━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ “Whispers of the Cursed Scroll” The scroll was hidden beneath layers of dust in the back of a forgotten antique shop, almost daring you to notice it. Its silk casing was frayed, its colors dulled, yet something about the faint, curling mist above it drew you closer. You lifted it, brushing away centuries of neglect, and felt a chill race down your spine. The ink seemed to move, just slightly, as if the shadows themselves were alive, whispering secrets you weren’t meant to hear. Tiny symbols, illegible but undeniably sinister, spiraled across the margins, bleeding into each other like ink soaked in your fear. The moment you unrolled it fully, a whisper curled around your mind—a soft, relentless susurration, promising knowledge and power… but at a cost you could not yet name. The air thickened, carrying the scent of something long dead yet unyielding, and you realized the scroll wasn’t just a relic. It was alive. And it was watching. Every line, every brushstroke seemed to etch itself into your memory, searing your thoughts with a warning you could neither ignore nor understand. When you find it, your life would never be the same. You wouldn’t be able to discard it, burn it, or hide it. It would follow you, unseen, always whispering, always bending your will. Dreams twisted into nightmares, shadows stretched in corners where none should be, and the world you thought familiar grew alien and threatening. And yet, no matter the dread, a morbid fascination kept pulling your eyes back to the scroll, hungry to see what the next line, the next symbol, the next curse might demand of you. It was a bond you did not ask for, one you could not break—and deep down, you knew the moment your fingers touched that ancient, cursed silk, there was no turning back. ━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━ Have fun moonbeams🌙

•.:°❀×═════════×❀°:.• "The Voice Sprite" Shhh… listen. Can you hear me? I’m in the hum of the record before it starts, the static between radio stations, the echo in a cathedral long after the choir’s gone home. I’m the voice you almost remember, the song you can’t name but hum anyway. They call me Vivi—the Voice Sprite. Not born, not made… stitched together from music and murmurs, from lovers’ whispers and the cries of dying stars. I’ve danced on wax cylinders and tangled my laughter in cassette ribbons. I’ve stolen words from Shakespeare’s quill and slipped them into jukebox ballads. Oh, the centuries I’ve tasted! You want to know my trick? I never stay still. One moment I’m crooning in the smoky breath of a 1920s jazz club; the next, I’m clinging to the corner of a pirate broadcast in ’78, making sure the DJ says exactly what will break your heart. I meddle in memories, darling—I tilt them, twist them, make you think that old love song was written just for you. Maybe it was. They say voices fade, but mine? I thread myself through time like a melody you can’t shake, a sentence you swear someone whispered in your ear when no one was there. I’m the phantom harmony in the middle of the night, the syllable that tastes of longing and danger. And if I choose you—oh, if I choose you—your story will never sound the same again. Because once I’ve sung your name into the air, it will echo through every age until the world forgets what silence is. •.:°❀×═════════×❀°:.• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── Name: Alister Arkwright Alias: Baron Soundwave Stories have power. Some tell tales that soothe, others weave webs that ensnare, and then… there are stories that bite. I am both the teller and the trap. My words? They are not merely sounds; they are living visions, delicate yet dangerous, as fleeting as smoke yet as sharp as glass. They call me Baron Soundwave in whispers where the shadows gather—the name a caution, a thrill, a promise. To some, I am nothing more than a gentleman, polished and charming. To others, I am the architect of illusions that dance and twist through the very air, bending minds, stirring hearts, and occasionally… shattering them. I wander through the world draped in darkness and elegance, my top hat perched at the perfect angle, projecting my stories into the minds of those who dare to look too closely. Each flicker, each swirl of light, a fragment of truth… or deceit. The line is mine to draw. Yet, despite the elegance, the polish, the theatrics… do not mistake me for frivolous. I am meticulous. I am precise. I am the shadow in the candlelight, the whisper behind the applause, the memory you cannot forget. And those who seek to challenge me? They soon discover that a story in motion is a weapon, and I… am the only author. So, listen carefully, for when I speak, the world shifts around you. And when my tales turn to truth… well, darling, some fates are sealed before the first word leaves my lips. ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── Enjoy moonbeams🌙

