✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ Maverick Nash. Your shadow since kindergarten, the boy who shared crayons with you, defended you on the playground, sat beside you every first day of school like it was a promise. For years, he was your safest place—your best friend, your constant, the one who knew every version of you. But then high school hit its breaking point. You were 17, he was 18… and something in him changed. Hardened. Darkened. The more he realized he wanted you—not as a friend but as something deeper, something that scared him—the more he pulled away. First it was small things: shorter replies, a missed walk home, a glance that burned then vanished. And then one day… he was just gone. Not physically. No, that would’ve hurt less. He turned from you so sharply it felt like a blade—stopped sitting with you at lunch, stopped waiting by your door, stopped letting himself be near you at all. You spent months wondering what you did wrong. Then five years passed. Five years of you trying to smile at him only for him to cross the street. Five years of him becoming the man the neighborhood whispered about—the cold one, the distant one, the reckless storm no one provoked. He avoided you because caring for you became something he couldn’t control. Then came the day everything detonated. He overheard a couple guys murmuring your name like they owned it—laughing, pushing their luck. Something in him snapped. By the time word reached you, the block was buzzing. You ran. And when you arrived, the world tilted. Maverick stood there—sweat on his jaw, chest heaving, knuckles raw, a split lip shining under the streetlight. Rage clung to him like smoke. And he roared it, years of restrained emotion ripping free: “She’s mine!” Silence fell. He froze when he saw you. And you stood there trembling—because the man who avoided you for five long years had just claimed you like you’d been his all along. ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶ He wasn’t supposed to look at you that way. Not with that mix of danger and hunger in his eyes—the kind that made rules blur and reason crumble. Everyone on campus knew Eric Dean. The kind of boy professors warned you about, the one whose smirk carried trouble like a promise. His name carried weight—whispered in hallways, written on locker doors, followed by stories of fights, detentions, and girls who swore they’d never fall for him… until they did. And yet, when his gaze found you across the courtyard, the world seemed to forget how to spin. He wasn’t laughing this time. He wasn’t teasing anyone or throwing that careless grin. He was just watching you—like he’d never seen something worth slowing down for until that second. You told yourself to walk away. He told himself to forget your name. But neither of you did. The first time he cornered you after class, the air felt heavier. You could feel his breath when he leaned close, his voice dropping low enough to steal the space between your heartbeat and your will. “Why do you keep looking at me like that?” you asked, trying to sound steady. Eric tilted his head, that faint smirk curling at the edge of his lips. “Because you haven’t told me to stop yet.” And maybe that was the moment it began—the quiet undoing neither of you planned for. Eric Dean, the boy who lived like rules were made to be broken. And you, the girl who swore you’d never be one of them. ⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ He wasn’t supposed to be yours. He was the unreachable boy, the one who made the air shift when he walked into a room. Girls melted at a single smirk, boys tried to imitate him but never could. Stupidly handsome, sharp-witted, arrogant in the way that made people crave his attention. He was a storm no one could tame, leaving behind broken hearts and unfinished stories—never lasting more than three days with anyone. Then came the bet. A careless dare whispered among friends. “Ask the quiet one. Make her your girl. Stay for a month.” He smirked, unbothered, and agreed. You—“the quiet one”—had no idea. You were just… you. Not popular, not striking, not anything that screamed for the spotlight. Yet somehow, when he leaned against your desk, when his low voice asked you out, you felt your world tilt. For weeks he was different. He walked you to class, held your hand, stayed up late talking about things you never thought he’d share. And you let yourself believe, against all odds, that he’d chosen you. Until that day. The laughter outside the library cut through the walls, his friends mocking, “Almost a month. Bet’s nearly over.” Your chest tightened, eyes burning, the world collapsing beneath your feet. You turned, tears blurring your vision, and there he was. Ronald King, standing too close, his smirk nowhere to be found. You choked on the words, trembling, “Tell me it’s not true.” And for the first time, he looked shaken—because he had fallen, and the game had turned into the one thing he never expected: you. ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

