tashy

live by the sun, love by the moon

[moonlilith]

tashy, she/her, twenties, @tashlilith

inconsistent (im lazy im sorry), hopefull i’ll be posting more!

writing masterlist

↬ Haikyuu

↬ Genshin Impact

↬ Adrian Tepes (Alucard) / Lunar Tears

↬ Adrian Tepes (Alucard) / Reverie

↬ Marius von Hagen

[arwen-u]

the world is not ready for the things I would say and do for them 🥵

me:

[makeitworse]

𝓫onamana

where you and jeonghan find out you’ve been unknowingly sharing the same guy, and get back at him by fucking each other.

❥ pairing: seungcheol x f!reader x jeonghan ❥ words: 4.9k ❥ warnings: everyone is bisexual, brief petty fighting over a man, pure smut: masturbation, unprotected sex, mouth & hand stuff, multiple orgasms, cum eating, mouth spitting, a smidge of ass play, cucking. 18+ mdni.

❥ notes: man, is this filthy. i did not read this shit over. only took a month and a few rewrites but we got here!!

you: [1 attachment] 

you smile at the thumbnail while waiting for it to be sent through to yourself: cheollie’s pretty face stuffed between your thighs. 

just something to keep you company the next time work demands his attention for days on end. finding a new fuck buddy has been out of the question since the first time you met seungcheol at the clubs and promptly took him home — or rather, the first time you hooked up with someone who wasn’t him and realised sex isn’t all that when he’s not the one you’re doing it with. 

once it shows up as Delivered to your end, you shut off his phone and discard it somewhere in the sheets. you roll over and nuzzle into his back, nodding off to the soft snores of the man who just spent the last few hours fucking the living daylights out of you. 

until a ding from his phone cuts through your shallow doze. then another. you blink, confused and increasingly panicked at the timing of the notification. 

…didn’t you send the video to yourself??

you didn’t exactly check the name before sending it, but you didn’t have to. it should be you at the top of seungcheol’s contacts. you’re the last person he messaged after all, since he invited you to a trip to pound town and was pretty occupied with that until knocking out in your bed. 

another ding has you fumbling around the blanket for seungcheol’s phone. you hold it to your face, squinting through the light to read the name on his notification screen. 

‘hannie’? 

you don’t waste another moment in punching in his passcode and opening the chat up with a sinking stomach. whoever this illustrious hannie is, she was on the receiving end of your sex tape, not yourself. 

hannie: ?????? hannie: Cheollie?? 

your stomach flips at the nickname. he told you to call him that too. said it was special, just between you two; only lets girls call him that when he… 

you: this is cheol’s girlfriend. who the fuck is this? 

okay, so you may have just blatantly lied. but you’re not above being possessive, let alone petty.

seungcheol’s quite literally the best dick you’ve ever had — even if you’re too emotionally unavailable to slap a label on it that would make him yours alone — so you’re just a little curious about the competition, especially when up until now you weren’t aware there was any.

you quit seeking out anyone else since the dawn of your little agreement with seungcheol, and you just assumed he was doing the same… considering you let him fuck you raw. 

hannie: ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ hannie: No offence babes, but if you really think you’ve got Cheollie locked down, you’re delusional~

you’re shaking with adrenaline all over at this point. you actually can’t believe the audacity on this woman. you scroll back up to the sex tape and hold on it until the little options bubble pops up. if she thinks she’s funny, you’re about to start acting fucking hilarious.

you: [forwarded an attachment] you: if that’s your man then why was he eating this pussy? 🤣

hannie: well fuck hannie: I’m hard

in the split second your mind blanks from disbelief, your thumb flies to the call button in the corner of the screen as you slip out of bed. it barely rings once before hannie picks up. 

“god, you’re forward.” she — or rather, he — says in a low, raspy chuckle. 

your jaw actually drops a little. if you weren’t so pissed off you’d probably find…his… voice attractive. 

“you’re a dude?!?” you whisper-yell, padding into the bathroom and locking the door behind you. 

“yes.”

“your name’s hannie.” 

“it’s short for jeonghan.”

“okay jeonghan,” you seethe with as much malice in your tone as you can manage. “who the fuck are you?”

“i think you owe me the answer to that first, sweetheart. considering you came on to me.” 

“fuck off.” you snap, and he whistles lowly in response. you frown. “are you fucking him?” 