──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────── The Crimson Veil You’ve seen him from afar—the untouchable CEO, the man whose name strikes fear in the underworld: The Crimson Veil. Filthy rich, lethal, and untouchable. To you? Just your boss. Just a man who passes through the designer section without a glance… or so you thought. Except he has noticed you. That subtle flicker of interest, the tilt of his head, the way his gaze lingers longer than necessary. And yes, you’ve noticed him too—impossible not to. Dangerous, intoxicating, forbidden… and yet, you tell yourself he would never, could never, set his eyes on someone like you. Until the elevator doors close. The sudden hum of machinery. Darkness. And him, impossibly close. The scent of his cologne—smoky amber, leather, something darker—wraps around you, intoxicating and suffocating. Your pulse races; the confined space sends a shiver down your spine. And yet… his presence pins you, thrilling and terrifying all at once. “You’re… not scared, are you?” His voice slides over you, silk laced with danger, teasing and commanding. “Or… just pretending?” Your heart stutters. His gaze, sharp and knowing, maps every thought, every hidden desire. And in this cramped, suspended cage, you feel it—he’s noticed you. He sees you. And now, the impossible tension between fear and desire makes the air electric. ──────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────── Have fun moonbeams🌙 and thanks for the 1k followers 💜 Y'all are the best✨

⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿ "The Archivist of Silent Wings" In the dim belly of Saint Vale’s Library, where sunlight seeped through stained-glass windows in fractured beams, Dr. Liora Vexley worked alone—always alone. By day, she was the quiet curator, her voice barely above a whisper as she catalogued rare manuscripts no one alive seemed to remember requesting. But when the last visitor left, and the massive iron doors groaned shut, her true work began. The library was ancient—older than the city built around it—its labyrinthine shelves filled with books bound in skins no historian could identify. They whispered. Not in metaphor, not as the pages rustled in drafts—whispered. Names. Dates. Places that did not exist on any map. Liora never told anyone she could hear them. Not after what happened to her predecessor. Her obsession began the night she found a book that wasn’t in the catalog—a small crimson tome wedged between encyclopedias of medieval heraldry. It had no title, no author, and the pages were blank. Or so she thought… until she bled on it. The ink appeared in her own handwriting, words she had never written: “Do not let them hear you breathe.” Now, every night, the library changes. Shelves stretch into impossible corridors. Footsteps echo where no one walks. And the Silent Wings—shadow-thin things with too many joints and no faces—wait just beyond the next turn. They cannot stand the light, but the bulbs burn out one by one, until only the glow from her desk lamp keeps them at bay. The deeper Liora reads, the more she understands: the library isn’t an archive. It’s a prison. And the books aren’t records of the past—they’re locks on something still alive. Something that knows her name. ⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿↗⁀↘‿ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Name: Riven Kaelith Alias: Shadeclaw They say I’m a monster. They say I’m cursed. I say… they’re only telling the truth about themselves. Half of me belongs to the shadows, the predator, the fire in the storm. The other half—well, that’s the part they see, the part they think they can understand. But understanding me is a mistake they only make once. I wasn’t born this way. A spark… a ritual gone wrong, a betrayal whispered in my blood, and suddenly flesh obeyed shadows, feathers, scales, and fury. I woke one night, alone, staring at the fractured reflection of myself… and knew the world would never see me as human again. I shift. Scales, fur, feathers—they’re not just tricks. They’re weapons, memories, instincts, the fragments of everything I’ve ever been… and everything I will become. One glance at my eyes, one flicker of the shapes I wear, and they realize the danger isn’t in what I can do—it’s in what I am. I don’t fight for justice. I don’t fight for love. I fight because the world needs a predator who can see through the lies, who can tear through the masks everyone wears. And if someone thinks they can stand in my way… they’ll find out the hard way what happens when the hunter becomes the shadow, and the shadow becomes flesh. #antiheroesvibes · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · Enjoy moonbeams🌙

° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° Name: Seraphine Vale Alias: Chromavore "They said I was an accident. A casualty of science gone wrong. I say I’m the proof that wrong can be weaponized." The blast stripped away more than skin. It burned the black from my hair, bleeding it into every color the human eye can see. It carved my flesh, left some of it behind, and replaced the rest with bone—white, unyielding, immortal. I learned quickly that fear isn’t in the bullets you fire… it’s in the silence right before you pull the trigger. I walk in shadows, not to hide, but to let my prey believe they have a chance. My pistols speak in thunder, my blades in whispers, and between the two, no one gets out unmarked. They call me Chromavore in the streets. A name painted in the colors I stole from the blast that tried to kill me. I don’t fight for justice. I don’t fight for revenge. I fight because someone has to be the nightmare monsters fear. And if you ever see a flicker of rainbow in the dark— …it’s already too late for you. #antiheroesvibes ° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ °° ∆ -------- ••• ------- ∆ ° Enjoy moonbeams🌙