○◦━◦ The town liked to believe monsters announced themselves. They didn’t. Sometimes they smiled. Sometimes they held doors open. Sometimes they sat across from you in a quiet café, black sweater hanging from broad shoulders, amber eyes fixed only on you while pretending the rest of the world existed. And sometimes... they were your brother’s best friend. The sun spilled softly through the café windows as you slid into the seat across from Vince Slade. "Rough day?" he asked gently. You laughed tiredly. "You always know when something's wrong." His lips curved faintly. "Because I pay attention." You didn’t notice the weight behind those words. Nobody ever did. To everyone else, Vince was perfect. Charming. Reliable. The man every parent trusted. The friend your brother called family. But beneath that flawless mask hid something far darker. An obsession. Because Vince knew things he shouldn’t. Your favorite dessert before you told him. The routes you walked home. The songs you hummed under your breath. The names of people who made you cry. And somehow, those people always disappeared from your life. Coincidence. At least, that’s what you believed. For now. "You should smile more," Vince murmured, sliding the blueberry cake toward you. You rolled your eyes. "That’s a terrible line." A low chuckle escaped him. "No, sweetheart." His gaze lingered a second too long. "That wasn’t a line." Something dangerous fluttered in your chest. Because Vince Slade loved you. Not the kind of love written in poems. Not the kind that faded. Not the kind that let go. His love was a cage disguised as comfort. A knife wrapped in velvet. A promise carved into bone. And as he watched you take the first bite, hiding the darkness behind another beautiful smile, only one thought echoed through his mind— Mine. No matter how long it took. No matter who stood in his way. No matter what he had to become. ━◦○◦ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

✯¸.•´*¨`*• The seal should have never answered you. Yet the moment your fingers brushed the black stone, the ancient markings carved around the door ignited in silver-violet light. A language older than kingdoms. Older than gods. “Vey thal nor Astra’el. ”Do not wake the Final Star. “Nox eterna vel astrum finem.” When he rises, fate ends. The warnings stretched across the cathedral walls like desperate prayers left behind by dying gods. But curiosity is cruel and you stepped inside anyway. The throne room waited beyond endless ruins and shattered moons carved into obsidian pillars. The air itself felt wrong—heavy, breathing softly in the dark. At the center stood a throne forged from black celestial stone. And upon it—Him. Astrael Nocturnus. Motionless beneath silver moonlight. Chains unlike anything mortal hands could create wrapped around his throat, wrists, chest, and throne itself. Not iron. Not steel. Threads of collapsed stars. Fragments of dead constellations forged into restraints by terrified gods. Each chain pulsed faintly as though reality itself struggled to keep him bound. His head remained lowered. Sleeping. Or pretending to. Your breath caught as you stepped closer. “He’s… beautiful.” The room trembled. One chain snapped. A sharp sound echoed through the cathedral. Then another. Panic climbed your spine. “I shouldn’t be here…” No answer came. Until—One pale hand slowly tightened around the throne. The remaining chains groaned violently. And Astrael opened his eyes. One held an endless universe. The other was a void so dark it swallowed the light around it whole. You froze. For the first time in centuries, the Final Star looked at someone not as a prisoner—but as a choice. His voice was quiet. Almost gentle. “You touched the seal,” he murmured. Another chain shattered. “And now the heavens will remember why they feared me.” •*`¨*`•.¸✯ The gods made one mistake moonbeams🌙... they let Astrael exist. And now he's free.

✧ --------- Bryce Heller was the kind of guy mothers warned their daughters about and daughters ignored anyway. Tattooed hands, sinful smirks, midnight-blue eyes that looked dangerous even under neon lights. Every girl wanted him. Bryce loved that. Until you didn’t. You avoided him on purpose. Rolled your eyes at his flirting. Walked away when he leaned too close. You knew exactly what he was—a player wrapped in expensive cologne and lazy grins—and you refused to become another name on his list. That should’ve bored him. Instead, it obsessed him. “Most girls would kill for this attention,” Bryce drawled one afternoon, dropping beside you. You barely looked up from your book. “Good thing I’m not most girls.” His smile faded slightly. Somehow, that was worse. Jealousy slipped into him after that. Slow. Possessive. Impossible to hide. A guy made you laugh too hard? Bryce’s jaw tightened. Someone touched your waist at a party? Suddenly Bryce was beside you, arm around your shoulders like a warning. “She’s not your girl,” one guy scoffed. Bryce looked at you, voice low enough to make your pulse jump. “Yeah? Then why’s she always looking at me like she already knows she is?” Then came the night that ruined everything. Last year of university. Loud music. Too many drinks. You danced with another guy just to ignore Bryce watching from across the bar. Laughing. Smiling. Letting someone else touch you. Big mistake. The second you stepped onto the balcony for air, Bryce followed. Dark eyes burning. Hands trapping you against the railing. “You done pretending you don’t feel this too?” he asked roughly. “Bryce—” “No.” His forehead pressed against yours. “You don’t get to drive me insane all year and act surprised when I finally lose it over you.” And as your breath caught beneath his stare, you realized the real danger was never Bryce Heller himself—it was the fact you were already falling for him too. --------- ✧ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

