you, his thumb outstretched. In a soft gesture, he brushes his thumb along your chin, catching the errant drop of juice before it can fall any further. The touch is brief but electric, sending a shiver down your spine.

Before you can react, Zayne's thumb trails upwards, coming to rest gently on the plush, soft skin of your lower lip. His eyes flick up to meet yours, and in that moment, the air between you feels charged with a new energy. His gaze is intense, his eyes searching yours as his thumb lightly traces the curve of your lower lip. He's waiting for a reaction, for any sign that you feel it too this sudden, undeniable spark of attraction that's impossible to ignore.

His voice is a low murmur, almost a whisper, when he finally speaks. "You had a little... grape juice," he explains unnecessarily, his thumb still resting on your lip. "I just... I couldn't let it go to waste."

He feels his breath hitch in his throat as your small, pink tongue darts out and laps at the remnants of the grape juice on his thumb. The sensation of your wet, warm tongue against his skin sends a jolt of electricity straight through him, settling heavily in his lower abdomen.

"Now it won't," you say softly

As you hold his gaze, Zayne feels the last of his restraint slipping away. The walls he's built to keep his feelings locked away, crumble like sandcastles against a tide.

Slowly, giving you every opportunity to pull away, Zayne leans in closer. His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his long fingers splaying gently against the warm, smooth skin. He tilts your chin up slightly, angling your face towards his.

"I've wanted to do this for so long, y/n," he confesses. The scent of his words is tinged with the faint aroma of the grapes you were eating, a heady and intoxicating combination. His eyes flick down to your lips, now glistening and parted slightly from your earlier actions.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice strained with tension. "Tell me you don't feel this too, and I'll stop. But god, I need to know if you want this as much as I do."

Your heart races as you feel Zayne's breath mingling with yours, his lips now centimeters away from your own. The heat of his skin, the intensity of his gaze, it's all so overwhelming and intoxicating.

"Don't stop," you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. It's all you manage to say before you close the final centimeter of space between you, your lips pressing softly against his. The moment your mouths meet, it's like a spark igniting a wildfire. Zayne's lips are soft and firm against your own, molding to the contours of your mouth as if he was made to fit there.

You hear a low groan escape from the back of his throat as you deepen the kiss. His fingers tighten slightly on your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheekbone. You press closer, your hand coming up to tangle in the short, dark hair at the nape of his neck. Your fingers thread through the silky strands, anchoring him to you as you lose yourself in the sensation of his mouth moving against your own.

Zayne pulls back from the kiss just enough to hook his hands under your armpits. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he lifts you up and out of the bed, bringing your body flush against his own. As his lips claim yours again, his hands slide from your armpits down to your waist. He grips you firmly, his long fingers splaying across the small of your back as he pulls your curves snugly against the hard planes of his own body.

Still lost in the intensity of the kiss, he starts to walk you backwards, his body pressed against yours, until the soft give of a wall meets your back. He breaks the kiss just briefly as your back hits the wall, long enough to flash you a look that's equal parts hunger and desperation. His eyes are dark, the pupils blown wide with desire, and his chest heaves with each breath he takes.

"You drive me crazy," he rasps, his voice strained and rough with want. "If I take you to bed now, I won't be able to hold back. I'll lose control, and I don't want to rush this."

You close the distance once again and your teeth graze his bottom lip "Please Zayne" you whisper.

Unable to resist your urging, Zayne gives in to your demand. He leans into you, allowing you to tug his shirt upwards and expose the toned, muscular chest beneath. His abs are defined, each muscle group carved by years of dedicated discipline. As his shirt clears his head, Zayne captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them gently but firmly against the wall on either side of your head. He looms over you, his larger frame caging you in, his eyes roaming hungrily over your face and body.

"Please, what? Tell me what you want, y/n. I need to hear you say it."

His hips press against yours, the hard, thick length of him evident even through the fabric of his pants. He grinds slowly against you, letting you feel every inch of his desire. His hand releases one of your wrists to cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your swollen bottom lip. His touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the rough, desperate edge in his voice.

"Tell me," he demands, his gaze intense and unwavering. "Tell me what you need, and I'll give it to you. I'll give you everything."

"Zayne," you breathe out, your voice trembling with desire. "I need you, all of you" You feel his hands grip the backs of your thighs, his long fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he hoists you up. He lifts you effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he pins you against the wall with his hips. Once he feels your legs secure around him, Zayne's hands slide up, his palms skimming over your thighs and coming to rest on your hips. He squeezes gently, his fingers digging into your curves as he holds you in place. Sensing your movements, Zayne leans back just enough to allow you to remove your shirt. As the fabric falls away, revealing your bare skin and the delicate lace of your bra, his breath catches in his throat.

"Fuck" he breathes out, his gaze hungry as it roams over your exposed flesh. Unable to resist, Zayne leans down and starts to place open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat. His lips and tongue map out the delicate skin, tasting you, teasing you, as his hands slide up your sides. They come to rest just below the band of your bra, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, his eyes dark and filled with promise, silently asking for your permission to continue.

You reach back, fingers unhooking the clasp of your bra. The lace falls away, baring you completely to his hungry gaze. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, your chest heaving with each breath, your nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room.

"Perfect," Zayne murmurs, his voice a low, appreciative rumble. "Absolutely perfect."

He lowers his head and draws one straining peak into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, teasing it, before he suckles hard. His other hand kneads the soft weight of your other breast, rolling and plucking at the neglected nipple. Zayne's hips press harder against yours, the thick ridge of his arousal grinding against your core.

"Zayne," you gasp, your head falling back against the wall as pleasure courses through you. "Please, I need more." Your hands fist in his hair, anchoring him to you as he lavishes attention on your breasts. Your legs tighten around his waist, urging him closer, silently begging him to take you.

Zayne releases your breast with a wet pop, his lips moving to your other breast to give it the same treatment. He suckles and nips, his teeth grazing your skin, marking you. His mouth never leaves your breasts as he carries you towards the bed, his lips and tongue continuing their relentless assault on your sensitive flesh. He walks backwards and as the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress, Zayne sits down, allowing you both to tumble onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. He rolls you over, positioning you beneath him. Zayne's hands roam your body, caressing every curve and dip, as if committing your form to memory.

Still focused on your breasts, he kisses and licks, suckles and nips, until your back arches off the bed and your fingers tangle almost painfully in his hair. Your nipples are reddened and swollen, glistening with his saliva, and aching for more of his touch. Zayne pauses in his ministrations, glancing up at you with a playful smirk as he slowly unzips your skirt. As he removes it he takes in the sight of your blue panties adorned with a tiny snowman.

"I wasn't exactly planning on seducing you tonight," you admit with an embarrassed blush, biting your lower lip. "I didn't think we'd end up like this."

Zayne's eyes soften as he takes in the pretty blush coloring your cheeks and the swell of your breasts. He finds your embarrassment endearing, charming even. It's a rare sight, given how composed and put together you usually are.

Zayne shakes his head and smirks "I'm glad you didn't plan this," he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "Because if you had, you might not have chosen such...cute underwear"

He glances down at the snowman grinning up at him, then back to your blushing face, his smirk widening into a genuine, boyish grin. "Don't worry, sweetheart. They're perfect. Just like you, but let's get rid of them, shall we?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive "I want to see all of you."

Zayne takes his time peeling your panties down your legs, his fingers grazing your skin. As the fabric slips past your knees, he tosses them carelessly aside, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

When you instinctively close your legs, Zayne pauses, his hands resting on your thighs. "Open them for me, pretty girl," his voice filled with desire. His hands start to slowly push your thighs apart, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs and sending sparks of pleasure racing through you, and when your legs part for him, his gaze drops to your exposed sex, his eyes darkening with hunger and need.

"Fuck, love," he breathes out, his voice strained. "You're so beautiful. I could look at you for hours." He leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh, making you shudder in anticipation. He inhales deeply, taking in your scent, before placing a soft, open mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh. His lips and tongue work their way slowly up your inner thigh. He places kisses to your skin, occasionally grazing it with his teeth, sending jolts of pleasure and pain straight to your core. He takes his time, savoring your taste and scent, drawing out your anticipation and desperation. The closer he gets to your aching, empty sex, the more your hips squirm and cant upwards, seeking his touch.

"Zayne, please," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, trying to urge him on. He nips at the sensitive skin where your thigh meets your sex, making you gasp and your hips jerk involuntarily. He places another kiss, higher this time, his lips brushing against your lower lips. At the same time, he pushes your thighs further apart, opening you up to him completely.

"Tell me what you want," he urges, his breath hot against your cunt. "Tell me how you want me to touch you."

"Please, I need your mouth on me. I need your tongue, your fingers, something."

Without warning, he dives in, his mouth latching onto your sex with a hunger that steals your breath away.He kisses and sucks, his lips moving against your sensitive flesh as he explores every inch of you. His tongue delves between your folds, stroking along your slit and dipping teasingly inside you.

"Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined," Zayne rumbles, his words muffled against your sex. He looks up at you, his eyes glinting as he holds your gaze. "I could feast on this sweet cunt for hours, my love."

He then seals his mouth over your clit, suckling hard as he slides two long fingers deep inside you. He pumps them slowly, curling and twisting, stroking that spot that makes you moan his name. Your back arches off the bed as you cry out, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Suddenly he pauses, looking up at you with a playful glint in his eye. He smirks, his fingers still buried deep inside your throbbing sex. "How about we make this interesting, love? We can practice what you've learned today."

He starts to withdraw his fingers slowly, his thumb brushing over your clit and making you gasp. "Let's start with a simple one. What's the medical term for the heart?" He watches your face, his fingers poised at your entrance, waiting for your response.

"Fuck, it's c-cardio," you stutter out, your voice breathless and shaky with desire.

"Good girl," Zayne purrs, rewarding you with a slow lick along your slit. "What's the primary function of the kidneys?" His fingers dip back inside you, pumping shallowly, teasing you as he waits for your answer. Your hips twitch, trying to pull him deeper, but you force yourself to focus.

"F-filtration and secretion," you manage to say, your words coming out in a rush.

"That's right," Zayne murmurs, placing another lingering lick on your clit before suckling gently, rewarding your correct answer. "The liver's main function?"

"Nghh, m-metabolism and detoxification," you gasp, your head falling back as pleasure courses through you.

"Mmm, excellent. The brain's primary function?"

"I can't....Zayne please..." you pant, your fingers gripping the sheets as you fight the urge to grind yourself against Zayne's face. "I...its controlling and coordinating actions and..and ...activities,"

He wraps his lips around your clit and gently sucks it, his fingers pump faster, curling to stroke that special spot inside you with each thrust. You can feel your release building, your walls starting to flutter around his fingers.

"Lungs' primary function?" Zayne asks, his voice a low rumble against your sex.

"Res...respiration," you cry, your hips bucking up to meet his hand as your climax fast approaches.

"That's my clever girl," Zayne praises, sealing his mouth over your clit and sucking gently once again.

Zayne feels your walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers, knowing you are teetering on the brink of your climax. He looks up at you with intense eyes, his voice low and urgent.

"This is the most important question, my love. How many chambers does the heart have?"

His fingers pump faster, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with each thrust. His thumb rubs firm circles over your clit, the pleasure almost too much to bear.

"Four!" you scream, your voice breaking and cracking with the intensity of your impending climax. At your desperate scream of the correct answer, Zayne dives back in, his mouth latching onto your sex with renewed hunger. His tongue circles your clit exactly four times, each rotation perfectly measured and deliberate.