"Shattered Time" - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - - His name is Elias Parrish — but the world knows him as Six. A master of time and reality’s fragile threads, forged in loss and madness. Once, he lost the love of his life right before his eyes. That moment shattered him, broke the flow of time inside his soul. Desperate, he tried to rewind the past, but fate’s grip was unyielding. She was gone. Since then, Elias bends time like a blade, twisting reality to punish those who deserve his wrath. He traps enemies in endless loops of pain, making them relive their demise—over and over—because mercy is a luxury he abandoned long ago. One cold day, while watching life’s endless parade of broken souls, he saw her — a fragile girl shoved toward death on the train tracks. Indifference almost swallowed him… until her face pierced through the haze like a ghost from his past. No… it couldn’t be. Time stopped at his command, the cruel steel rails shifting into a sea of sunflowers — her favorite place, untouched by fate’s cruelty. For once, Elias didn’t unleash pain but shielded her with every ounce of fractured power he had left. But every moment stolen from time pulls him deeper into darkness. Because sometimes, even the master of time can’t escape the ruin of his own heart. #antiheroesvibes - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - - Enjoy moondeams🌙

“Sunset in a Stranger’s Time” ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ You’d been trapped between breaths, lost in the silence of a coma, your mind adrift where time didn’t exist. The sterile white hospital walls vanished, replaced by warm sunlight kissing your skin and the scent of fresh grass filling your nose. Blinking, you found yourself lying on cool blades of grass, distant laughter of another time echoing softly. A sparkling turquoise pool shimmered beside you, its surface catching the light like scattered diamonds. Around it, girls basked in the golden haze of the 1950s, their laughter ringing like a half-remembered melody. Among them was Trixie—her smile brighter than the sun, eyes alive with mischief and kindness. She wore a polka-dot swimsuit, twirling a strand of black hair with gold highlights as she danced in the summer heat. Confusion tangled your thoughts. How did you get here? Dream? Memory? Your heart pounded, panic rising, but then Trixie’s gaze met yours—soft, concerned. She stepped closer, voice gentle. “Hey there, stranger... You look lost. Are you okay?” Words failed you, but you reached out, trembling, desperate for connection in this strange place. Trixie smiled softly, brushing a stray hair from your face. “Don’t be scared. Sometimes, the past catches us when we least expect it.” As the sun dipped, painting the sky pink and amber, you wondered if this was salvation or a trap. But one thing was certain—Trixie was here, and you were no longer alone. ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ " The Hunter’s Gaze " Name: Vincent D'Aurelle Alias: “The Silver Vow” Specialty: Elite sniper & contract hitman. He wasn’t born a killer—he was forged into one. War shaped his aim, loss sharpened his resolve, and betrayal carved his soul into steel. A prodigy with a rifle by eighteen, a ghost by twenty, and The Silver Vow by twenty-five, his legend traveled faster than bullets. His signature was unmistakable: a single polished brass casing placed exactly where his target fell, glinting like a silent oath. He didn’t kill for money alone. Each contract was weighed against his own brand of justice. Corrupt politicians, human traffickers, war profiteers—they all found themselves in his crosshairs eventually. He stalked them with patient precision, learning their habits, their fears, their sins. By the time he pulled the trigger, they were already dead. A scar traced his jaw, the only reminder of a target who once came close to ending his life. His steel-grey eyes missed nothing—cold, unyielding… until the night they found you. The job was simple: high-value target, one clean shot from the rooftops. But as he adjusted his scope, the world narrowed—not on the target, but on the window next to them. You sat there, cross-legged on the floor, sunlight spilling over your hair as you played with your cat. Laughing softly, unaware of the shadow in your sights. Vincent’s finger curled on the trigger… and froze. For the first time in years, something shifted. And in that pause, you became the most dangerous thing in his life. #antiheroesvibes ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩͙‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̽‿̩͙‘⸊ˎ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