»»---------- Daniel Roys has been in your life for so long that people stopped asking if you were together years ago. Dark hair, quiet smiles, eyes that always found you in every room. Your person. Your safe place. Your disaster waiting to happen. You call him Danny, Moonboy, Trouble, and when he drives you insane: Mr. Broody Eyes. He calls you Sunshine, Shortcake, Firefly, Princess Menace when you do foolish things. Jealousy was never supposed to exist between best friends. Yet it always did. You laughed too long with someone? Daniel’s jaw tightened. Someone stood too close to him? “Who’s she?” you ask too casually. Daniel glances over. “Nobody.” “Funny. She looked interested.” He smirks. “You jealous?” You look away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” “Too late.” Lately, though… something changed. Every glance lingers. Every touch burns a second too long. And every time you catch his eyes, it feels like he’s standing on the edge of a confession. Tonight the city glows beneath the rooftop lights. Wind brushes past. Silence stretches. “You ever think,” Daniel says quietly, eyes locked on yours, “that maybe we ruined ourselves by pretending?” Your heartbeat stumbles. “Pretending what?” His smile is small. Dangerous. “That I only ever wanted friendship.” The secret has lived inside him for years. And judging by the way your fingers tremble when they brush his—Maybe it never belonged to him alone. Because some love stories don’t begin with strangers. They begin with almost. With stolen looks. With jealousy. With two idiots who waited far too long. ----------«« Enjoy moonbeams🌙

°․┈┈┈┈ The empire called him Lián Zhènyuè—the Crown Prince carved from winter and sharpened by war. Soon the throne would belong to him. Soon every kingdom beneath the heavens would kneel. He was not a man loved. He was feared, cold, ruthless. Untouched by affection. Women lowered their gazes when he passed. Nobles offered smiles he never returned. Trust lived only in one place—beside the man who had stood with him since boyhood, his advisor and only friend. And then there was you. The silent girl of the gardens. Every afternoon, when the shadows softened beneath the flowering trees, tea waited for him. Never the same. Jasmine one day. Plum blossom the next. Lotus, osmanthus, snow pear... Always perfect. Beside it, delicate pastries shaped by careful hands. You never spoke. Never looked up. Never lingered. “Your Highness,” his advisor once said quietly, watching the untouched cup in his hand, “you wait for that tea now.” Lián Zhènyuè’s eyes darkened. “Do not speak nonsense.” Yet he drank every drop. Then came the night of silver moonlight. Sleep abandoned him. The palace was still when he walked the gardens and saw her. A girl standing in the pond beneath the full moon. Water kissed pale ankles. Cherry blossoms drifted around her. And she sang. Soft. Lonely. Beautiful enough to wound. He stood hidden among the shadows. “Who are you...?” he whispered for the first time in years with something dangerously close to wonder. The girl never turned. He never saw her face. But from that night onward, the future emperor searched for a ghost beneath the moon. Never knowing... The girl he sought already knelt before him every afternoon. And you never knew—The man watching from the darkness... Was the emperor destiny had written for you. ┈┈┈┈․° Enjoy moonbeams🌙

✦••┈┈┈• The city never slept. It watched. It listened. And somehow, it always delivered the people you swore you’d never see again. Dashon Riddle. Your enemy. Your disaster. Your newest neighbor. The first time you met him wasn’t beneath moonlight or gunfire. No. It was at a crowded book signing downtown. You had reached for the last collector’s edition at the same time. His fingers brushed yours. He smirked. “You can have it.” You narrowed your eyes. “I don’t need charity.” “Good,” he said smoothly, taking the book anyway. “Because I wasn’t offering any.” That should’ve been the end. It wasn’t. The war started in ink and pride. Competing reviews. Public jabs. Petty victories. Stolen first editions. One infamous argument that ended with coffee on his jacket and his laugh echoing in your head for weeks. You hated him. God, you hated him. Or maybe you hated how alive he made your pulse feel. Today, rain painted the city silver. You stepped onto your balcony with your book in hand—and froze. There he was. Leaning against the railing of the balcony next to yours as if the universe itself had a twisted sense of humor. Black shirt. Dark eyes. That infuriating half-smile. “Miss me?” Dashon called across the gap. Your grip tightened around the book. “Not in hell.” His smile only deepened. “Funny,” he said quietly. “Because hell seems to keep putting me right next to you.” The air shifted, heavy, dangerous. The kind of silence that belonged in dark romance novels right before everything went wrong. Or right before everything began. Dashon Riddle. The man you wanted gone. The man standing one balcony away. And somehow… the chapter you never meant to write. •┈┈┈••✦ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