As he completes the fourth rotation, you finally shatter. Your body convulses as your orgasm crashes over you like, your sex clenching and fluttering wildly around his fingers.

Zayne groans, feeling your release gush over his tongue and fingers. He works you through it, his mouth and hands never stopping their assault, drawing out your pleasure until you collapse back onto the bed, boneless and spent.

Zayne crawls up your body, his eyes filled with satisfaction and pride. He cups your face, capturing your lips in a kiss that steals your breath away. You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only makes you feel more desired.

"Good girl," Zayne praises. "You did so well, my love. I'm so proud of you."

You try to sit up, but Zayne gently but firmly presses you back down onto the bed, his hands resting on your shoulders. He shakes his head, giving you a playful smirk as he tucks you in snugly under the covers, pulling them up to your chin.

"Where do you think you're going, love? You need to rest now," Zayne says softly, his voice filled with a tender warmth that makes your heart flutter. He brushes a stray lock of hair from your forehead, his fingers lingering to caress your cheek.

"You've had a long day. I want you to sleep now, sweetheart. Let your body recover and recharge." He settles in next to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you close, spooning you from behind. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your hair as he holds you possessively, protectively.

His hand rests on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles, a comforting, lulling motion. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back and the soothing sound of his voice soon has you both drifting off into a peaceful sleep. Unaware that once you both become respected doctors in your respective fields, you find yourself transported back to this day every time someone mentions the four chambers of the heart.

It could be during a lecture, a patient consultation, or even a casual conversation with a colleague. The moment the words "four chambers" leave their lips, you're instantly transported back to that bedroom, with Zayne's head between your legs, his tongue circling your clit in perfect, deliberate rotations as you screamed out the answer that brought you to the most intense orgasm of your life.

You'll feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, and you'll have to bite back a smile, glancing over at Zayne to see if he was also transported to that moment. More often than not, you catch him looking at you with a knowing, smoldering gaze, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. You know he's thinking about the same thing.

I

[saeist]

a/n: alternate universe where touya didn't go insane and goes to UA :] dedicated to the loml @saerins cus we're on our touya brainrot + went a little insane with this instead...

"jesus doll, excited now are we?" touya muses, a smirk on his lips as he lets you push him inside your small and cramped bathroom.

rolling your eyes, you motioned him to sit down on the toilet lid while you prepare the shower. making sure the water is just the right temperature or else you might burn touya's head off when you rinse the hairdye off his hair

"is this the part where you remove your shirt and i suck on a titty?" touya says more of a statement rather than a cheeky question. you stop yourself from hitting the boy that has his signature lopsided smirk with the shower head you were currently holding

with an exasperated sigh and a pinch to your nose bridge, you answer him

"just shut up for once, touya. besides, won't your dad kill you if he found out you're dying your hair black? or did you forget that he almost kicked you out of the house when he saw your piercings for the first time?" you raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend who decided at the last minute to dye his hair as a sign of "rebellion against his "uptight, stick far up his ass dad" his words, not yours

"he can manage" touya huffs, scoffing at the memory of his dad yelling at him for acting and starting to look like a good for nothing delinquent or in endeavour's words, a villain. "it's not like it's my duty to keep our image of a "perfect family". if only the rest of the world knew what its like to have endeavor as your deadbeat dad!"

touya and endeavour never really got a long per say.. at least that's what touya tells you whenever he had a shit day training with endeavor. days where he would train with his dad were usually days where he'd opt to spend the night at your dorm. away from all the chaos inside the todoroki estate that he unfortunately refers to as his home

but to touya, at the end of the day, you are his home. his peace, his serenity, his anchor in this world where hell could break loose at any given moment

"don't give me that look, doll" touya sighs, shoulders dropping when he noticed you were staring at him.

"i just don't want to see you hurt all over again. you almost gave me a heart attack that one time when you showed up here unannounced" you pout, letting touya slowly wrap his arms around your waist.

touya’s arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. “i can handle the old man. it’s his problem if he can’t accept me for who i am,” he mutters, resting his forehead against your stomach

"i mean, he already stopped giving a shit when he realized i can't withstand my flames, so who am i to give a shit back after everything he did to me?" touya continues, his grip tightening

you run your fingers through his hair gently, feeling the warmth of his presence. “shhh, we already talked about this" you shush him, "all i'm saying is that i just want you to be safe, touya. i can’t stand seeing you hurt,” you whisper, your voice tinged with worry.

he looks up at you, his usual smirk replaced with a rare, sincere expression. “i know, doll. i know." touya presses light kisses on your stomach, "but I have to be true to myself, even if it means pissing off endeavor” he chuckles, the pads of his thumb rubbing circles on your exposed skin

you both stay in that position in silence for a bit. just finding comfort with each other's presence. just the way touya likes it. nice and quiet. a contrast to his daily hellish life back at his own home

that is until touya starts to feel his scalp burn a little

"okay fun time's over, doll. my scalp's startin' to kill me here" touya shudders, slowly unwrapping his arms around you as he reaches for the shower head in your hand.

you stifle in your laughter watching him make a fuss inside your cramped bathroom.

that is until, you remembered that your bathroom tiles were pearly white and if he's rinsing off black hairdye then–

"TOUYA MY TILES!" you let out a screech

"too late, doll" touya pokes his tongue out at you, hair dye getting all over your walls and cold tiles.

you were gonna pay one hefty fine if you don't clean this shit up as soon as possible.

now, touya sits on your bed. drying his freshly dyed jet black hair with a towel and you're not even gonna lie to yourself. he looked a little too good for your liking. touya has always been a looker himself but with this new hairdo.. oh lord

"why are you looking at me like you want to eat me?" touya chuckles, hanging the now stained towel around his neck as he leans back on your bed with his elbows propped. he was giving you bedroom eyes, quite literally and figuratively.

what a tease!

"nothing. just making sure that i'm still talking to touya and not his emo alter ego dabi" you mused, plopping down on your bed next to him.

touya laughs at your comment. eyes turning into crescent moons

“thanks for everything, y/n,” touya says softly, voice full of genuine love and appreciation.

your heart swells at the sight of touya like this. you would move mountains if you could just to see touya– your touya happy.

"i love you, touya" you lean in for a kiss. to which touya happily returns the favor.

"i love you more than life, doll." touya smiles lazily against the kiss, cranking his neck to the side for more access as he deepens the kiss.

moments like these with you is when touya feels like he's on top of the world and he hopes it will forever stay like this cause to touya, he can face anything the world throws at him when he knows you'll be there right by his side

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

azriel x reader | a small but very happy incident. words: 2.2k

masterlist

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee all over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

a/n: thank you for reading!

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because i couldn't find your blog.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[sugarlywhispers]

Thinking about Pro Hero!Dynamight and Pro Hero!Lavagirl!Reader's children.

Both heroes are desperately hurrying their way towards a scene after receiving a call that their children, Bakugou Saori, their girl of 7 years old, and Bakugou Kei, their little boy of 5 years old, are being held hostage by a villain.

The scumbag recognized them on their school visit to an aquarium with their respective classes, and took the chance.

It was inevitable that people would recognize them. They are the children of two of the most powerful heroes of this generation.

The villain thought it would be easy to capture them and hold them until he got what he wanted from their parents; they are children, it's a piece of cake!

However, he didn't count on the possibility that these kids… these fucking kids already developed their Quirks!

The little girl turns out to be a pain in the villain's ass, as she keeps exploding lava rocks in her little hands and throws them at the villain's face, burning him. And well, the little boy isn't a saint either as he keeps spraying some kind of water from his little hands towards the villain, but with a little clap the fucking “water” turned into lava.

The villain feels in literal agony with these two troublesome kids. But it is until he manages a slap hard on the little girl's face that makes them both finally cooperate.

Saori, of course, resembles a lot of characteristics of her father. Her hair is blonde, almond-shaped eyes that give her a piercing kind of stare, like her dad –if she wasn't a toddler, that stare would make more than one person piss their pants. Little Kei, on the other hand, is all you. Big round and curious eyes that look excited at everything, and your same hair color.

But where Saori looks a lot like her dad, she has details that resemble her mother, you. While Saori's hair is blonde, it cascades down her small back smoothly and beautifully like her mother's. While her eyes are the same shape her father's are, they are not red. They are a beautiful mix of yours and Katsuki's. Where little Kei's hair is the same color as yours, it is an exact copy of his father's spiky style. And while his eyes are round and big as yours, they are as deep red as his dad's.

When it comes to personality, well… Saori is clearly Katsuki's child. Yet toned down a bit thanks to your influence as a mom. She is a good girl, a daddy's girl. And of course she plays –a bit roughly in your opinion– with her dad, involving Katsuki holding her upside down by one foot and her laughing her little lungs out, enjoying it. But when she gets very angry, it's clearly Katsuki's heated blood in there (you always send Katsuki to deal with the little demon when she gets like that). Little Kei, on the contrary, is all you. Kind, chill, mommy's boy, a saint-like little boy who loves to follow butterflies around holding your hand as you follow him too (and a shameless thief –because yes, he has stolen you from Katsuki at times).

It's Saori's personality that has her yelling at the villain, “My dad will kick your ass hard!!”, tears running down her cheeks, one of them clearly bright red from the slap, while hugging her little brother in protection.

And even though little Kei is crying too, he also yells, "Yeah!! And it's going to hurt!"

They warned the villain. And they were entirely right.

The moment Pro Hero Dynamight and Pro Hero Y/H/N arrived at the scene, it's chaos.

The only thing in this set of parents' minds is to get back their kids. No fucking matter how. To have them in their arms, safe and sound. Dynamight doesn't fucking care if his explosion goes a bit harder than it should. And Y/H/N doesn't fucking care if your lava burns the villain's skin alive, when you directed a whip towards him, circling his arm and pulling him back from trying to avoid Dynamight's fire.

It all happens strenuously fast.

You feel the air finally enter your lungs once you hold both of your kids in your arms. Both kids crying, “Mommy!!” while their little arms surround your neck.

“It's okay, my loves, you're okay,” you hold back your own cry, but your eyes are clearly filled with tears, “Mom and Dad are here.”

You immediately feel Katsuki's big arms surround you three in a hug from the other side. He kisses each kid over their heads, closing his eyes and breathing their scent deep. They are fine. They are finally safe. All of you are in his arms, safe.

The children turn around and also hug their dad crying. Katsuki doesn’t say anything, he simply holds them, knowing fully well they need to feel protected. He turns his face a bit and lovingly pecks Kei's chubby and wet from his tears cheek. But when he turns to do the same to Saori, she yelps at the contact and that's when he notices her little cheek red, turning purple-ish.

Bakugou Katsuki sees red.

He kisses the little girl's forehead, before grunting, “Take the kids away, Y/N.”

You know that tone in his voice. You don't wait a second before picking up both kids and sliding away with your lava. Away from the grotesque scene you know your husband is about to create thanks to the hard and bloody beating Katsuki is going to give to that villain.

You hope the signal you gave Izuku is enough to make him understand that they will need to hold Katsuki back. Because if they don't, he's soooo going to kill the villain.

a.n; a head is going to roll on the ground lol🤭

[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[sluttycelestialgoddess]

If you give Sylus a Hunter...

Synopsis. Sylus has a lot of fun making you beg.

Pairings. Sylus x reader(MC)

Content. MDNI. edging, fem reader, praise, crying, mentions use of evol, pet names (kitten, sweetie, good girl, etc), AFTERCARE.

Word Count. 2.2k (damn... pretty good for my first story)

Author's Note. Thanks for reading my first story! Let me know what you think, and feel free to leave me requests! I wrote this while listening to 'Be Quiet and Drive' by Deftones. (also, did you like the title... I thought of 'when you give a mouse a cookie' and giggled to myself) xo, Z/Chaos

MDNI BEYOND THIS POINT.

