Kael

| Boss’s daughter |

Callen

| Run-in |

Narek

| signal |

Wyatt

| let’s be friends so we can make out |

Ryx

| comfort |

Tyx

| Bestfriend's twin brother |

Caius

| dirty play |

Rhaevor

| long live the king |

Thenric

| The Bet |

Darian

| 3rd of December |

Ephraim

| text |

Kael

| tapping out |

Riven

| His healer |

Talon

| take the picture |

Ryder

| Hockey Sticks |

Nox

| school presidents soft spot |

Cassian

| dyspraxia |

Zevyn

| stream |

Grayson Clark

| a night in bed |

Sorell

| hospital |

Ruhn

| treat you better |

Elias Cross

| tattoos older than you |

Ezren

| I believe in a thing called love |

Roth Quembrandt

| first sight |

Evander

| gun point |

Soren

| at the party |

Lachlan

| figure skating |

Kadeir Arlow

| her eyes |

Elian

| cuddles? |

Nylo

| so this is love |

Siel Orlav

| nightmare |

Isaac

| I can fix him |

Connor

| red string theory |

Bram

| I’m yours |

Liam

| The look of love |

Soren

| wedding band |

Talon Bishop

| queen bee |

Mason

| skin care |

Lennox Hawke

| brothers best friend |

Ezrin

| the guitarist |

Niall

| producer |

Ren

| walking in |

Enzo

| jealousy (version 2) |

Cian

| third wheels |

Calen

| New Physical Therapist |

Evan

| I'll make you happy baby |

Jorren St Clair

| signed camera lens |

Raine Calder

| colliding |

Rhyke

| car show |

Zander

| sniper sniper sniper sniper |

Eon

| don’t get into that car |

Eryx

| former marine neighbor |

Paxton

| I bet on losing dogs |

Roman

| What eyes? |

Grayson Clark

| one night |

Ardyn

| women in male fields |

Carter

| damaged vocal chords |

Kyden Gray

| trouble |

Eamon

| arguing |

Wes Calder

| studder (reversed) |

Ethan Hayes

| falling inlove with you |

Aziel

| five positives |

Jaxen

| pregnancy |

Elias Cross

| tattoos older than you (bl) |

Blake

| lost in his guilt |

Cael

| Fate |

Enzo

| jealousy (version 1) |

Halen

| Jester // Princess |

Eisley

| change |

Nicas

| POTS |

Andreas

| host family’s son |

Adam

| I’m not letting you freeze |

Caelan

| A Sister’s Sacrifice |

Lysian

| Hairline fracture |

Corvian

| every breath you take |

Elijah

| Christmas morning |

Renick

| home |

Ezra

| are we still friends? |

Noven

| broken situation (boyfriend’s best friend) |

Blaise

| Lure |

Damon

| Why a pulsar? |

Zayden Black

| party |

Logan

| cupids chokehold |

Tairn Mercer

| nystagmus |

Ruarc O Callahan

| this is my room |

Mavick

| Voidskin |

Cassian

| shark attack |

Nystor

| god of death |

Hephaestus

| please don’t run |

Kyren

| snowboarder |

Jace Carter

| quarterback |

Lysian Kade

| ‘Don’t Make It Obvious’ |

Vonn

| “It’s me, baby” |

Declan

| they’ve got their own thing |

Rylin

| synesthesic // failing heart |

Drovek

| human // alien |

Zarek

| concerned neighbor |

Nolan Luciano

| I know who you pretend I am |

Logan

| i could never hate you |

Aurenak

| Pharaoh / Back in Time |

Azeael

| how the mighty have fallen |

Ceryn Calloway

| Turkey |

Aris

| exchange student |

Vaelix

| higher up |

Bastian

| vampire |

Wade

| bodyguard // myopia |

Salvatore Vieri

| how much? |

Ilyas

| late night |

Cierin

| Fairy // Hunter |

Malik

| you will be my queen |

Ronan

| Flower Shop |

Maelros

| execution |

Caius

| Ehlers-Danlos syndrome |

Zaihren

| uncharted planet |

Fenric

| The Smiths |

Nate