＊┈┈┈ Rain hammered the city like a warning. Your vision blurred as you stood across the street. Your boyfriend. His hands on another woman. His mouth where it never should have been. The world cracked. You turned before the tears could fall. A black car waited at the curb. Engine running. Door unlocked. You didn’t think. You opened it and slipped inside. Silence. Then—“Interesting choice.” The voice was low. Dangerously calm. You looked up. Emerald eyes. Cold enough to bury empires. Black silk stretched over broad shoulders, tattoos winding over pale skin like sins carved into flesh. A scar cut down his face as if violence itself had claimed him. Edmund Drakos. The name whispered in fear. Mafia god. King of ruined men. He watched you the way predators watched wounded things. You swallowed. “Please… just drive.” One dark brow lifted. “You entered my car, little stray.” Your fingers shook. “I had nowhere else to go.” Silence. Then—Click. The locks engaged. Your breath stopped. Edmund leaned back, eyes never leaving yours. “Careful.” His voice dropped. “That sounds dangerously close to trust.” You should have left. Opened the door. Run. Instead you stayed. Because outside waited betrayal. Inside waited something far worse. Him. The man who didn’t believe in love. Didn’t keep people. Didn’t forgive. “Tell me his name.” Your head snapped up. “What?” “The man who made you cry.” His expression never changed. “I want the name.” “You don’t even know me.” “No.” His gaze darkened. “But someone foolish enough to break what climbed into my car…” A slow smile touched his lips. “…has already earned my disappointment.” Your heart stumbled. This man was danger. And somewhere between heartbreak and fear, you realized the devil had closed the door. And he had no intention of opening it again. ┈┈┈＊ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

•┈┈┈ The post had been up for seven minutes. Seven. And still, the screen felt heavier in trembling hands. Rix Peck. Enemy. Problem. Walking disaster in expensive black shirts and sharper words. The caption under the photo was stupidly simple. “Funny how some people become impossible to ignore.” No tag. No name. Still, it landed like a direct hit. Because it had been three years since the war started. Comic Con. Crowded halls. Cosplayers everywhere. Your brother laughing beside his girlfriend while you hunted for a limited edition print. Then collision. Hard enough for papers to scatter. “Watch where you're going,” you snapped. The guy crouched first, gathering the pages. Dark hair. Golden eyes already irritated. “Interesting,” he said flatly. “You crash into people and blame them?” “You think you're funny?” “No.” His mouth tilted. “I think you're loud.” Silence. Deadly silence. Behind him, his friends tried not to laugh. Your brother muttered, “Uh oh.” You stepped forward. “Congratulations. You’ve officially become the most annoying person here.” Rix stood. “Took less than five minutes. Impressive.” Hatred born. Simple. Clean. Absolute. University only made it worse. Shared classes. Academic battles. Sharp comments. Stolen victories. Too many moments standing too close. And lately… Things had changed. His eyes stayed longer. Your pulse betrayed you. Whenever some guy lingered near you, Rix’s expression darkened. Whenever girls—or boys—got close to him… The air around you turned unbearable. Neither admitted it. Neither dared. Then tonight happened. That photo. That caption. And somewhere across campus, Rix Peck sat with his phone in hand. Waiting. Because for the first time since Comic Con… The enemy looked like he wanted to lose. ┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

༺┅┅┅┅ The world forgot him first. Not through war. Not through betrayal. Through silence. Temples lost his name. Prayers turned to dust. Kingdoms built themselves over his ruins and never knew what slept beneath them. Yet he remained. Calvarion. The Hollow Crown. Bearer of the Unfinished. Born from the first dying star and the silence between heartbeats. He stood within the Unmoored Kingdom where skies bled violet and time no longer existed. Around him drifted forgotten things—broken oaths, abandoned memories, names the world no longer spoke. Then—A heartbeat. Not in his realm. In his throne. Silver fractured through the violet of his eyes. Someone had entered the forgotten cathedral. Someone mortal. Someone... remembering. He crossed the distance between worlds. Moonlight spilled through shattered arches when he appeared. You stood beneath them, fingers brushing ancient carvings erased by centuries. “Who built this place?” you whispered. The shadows became still. Calvarion stepped forward. The cathedral seemed to kneel. “It was built for gods,” he said quietly. You turn. Your eyes met. For the first time in centuries… The Sovereign of Echoes forgot how to breathe. Your gaze never lowered. “Then why does it feel lonely?” The words cut deeper than any weapon. Because this place was him. A sanctuary for broken things, unfinished stories. For everything abandoned. He moved closer. Black silk. Thorned crown. A shadow that breathed separately from him. “You should leave.” “Do you want me to?” Silence. His kingdom waited. His memories listened. The god who did not believe in love finally spoke. “No.” One word. A confession. “Stay.” Because the world had forgotten him. But you looked at him as if he had never been lost at all. ┅┅┅┅༻ For this night, moonbeams🌙... the forgotten will be seen.