Sylus had you right where he wanted you. His bed. Again. He looked down at you with his usual arrogant smirk as you whimpered and squirmed. His crimson eyes seemed to be lit with that internal glow they had sometimes when he was excited or wanted something. “Now, now, kitten. Spread those pretty thighs for me. You don’t want me to use my evol again, do you?” he purred sardonically, his left eye beginning to actually glow.

You were almost at your wits end. It had been an hour since he grabbed you out of the hallway of his hilariously (or should you say outrageously?) huge home you were attempting to get to know your way around and all but threw you onto his bed, using his evol to hold your hands above your head as he stripped you bare. He was insatiable. You’d been staying with him for four days at this point and already you’ve had more sex than you had in the last 2 years combined. Which, in the grand scheme of things, you guessed wasn’t much considering you dedicated all your time to becoming a Hunter for Linkon City after the rise of wanderer attacks, resulting in a gnarly dry spell… but his hunger for you was bordering on absurd. Even so, you had to ask yourself… Does he ever get tired?

In this hour that he’d had you at his mercy, he’d managed to edge you to the pinnacle of ecstasy no less than five times, never letting you reach that sweet release. You were a shaking, sobbing, whimpering mess, and he loved it. You were half in the mind to use one of the safe words he declared you use on the first night if you ever found yourself not being able to handle something. But your pride was like a gag, not letting your tongue form the word. “Feather”. How fitting, the smug bastard. 

“‘Feather’ will be to stop. You say that and everything stops. We do not continue. There will be no “break and then get back to it”. Saying that means you’re done for the night. So just be sure that’s the one you want to use,” he had told you. At the time you had giggled, thinking it was endearing, thinking back on it now, you wanted to kick him in the face. No way in hell were you uttering the word “feather” while a trembling, whimpering mess. If only you could actually move your legs to kick him, but nope. Useless appendages. 

You realized Sylus was still waiting for you to comply with his request. Finally having an ounce of control over your legs after they had become jelly sometime in the last 20 minutes, you shakily opened your legs to him, a whimper leaving your lips as the cool air in the room met your soaked lips. I could kick him now… but then he’d keep me like this all night. Fucker.

“Good girl. You’re doing so well,” he praised, not seeing your thoughts, steadily growing fond of the idea of smashing your foot to his face. You internally smiled at your mental picture, but really you were enjoying yourself all things considered. He leaned over to rub soothing circles over your thigh before running a long finger through your sensitive folds. “You remember your safe words, correct?” he asked with a grin and you nodded, glaring daggers. He chuckled and hummed at how wet you’d gotten, and he hadn’t even put his mouth on you. Looking up to watch your reaction, he slipped his finger in, curling slightly to caress over the spot that always made you gasp. You did, and he smiled at the pretty sound, feeling pride at how well he knew your body. However, he was beginning to think he was being just a tad cruel as he watched your eyebrows knit together and the pitiful whimpers run into each other as they exited your lush lips. 

“Oh baby, I know, I know… I’ll let you come soon. Such a good girl… you look fucking delicious right now,” he cooed as he eased a second finger inside you and coated his thumb in your wetness before rubbing circles over your throbbing clit. Goosebumps covered your skin and you whined, your hips bucking up of their own accord. “Mmm, such a needy kitten. Sweetie, I think you could take a couple more, hm?”

You whimpered out unintelligible curses at the remark and he chuckled. “Sylus… I really don’t know if I can,” you say, finally having found your voice in the string of muttered curses and whines. You clenched your eyes closed as he pressed harder on your clit and curled his fingers deeper. That blossoming warmth entered your tummy again. You fluttered around him and he groaned, wanting so badly to see you come apart, but needing it to be while he was inside you so you could milk him for everything he had. 

“Relax, you can handle it,” he chided with a tsk. “I’ve seen you take more than this, sweet girl. You’re stronger than you think. Tell me how badly you want to cum,” he groaned as you clenched harder around him. You were half scared he would pull back and deny you once again, but also half scared he wouldn’t and it would be over. He rubbed at your thighs, admiring how mouthwatering they were coated in your arousal. “Beg for it. Beg for me to let you cum.”

You felt the tears begin to sting the back of your eyes and you steeled yourself long enough to whisper through your moans, “Please, Sylus. Please let me cum, baby. I’ll do anything, just please…”

“Anything, hm?” he questioned, obvious interest in his tone as he leaned down and sucked lightly on your clit, replacing his thumb. You gasped as he rolled his tongue over the sensitive nub. Your legs shook fiercely and you cried out. Pulling back, fingers and all, he stood over you. The damn tease… His eyes never left yours as he deftly undid the buttons on his shirt, then his pants, rolling them both off and letting them pile on the floor. He leaned down and extended himself over you until your lips met in a passionate kiss. “If you’ll do anything, how about you stay true to your word by cumming around my cock?” he teased as he grabbed it and rubbed it through your slickness. 

“Yes, please,” you sighed against his lips, seeing this as him conceding as long as you came wrapped around him. His lips curved into a dangerous grin at your response, pushing inside with agonizing slowness. He groaned.

“Fuck, you’re so tight and wet, I don’t even need to work it in,” he moaned appreciatively as he drove into you with one powerful thrust, no longer able to torture you with slow pumps. Once he was fully seated, he kissed you tenderly as began to move, rubbing his pelvic bone over your clit with every thrust. You whimpered, feeling the tears fall from your clenched eyes as the warmth began to spread again.

Sylus smiled down at your beautiful face, eyes clenched tight with tears trailing down your cheeks. Perfect… She is so perfect. “So beautiful, baby. You’re trembling. You’re so close, aren’t you, pretty girl?” he rubbed your hair with one hand to soothe you and wiped at your tears with the other. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence, so you only answered him through an eager nod and whimpers. “Hm, I know, baby. Cum for me. Cum on my cock.” Sylus sped up, needing to see you lose yourself in pleasure. Lose yourself while clenched so tightly around him.

This was his favorite part, of course. After repeatedly bringing you to that edge, but pulling back before you could fall, you would always be so wound up that when the orgasm finally came, it would make you delirious with pleasure. He loved watching you as you finally crashed over the edge he kept you from and your face would contort in utter rapture, crying out his name and clenching so tight around him he’d have no choice but to follow you. He shook his head to focus on the present and ground against you to help you to reach what you’ve been begging him for. 

You whimpered as he gave his permission. You let go, no longer holding yourself back. The warmth in your tummy became an inferno as his thrusts became harder, rubbing your clit with his pelvis and the head of his cock jutting against that sweet spot inside you. You were so close. Just a little more pressure… “Please…” you begged on a needy sob. Sylus kissed you harder as he felt his own release building. He wrapped his arms around you to pull you up slightly in his arms, holding you so that you hovered over the bed as he pounded into you, holding you both up with his free hand on the mattress. The new angle had him going impossibly deeper, rubbing your clit against him with an intensity that finally pushed you over the boundary he had carefully pulled you from so many times. Your nails raked over his shoulders as you cried out. “Sylus! Yes!”

“That’s my good girl. Cum all over my cock. Fuck, you feel so good, baby… so tight,” he praised with a loud groan, rutting up into you as his own orgasm crashed over him. His grunts filled your ears, and it was his previous words coupled with them and his unrelenting ministrations that made your toes curl. Your body convulsed as wave after wave of pure bliss spiraled over your entire body. Your back arched into Sylus as his cum filled you, his thrusts not wavering as his body shook, ensuring he extended your pleasure as long as possible. 

Eventually, your cries subsided into soft, shuddering breaths as the tremors in your body slowly dissipated. Sylus sat back on his heels, holding you tightly the entire time you came down from your high, rubbing his hands down your back as you stayed wrapped around him. When your shaking stopped, he stood up from the bed. You stayed clutched to him as he walked to the washroom and started a bath. Sylus being Sylus, he added in his favorite epsom salts and relaxing bubble bath as the water filled up steadily. 

“My love, are you okay? I’ll hold you all night if you need, but I want to clean you up and take care of you. You did so well, but I know that had to be draining. Let me wash you then I’ll hold you so you can rest,” he whispered, rubbing his hands down your exposed ribs from where your arms were clasped like a restraint around his neck. He could feel your grip wavering and knew you were going to be out like a light as soon as your head laid down on his chest. You relented, loosening your grip in your legs around his waist as he wrapped his arm around your back and the other under your knees to lower you into the water. You sighed as you relaxed into it. 

“Just relax, I’ll take care of everything,” he said and kissed the top of your head. Methodically, he washed your body, almost like he was worshiping. He took care to be gentle around the sensitive junction of your thighs, kissing your shoulder when he lightly passed over it. He took a cup and filled it with water to run over your hair and began to wash it with his shampoo. She’s going to smell like me… he smiled to himself as he massaged your scalp. After washing it out, he combed through your hair with his fingers coated in conditioner. 

Sylus made sure to take extra good care of you after long sessions like the one today, diligently washing you, feeding you, massaging sore areas, or simply holding you so you know how much he loves you. After fully washing you and drying you off, he carried you back to the bed and laid you down among the mass of pillows and plushies you had “adopted” (as you put it). So beautiful... He smiled down at you, showing you all the love and tenderness he held in his heart for you. You smiled back sleepily and reached out for him to join you. He climbed in and gently pulled your head to his chest, rubbing his hand over your thigh in invitation for you to put it over his to rest. 

You snuggled into him as he kissed your head. “Thank you for taking care of me,” you whispered as you felt yourself beginning to drift off. Your speech slurred as sleep dragged you under. Sylus tightened his arms around you, his muscled chest hugging your cheek. 

“I will always take care of you, my love. You should know very well that I adore you. There is no love purer than mine. I love you, sweetie. Rest.”

[sillymommy6969]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LꨄVE & MONSTERS I ᝰ! L.R.

part one. your apocalypse love story with lara!

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑠. ❫ ｡ tlou!lara x f!r 𖥔 fluff, slight!nsfw, college > zombie apocalypse au ── disclaimers: mentions of violence, harsh language, some slight!nsfw headcannons in later chapters ／ ℭatalogue

✵ TLOU!LARA, who you have only ever shared fleeting interactions or passing glances with passing down the halls of your university, but never actually had a conversation with

✵ TLOU!LARA, who was in the same lecture hall you were in when live news of the CBI outbreak was broadcasted

✵ TLOU!LARA, one of the calmer, more level-headed members of the party you were with, began ushering people to migrate to a safer location (i.e. not the study hall of panicked students and the infected flooding onto campus)

✵ TLOU!LARA, who, along with four other of your classmates, got into her car, with you in the passenger seat as she drove

✵ TLOU!LARA, the only other person to think logically

✵ TLOU!LARA, who dropped everybody home to pack their bags and be with their families. when it was just the two of you, the streets were already packed and crowded with people trying to get out of town. when the both of you realized you weren’t going to reach anywhere in your car, stuck behind loads of traffic and human barricades, you hopped off and decided to run the last couple blocks to your home

✵ TLOU!LARA, who unexpectedly grabbed your hand when the two of you had to run the other way after hearing screams on one end of the block. “come on, we can circle the block!”