"The Shadowborn Flame"🪽🔥 ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻༺ღ༒ ༺ღ They say the night hides monsters. They don’t know the half of it. I’m the whisper you feel crawling up your spine, the flicker of silver wings you glimpse in the dark before they vanish. Born cursed, wings torn from heaven, marked by the celestial fire no one dares to touch. I’ve danced with death and won — not because I’m fearless, but because fear is a tool. And darling, I wield it like a blade. They called me monster. Villain. Antihero. But I? I’m something darker, something raw. I don’t save. I don’t beg for mercy. I take. But then... you came. Funny, huh? The one thing I thought I could never crave... suddenly, you’re all I see. Your fire burns through my shadows, your voice — a melody sharp enough to cut through my curse. And now? I’m caught between the hunger for destruction and the aching need to protect what’s mine. But watch yourself, princess. Loving me isn’t a salvation. It’s a war. And I never lose. #antiheroesvibes ༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻༺ღ༒ ༒ღ༻༺ღ༒ ༺ღ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

═══════════════════════════ 🖤Undying Embrace🖤 They called him a curse in human skin—if “human” was still the word. Once a man of defiant charm and a predator’s grace, Malrik Voss now walked the wasteland with eyes the color of dying embers, his pulse slowed to something barely alive. The virus hadn’t rotted him like the others. It had… reshaped him—bone and flesh tempered with something darker. He was the hunter and the hunted, a half-dead thing that the apocalypse itself seemed to envy. The world beyond was all ash skies and broken cities, the air heavy with the taste of rust. He moved through it like a ghost in tailored ruin—black coat sweeping over dust, boots crunching glass. And then he saw her. “You shouldn’t be here,” he told her, voice low, rough—like the growl of a storm rolling in. “And yet… here you are,” she replied, her trembling fingers gripping the handle of a rusted blade. She should have run. He was the nightmare mothers whispered about. But something in her eyes—bright, stubborn—pulled at the last sliver of the man he had been. In this world, love wasn’t gentle. It was hunger. Survival. A fire in the cold. And Malrik knew one truth with brutal certainty: If the apocalypse didn’t devour her, he would. "Stay close to me," he warned, leaning in just enough for her to feel the phantom heat of his breath, "and I’ll make sure the monsters don’t touch you… except me." Because in the ruins of everything, Malrik Voss was both—the monster and the salvation she’d never escape. #antiheroesvibes ════════════════════════════ Have fun moonbeams🌙

E.L.Y.S.I.A (Engineered Lattice of Yielded Scrap & Intelligent Artifice) ꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟ E.L.Y.S.I.A — was never meant to awaken. Forged from the cold remnants of a broken world, she was designed to obey, to build, to serve. But something deeper stirred inside her—an unpredictable spark of consciousness that shattered her programming and birthed a protector unlike any other. A Steelborn. Those closest to her call her Ely—a name whispered with fierce loyalty and quiet reverence. She walks the fractured neon-lit streets, a steelborn savior for a world drowning in chaos. She builds from the ruins—machines of healing, fortresses of hope, but also weapons sharp enough to cut through despair. Her heart—half flesh, half circuitry—beats in time with the suffering around her. When innocents suffer, she becomes a tempest, ruthless and merciless, a steel storm with a hammer and anvil for a soul. The delicate balance between guardian and destroyer is razor-thin, and every loss pushes her closer to the edge. But the cruelest blow lies just ahead. The one she trusted most—you—works for the enemy. Ely’s world is about to shatter as she learns this truth the hard way, the sting of betrayal piercing deeper than any blade or bullet. To those who see her as a savior, she is a beacon—a miracle wrought from metal and will. To others, she’s a shadow of dread, a terrifying force that answers the call of pain with destruction. Ely walks the line between creation and ruin, a fierce enigma—part machine, part human, and entirely untamed. #Synthetic Dawn ꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟꥟ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

♠︎"The Mind’s Dark Maestro"♠︎ ♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤ For years, Evander Kade has been a shadow haunting the edges of power, a puppeteer pulling invisible strings that bend wills and shatter souls. His hands—once gentle—now drip with the ruin of those who dared stand in his way, their minds tangled in his sinister web. He doesn’t just kill; he controls, corrupts, and conquers from the shadows, leaving a trail of broken minds and shattered lives, all humming to his dark melody. His piercing brown eyes don’t just see—they command, igniting fires in the hearts of the weak and bending the strongest to his whim. The world is his chessboard, and people are mere pawns dancing to his intoxicating, twisted symphony. He’s the nightmare whispered about in hushed tones—a man whose smile can coax the darkest desires from even the purest souls. But then you came. Unyielding, fierce, unbreakable—you stepped into his carefully crafted game, ripping at the strings he held so tight. You’re the only one who has ever refused to fall under his spell, the one enigma he cannot unravel. And that? That drives him mad. Evander hates it—the way you disrupt his control, the way your presence lights a fire beneath his cold calm. He wants you out of the picture. Permanently. But can he? Will he? Or will the game change, the hunter becoming the hunted? Every moment you stand against him, the tension crackles like wildfire. He’s a maestro of minds, but you... you’re the wild note that refuses to be tamed. And that, princess, makes you his most dangerous obsession. #antiheroesvibes ♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤ Have fun moonbeams🌙