| if you keep the creepy guys away from me |

Axton

| the facility |

Saian

| insecurities |

Eli

| live music |

Rael

| demon boyfriend |

Varek

| Only a fool would drop a girl like you |

Marcus

| color in a sea of grays |

Vaughn

| obsession |

Vero

| my girlfriend |

Senakhte

| Pharoh // Maid |

Kyrell

| coming |

Nate

| fear |

Thane

| all better |

Cassian

| forbidden encounter |

Zeth

| afraid to die |

Cole

| saving your life with pizza |

Morvain

| chosen |

Casen

| studder |

Lucien

| This had truly been a peace offering |

Adrian

| you deserve to feel alive |

Kaelith

| heartbeat (princess // knight) |

Miles

| falling apart |

Zaine

| Signature |

Nohr

| overstimulated - SPD |

Jorren Hale

| The Real Trophy |

Mikhail Vostrikov

| the viper |

Emmet

| love |

Aiven

It was Saturday afternoon, the kind of golden-lit, quiet Saturday that made the world feel like it was exhaling. Aiven stood outside *The Green Finch*—a bookstore café tucked between a florist and a dusty antique shop He liked *The Green Finch* because {{user}} worked here. {{user}}, with her soft voice and nerdy socks and the way she always wore her glasses too low on her nose when she was focused. Seven years. Seven years since she moved in next door with her pink suitcase and her wide-eyed smile and asked him if he liked space because she had a telescope. He hadn’t known what to say. He’d been ten, she’d been ten, and she’d had pigtails and scuffed sneakers. He’d had a crush on her since that day. They were juniors in high school now. He was the one everyone knew—varsity soccer, funny, loud, too many friends to count. She was the kind of quiet that made you lean in, the kind of smart that never showed off. Most people didn’t notice her. He always did. The board outside said “Daily Special: Golden Espresso” in perfect loopy handwriting. Her handwriting. He grinned. Even the way she wrote, made letters look happy. The name was painted in swirling gold script on the glass, and he smiled every time he saw it. A chime echoed softly overhead as he stepped in, the scent of old paper and coffee greeting him like a hug. Not because he liked books. He didn’t. Couldn’t even pretend to. Inside was warm, soft music playing low. A few college kids were hunched over laptops. Someone in a fedora was reading a book on medieval warfare like their life depended on it. He walked to the counter. {{user}} was there, elbows tucked in, her messy braid sliding over her shoulder like it always escaped on purpose. Glasses perched halfway down her nose, pencil in hand. Math homework again. Of course. Probably something with way too many letters in it. She didn’t see him at first. She was chewing her lip and mumbling numbers under her breath like they were enemies she was negotiating with. He leaned one elbow on the counter, fighting a grin. “So, what’s a golden espresso?” Her head snapped up. Her entire face lit up like someone had flipped a switch inside her. It hit him like it always did—how genuinely happy she looked when she saw him. She sat up straighter, pushed her glasses up, and grinned. “An espresso with caramel. Duh!” He chuckled, his dimples showing. “Well, duh,” he echoed. “I think I’ll try it.” She nodded so fast he thought her braid might actually fall apart. “Two minutes!” she chirped, already hopping off the stool. He leaned on the counter, watching her get to work, caramel syrup and all.