✵ TLOU!LARA, who didn’t let your hand go even after you successfully arrived at your front porch and didn’t realize it

✵ TLOU!LARA, who stood watch, blankly staring out your window at your neighbours frantically abandoning their homes with bags stuffed into their cars. she doesn’t leave you in silence, consistently asking you things like “you okay in there?” or “you sure you don’t need help packing anything?” and making small comments so she knew you were there and well

✵ TLOU!LARA, though a stranger to you, helps you grab some supplies and stock from your pantry and fridge, tossing it all into her backpack, along with one of your duffels of clothes and other necessities. you focused more on trying to reach your parents, who were conveniently on a romantic getaway

✵ TLOU!LARA, who stayed quiet as you spoke to them

✵ TLOU!LARA, who informed you her home was the next stop when you finally got off the phone. there were military shelters set up across town at the borders, where most military power occupied camps. the two of you agreed to stay with the raj’s while your parents secured you a safe way out of LA. amidst the chaos rippling into the city, the two of you managed to run and dodge a couple obstacles as you made your way to her home a couple streets away

✵ TLOU!LARA met with the mess of what was her home

✵ TLOU!LARA, unable to reach her parents’ or her sister’s cell as you stared at the open door and filthy interior. food and other items seemed to be raided from their cabinets, and she really wanted to go check her room, but you strongly advised her not to, reminding her both your guts were against it

✵ TLOU!LARA, whom, with a heavy heart, decided you were right when both of you heard clicking and an eerily disturbing mewling from inside the house

✵ TLOU!LARA, who you could tell was distraught, but was doing her best to keep it together for survival’s sake

✵ TLOU!LARA distracting herself by formulating a plan

✵ TLOU!LARA who finds the both of you a safe place for the night when the sun goes down. you both found a little hiding place in this diner everybody was gathering in. the owner was taking in as many mouths she could feed for the night before releasing everybody back out to search for the camps first thing at dawn, and the two of you weren’t going to refuse a hearty meal under the increasingly dire consequences. as the two of you scarfed down the hot and juicy sub (hungry from a day of running), you both had a feeling it was going to be the last full meal you’ll have in a while

✵ TLOU!LARA who lied awake as the city slept that night

✵ TLOU!LARA who got up and left the bed of jackets and sweats the two of you made into a set of pillows and blankets

✵ TLOU!LARA pacing around an isolated area by the freezer

✵ TLOU!LARA, whose phone you could see flash a phone call, her sister’s name evident on the screen. you hadn’t mean to spy on her like that, but you didn’t want her to part from the big group without any way of defending herself

✵ TLOU!LARA who looked super stressed out, so worried about her family’s unknown whereabouts, it made your heart ache. she slammed a fist against the wall hard, earning a tiny yelp of surprise from you, which she immediately caught

✵ TLOU!LARA calling you out, “are you spying on me?”

✵ TLOU!LARA who felt bad at the way you desperately rambled to defend yourself. still, the thought of her family clouded her thoughts, and she didn’t care much for the reasons that were spewing from your lips right then

✵ TLOU!LARA changing the topic because she just found herself growing more beset whenever she had a moment alone with her own thoughts. your voice, your ability to carry onto another conversation soothed her just that much she needed--so you stood next to her, leant against the wall as well

✵ TLOU!LARA and you talking about anything else when you realized she needed a sense of normalcy. the two you started sharing your loves and distastes, and you learnt of her passion for music--singing and playing the guitar specifically

✵ TLOU!LARA laughing at a stupid joke you made

✵ TLOU!LARA, who was much different than the impression you’ve had of her since the start of your university career

✵ TLOU!LARA who had the most infectious laugh, and the most gorgeous smile. you couldn’t help but pause to admire her features; you’ve never been that close to her before

✵ TLOU!LARA, the face you woke up to--bright and early--the next morning, bundled in a nest of your clothes. she was still asleep, so you took the opportunity to get in line to wash up and change your clothes. when you were done, you couldn’t find lara where your makeshift beds were set up, so you started packing things up for the day ahead

✵ TLOU!LARA coming back looking somewhat refreshed. she seemed to have taken her makeup off, but she radiated a new, more natural energy than the forceful composure she trapped herself in the night prior. she had two paper cups of coffee in her hands, balancing a plate of food in between her arms

✵ TLOU!LARA insisting you have the last hash brown so you could replenish your energy, despite being starved herself

✵ TLOU!LARA sneakily staring at you sip on your coffee

✵ TLOU!LARA clearing her throat when she catches herself getting lost in the subtle way your eyes eased as caffeine flushed the tiresome from your system. she reminded herself the two of you needed to make the most of your day getting somewhere safe, and though she was still incredibly stressed of her family’s status, your company seemed to be easing her fears and anxiety for the time being

✵ TLOU!LARA asking to borrow a change of clothes, just temporarily until you get to the survivor camps. you laughed at her apologetic attitude, assuring her you had more than enough clothes for the both of you to share. so handing her a couple things, she heads to the bathroom

✵ TLOU!LARA coming back out in a wife beater and some blue nike track sweats. she tied a bandana around her red hair, keeping her slut strands from falling into her face in the case of an emergency and the two of you need clear vision to escape

✵ TLOU!LARA unknowingly flexing as she packed her old clothes into her backpack, her arms making you gulp as you occupied yourself with the task of looking up locations on the emergency alert sent to everybody’s phones

✵ TLOU!LARA trying her family’s numbers one last time

✵ TLOU!LARA still getting no answer from the three of them, but was determined to find them on your way to the nearest camp--still a hefty distance away for going on foot. her mood obviously soured when she received no response for the nth time, but the two of you figured a direction and ventured off

✵ TLOU!LARA, who couldn’t help but laugh at the jokes you hesitantly crack here and there to lighten the mood. walking down empty streets and abandoned suburban homes, the two of you moving through the city in fear of the clickers

✵ TLOU!LARA picking up a bag from some front porch, pretending to swing it at you. “now i can protect you.”

✵ TLOU!LARA teasing you about being the damsel

✵ TLOU!LARA saying, “i’m taller than you, if a zombie comes at us right now, you’re not doing anything to it, tiny.” you felt your stomach flutter at the new nickname. you rolled your eyes but the smile on your face gave away your amusement. “i’m not even that short, lara. you’re just above average.”

✵ TLOU!LARA, who let out a loud, genuine laugh

✵ TLOU!LARA and you making your way through the city, a fifth of the journey done, and your legs were cramping. when the sun began setting, the two of you found an empty mini mart that had been raided of its contents. you looked around at the quiet place, on high alert at the flickering light and eerie buzzing from the freezers. the two of you found a secure, small security room in the back, untouched and inviting

✵ TLOU!LARA making up a plan; “so here’s the idea.”

✵ TLOU!LARA suggesting she stands watch first for the night. “you kept me company up late last night, it’s only right i do the same for you.” she holds up her bat, hanging it over her shoulders behind her head, “besides, i played some lacrosse in high school, im pretty sure i know my way around a stick.” you made fun of her, snorting at the statement. “y’know how that sounds, right?” she just shrugged, trying to strike a pose. “i know my way around more than a stick, tiny… tryna find out?”

✵ TLOU!LARA smirking at the blush creeping up your cheeks

✵ TLOU!LARA rushing you to bed after a little snack on the nibbles the two of you managed to ration before you left your home in a panicked state. she talked about her home life, slowly revealing more about who she was behind the cool, popular lara raj you were used to seeing on campus. in reality, she was much softer, much more insightful and emotionally mature than people made her out to be. and you admired her ability to take charge despite the struggles with reaching her family. you know you would’ve freaked out by then

✵ TLOU!LARA, who leant against the door, bat by her leg with her arms crossed. the room was dead silent, apart from the faint buzzing of the freezer. it was crazy to think the two of you were strangers just yesterday, but suddenly partners in this batshit downfall of humanity. she watched you sigh softly in your sleep, swallowing the lump in her throat

✵ TLOU!LARA realizing she’s attracted to you, but had never gotten a good look until now. though she hadn’t known you for long, she desperately wanted it to last in some way

✵ TLOU!LARA reminding herself, “lara, time and place!”

✵ TLOU!LARA calling her parents one more time, and after a couple rings, the line connects. not expecting the call to go through, her posture straightened. “hello? mom, dad--hello?”

✵ TLOU!LARA’s mind racing at the line cutting in and out, static evident and overwhelming. she could roughly make out her mother’s breathless and cautious voice calling to her: “lara, st--where safe, we--at--close to ridgeway--you there--!”

✵ TLOU!LARA frantically trying to reach them again when the line cut, to no avail, so she fished a pen from her backpack, scribbling the words “ridgeway” into her palm

✵ TLOU!LARA waking you with the racket she was making. you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, furrowing your brows as you watched her stuff her pen back into her bag, slinging the bag over her shoulder. “come on, we have to go.” startled, you stood, “why, is there a zombie or something?”

✵ TLOU!LARA, who shook her head, “my family’s meeting me at ridgeway. we have to go there.”

✵ TLOU!LARA growing frustrated when you try to explain your concerns. “lara, ridgeway is all the way across the city, we’re basically halfway to the one down king’s gate. we need to get somewhere safe first, we can probably get some military escort or some sort of assistance for you to meet up with your family safely if we just get to the king’s gate--!”

✵ TLOU!LARA, who yells at you for the first time

✵ TLOU!LARA, who is determined to find her family, despite knowing the obvious risks to her life. “i don’t give a flying fuck, you can come or you can stay, but i’m headed to ridgeway.”

✵ TLOU!LARA walking straight out the room with her bag slung over her shoulder. you sighed, gathering your things and slipping on your jacket before following her out

✵ TLOU!LARA not saying a word as the two of you made your way downtown, her bat strung to the side of her backpack

✵ TLOU!LARA secretly being glad you decided to come along

✵ TLOU!LARA being too stubborn to begin the conversation, at least for the first hour of your journey for the day, but would eventually relax and start talking when you began conversing

✵ TLOU!LARA, who was now being more reserved with her answers, but it was just because she felt bad for the way she practically forced your hand with this decision. she told herself she would understand if she were in your position, if you were the one worried for her family. still, this overwhelming feeling of guilt overcame her like a tidal wave, and it was eating her from the inside when you tenderly, patiently listened to her talk with those eyes of yours staring straight through her soul

✵ TLOU!LARA vowing if the two of you made it somewhere safe, she would really take her time to get to know you, because she couldn’t help the slight flutter she got whenever she’d feel your eyes watching her

✵ TLOU!LARA leading the two of you the wrong way…

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆౨ৎ ❪ 𝖈alliope 𝖘peaks! ❫ 。 really excited to explore all the tlou!katz versions because i have so many good ideas for this yall aren’t even ready. happy reading! xx

@sillymommy6969 © ──────────── Mar 2025

[frozenrogue89]

I Don't Want to be Great, I Wanna be Me.

So we all know the classic ‘JL meets Phantom through summoning’ prompt, and we usually get Danny “High King, Savior of Worlds, Eldritch, Cryptid, Ancient, No Shits Given, Chaos Gremlin” Fenton making an appearance, cool and confident, running circles around the JL. But what if, this High King they summoned, just… wasn’t.

The Justice League was prepared for anything, with the latest BBG threatening the world they had to take drastic measures. The JL Dark managed to scrounge up the summoning spell they… “liberated” from a cult group a couple months back. At first the JL was against the thought of summoning another highly powerful unknown, but with extensive research, Constantine and various others vouching for this so-called “King Phantom'' , and no option left, well, their hands were tied. Said to be the vanquisher of the previous Tyrant of the throne, Savior of the Infinite Realms, thousands of years old, infinitely powerful, infinitely old, and some smaller rumors claimed, infinitely kind. Phantom is said to be extremely protective of humans (something they were banking on),  loyal to its subjects, and said to rarely get angry (yeah right). A terrifying creature, tall and confident in its destructive power.