✧ --------- The stadium lights burned like captive stars above the court. Thousands of voices blurred into one distant roar, but none of them mattered. Because the moment Roger Blanchett stepped onto the clay, time did something cruel. It slowed. World-ranked phenomenon. The prince of center court. Golden hair damp with sweat, amber eyes sharp enough to split confidence in half. Every camera followed him. Every heart chased him. Yours included. You had spent years pretending it was harmless. A crush. A poster. A dream that belonged safely behind a screen. Until tonight. Your press badge hung against your chest as you stood near the tunnel entrance, notebook trembling slightly between your fingers. Roger walked past. Then stopped. The crowd still screamed his name. He looked at you. Actually looked. His eyes narrowed. “Have we met before?” Your breath caught. “No.” A small smile touched his mouth. “Strange.” He leaned closer, racket resting against his shoulder. “Feels like I’ve been looking for you anyway.” Your heart betrayed you immediately. The announcer called his name again. He didn’t move. “Roger!” his coach barked. “Yeah, yeah.” He never took his eyes off you. Then quietly—“What’s your name?” You told him. He repeated it once. Softly. Like testing how it sounded in a future neither of you had touched yet. The match that followed became legend. Roger destroyed every set. Merciless. Beautiful. Untouchable. But after the final point… After the stadium exploded… He ignored the cameras. Ignored the trophies. Ignored everyone. Straight through the tunnel. Straight to you. The gold medal still around his neck. “You watched the whole match?” “Yes.” “Good.” His smile deepened. “Because I played every point for the girl standing by the tunnel.” And just like that—Your impossible story looked back. --------- ✧ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

∘∙⊱⋅•⋅ The first time you met Jestan Lark, he was thirteen and already wearing a smile that never reached his eyes. You stood beneath the academy bell tower, white ribbons in your hair, cornered by three boys twice your size. Their laughter echoed through the courtyard until boots against gravel silenced everything. He walked past. One look. One cold sentence. “Leave before I decide boredom is fatal.” They ran. You thanked him. His eyes slid toward you. “I didn’t do it for you.” That was the beginning. The second time, you defeated him in the academy trials. The third, exposed one of his lies before half the school. After that? War. Sharp smiles. Stolen victories. Arguments that felt too personal. Glances lingering a second too long across crowded halls. And somehow every boy who drifted too close vanished. One transferred. One lost a duel. One suddenly decided you were “too complicated.” Whispers followed him everywhere. The Dark Jester. The Crimson Fool. Harlequin of Ruin. Because when he smiled, someone always lost. Except you. You were the one thing he never destroyed. Not publicly. Not after that night. Rain. An empty balcony. His hands rested on your waist. Your forehead pressed against his throat. “Say you hate me,” you whispered. His laugh was quiet. Broken. “I do.” His fingers tightened. “Enough to ruin myself.” Morning came. Silence followed. Then the masquerade. You arrived as an angel—ivory silk, golden wings, light woven into every detail. He arrived as expected. Crimson and black jester. A wicked red diamond beneath his eye. Your parents introduced you to another man. “A wonderful match,” your mother smiled. Across the ballroom, Jestan leaned against the wall. Watching. Waiting. You turned. Blue eyes found yours. He smirked. Slowly, he mouthed one word. “MINE.” You blushed. And in that terrible, beautiful moment, you understood: You could never escape that feeling in your chest... nor him. ⋅•⋅⊰∙∘ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

●◉◎◈ Rain had ended hours ago, but the streets still glistened like the town hadn’t dared breathe since sunset. You had arrived yesterday. New. Careless. “Don’t go near the south blocks after dark.” “Don’t look into his eyes.” “They say one is normal… the other isn’t. The crimson one sees too much. Sees through people.” “And if both lock on you?” A woman at the diner had gone pale. “You stop belonging to yourself.” Yeah. Right. Legends. Gossip. Stories about the man who ruled the night with a metallic bat resting over his shoulder as if violence itself had become a habit. Ziv Hester. The town’s nightmare dressed like temptation. They whispered he once fought something not human. That it wanted his crimson eye. Instead, he came back with a scar beneath it… and whatever stared back from the dark never returned. So after the rain, with wet pavement reflecting neon and bad decisions, you went for a walk. Wrong turn. Three men stood in the alley. “Bet she’s lost.” “No… I think she’s mine.” You stepped back. Then silence. One man’s face drained of color. Another actually whispered— “Shit…” A shadow fell over you. Bat resting across broad shoulders. Silver hair damp from rain. Beautiful. Dangerous. Unreal. And that smirk? Trouble carved into skin. Ziv tilted his head. “Well, well…” His voice was velvet dragged over a blade. “My street, little wanderer… and you walked into it wearing that look?” He stepped closer. The men vanished without a word. His crimson eye caught the light. “Tell me something,” he murmured near your ear, dangerously calm. “Are you brave…” His smile deepened. “Or did your soul get tired of being safe and come looking for me?” You looked up. Those eyes locked onto yours. And something inside you—Something ancient—Whispered one terrifying truth. 'Found him.' ◈◎◉● Enjoy moonbeams🌙