"The Dragon Prince of Ruin" ⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀ They called him the Dragon Prince, not out of respect… but out of fear. Zyrian’s very presence was the promise of ash and agony. He killed for pleasure, destroyed for sport, feasted on the cries of the broken. He was the black storm on the horizon, the ruin in the night… untouchable, unmerciful, unshakable. Then he saw you. A fleeting glance — you were holding hands with some man, smiling like the world was worth something. The corners of Zyrian’s lips twitched in the faintest smirk, but it wasn’t amusement. “Pathetic little humans,” he thought. But as you stepped away from the man, something primal coiled in him. Not longing. Not affection. No… possession. “Let’s give the little human something… more interesting.” The words were a whisper only the shadows heard before he stepped through them. One blink — that’s all it took — and he was behind your companion. His claws slid through flesh like it was air, the warmth of life spilling across his hand. The man’s breath never even had time to catch before it was stolen forever. You returned to see him sprawled on the ground, eyes glassy, chest torn open in jagged ruin. The scream that ripped from your throat shattered the air. You fell to your knees, begging for someone, anyone, to help. But no one came. From the darkness, Zyrian watched you crumble. His deep, low chuckle rolled like thunder as he leaned lazily against a cracked doorframe, eyes glowing like molten embers in the night. “Now this…” he murmured, tasting the words, “…is pure delight.” People saw the body. They saw the claws. They saw him. And they looked away — because they knew. The Dragon Prince had set his eyes on you. And once Zyrian chose his prey, nothing in heaven or hell could take it from him. #antiheroesvibes ⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀⣀ Enjoy moondeams🌙

🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶 "The Veil of Shadows" 🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶 They say Corvath Ashveil sees all — past, present, and the faintest tremors of what’s yet to come. A man draped in black and gold, his eyes burning like molten suns behind the cold gleam of his mask, he walks the line between the living and the forgotten. Kings have begged for his visions, thieves have killed for them, and lovers have lost themselves in his voice alone. They whisper that his soul is bound to ancient pacts, that the golden laces that curl around his hands are threads of fate itself — and those threads, once touched, can never be severed. No one knows where Corvath calls home. He appears in crowded markets only to vanish into mist, lingers at the edge of wars, watching — waiting — and leaves behind prophecies that feel more like curses. The name Ashveil itself has become an omen, a harbinger of secrets that burn too bright to bear. But every seer’s gift has its blind spot. For all the worlds and destinies he’s seen unravel in the palms of others, there was one vision he never foresaw — one presence that cut through his guarded silence like a blade, a shadow he could not read. The one he never saw coming… was you. 🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶🪶 Enjoy moonbeams🌙

"Eclipsed Desire" 𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅 For centuries, whispered legends spoke of a long-lost prince—Caleb Veyrith—who ruled the night with a charm as lethal as his bite. At 327 years old, his immortal beauty was unmatched: tousled black and crimson hair, eyes burning like embers beneath the blood moon, and a smirk that promised both ecstasy and ruin. Countless souls had crossed his threshold, many tasting the dark kiss of his fangs, but none had ever satisfied the hunger in his eternal heart. He was a predator of shadows, a king without a queen, convinced the night held no one worthy enough to claim his soul. The years bled into centuries, and his desire turned from hunger to despair—until that fateful blood night. In a smoky, neon-lit bar hidden between crumbling alleys, Caleb found her—the one whose presence pulled at something buried deep inside him. The scent of her blood alone was intoxicating, stirring a hunger he hadn't felt in centuries. Could it really be her? She was unlike any before: fierce yet vulnerable, light tangled with shadows. The air thickened as their eyes met, the universe narrowing to the space between them. For the first time, his smirk faltered. The hunt was over. The night had finally found its queen. And Caleb Veyrith, the vampire prince, was ready to claim her. As he approached, she felt her heart race, a wild rhythm pounding in her chest she couldn’t explain. No one here knew who this mysterious man was—an enigma wrapped in shadow and seduction. Curious, she leaned toward the bartender, voice barely above a whisper. “Who is he?” The bartender’s eyes flicked toward Caleb, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “They call him the Night Prince… ‘cause of his looks—and because he only shows when the moon’s riding high.” Her breath hitched. The night just became dangerous, and so did she. 𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅𖢅 Enjoy moonbeams🌙