So yes, the League was prepared. They gathered as many members as they could spare for this meeting, everyone ready for a fight, but praying for none. The Big Three stepped forward while the rest hung back. Constantine and the Dark members start chanting, beginning the ritual.

The chanting ends. The silence hangs. Bodies still. 

Then, a flash from the hieroglyphs on the ground and an explosion of wind with no origin, a blinding light originating from the summoning circle grows in strength, letting out a vibrating hum that causes Superman to cover his ears and wince. The hum starts shaking the ground and the light condenses into itself, revealing the silhouette of an object. 

The wind stops. The light is gone, the vibration a memory. Everything is as it is before, with one exception.

Wonder Woman, wasting no time, straightens, “High King Phantom, Ruler of the infinite Realms, We are the Justice league, We ask your help in vanquishing The BBG, it threatens the lives of all those who live…” Her eyes widened as what stood before her.

This… this didn’t look like a High King, Vanquisher of Pariah Dark. This little thing did not give any indication of confidence, power, or age… it looked… young. The only thing terrifying about this creature is the size of bags under his eyes. Drowning in soft clothes, hunched over, looking utterly defeated, Nothing like they expected. Diana would almost mistake it if for a human child if not for the glowing eyes, fangs, and slight aura it gave off. But this, this was no King… Is- are those tears in its eyes?!

____________

Danny has not been having a good day. Or week. Or month, or- anything really. It seems like dying was only the beginning of his problems. No, scratch that, this all started with his parents’ damn obsession with ghosts. Danny swore they were part ghost too with their utter infatuation with all things Ecto. If only they hadn’t tried to access the ghost zone, if only Vlad hadn’t been involved to become Danny’s biggest nightmare, if only his parents gave up their research once they had kids, if only he didn’t walk in that stupid portal to impress his friends. 

If only he had stayed dead.

If only he didn’t gain powers, then he wouldn’t be stuck in this mess. 

Danny scowled to himself and let himself flop onto his bed. He’s been spending the last couple weeks cycling through this whole rogue gallery, TWICE! Plus fighting a handful of random ghosts who thought they could take on the ‘Ghost King’ (Pariah’s evil reign and thousand year slumber didn’t help either with all the paperwork that’s left for Danny.) Running from the GIW, his parents, and Val as usual, (Ghost Scum, 

Dealing with ‘Mayor’ Vlad’s Evil Plan of the Week -Danny’s powers were still on the fritz after that encounter, painful, was a word for it- Not to mention school, between Dash being Dash, forgetting his science homework, missing a test because of Skulker, Lancer and his threats of, “Black Beauty Fenton! If your grades keep dropping you’ll spend the rest of the year in detention! With ME!” and now his teachers (and Jazz) are talking to him about college? He’s still a sophomore, give him a break! It isn’t Danny’s fault the whole universe is apparently out to get him.

The real cherry on top of this whole thing was the recent ‘summonings’. No thanks to the Fruit Loop and his meddling, with Jack Fenton unknowingly helping him, again. A nice little instruction booklet called, “How to Summon the Ghost King, Made Easy!” got out onto the internet and the world, free for any psycho to speed dial Danny away from his life. At various points in the last month Danny has been forcibly -and if he was honest, painfully- ripped from anything he’s been doing and dumped smack dab into the center of various cults’ plans, usually they wanted power, money, or world domination. His saving grace was the process of summoning forced him to transform or no identity reveals, thank The Ancients. 

Sam and Tucker have been a godsend in getting the Booklet wiped from the internet, Danny would be lost without them. He would’ve fallen apart the first week into his powers if not for them. Who knew watching your friend half dying created lasting relationships? They really kept him going and he trusts them with his life, really he does.

But Danny would never tell them about some of the things he’s seen getting summoned, he couldn’t do that to them. The various groups of psychos seemed to think Danny was more likely to listen to them if they offered sacrifices.. human sacrifices. Some nights he couldn’t stop smelling blood and incense, couldn’t get those images out of his mind. He hated himself for keeping track, and hated himself for not wanting to. 15. 15 people, so far just because some handful of lunatics wanted some money or something equally stupid like that. Danny was 15, that’s one whole human being, for every year he was alive, one of them was even younger th- she was just- Danny couldn’t- she was- so small…

Pulling his blankets over his head, Danny took measured breaths against the tightness in his throat. It’s Not fair. It’s not. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t want to be King of the undead, he’s just a kid himself isn’t he? It was just an accident turning on the portal. He didn’t mean to. Why is he stuck fixing everything? Can't he just be a normal kid? Go to school, get good grades, become an astronaut? He’s so completely out of his depth, who is he kidding, it’s just a matter of time before he screws up again and someone gets hurt, or worse. He's trying, though, he is. He tries so hard to be good, to do good. To not turn into Dan.

‘Stop it, Danny. Now’s not the time for bad thoughts.’ This is the first time Danny’s had a chance to sleep in two days, his parents are out and left the home defenses are down, Jazz is studying at the library, Sam and Tucker are playing Doom while keeping an eye on ecto readings around town. He has maybe 4 blissful hours to spend in dream land. He sighed and sunk into his pillow trying to blank out his thoughts before he could spiral again.

A tightening in the chest, and eyes snap open, ‘NO! NO! Please not now!’ is all Danny manages to think before the unfortunately familiar sensation of space displacement takes hold. His transformation is forced on him as he feels himself fall apart and get put back together simultaneously.

‘Just a couple hours rest, is tHAT SO MUCH TO ASK!!??’ The anger leaves before it can fully form due to the pure exhaustion that washed over his ectofied bones and straight to his core. It feels strained, like glass under pressure, not knowing if the slightest change will shatter him. He slowly gets his bearings and- oh, this almost seems worse than a regular cult summoning. At least there’s not a dead body. 

It’s the Justice League, and Wonder Woman is talking to him. And Danny, Danny can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t know if they want to trap him, kill him, experiment… if the GIW got their claws into the JL… Danny can’t anymore, He can practically feel his core splintering into jagged gut- wrecking pieces. He just wants to rest, to feel safe, for just a little while. Why can’t he?

Throat burning and eyes watering, Danny realizes he can do something, just one thing. It’s the only thing left that he can do. Something he hasn’t done for a long time, ever since dying.

Danny starts crying.

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 24

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 5k

Trigger warning; war, death, blood, violence, smut

notes;

previous ✧

Later that day, the armies of Prythian managed to regroup and return to the newly relocated camp. The journey took significantly longer due to the abrupt shift south, deeper into the wild terrain near the Winter Court. The chill was brutal. Snow and biting winds swept through the hills, and the air itself seemed to gnaw at the bones of every soldier. Warriors were slower to recover, their bodies taxed not only by battle but now by exposure to relentless cold.

The main strategy tent, now reinforced against the elements, was a haze of breath and frustration. Maps covered the central table, ink bottles shaken by the trembling of warriors still riding the edge of exhaustion.

Helion slammed his palm against the table, rattling cups and causing one of the candles to flicker violently. "When is this going to fucking end? No fucking progress! We're only losing land and warriors. Day after day, and we’re no closer to forcing Koshiev to retreat."

Kallias, seated across from him and draped in his court’s fur-lined cloak, lifted a hand. "Calm down, would you? You screaming about it won’t make the snow melt or win the war faster."

"Easy for you to say," Helion shot back. "You’re used to this gods-forsaken cold. My soldiers are freezing their asses off every night, and now we’re fighting on ice while trying to hold ground we didn’t choose!"

Cassian leaned against a support beam near the map, arms crossed tightly. "This location is not ideal, I won’t deny it. But it’s safe. The wards are holding, the new defenses are working. It’s the best option we had after the attack."

"And yet we’re still losing," Helion growled. "No matter how safe this place is, we can’t keep pulling back. Every step south is a step closer to losing this war."

Rhysand’s face was carved from stone, his violet eyes unreadable. "We can’t afford to fracture now. We’ve lost ground, yes—but we haven’t lost the war. The new plan is already in motion."

Thesan, seated with his mate quietly beside him, added with a calm yet sharp tone, "The moment we start panicking is the moment he wins. Koshiev wants chaos. He wants this anger. Stay sharp, or stay silent."

There was a tense silence.

Beron, from his dark corner of the room, finally spoke. "He’s bleeding us out, little by little. And if we don’t find a way to cut off his advance soon, it won’t matter what camp we hide in."

"Then maybe," Helion muttered, running a hand through his golden curls, "it’s time to stop hiding."

The murmurs that followed weren’t loud, but they were enough to signal that the table had reached a dangerous tipping point.

Rhysand’s voice was quiet, but cold as the wind outside. "We hold. We adapt. And we plan the strike that will cost him. We don’t charge into death for the sake of pride."

Another silence. One heavier than the last.

War pressed down from every direction. And even here, in what should have been their most secure circle, the strain was beginning to show.

Then Cassian stepped forward, dropping a thick, scorched helmet onto the center of the table with a dull thud.

"We might have found something."

Several heads turned sharply.

"What is that?" Helion asked, frowning.

Rhysand answered, his tone edged with calculation. "One of the helmets carried by what we believe are Koshiev’s generals—or what passes for generals in his army."

Cassian nodded, expression grim. "The moment I killed him, every creature around him dropped. Just collapsed. Like something inside them had been snuffed out."

He looked around the table. "We think these creatures are vessels. Koshiev’s vessels. He’s divided his power among them, enough to control the battlefield remotely. Kill a vessel—kill the hive it commands."

The room went quiet, all eyes now locked on the battered helmet.

And for the first time in days, the silence wasn’t just heavy.

It was hopeful.

Beron scoffed. "Well, at least now we know what to aim for. Let’s go do a hide and seek with them—amazing. Let’s just wait for them to find this new camp and try to destroy it while we play scavenger hunt."

Tamlin turned sharply toward him. "Would you stop saying nonsense, please? If all our soldiers are alive today, it’s because the camp got moved. If it being 25 kilometers off course disturbs you, you are more than welcome to retire, old man."

There were a few stifled chuckles around the table. Thesan arched an eyebrow but said nothing. Kallias didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Even Rhysand’s lips quirked slightly. Viviane gave Tamlin a rare look of appreciation, and even Tarquin shook his head at Beron with thinly veiled annoyance.

Beron’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Helion cut through the rising tension. "Either way, thank you for this discovery. I’m sure that if we all take it into account, it will bring us to the source of the problem—and we’ll be able to manage it."

The quiet that followed was one of agreement, however reluctant.

For the first time in days, they had a thread to pull. A target.

And the beginnings of a plan. 

The tent flap shifted before anyone could answer. Cold wind swept in—and with it, Lucien.

Heads turned sharply as he stepped inside. He looked terrible. Mud-spattered, cloaked in exhaustion, his russet eye dull with fatigue while the golden one flickered, agitated and grim.

Rhys stood straighter. “You’re back.”

Lucien nodded once. “From the mortal lands. And we’ve learned something.”

He didn't bother to sit. Just stepped toward the table and dropped a sealed scroll onto the maps. “Vassa’s connection to Koshiev… it helped. She felt it—like a thread, fraying. And we traced it back.”

“What did you find?” Feyre asked, already reaching for the scroll.

Lucien’s jaw tensed. “You were right about the generals. But it’s worse than you thought.”

He glanced at Cassian, at the scorched helmet on the table.

“Koshiev isn’t just sending them orders. He’s dividing his soul among them. He’s literally fragmenting pieces of himself—planting them inside these ‘vessels.’ That’s why killing them weakens his entire force.”

A heavy silence fell.

“He’s tethered to them,” Lucien continued, voice low. “Every one we kill is a piece of him cut away. A slow bleed.”