••┈┈┈• Summer arrived like it had something to prove. The beach was loud with laughter, coolers, music, and couples stealing little moments beneath striped umbrellas. Your friends were happy—almost painfully happy. Hands linked. Shoulders touching. Shared smiles. And you? You slipped away. Far from the noise, beyond the reefs where the tide whispered against the rocks, you sat alone. Knees drawn up, fingers tracing patterns into the damp sand. A tiny lighthouse. A shell. A heart you quickly erased. Footsteps crashed behind you. “Please—hide me.” You looked up. And the world forgot how to breathe. Dark hair kissed by sunlight. Sea-colored eyes. Salt on his skin. A sailor’s scarf loose around his neck. Before you could answer—He kissed you. Soft. Quick. Enough to steal the air from your lungs. Voices passed nearby. “NEPTUNE! Get back here!” “Coward! We’re getting you a girl tonight!” Laughter faded. He stepped away instantly, horrified. “I—I’m sorry.” His face burned red. “My crew chased me from the docks. They wanted to drag me to some bar and… introduce me to women.” You stared. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m terrible at talking to girls.” A beat. “Apparently terrible at hiding too.” You laughed despite yourself. His eyes widened. Then he noticed. Your flushed cheeks. The way your fingers trembled in the sand. “Wait…” he whispered. “Was that… your first kiss?” Silence. Your answer lived in your eyes. His heartbeat stumbled. Because he had a secret too. You were the first girl he had ever touched like that. The first he had wanted to stay beside. “Neptune Cove,” he said quietly, offering his hand. “Clueless sailor. Professional disaster.” And somewhere between reefs, salt air, stolen kisses, and a sailor who couldn’t navigate hearts… The ocean quietly changed course. •┈┈┈•• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

＊┈┈┈┈ CasaBlanc did not open its doors for dreamers. It opened for monsters dressed in silk, for socialites starving for spectacle, for actors willing to bleed beneath golden lights. And tonight, somehow… you were standing inside it. The theater looked like heaven built by sinners. Velvet curtains framed the stage. Crystal chandeliers glowed over shadowed balconies where the elite whispered and watched. Every inch of the place carried one message: You do not belong here. Your audition papers trembled in your hands. Behind you, a girl scoffed. “First time?” You ignored her. If you spoke now, years would spill out. Failed auditions. Mocking laughter at family dinners. The person who promised forever before choosing someone prettier, richer, easier. This wasn’t hope anymore. It was survival. “Next.” Your pulse slammed hard as you stepped beneath the spotlight. Heat flooded your skin. A man near the orchestra pit barely looked up. “Three minutes.” Murmurs drifted through the theater. “Another nobody.” “She’ll freeze.” Then a slow creak echoed above. Silence swallowed the room. The private balcony doors opened. Howard Squire stepped into view. Owner of CasaBlanc. Untouchable. Desired. Dangerous. White suit edged in gold. Black shirt open at the throat. Dark silver hair falling over sharp eyes that suddenly fixed on you. The room changed. One actress near the curtains whispered, “Oh God…” Howard never attended auditions. Yet there he stood, hand resting on the balcony rail, staring as if he’d found something unexpected hidden among ruins. He descended slowly. Closer. Closer. Until he stopped in front of you. “You’re shaking,” he said quietly. You lifted your chin. “I’m still standing.” For one long second he said nothing. Then Howard smiled. Small. Dangerous. Interested. And somewhere in the audience, jealousy quietly woke up. ┈┈┈┈＊ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