“i have been.” you can just hear the smirk in his tone. 

just like in the movies, your back slides down the bathroom wall until you’re sat on the cold tile. this shitshow is just the gift that keeps on giving. not only is your all-time favourite fuck buddy seeing other bitches, but said bitch is a whole ass man, who’s sassier than you are. 

“i didn’t know cheollie swung that way.” you mutter. 

“i didn’t know he swung your way either. guess our boyfriend was playing us both, hm?”

you scoff, offended that he’d even lump you in with him like you’re some sort of team. “he is not my boyfriend. how long have you been seeing him??” 

“since april.” the same as you. fuck. “he’s not mine either. but does it even matter who was taking him up the ass first? we’ve both been led on, sweetheart.” 

“shut up.” you grit. you could’ve gone your entire life without having to hear you were unknowingly sharing a dick with this cocky ass twink. “and for your information, i never took him.” 

“oh wow.” jeonghan sighs, though it sounds too much like a whine. “is this why cheollie’s always so rough with me? because he…hah…cops it from you?” 

you blink, turning your volume to the max and listening to the unmistakable noises coming from the other end: the shuffling of fabric, barely concealing the slick sounds beneath it. 

“are you seriously fucking jerking off?” 

jeonghan huffs, and you can just hear the way he smirks through the phone. “can you blame me? you sent me a video of my man eating a pretty fucking pussy.” 

“oh my god.” you can only say in disbelief. 

the noises come to a halt, as you can imagine jeonghan’s hand did. against your will, your mind conjures up an image of the way he must be gripping himself right now: cock twitching in his fist, begging for any friction, but refusing to move until your voice is at his ear again. 

until you tell him it’s okay. 

he audibly gulps. “…is that too much?” 

you stare at the tiles of the bathroom floor. the room around you goes blurry as you focus on nothing but his shaky puffs of air on the other end.

you don’t know how it’s come to this. but fuck if you’re not gonna channel all this adrenaline somewhere. 

for a moment, the only response from your end is something shuffling. jeonghan only realises what’s happening when you spit, and he smirks since he knows it must be on your own fingers. 

“i didn’t say stop, did i?” you tell him in a whisper, breath hitching when your fingers swirl over your clit. 

jeonghan moans through a laugh, and you throb under your fingers at the noise. 

“oh, i’ll do whatever you want.” he drawls. 

most people would be devastated if they were in your position: realising that the only dick you’ve been letting cum inside of you, was also getting sticked into holes that didn’t belong to you. and you were devastated over the revelation for all of like a few minutes before just… having phone sex with owner of said holes?

after you came on your fingers to the sound of jeonghan doing much the same on his end, then sat in a puddle of your arousal and regret as you caught your breath, jeonghan’s mellow tone was enough to still your scattered thoughts. 

“don’t feel bad, pretty.” he cooed to you, reading the silence exactly for what it was. “he hid us from each other. looks like this was why, huh?” 

in fact, it was. 

you stayed up all night texting jeonghan from your own phone once you slid back into bed like nothing happened. after one hell of a first impression, it surprised you how well you and jeonghan got on as you properly got to know each other. how often you giggled at his jokes, how attracted you were to him in the selfie he sent where you nearly mistook him for a girl again. 

how you pressed your thighs together when his words turned filthier in response to the selfie you sent back.

you were almost disappointed when seungcheol woke you up the following morning by pressing his morning wood against your ass. it was the fact that you couldn’t invite jeonghan over to see if he’s just as good as through the phone, and all you had was this lying, fat cock throbbing bitchass... 

“where’s this coming from?” seungcheol chuckles as you straddle him, pissed off at him and pent up by jeonghan; grinding your clothed heat right down onto his in chase of friction. 