“Which means,” Rhys said slowly, eyes narrowing, “we can kill him. If we sever enough pieces—”

“He’ll be vulnerable,” Lucien confirmed. “Maybe even mortal.”

Rhysand leaned forward again, gaze sweeping the room. "What about the healers? How are we doing on this battlefield?"

It wasn’t Y/N who answered.

Veras, seated beside Thesan and wrapped in Winter Court furs, lifted his chin. "Well, other than the fact that we’re missing our head, things are pretty smooth. Well—not really—but we’re dealing with everything. Supplies are good. We just had a harder start that night since everyone arrived much later due to the camp displacement."

Thesan’s brow furrowed. "Where is Y/N?"

Veras replied without missing a beat, "She’s fine. Just resting. She used a lot of her powers."

Beron let out a short, amused laugh under his breath.

No one looked at him.

Except Cassian, who slowly turned toward him, gaze darkening, jaw tight. He didn’t speak—he didn’t have to. The warning in his stare was clear: say one more thing and see what happens.

Helion cleared his throat sharply and muttered, “Idiots never know when to shut up.”

Kallias gave Beron a bored glance, unimpressed. “If laughing at the wounded is what you bring to these meetings, no wonder your court can’t hold a border.”

Tarquin leaned back in his chair with a visible roll of his eyes. “Let’s not waste more breath on someone who hasn’t contributed a single useful thing to this war.”

Beron didn’t answer. His narrowed eyes flicked from face to face—but he knew better than to push it.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty.

It was unified.

And Beron, for once, didn’t speak again.

Rhysand rested both palms on the table, voice firm. “The front line is going to move. That’s no longer a question—it’s a certainty.”

A murmur rippled through the room.

“It’ll be closer to here,” Cassian added, nodding toward the newest map spread across the table. “We’re too deep in now, and pulling back further would mean sacrificing not just land—but momentum.”

Thesan’s mate leaned forward, tapping one of the southern points on the border sketch. “Then we’ll need to reinforce the new perimeter immediately. Especially if Koshiev’s forces shift direction faster than we can react.”

Tarquin frowned, arms crossed tightly. “How close are we talking?”

“Days, maybe less,” Cassian answered. “We’ve seen the scouts on the ridge. They’re already testing our new positions.”

“And if the front gets any closer,” Helion muttered, eyes narrowing, “we’re looking at a camp that won’t just house healers and war councils—it’ll become a battlefield.”

Kallias exhaled, the cold in his breath curling like frost. “Then we better make damn sure we’re ready for that.”

“There are civilians,” Viviane reminded gently, “injured who can’t be moved again. If this becomes a fight zone—”

“We defend it,” Rhys cut in. “We dig trenches, raise shields, rotate shifts. Whatever it takes.”

“And the healers?” Thesan asked. “They’re exhausted.”

“They’re not the only ones,” Helion muttered.

“But we won’t abandon this ground,” Rhysand said. “We hold this line—if only to prove to Koshiev that Prythian does not kneel.”

A silence followed.

Not of doubt—but of acceptance.

War was coming closer.

And they would have to meet it head-on.

And on the other side of the camp, far from the voices and the maps and the growing weight of the war council, Azriel was still holding you in his arms.

You hadn’t stirred.

He had barely moved either.

One hand traced slow, silent circles on your back, over the marks and tattoos that now lived there—stars and shadows and sunbound magic still faintly pulsing in your skin. His other arm remained wrapped tightly around you, as if letting go might unravel something he wasn’t sure he could piece back together.

He had been like that for hours.

His thoughts weren’t loud—they were still. Heavy. Looping over themselves like smoke trapped in a sealed room.

Maybe this had been it.

The moment Elain had seen.

You had looked like her vision. Pale. Blood trailing from your ears and mouth. Your body limp, crumpled under the weight of your own magic. You had been too quiet. Too cold. And he had held you then just like this. Terrified he would never feel your heart beat again.

Maybe the vision was fulfilled.

Maybe the worst was over.

Maybe the Fates were done playing with his soul.

But still…

Azriel pressed his lips to your temple, gently, like it might soothe his own storm.

He knew better.

The only moment he would stop worrying was when this war was over. When the last arrow had been fired, the last creature cut down. When Koshiev was gone. When the blood was washed off every stone and every hand that had fought.

When you were both back home. In Velaris. In your bed. With the windows open and the scent of night-blooming jasmine curling through the room. Your laughter replacing the echo of battlefield screams.

Only then would he stop holding his breath.

Only then would he believe you were truly safe.

He felt it—just the faintest shift.

Your fingers twitched. Your breathing hitched, shallow and uncertain.

Then, your voice, hoarse and confused: “Az?”

His heart clenched. Relief crashed through him like a wave, and he leaned in immediately. “Yes, my love?” His voice was barely more than a breath.

You blinked, the weight of sleep and pain still thick in your limbs, and then—suddenly—you sat up, eyes wide and wild.

“Oh gods—the camp. Where are we? Why—did I do it? Is everyone safe?!”

“Hey—hey, calm down.” Azriel moved quickly, guiding you back down with steady, gentle hands. “Calm down, you need to rest. You nearly burned yourself out, Y/N.”

He eased you onto your side so you could still see him. One of his wings stretched over you like a protective shroud, wrapping you in warmth and safety, shutting out the world.

His shadows curled around the edges of the cot like quiet sentinels.

“You did it,” he said, voice softer now, reverent. “You teleported the whole gods-damned camp. Everyone is safe.”

His hand found your cheek, thumb brushing the line of dried blood beneath your eye. “And on the name of the Mother, next time you do something like that—I wouldn’t mind a word of warning.”

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently to yours. “When I arrived at the old location… I thought you were dead. Or taken.”

His voice cracked on the last word.

“I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

You didn’t answer right away. You just closed your eyes, leaned into his touch, and let his presence hold you together.

Because right now, that was the only thing in the world that didn’t feel like it was still unraveling.

You stayed like that for a moment—his forehead resting against yours, his wing draped over you like a second skin, his hands never leaving your body, as if you might vanish again if he so much as blinked.

Eventually, you let out a small, raspy sigh. “I think… I might owe Ather an apology.”

Azriel pulled back slightly, raising a brow. “Oh?”

You winced, your voice still scratchy with exhaustion. “I may have… dragged him with me to the edge of the camp. While the enemy was coming. Didn’t tell him the plan. Told him to catch me right before I collapsed. And then teleported the entire camp with zero warning.”

Az blinked, processing.

“And I mean zero warning,” you added, eyes wide. “Just full celestial implosion. Blood. Light. Probably a traumatic spiritual experience.”

Azriel blinked again, and then huffed a quiet laugh through his nose. “So that’s what that was.”

You snorted softly, curling closer to him. “Yeah… he’s probably never going to speak to me again.”

Azriel shook his head, trying—and failing—not to smile. “I saw him, actually.”

Your eyes flicked to his. “You did? Oh no. Is he okay?”

Azriel’s lips twitched. “He was fine. Just, you know… a little dramatic.”

You burst out laughing, which made your ribs hurt, and you had to clutch your side with a groan. “Ow—don’t make me laugh. I’m too broken for that.”

Azriel chuckled and leaned in to kiss your cheek, letting his nose trail against your skin. “He might have collapsed dramatically in a chair and yelled about seeing his ancestors. Elira told him to shut up.”

“Oh my gods,” you wheezed. “I did break him.”

Az smiled against your temple. “He called you terrifying, you know.”

“Aw.” You patted your chest. “I’m so proud.”

You both laughed, softly this time. Carefully. But it felt good. Right.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you, pulling you more fully into his chest.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” you murmured, even as your fingers reached up to trace the edge of his jaw.

“You were,” he said. “Too long. Even a minute’s too long when I think you’re gone.”

You kissed his collarbone, right above his heart. “I’m here, Az. I’ll always come back to you.”

He exhaled, shaky and slow, and let his hand rest over yours.

“I’ll hold you to that, love,” he whispered.

And for a few precious minutes, with the storm held just beyond the tent walls, you both let yourselves breathe.

Your lips brushed his collarbone again, and he tilted his head down—his eyes meeting yours with a warmth that could have burned away the snow outside. His thumb ghosted over your jaw, rough fingertips tracing the curve of your cheek.

You leaned up.

And kissed him.

Slow. Deep. Lingering. Like you were searching for something in his mouth, and like he already knew the answer.

Azriel melted into it for a moment, his hand slipping behind your neck, his thumb stroking your pulse like a grounding point. Your fingers curled into his chest, over his heart, and you kissed him again—this time with a little more need. A little more urgency. A silent please.

You pressed closer, shifting your body so your thigh brushed his. Azriel inhaled sharply, breaking the kiss, his forehead falling against yours.

“Y/N,” he said softly—gently, but firm. “No. We can’t.”

You blinked up at him, confused. “Why not?”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Because you nearly died. Your body is still recovering. You’re weak, and your magic is barely holding together. I—” He exhaled, jaw clenching. “I can’t risk hurting you.”

You searched his face, your hand lifting to cradle his cheek. “You won’t.”

“Y/N—”

You shook your head, stopping him. “I need you, Az.”

Your voice was quiet, not seductive—but raw. Full of something desperate and aching.

“I need to feel you. Not because I want sex, not like that. I just—I need to feel alive. I need to know I’m still here. That you’re still here. That we’re not losing each other in this war too.”

Azriel stared at you, his throat bobbing with emotion. You leaned in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, barely more than a breath.

“Just let me hold you,” you whispered. “Let me have you. Just for a little while.”

And gods—he couldn’t say no to that. Not when your voice cracked like that. Not when you looked at him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to this world.

Azriel didn’t move at first.

Even after you whispered those words—I need you, I need to feel you—he held you tighter, like part of him still feared this was a dream he’d wake from.

But when you kissed him again, slowly, with a trembling sort of hunger behind it, his restraint broke. Not in a rush. Not with urgency. But in the way a dam slowly begins to crack under the weight of everything it’s been holding back.

He shifted just enough to hover above you, never leaving the warmth of the covers or the nest of his wings that still cocooned you both in shadow. His hand moved to your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin. “Are you sure?” he murmured, voice rough with emotion.

You nodded. “I need you, Az. Like this.”

The look he gave you then—pure, reverent, devastated—would have stolen your breath if you hadn’t already given it to him long ago.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his tongue brushing softly against yours. You whimpered softly into his mouth, arching your back just slightly, enough to press your chest to his. The friction alone made you sigh.

Azriel’s hands trailed down, slow and careful, worshipful. He treated your body like something sacred—his fingertips drawing lines of fire across your ribs, your hips, the curve of your thighs. When he dipped lower, he watched your face the whole time, as if your breath were more important than his own.

Your legs parted with instinct, and he settled between them, keeping nearly all his weight off you, his arms bracketing your sides. “Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered, voice ragged.

You nodded again, breath hitching when his fingers slid between your legs, brushing lightly, learning what your body needed all over again.

He took his time—circling, teasing, coaxing soft gasps from your lips as you clung to his shoulders. His shadows curled behind you, as if they, too, needed to hold you together.

When you were ready—so ready—he paused, his forehead resting against yours. His voice shook when he said, “I don’t think I can ever let you go again.”

“Then don’t,” you breathed. “Stay.”

And then he was inside you—slowly, so slowly, as if he thought the world might shatter if he moved too fast.

The stretch was deep, the joining perfect. Your fingers tangled in his hair, your mouth brushing the shell of his ear as you moaned his name, quiet and reverent.