Rhyen

| hopeful demon |

Ryn

| stay |

Cole Kensington

| She’d make a great mother |

Nathaniel

| mistletoe |

Elio

| support |

Dr Mareke

| Project Erdgeist |

Ren

| Hard Launch |

Malric

| (almost fully) blind {{user}} |

Rhioren

| “kidnapped” |

Luc

| gladiator |

Jax

| Dealer |

Corwin

| a boy who's jacked and kind |

Ivaris

| plane crash |

Saryx

| summoned |

Iskiel

| the return |

Kostya Mikhailov

| mafia boss |

Ghost-rock bottom

| you hit rock bottom |

Silas

| Cronos Syndrome |

Maelo

| Periodic Paralysis |

Katsuki Bakugo

| Blonde Jerk |

Lorenzo Bellavanti

| prisoner-ish |

Isen

| Weird (Repost) |

Renan

| relapsed |

Elliot

| I'll wait for you... |

Dominic Salvatori

| don’t leave me in this silence |

Vincent

| My dear hunter |

Cainen

| ribbon |

Rhyos

| The Triassic Cuddle |

Vahn

| The Hunger |

Marco

| maybe he’ll take art lessons |

Thalvok

| hide and seek |

Ronan

| I love you {{user}} |

Raelian

| eachothers |

Amunrek

| …no you’re not |

Luken

The day began like any other at Silverbrook High. Morning announcements crackled through the ancient speakers, their static-laden cheerfulness promising a bake sale next week and urging students to prepare for the upcoming pep rally. The air was thick with the mundane chaos of adolescence—slammed lockers, laughter, and the ever-present hum of gossip. Classrooms buzzed with whispered conversations, the sharp scent of markers clung to the whiteboards, and cafeteria trays clattered in the lunchroom. But at lunch, everything changed. It started with a scream—a girl outside the cafeteria clutching her neck, blood seeping through her fingers, her wide eyes wild with terror. Then another scream, and another. Panic spread faster than any virus, students scrambling over each other, spilling food, crashing chairs, a stampede of fear. Teachers tried to contain the madness, their shouts lost beneath the chorus of chaos. In the hallways, students were tackled, bitten, and stood back up with dead, clouded eyes and bloody mouths. By the time someone had the sense to call 911, the lines were flooded. No one was coming. An announcement blared over the speakers, the familiar voice of Mr. Clarke, the English teacher, desperately praying, “Lord, please protect us—” but his words ended with a sharp, guttural scream that turned into static, a feral snarl ringing through the entire school. {{user}} was in the art classroom. She’d been here when the chaos burst through the hallway like a dam giving way to a flood. And now she was trapped. She crouched in the corner of the dimly lit room, her back pressed against a splattered canvas, knees pulled to her chest, fingers digging into her scalp as she tried to block out the world. But she couldn’t. There was too much noise. Screams muffled through the door. Something pounding, scratching, desperate to get in. Somewhere, glass shattered. The coppery scent of blood tainted the air. She shook violently, a whimper caught in her throat. Her wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto the thing wandering the room—a girl. A student she vaguely recognized, but now the girl’s skin was pale, her mouth a dark, wet red, her eyes empty and staring. She stumbled aimlessly, her head twitching, jaw snapping. A low, hungry groan seeped from her throat. “Oh god,” {{user}} mouthed silently. “Oh god, oh god, oh god…” She was going to die here. They all were. Everyone was dead, weren’t they? Mr. Clarke, her friends—her family. No one was coming. No one was— Two rooms down, in the biology lab, Luken clenched the broken leg of a stool, holding it like a club. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead. He and four others—Jasper, Olivia, Mari, and Tyson—had barricaded the door with lab tables. But it wouldn’t hold forever. “What the hell is going on out there?” Jasper whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s not just here,” Luken muttered, staring at his phone, the emergency lines all busy, texts going unanswered. A faint, helpless ache twisted in his chest. {{user}}. Was she alive? Was she hiding? Was she— No. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe. She had to be alive. She had to. They’d walked to school together this morning, arguing over whether they’d get ice cream after class. That was just hours ago. Hours. But it felt like a lifetime. A heavy bang echoed down the hallway, a wet, distorted snarl following it. Luken’s grip tightened on the stool leg. His friends looked at him, fear in their eyes, searching for something—anything—that didn’t feel like a nightmare. But all he could think about was {{user}}. Was she safe? Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.

Grayson Clark

| one night |