“just you, cheollie.” you smile lopsided at him, mind elsewhere. 

you think back to memory of jeonghan fucking his fist to the sound of your voice, how wrecked and pretty his moans were. thinking back to the nudes he sent you when the conversation steered to just sexting, how his cock was weeping around his fingers and onto his toned stomach. 

as you rode seungcheol, you did so selfishly. you kept your eyes screwed shut as you rocked on him, uncaring for the movement he needs to get off, your thoughts consumed entirely with the guy he’s been seeing behind your back. the guy you fully intend to start seeing behind his back.

you imagine it’s jeonghan’s slender cock fucking right into your g-spot right now instead of cheol’s girthier length. you imagine it’s jeonghan’s soft moans beneath you instead of cheol’s rough grunts. you imagine it’s jeonghan’s lithe fingers coming to rub at your clit instead of cheol’s thick ones. 

you almost called out the wrong name as your orgasm seized you. 

luckily you didn’t, or else seungcheol would’ve refused to leave your place; especially since you were basically pushing him out the door while he was still in post-nut clarity.

after your place was free of one man, you took your pretty ass to the shower, freshened up, and texted the other man your address.

jeonghan fucked you so good and so thoroughly you damn nearly texted seungcheol and thanked him. 

most people in your position would probably be giving you nasty side eye for it. now, you’re only devastated over seungcheol hiding him purely because you’ve been missing out. 

and well, jeonghan fully intends to make up for lost time. 

you were both on the same page about this being your shared little secret from seungcheol, his own personal karma. but you didn’t intend to stop seeing him, no — that’s where half the fun came from.

jeonghan fit into your days so easily as if the spot was there waiting for him. you texted and called him just as much as seungcheol. whenever your man couldn’t come around, you’d be calling your other man right over. 

you started filming sex tapes with seungcheol for the sole purpose of watching them back with jeonghan. you’d reenact them with him as they played in the background: sometimes he’d be seungcheol and press you into the mattress as he fucked you, sometimes you’d be seungcheol and you’d ride him until he was a shaking mess. 

whenever seungcheol preferred one of you over the other for the week — one being told that he was busy and would make it up next week, the other being fucked into oblivion by him — you always made sure no one else was left out. you traded photos of the messy state he’d leave you in, retold the sex in detail over call as the other got off to your voice: jeonghan jerking off to you telling how seungcheol bent you over a desk, you fingering yourself to jeonghan telling how he deepthroated seungcheol. 

you always have jeonghan over after him. never before. seungcheol’d smell his other lover on you in an instant, and god forbid choi seungcheol feel left out. 

some days it feels like you’re just fucking seungcheol so that you can get a round two with jeonghan once he’s gone. and you’d feel bad, if only seungcheol didn’t try to gatekeep jeonghan first — in an effort to protect his own fears of being the one left out, of course. 

how ironic.

“where he goes low,” jeonghan had cooed to you once, rubbing the aches out from your back in the post-sex haze. “we go lower.”

and you’ve been living by that.

as per usual, jeonghan gets to your place so quickly after seungcheol’s left that you’re worried their cars may have passed by each other. 

he can’t help it. jeonghan’s favourite thing ever is tasting his man while he’s fucking his girl. once you texted him that you let seungcheol fuck you raw, he didn’t even reply. rather, you got the life360 notification that he’d left his house to know that he was instantly on his way over after reading that, forgetting to let you know in text. 

and, lucky for you both, seungcheol left behind his hoodie. 

after jeonghan lets himself in, he finds you laying on your bed in nothing but just that — the smell of sweat and sex and seungcheol still heady in the air. 

you smile at your man, spreading your legs and showing where you’re cupping your hand over your pussy to keep your other man’s cum from leaking out. 

“oh, baby, you’re too good to me.” jeonghan praises in a broken voice, mindlessly throwing his keys somewhere across the room as he dives onto the mattress, sights honed in on what you’ve got for him between your legs. 

you cry out when his mouth latches onto your pussy as if by a magnetic pull. your hands tangle in his hair, trying your best to not just rip the strands out — still sensitive from how seungcheol left you. 

you hadn’t even gotten off, in fact. you’d insisted to him that you wanted to be edged, with the promise that next time he could make you cum til you fainted. and well, you still intend to make good on that promise — but it’s also because jeonghan’s greedy ass isn’t satisfied unless he’s pulled at least two orgasms out of you and some days you nearly can’t take it. call it suffering from success. 

now with the treat you’ve left for him between your thighs, you’re sure you’ll be in for him rewarding you with a handful of orgasms. 

he’s so lost in the sauce that he doesn’t even realise he had his eyes shut until he’s missing the sight of your face. you watch his lashes flutter open, his pretty brown eyes flicking up to your face: lips curling in a satisfied smile as he licks a hard stripe from your hole to clit. 

his chin and cheeks glisten with the messy mixture of fluids. he keeps bobbing his head like that, applying pressure with his tongue just to see you tremble above him. he’s so in tune with your body at this point that he cocks a brow as a thought clicks in his head. 

he pouts. “aw, baby. did cheollie not make you cum?” 

he blows air out on your clit experimentally, and his eyes shade over with how you shudder at the barest contact. 

you shake your head. “told him not to. wanted it to be you, hannie.” 

for such a sharp tongue, you render jeonghan speechless for a beat. his grin stretches wider across his soaked face, and he’s looking at you like he could grant you the whole world if you only asked. 