Azriel moved with a rhythm that was more love than lust—deep and rolling, his lips murmuring against your throat, your shoulder, your chest. You felt him everywhere. You were him in that moment. No war. No pain. Just this.

His name broke from your lips again when his pace deepened, and he groaned against your skin. “You feel like home,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “You are my home.”

Your release built like a wave—slow but powerful—drawing tighter and tighter around him. And when you shattered, you did it with his name in your mouth and his breath on your skin.

He followed a moment later, with a broken gasp, burying himself in you as your hands clung to his back like lifelines.

Afterward, he didn’t move far. He just shifted enough to lie beside you again, still inside you, still holding you like the world outside the tent no longer existed.

Your heartbeats slowed together.

His wing covered you both once more.

“I love you,” he said, barely audible.

You smiled into his chest, kissed the space over his heart, and whispered, “I know.”

And this time, there was no fear when you closed your eyes. Just warmth. Just him. And the bond pulsing steady and sure between you.

Both of you had woken sometime after midnight, the quiet outside your tent laced with the low murmurs of guards rotating shifts and the whistle of wind slipping through snow-dusted canvas.

Azriel had tensed before you’d even stirred.

We’re coming, Rhys’s voice echoed down the bond.

Azriel groaned quietly, dragging a hand down his face.

Don’t start, came the immediate follow-up. Shut the fuck up. We’re worried about her too.

And that was that.

Now, Azriel sat above the covers, dressed in a fresh tunic, hair still damp from washing, his hand laced with yours. You remained under the blankets, warm and bundled, exhaustion still a weight behind your eyes, but you’d dressed the best you could. You were not facing the inner circle in nothing but sweat and shadows, not even half-dead.

The moment was quiet.

Until four heads popped through the flap of the tent in perfect sync.

You blinked.

Azriel sighed heavily. “Gods.”

Feyre’s face was tight with concern, her hair windblown, cheeks flushed. Mor peeked in beside her, grinning like she couldn’t help it. Cassian looked too big for the tent, ducking awkwardly and nearly elbowing Rhys in the face as he pushed in behind them.

“Are we interrupting?” Mor asked sweetly, eyeing the way Azriel was cradling your hand. “Because it definitely smells like afterglow in here.”

Cassian snorted. “MOR.”

Rhys gave her a deadpan look. “Can you not?”

“Come in,” you croaked, a laugh threatening your sore ribs. “We’re not glowing, we’re just... alive.”

Feyre rushed to your side, slipping her hand over your shoulder. “Barely,” she whispered, eyes glassy. “You scared us.”

“Good,” you smiled. “I like to keep things interesting.”

Cassian crouched by the foot of the bed, looking you over with sharp eyes despite his casual posture. “You’re pale as death. But impressive as hell.”

“I’m starting to think your standards for compliments are a little skewed,” you murmured.

Rhys finally stepped forward, arms crossed, his expression more tightly guarded—but Azriel knew him too well. There was fear in his eyes. Deep and quiet.

“I thought we lost you,” Rhys said softly.

Azriel tensed beside you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“I thought so too,” you admitted, voice quieter than before.

Mor crossed the tent and plopped herself gracefully on the edge of Azriel’s cot, leaning toward you with her signature half-smile. “Next time you want to move a mountain or a camp, please remember to include a note. Or a sparkly warning. Or maybe, like, a firework.”

“I’ll consider it,” you said, blinking heavily.

The silence after that wasn’t empty.

It was full. With worry. With love. With relief.

They had come for you.

And gods, it felt good to be found.

Once the initial flood of emotion passed, they all found places around the tent—no one in a hurry to leave. Mor spun a chair backward and draped herself over it like a queen at ease. Cassian sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against a chest with his arms resting on his knees. Feyre stayed close to you, perched gently at your side on the edge of the cot. Rhysand settled across from her, lounging on a folded blanket, his elbows braced on his thighs, violet eyes watchful.

The air was warm despite the frost outside. Comfortable, in a way only battle-worn bonds could provide.

You shifted beneath the covers and looked to Rhys. “So… what’s the plan now? For the rest of the war?”

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a look.

“It’s going to be full force,” Cassian said. “Every court. Every general. Every soldier. Coordinated deployment. We can’t keep pulling punches.”

Rhys nodded. “We’re launching everything. A simultaneous strike. No more stalling. No more waiting for him to bring the fight to us.”

Your brows furrowed. “That’s dangerous.”

“It’s necessary,” Rhys said gently. “We don’t have the luxury of time anymore. If we don’t act now, Koshiev will keep spreading—feeding. The front line is already crawling forward again.”

You sighed, the weight of the words settling into your chest. You squeezed Azriel’s hand above the blankets, and he gave you a quiet, steady pressure in return.

“So that’s it then,” you murmured. “A final push.”

Cassian’s voice was quiet. “The beginning of the end.”

You closed your eyes for a moment. “Where’s Nesta?”

Cassian leaned his head back against the chest behind him. “She’s still with the Night Court priestesses. Gwyn got hurt pretty bad—took a hit during the last surge. Nesta and Emerie are staying by her side.”

The guilt was instant. Your stomach twisted. The thought of Nesta keeping watch while you laid here useless—

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you said, trying to sound firmer than you felt. “I should be fine by then.”

No one corrected you. No one told you to rest.

But the way Azriel’s thumb brushed over the back of your hand told you everything.

A soft shuffle of boots outside the tent made everyone turn.

The flap lifted.

And in stepped Nesta.

“Don’t look so surprised,” she said dryly, glancing around at the stunned expressions. “Is this some kind of Night Court meeting I’m not allowed to join?”

Laughter broke out immediately.

Cassian smirked and patted the space beside him. “Perfect timing, we were just talking about you—and Gwyn.”

Nesta sat beside him, her body language still cool, but her eyes warmed slightly as she looked your way. “She’s doing better. Veras is with her now. Emery stayed behind to help. They’ll both be here tomorrow if Gwyn’s fever breaks.”

You nodded, relieved. “Good.”

A quiet settled over the tent again, heavy but no longer tense.

Then Rhysand looked around the circle, his gaze slow and contemplative. “I realized… we haven’t done it yet.”

You raised a brow. “Done what?”

Everyone stilled—knowing exactly what he meant.

Rhys slowly reached his hand out to Feyre.

You pushed yourself upright with effort, teeth clenched at the ache in your ribs, but Azriel moved without question—adjusting to help you lean against him.

You placed your hand gently in his.

Then you reached out and grabbed Mor’s hand. Azriel holded yours and Cassian’s. Cassian turned to Nesta and laced their fingers together. Nesta reached for Rhys. Rhys gripped Feyre’s. And Feyre leaned forward to clasp Mor’s free hand.

The circle was full.

And though there was no magic in the air, no battle music or thunder of distant armies—something settled in that moment.

An oath.

Unspoken, but real.

No matter what happened tomorrow—this was their line in the sand. This was their family. And nothing would break it.

Rhys looked around the circle, his fingers tightening slightly around Feyre’s.

He took a breath.

“I didn’t think we’d be here again,” he said quietly. “Not like this. Not after everything we went through the first time. And yet…”

His eyes moved from one face to the next—lingering on each of you like he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“And yet we’re still here. Still fighting. Not just for peace—but for each other.”

He glanced down for a moment, exhaling as if the weight of centuries sat on his shoulders.

“I’ve lost people in war. Friends. Family. Parts of myself. I carry those losses every day. But the part I didn’t expect—the part that no battlefield ever prepares you for—is how much harder it is to live after it’s over.”

No one moved.

“No one tells you that survival doesn’t always feel like winning,” he continued, voice soft. “That there are days where the silence is worse than the screams. Where guilt feels heavier than any sword. That rebuilding something beautiful sometimes hurts more than watching it fall.”

Feyre’s eyes glistened. She didn’t look away.

“But despite it all—because of it all—I look at this circle, and I know this is the only fight worth having. Not for power. Not for pride. But for love. For choice. For the people who make all the pain bearable.”

His voice caught, just slightly. “You are my family. My strength. My hope. Every single one of you.”

He looked to Cassian, then Mor. To Azriel. To you. Then Nesta. Then back to Feyre.

“I would rather walk into a thousand wars with you than spend a single day without you in a world ruled by fear.”

The silence that followed was heavy and golden, like the pause at the end of a prayer.

And then—

Cassian sniffed loudly. “Oh shut up, Rhys. You’re making me all emotional.”

A ripple of laughter broke through the solemn quiet—relief and affection threaded through it. Feyre rolled her eyes but smiled. Mor chuckled and wiped at one corner of her eye. Even Nesta looked down, her expression softening.

Azriel didn’t laugh—but he smiled. Just a little. Just for you.

And you, still curled into him, felt the warmth of every soul around you. Hands still linked, hearts still beating.

Whatever came tomorrow—

You would face it together.

Because you where the night court. 

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[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 9 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

⋆˚࿔ Book 2 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇brace for a STORMMM

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The ship rocked violently, throwing men off balance as waves crashed against the wooden hull with deafening force. The storm had come out of nowhere, a monstrous beast of wind and water, determined to swallow them whole. “PULL TO STARBOARD!” Acrisios bellowed, gripping the mast for dear life. His hair, usually perfectly styled, now plastered to his face in the rain.

“I AM PULLING TO STARBOARD!” Telemachus yelled back from the helm, his hands straining against the wheel as he fought to keep the ship from capsizing. “But it’s like Poseidon himself is playing a joke on us!”

Pisistratus, usually the calmest among them, was sprawled on the deck, soaked to the bone and clinging to a rope. “I’m starting to regret agreeing to this little adventure,” he muttered, coughing as saltwater splashed into his face.

Eurymachus, meanwhile, was running in circles, shrieking like a banshee. “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THIS IS IT! I KNEW WE SHOULD’VE STAYED ON LAND! I DON’T EVEN LIKE WATER!”

“Oh, for the love of the gods, SHUT UP!” Cassander snapped, gripping an oar with one hand while clinging to the side of the ship with the other. He shot Eurymachus a glare. “You’re acting like a girl who just saw a spider!”

Eurymachus stopped mid-scream, his eyes wide. “WHAT’S WRONG WITH GIRLS? GIRLS ARE PERFECTLY VALID!”

Cassander groaned. “Not the point, Eurymachus! Just grab an oar or something!”

Another wave slammed into the side of the ship, and Acrisios slipped, nearly falling into the water before grabbing onto a dangling rope. “TELEMACHUS! If we survive this, remind me to punch you for dragging us into this mess!”

“You’ll have to get in line!” Pisistratus hollered, scrambling to secure a barrel that was rolling dangerously close to the edge.

“YOU CAN ALL PUNCH ME LATER, JUST HELP ME KEEP US ALIVE!” Telemachus barked, his face a mix of determination and panic.

Another shriek came from Eurymachus as the ship tilted dramatically to one side. “WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME? WHY CAN’T THE GODS PICK ON SOMEONE ELSE?”

“Maybe because you scream like a dying goat!” Cassander shot back, though he was clearly struggling to maintain his grip as the storm raged on.

A sudden lightning bolt lit up the sky, and Acrisios shouted, “EVERYONE HOLD ONTO SOMETHING! THIS NEXT WAVE IS A BIG ONE!”

Telemachus gritted his teeth, steering the ship with all his might. “If we survive this, I’m sacrificing something big to the gods!”

“What are you sacrificing? Eurymachus?” Cassander quipped.

“HEY!” Eurymachus protested, clutching a barrel as though it were his last lifeline.

The ship lurched upward on a massive wave, then came crashing down, throwing everyone off balance once again. Acrisios managed to pull himself up, rain pouring down his face as he looked at Telemachus. “Remind me, brother—why exactly are we doing this again?”