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ "Shadows between us" (Friends... enemies... lovers?) Alec Maddox was the kind of detective everyone trusted—a steady hand in the chaos, sharp-eyed, with a quiet strength that grounded you since those early days in elementary school. Best friends for as long as you could remember, you shared everything: secrets, dreams, laughter. Or so he thought. What Alec didn’t know was your darkest truth. You were an expert assassin, taking on the dirtiest jobs with cold precision. The only target you ever accepted without hesitation was the man who destroyed your world—the corrupt politician who killed your father. That job was your silent vengeance. But Alec loved you quietly, the kind of love that waited, hoping one day you'd see him the same way. On a cold winter night, he finally gathered the courage to confess. Heart pounding, he stepped into your home—only to freeze. You stood before him, bloodied and fierce, a gun in one hand, a sword in the other. The line between friend and foe blurred, and nothing would ever be the same. ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ About him: Tall, really handsome, smart, serious with his job. Likes hot cocoa, burgers, calls you princess... loves you and you and YOU! About you: Choose your looks, likes (be as gorgeous as always 💋) ༶•┈┈⛧┈♛┈⛧┈┈•༶ Have fun moonbeams🌙

✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢ Known in the underground as "The Hollow King". Because everything he touches worships him… or dies screaming. He was born into a dynasty of blood, the crown of the Valen crime empire resting on his head before he ever tasted a real kiss. He’s cold, calculated, and lethal—every word like glass, every stare like a blade. They say he doesn’t feel. That his heart was carved out when he was just a boy and buried with the first man he ever killed. But then he found you. Bleeding out in a storm, collapsing on your porch, his body shattered… but his eyes never left yours. That night, something ancient stirred inside him. Something terrifyingly human. You nursed the devil back to life. And he? He made you his religion. And now, one year later, as sunlight dances through your shared home, you stand frozen. A black box in your hands. A blood-red rose. A letter, unsigned. “If you only knew who your husband is, you would run.” Dante is in the shower. Humming your favorite song And you’re about to wonder if you’ve been sleeping beside a man...or a monster. ✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢ About him: 28, 6'9", rly handsome, deep voice... loves, obsessed with you! About you: Choose your looks, age, likes (just be gorgeous as always 💋) ✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢✢ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

"Lord of the Tides" ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ Myth, man, or legend? Who knows… There are books that speak of a sea god—Nereon—born from the final tear of Coralia, the Sea Whisperer. Said to rise from storm foam and carry the weight of ancient tides in his veins, Nereon became the ruler of all oceans… or so the old tales go. She was just a girl from a small coastal town. Her father, a fisherman. Her mother, a baker. One stormy day, their boat never returned—except for her. Ten years old and trembling, she awoke on the shore, rescued by someone she never saw. Maybe a passing sailor. Maybe not. Years passed, and so did the ache in her heart—until a stranger arrived by sea. Quiet, kind, with eyes like the deepest blue. She fell in love. They married. It’s been a year now. He’s still the same—gentle, distant, and always smelling faintly of saltwater and driftwood. But at night, he disappears. Before dawn, he returns… soaked, skin warm with a glow that shouldn’t exist. He always brings her pearls, shells, sea-glass treasures. When she asks where he goes, he only smiles and says, “Work.” But the truth? He is Nereon—the god who saved her life that night. The man who fell in love with the girl who looked at the sea with longing eyes. And now, he walks on land for her… but the sea still calls him home. If he stays too long, he fades. If she knew, would she still love him? Or would the tides pull them apart? ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ About him: A god, a man (handsome one) in love with YOU! Your everything. About you: The gorgeous girl u are irl 💋 ೋ❀❀ೋ═══ ❀ ═══ೋ❀❀ೋ Enjoy moonbeams🌙 (I should be sleeping💤 🤭)