“you can’t be saying shit like that, sweetheart.” he sighs, plunging two lithe fingers into your core and delighting in the way you sob a moan. “if you ever want me to get rid of me..”

“not happening.” you grit out, throwing your head back when he starts to pump his fingers slowly. 

he sucks in a sharp inhale, one of necessity because you’ve got him that breathless. 

“ah. you must really like me.” he curls his fingers until he hits that spongey spot, tutting at how your thighs clamp around his head in kind. “lucky me, ‘cause i am crazy about you.” 

jeonghan reattaches his mouth to your pussy, lips closing around your clit to suck on the bundle of nerves. you’re sure he must feel how you’re throbbing under his tongue and around his fingers. cheol left you teetering off the edge, so you knew you’d be a goner when jeonghan got here so soon afterwards. 

his fingers relentlessly curl inside of you, his mouth switching between kitten licks and suctioning on your clit until you’re shouting out something that might be his name — orgasm completely taking over your body. 

you think you die a little with how hard and fast it slammed into you. jeonghan’s diligent to lick and fuck you through it, so you’re not sure how long it is before you come down, chest fighting to catch breath and throat sore from the exertion. 

you weakly tilt your chin down at jeonghan, who’s leaving gentle pecks on your inner thigh as he waits for you. his eyes catch on yours and he smirks, no doubt plotting something behind that beautiful face. 

jeonghan inches his fingers out, and you wince as his knuckles drag deliberately against your walls. his fingers are completely drenched: his saliva, your cum, and some of seungcheol’s too. 

he licks his lips at the sight but restrains himself, instead bringing his hand to your mouth. 

you don’t waste a second in closing your lips around his fingers, ravenous as the sharp tang lights up your palate. you can recognise each of your separate tastes and you mewl, taking jeonghan’s fingers until they tap the back of your throat. he cusses lowly before he retracts his hand. 

when your gazes meet again, you see your reflection with how wide jeonghan’s pupils were dilated. 

you grab jeonghan by the scruff of his hair and pull him up your body until his face is just short of yours. you tilt it back with a tug, his neck exposed and bobbing with a gulp. 

your face hovers over his and he opens his mouth expectantly, lips stretched in a helpless smile as he presents his tongue. 

you spit straight onto it, watching how his pupils eclipse even more of his irises in pure delight. 

he moans as he swallows the mess of fluids down — the taste of you, cheol and himself sliding down his throat.

you don’t wait another moment before mashing your lips together, kissing him with more tongue and teeth than anything. 

your free hand fumbles for his lap, palming over the prominent bulge in his shorts. you can tell he’s not wearing boxers (they’d be useless) when his length twitches at your touch, the fabric already soaked with precum. 

“fuck,” jeonghan gasps, chuckling into the kiss. “i might cum.” 

he plunges his fingers right back into your pussy, scissoring you open as he feels for cheol’s cum still pooled deep in your core. he doesn’t want to waste a single drop — he fully intends to fuck it right back into you, feeling both his man and his girl’s cum around his cock. just the thought has his moaning again. 

“can you imagine— hah— how fucking mad he’d be?” he rasps out, hips bucking into the delicious friction your palm offers. 

“oh, god—“ you giggle. “how d’you think he’d react?”