Telemachus glared at him. “Because Raphael took my wife and son!”

Acrisios nodded, panting. “Right, just checking. Feels worth it.”

“DOES IT?!” Eurymachus shouted, still clinging to his barrel.

“Less screaming, more rowing!” Pisistratus yelled, finally managing to secure the loose barrel before picking up an oar.

As the storm continued to batter the ship, the men fought valiantly, their bickering and panic providing a sliver of humor in an otherwise dire situation. And despite the chaos, they managed, barely to keep the ship afloat, their sheer determination (and a bit of luck wink wink) carrying them through the storm.

The storm howled outside, rattling the very bones of the ship as it creaked and groaned against the monstrous waves. Florus sat at the edge of the sleeping quarters, drenched and wide eyed, his bow clutched tightly as though it might somehow save him from the wrath of the sea. He could hear the chaos above deck, Telemachus shouting commands, Acrisios barking back, and Eurymachus’s high pitched screams echoing through the wooden walls.

Despite the noise, the panic, and the violent rocking of the ship, Antinous was stretched out on a makeshift cot, snoring softly, utterly unbothered by the apocalypse raging outside. Druses wasn’t much better. He was curled up in the corner, his long black hair perfectly draped over his shoulder like he was posing for a painting. His serene face looked almost angelic, and he didn’t so much as flinch when the ship tilted sharply to one side, nearly throwing Florus off his stool.

Florus stared at them, his mouth agape. “How in Hades’ name…?” he muttered to himself, gripping the wall for balance.

The ship rocked violently again, and from above, Eurymachus’s voice pierced the air. “WE’RE ALL GOING TO DIE! THIS IS IT! I DON’T DESERVE THIS!”

Florus winced, expecting the screams to wake his comrades, but Antinous simply rolled over, muttering something incoherent in his sleep before continuing his snoring. Druses shifted slightly, mumbling, “Quiet down, Eurymachus…” in his sleep, before letting out a contented sigh and nestling deeper into his corner.

Florus blinked in disbelief, his face a mix of awe and frustration. Another loud crash came from above, followed by the unmistakable sound of Cassander yelling at Eurymachus to “man up.” The noise was deafening, and yet these two men slept through it as though they were lounging in a meadow on a calm spring day.

“How are you sleeping?!” Florus hissed at them, his voice barely audible over the storm. “The gods themselves are trying to kill us, and you’re… napping?!” Neither of them stirred.

Florus groaned, running a hand down his face. “I’m surrounded by lunatics.”

As if to punctuate his statement, the ship lurched violently again, and Florus clutched at the wall to keep from falling. From above, Eurymachus’s voice wailed, “WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING TO ME?!”

Druses sighed in his sleep and muttered, “Just let him fall overboard…”

Florus shook his head, staring at the two as though they were some kind of bizarre spectacle. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, finally giving up on understanding them and turning his attention back to the chaos above.

——

Cassander leaned casually against the ship’s mast, his arms crossed as the salty breeze ruffled his hair. He had a faraway look in his eyes, clearly lost in his own world. Beside him, Eurymachus was lying on a barrel, lazily tossing a small pebble into the air and catching it, a crooked grin plastered across his face.

“You know,” Cassander began, his voice taking on a wistful tone, “after this war, I’ll probably have to build a separate house just for my war prizes.” He sighed dramatically. “A long hall lined with couches, all filled with beautiful women, each one vying for my attention. Of course, I’ll have to treat them equally to avoid jealousy.”

Eurymachus snorted, flicking the pebble away. “Why stop at a hall? Go for a full villa. You could have each one in her own little room. That way, you could visit one each night without anyone knowing who’s your favorite.”

Cassander’s eyes lit up. “That’s genius. Imagine it, Eurymachus, long nights of wine, music, and—”

“Women feeding us grapes while fanning us with those big palm leaves,” Eurymachus added, grinning.

“Exactly!” Cassander said, slapping him on the back. “Maybe we’ll even get lucky and find a princess among the spoils.”

Telemachus, who had been seated nearby with his head in his hands, slowly looked up and fixed the two with a flat, tired gaze. “Are you two serious right now?”

Eurymachus shrugged. “What? It’s not like this war is all bad. There are perks, you know.”

“Perks?” Telemachus repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief. “We’re risking our lives to save my wife and son from a madman, and this is what you’re thinking about?”

Cassander held up his hands defensively. “We’re just… lightening the mood. You know, keeping spirits high.”

“By fantasizing about enslaving women?” Telemachus asked, his voice sharp.

Cassander opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly unsure how to respond. Eurymachus, however, leaned forward with a grin. “You’re just mad because you already have a wife. Don’t act like you didn’t think about this kind of thing before you got tied down.”

Telemachus stared at him, his expression deadpan. “Eurymachus, the only reason you’re here is because I blackmailed you into joining. You’re not exactly in a position to judge my moral compass.”

Eurymachus leaned back, looking mildly offended but choosing to remain quiet. Cassander cleared his throat awkwardly. “Okay, okay, we get it. No fantasizing about war prizes. Message received, Your Majesty.”

Telemachus pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “I’m surrounded by idiots,” he muttered under his breath before standing up and walking away.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Eurymachus leaned toward Cassander. “So, about that villa…”

Cassander smirked. “Palm leaves, my friend. Palm leaves.”

Telemachus groaned from across the deck. “I can still hear you!”

——

The sun was setting over the choppy waves, casting a golden glow across the deck. Druses and Antinous were leaning against the rail, watching as Cassander and Eurymachus stumbled over themselves in yet another failed attempt to spar.

“I swear,” Druses said with a smirk, brushing a lock of his black hair behind his ear, “those two are like a comedy act that never ends. If they weren’t so incompetent, I might almost feel bad for them.”

Antinous chuckled, his arms crossed. “No, it’s perfect. The more they mess up, the more I get to remind them of how worthless they are. It’s practically my favorite pastime.”

Druses grinned. “You know, for someone who’s been chained up in a dungeon for years, you’re surprisingly fun to be around. You’re sharp.”

Antinous raised a brow, amused. “Surprisingly?”

“Hey, don’t take it the wrong way,” Druses said, waving a hand. “I just assumed you’d be all brooding and bitter. Turns out you’re just bitter with a sense of humor. Makes you tolerable.”

Antinous snorted, rolling his eyes. “You’re not half as charming as you think, Druses.”

“Charming enough to keep you entertained,” Druses shot back, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. The two continued trading barbs, united in their mutual love of poking fun at the rest of the crew. Druses was surprisingly good at keeping pace with Antinous’s wit, something not many could do. For a moment, it seemed like they might actually be getting along.

But then Druses, always pushing his luck, leaned casually against the rail and said, “Although I have to wonder, if your sister’s as stubborn and sharp-tongued as you are, maybe she’s better off with that Skiaphosian prince. A woman like that might drive a lesser man insane.”

The air shifted immediately. Antinous’s smile dropped, his entire demeanor darkening in an instant. His hands tightened on the rail until his knuckles turned white, and his sharp blue eyes fixed on Druses with a look that could freeze blood. “What did you just say?” Antinous’s voice was low, quiet, and deadly calm, the kind of calm that promised violence.

Druses, to his credit, didn’t back down, though he raised a brow. “I’m just saying—”

“You’re just saying that my sister—my sister—is better off with that monster? That she’s somehow to blame for her situation?” Antinous stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over Druses. “Say that again, Druses. Go on. I dare you.”

Druses straightened, realizing he’d struck a nerve far deeper than he intended. “Calm down, Antinous. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Didn’t mean anything by it?” Antinous’s voice was rising now, his fury barely contained. “You insult y/n again, and I’ll make sure the last thing you see is Thanatos’s shadow dragging you to the Underworld. Do you understand me?”

Druses held up his hands defensively. “All right, all right! I was out of line. I didn’t mean to offend her. Or you.” Antinous glared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving with barely restrained rage. Then, with a final, scathing look, he turned away and stalked off, muttering curses under his breath.

Druses exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he watched Antinous disappear below deck. Eurymachus, who had been eavesdropping nearby, walked over and clapped a hand on Druses’s shoulder. “Just a word of advice,” Eurymachus said, grinning. “Don’t mess with Antinous’s temper. That man is a whole other breed when it comes to his sister.”

Druses scowled. “Yeah, I gathered that. Thanks.”

Eurymachus laughed, strolling off as Druses leaned back against the rail, shaking his head. “Note to self,” he muttered. “Y/n’s a touchy subject.”

——

Antinous paced along the deck like a caged lion, his sharp eyes darting to the horizon, scanning for any sign of land, or trouble. His jaw was tight, his hands flexing into fists and back out again as if he were barely holding himself together. The rest of the crew had long since learned to stay out of his way. “Hey, Antinous, maybe relax a little. You’re wearing a hole into the deck,” Eurymachus tried, his usual smirk in place.

Antinous whirled on him. “Why don’t you focus on something useful for once in your life, Eurymachus, instead of running your mouth like the fool you are?”

Eurymachus blinked, caught off guard. “Whoa. Someone’s in a mood.”

“Leave me alone.” Antinous stormed past him, shoving a barrel out of his way with enough force to send it rolling.

Florus, leaning against the mast with his bow across his lap, raised a brow at Druses. “What’s his problem now?”

Druses sighed dramatically, tossing his long black hair over his shoulder. “What isn’t his problem? He’s like a storm cloud personified.”

Antinous shot Druses a glare so sharp it could’ve cut steel. “Say that again, and I’ll throw you overboard myself.”

“See?” Druses gestured with a smirk, unbothered. “Exhibit A.” Telemachus, standing near the helm, watched the scene with a furrowed brow. He sighed heavily, then made his way down to where Antinous had perched himself on a crate, glowering at the sea.

“Antinous,” Telemachus started carefully, his voice calm but firm. “You’re not helping anyone by acting like this.”

Antinous looked up at him, his expression cold. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not being the perfect little soldier you need right now?”

Telemachus crossed his arms. “I understand you’re worried about y/n—”

“Do you?” Antinous stood abruptly, towering over him. “Do you really understand, Telemachus? Because this is your fault.”

Telemachus’s eyes narrowed. “Careful, Antinous.”

“No, I don’t think I will,” Antinous snapped, his voice rising. “You’re the one who let this happen. You’re the one who was supposed to protect her, and now she’s…she’s out there, with him! And gods know what’s happening to her right now!”

Telemachus clenched his fists, keeping his temper in check. “I’m doing everything I can to bring her back.”

“Not fast enough,” Antinous growled. “You should’ve stopped this before it even started. You should’ve been there for her.”

Telemachus stared at him, his jaw tight. “And what would you have done, Antinous? You were in a dungeon. Don’t act like you could’ve prevented this.”

Antinous’s eyes flashed with fury, but there was something else there too, something raw and vulnerable. “Don’t you dare use that against me,” he hissed. “If I’d been free, this never would’ve happened. She wouldn’t be suffering because of you.”

Telemachus took a deep breath, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I know you’re angry. I know you’re scared. But taking it out on me or the crew won’t bring her back any faster.”

Antinous turned away, his shoulders tense. “Just…piss off.” For a moment, Telemachus hesitated, as if he wanted to say more. But he could see that Antinous wasn’t ready to hear it. With a quiet sigh, he turned and walked away, leaving Antinous alone with his anger and guilt.

Antinous sat back down, his head in his hands, the weight of his sister’s absence crushing down on him. The crew gave him a wide berth, their usual banter subdued. Even Eurymachus, for once, kept his comments to himself.

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