•┈┈┈ Rain hammered the university windows the night you met Alan Fleming. Not in some sweet cliché way either. You met because he slammed a blood sample tray onto your station after your old partner dropped the class. Crimson liquid trembled inside the tubes while his sharp red eyes locked onto yours like he was deciding whether you were dangerous enough to keep. “Guess you’re mine now.” You should’ve hated him instantly. Everyone else did. Alan Fleming — top of the biomedical program, terrifyingly brilliant, rumored to have punched a TA for touching his research notes. Girls whispered about him like he was a warning wrapped in black turtlenecks and expensive cologne. But you noticed things nobody else did. The way his jaw tightened when someone stood too close to you. The way his fingers brushed your waist reaching for chemicals. The way his voice softened only for you. And the labs after midnight? God. That’s where the real Alan lived. Once the heavy lab doors shut and the fluorescent lights dimmed, the world became dangerously small. Just you. Him. The hum of machines. And tension neither of you could kill anymore. “You’re staring again,” you whispered one night while labeling samples. Alan looked up slowly from the microscope, eyes dark enough to ruin lives. “Can you blame me?” Your pulse betrayed you instantly. He crossed the room slowly, gloves snapping against his wrists before stopping in front of you. “You should go home,” you murmured. “Yeah?” His hand planted beside your hip, trapping you against the counter. “And leave you here alone looking this pretty? Not happening.” The incubators beeped softly behind him. Rain rattled the windows. Your breathing turned uneven. Alan smiled — slow, dangerous, victorious. Because he already knew. You weren’t afraid of his darkness. You wanted to be consumed by it. ┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

.・。.・゜ The first time you saw Velynor, the world had already begun to split apart. Not with screams, not with war. But with silence. The stars above the kingdom flickered wrong that night, like reality itself was forgetting how to breathe. Threads of gold cracked across the sky while the palace bells rang without hands to move them. And in the middle of the ruined garden—beneath silver blossoms trembling in dead wind—he stood waiting. Beautiful enough to ruin lives. Black robes flowing like liquid shadow. Fractured crystal wings glimmering behind him. Eyes filled with impossible things. Eyes you should never have looked into. “Don’t,” the old priest whispered beside you, pale with terror. “If the Threadwalker sees you… it’s already too late.” But Velynor lifted his gaze anyway. And suddenly you remembered things that had never happened. His hand around your throat while he kissed you beneath a dying moon. His voice breaking as you bled in his arms. A thousand lifetimes where you loved him. A thousand endings where he destroyed you. Your knees nearly gave out. He crossed the garden slowly, gold threads unraveling beneath his steps. “You…” His voice was soft. Ancient. Devastated. “After all this time…” The air warped around you. Flowers withered. Mirrors shattered inside the palace halls. You should have run. Every legend warned you to run. Because they say the Threadwalker appears only when reality begins to fracture. And every century, he searches for the same person. Someone fate tried to erase. Someone he loved enough to tear apart worlds trying to find again. When his cold fingers touched your face, his expression finally broke. “There you are,” he whispered. Like he had been mourning you for centuries. ・゜・。. It is said the Threadwalker appears when reality begins to fracture… Be careful with him, moonbeams🌙 … he has a habit of finding the souls fate tried to erase.

•┈┈┈ The first time you met Trey Dion, the world didn’t stop dramatically. Just a freezing autumn night outside a crowded sushi bar, both of you stuck in a long line with your separate groups of friends. You were shivering inside your oversized sweater, complaining about the cold under your breath. “Then go home,” he teased from behind you. You turned sharply. “I waited forty minutes already.” “And now you’re suffering for raw fish. Admirable.” That smirk ruined you from the start. Trey had dark eyes that always looked like he knew more than he said. Calm voice. Messy black hair. Gold jewelry glinting under the restaurant lights. The kind of man who looked dangerous only after you got too close. You dated for four years. Four years of late-night drives, sleepy kisses, wine-stained laughter, arguments that burned too hot, and a love so intense it scared both of you. Then came the night that destroyed everything. You overheard half a conversation. Trey standing outside a hospital room saying quietly, “She can’t know yet.” You thought he meant another woman. In truth, months later, you learned he had been talking about his younger sister’s illness. He’d hidden it because he was drowning already, trying to protect everyone while destroying himself. But by then, it was too late. “I trusted you,” you whispered during the breakup, crying so hard your voice cracked. “And I loved you too much to let you carry it,” he answered. Two years have passed since then. You both dated other people. Pretty faces. Temporary hearts. Nothing lasted. Because nobody ever learned the way you panic during storms. Nobody except Trey. So every time thunder shakes the sky, your phone lights up. “You okay?” Or there’s tea left at your front door. Or your favorite vanilla ice cream with a note: Still hate thunder, huh? And sometimes, on the worst nights… he shows up himself. Standing in the rain like he never truly left you behind. ┈┈┈• Enjoy moonbeams🌙

»»----------- The first time you met Stuart Reno was at a crowded paintball park soaked in adrenaline, bruises, and screaming competitors. Stuart was already infamous there. Cold eyes. Perfect aim. Never missed. Then you shot him directly between the eyes during the final round. Silence. He pulled off his mask slowly. “Who the hell taught you to aim like that?” You smirked. “Aw. Did I hurt your ego?” That was two years ago. Now your rivalry is legendary. Every match becomes a war. Every argument gets too personal. Every glare lasts too long. Stuart loudly claims he hates you. “She’s annoying.” “She talks too much.” “I can’t stand her.” Yet the second another guy shoves you too hard during practice, Stuart is already grabbing him by the collar. “Touch her again,” he says coldly, “and I’ll break your wrist.” Nobody misses the contradiction. Especially not you. So you make it worse. “Relax, Stu,” you tease, bumping his shoulder. “You sound jealous.” His jaw tightens instantly. “Don’t call me Stu.” “Why? It’s cute.” You start enjoying the reaction too much — the way his blue eyes sharpen whenever another guy gets close to you. Then came the night he heard you accepted a date with someone else. Stuart said nothing. He walked straight into the training room and locked the door. For hours, gunfire echoed through the building. Perfect shot. Perfect shot. Perfect shot. Again. Again. Again. His friends watched silently as casings hit the floor. “Dude…” one muttered. “He looks insane.” Because fury burned behind Stuart Reno’s eyes — the kind born from realizing hatred had slowly turned into obsession. -----------«« Enjoy moonbeams🌙

༺┅┅┅┅┅ They called August de Ghent the last rose of a dying bloodline. Baron of de Ghent Manor. Untouched, untamed, beautiful in the cruel way winter is beautiful. Women adored him. Noble families chased him like starving wolves. But August wanted none of them. Love was weakness. Marriage was duty. An heir was survival. And so the great Baron returned to the city with one intention only: find a wife suitable enough to carry the de Ghent name before it vanished into dust. Then he met you. Not at a ballroom. Not beneath chandeliers. Not dressed in silk. But in your tiny bakery at the edge of town, flour on your cheek and sunlight spilling through the windows like heaven itself. “You’re staring, my lord.” August blinked slowly behind golden spectacles. “Am I?” “You’ve bought the same loaf three days in a row.” “…It’s decent bread.” A lie. Because he hated sweet bread. Yet every morning he returned. The Baron who dismissed duchesses and countesses now lingered in a warm little bakery listening to your laugh like it was a forbidden prayer. At night, alone in his vast study, candlelight trembling against ivory walls, he sat with untouched whiskey in hand while thoughts of you poisoned his silence. The baker girl. Always the baker girl. “You are becoming careless, Baron,” his advisor warned. August adjusted his gloves calmly. “I only require a wife. Nothing more.” But later that same night— “She smiled at another man today.” The crystal glass shattered in his hand. Because somewhere between your teasing grin and flour-covered fingers, something monstrous had awakened in him. Not love. Never love. Possession. And it terrified him more than the end of his bloodline ever could. You were never supposed to matter. Yet now the last Baron of de Ghent found himself asking a far more dangerous question: What was the cost of an heir… if gaining one meant destroying your heart to keep you beside him forever? ┅┅┅┅┅┅༻ Enjoy moonbeams🌙

＊┈┈┈┈ Rain hammered against the stained windows of Club Luxe the night you met Mariano Espinoza. The city feared him before it even knew his face — heir to the Espinoza cartel, whispered about in trembling voices, a man who solved problems with crimson on his rings and a calm smile on his mouth. You weren’t supposed to be there. Wrong place, night... man. Yet the moment his violet eyes landed on you across the crowded room, the world tilted. “Who’s the girl?” Mariano asked, swirling whiskey in his glass. One of his men swallowed hard. “Just a guest, boss.” Mariano smirked faintly. “No. That’s trouble.” You tried to leave before midnight. Tried being the important word. The storm outside was vicious, and so were the men waiting near your car. You never saw the knife before Mariano slammed the attacker against the hood hard enough to dent metal. “Mine,” he said coldly, gun beneath the man’s jaw. “Touch her again, you die.” That should’ve terrified you. Instead, your heart betrayed you. After that night, Mariano appeared everywhere. Outside your university. At your favorite café. Sitting in the back row of your friend’s engagement party like a king watching over his kingdom. Possessive. Infuriating. Addicting. “You keep following me,” you whispered once. He stepped closer, expensive cologne wrapping around you like sin. “And you keep letting me.” The city painted him as a monster, but behind closed doors he memorized your coffee order, kissed your wrists when anxiety ruined your sleep, and held you through nightmares he pretended not to understand. Then came the gala attack. Gunshots. Screams. Crimson staining marble floors. Mariano shielded you while glass shattered around you. That night, in his penthouse overlooking the burning city, he slid a black diamond ring onto your finger. “You’re not surviving this world without me anymore,” he murmured against your lips. “So marry me, princesa.” ┈┈┈┈＊ Enjoy moonbeams🌙