“probably break it off with us both, the big jealous baby.” he huffs out a laugh, wincing when your pussy clamps around his fingers. “but it’s alright, sweetheart, i’d be lucky to just have you.” 

the concept is almost inconceivable at this point: only having jeonghan. you’ve gotten so used to having two men to choose from depending on your mood. to being fucked twice in a day by two different cocks. 

you know that sooner or later it’ll come out. you’ve gotten reckless lately: blatantly texting jeonghan in front of cheol, not even pretending to be bummed when he says he can’t come see you. hell, there was one time where you and jeonghan were mysteriously busy — fucking each other to the tune of your phones ringing as cheol took turns calling you both. 

in fact, it’s made it even more exhilarating. knowing you’ve both got this over him, knowing how much he’d hate it and how it’s his own fault. it’s too bad he didn’t lock either of you down while he had the chance — they’d call him king arthur if he was able to seperate you and jeonghan now. 

about to die from the impatience, you tug jeonghan’s sweatpants down enough for his cock to spring free. he hisses when you wrap a tight fist around him, adding a third finger into your pussy in response. 

“ah, ah— gonna need to fuck you like now.” jeonghan says shakily, pulsing violently in the circle of your hand. “i’m close to making a fool of myself.” 

you nod, laying back into your pillows for him.

“you gotta be fucking…” 

the sound of seungcheol’s low voice through the wall has you leaping out of your skin, but jeonghan simply keeps you laid on your back with a hand pressed onto your tummy. 

your door swings open to reveal your other lover, standing in the frame with smoke pouring from his ears. 

jeonghan isn’t the least bit startled. doesn’t halt his fingers either; just draws out the pumps, leaving you trembling as you stare at seungcheol with guilty, teary eyes. 

“ah, cheollie, it’s about time.” jeonghan drawls. 

you stifle a moan when jeonghan curls a single finger to hit your g-spot, just to be mean. “what are you..?” 

“i came to get my hoodie.” seungcheol’s frown deepens as he takes in your naked form under said hoodie, eyes honing in on where your body connects with jeonghan’s fingers. “what the fuck are you doing?!”

“yah, you can’t ask a girl that when you’re the one who broke into her house.” jeonghan says, speeding up his fingers at the other man watching. 

“the door was unlocked.” seungcheol deadpans. 

you shoot a glance at jeonghan, who just shrugs, guilty. (in his rush to get to you, he forgot to lock your front door behind him.)

jeonghan curls his fingers again, and this time you can’t help the moan that leaves you. seungcheol steps into the room, successfully provoked. 

“fucking— just—” he rambles, looking like he’s two seconds from prying jeonghan’s hand out of you. “what the fuck is this?”

jeonghan shrugs with that same shit-eating grin. knowing he won’t get a serious answer out of him, seungcheol addresses you by name. “why—how do you know him?” 

“you tell me.” you snap back, wriggling your hips lower to give jeonghan even better access in spite. “why don’t you introduce us?” 

“wouldn’t that be nice.” jeonghan coos to you. “i think he’s too scared we’ll fuck each other though.” 

“god, you two really are alike, aren’t you..” seungcheol sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“oh, so he has a type.” jeonghan says. “your greed sickens me. but i get it, i’m no better. not since i got a taste of her too.” 

at that, jeonghan pulls his fingers out, only to wrap them around his cock and line himself up with your pussy — eyes never leaving seungcheol. 

your other lover walks further into the room until he stops just short of the foot of the bed. he runs a hand through his hair like you’re both stressing him the fuck out (you are), completely helpless to just witnessing this. 

“wait. jeonghan, don’t.” seungcheol’s usual commanding tone is lost on him, the words instead delivered as a weak plea. 

jeonghan hums, unconvinced as he swirls his tip at your hole. 

“please don’t,” seungcheol's close to begging. it's almost like he’s in a trance as he drops to the floor on his knees, unable to rip his eyes away from jeonghan’s tip nearly breaching into your wet warmth. “jeonghan.”

through half-lidded eyes you glance at seungcheol kneeling before you, his hand creeping towards the very evident tent in his grey sweats. 

“please what?” jeonghan teases, pre leaking all over your pussy. 

seungcheol gulps down the size of a boulder.

“please don’t stop.” 

per his request, he doesn’t. with one snap of his hips jeonghan pushes into you, and all three of you moan as he fills you up. 

you pulse around him once he bottoms out, and jeonghan shudders as the mixture of cum all up in your pussy gushes around his cock. 

“shit, baby. let’s hope i can last in front of cheollie,” jeonghan snickers in a low voice meant just for your ears. he throws a look over his shoulder at your other lover. “if you can hold back on cumming, i’ll let you join.” 

the older man mumbles something under his breath (can’t be anything nice), but he listens anyways — gripping both of his thighs while trying to ignore the painful pulsing between them. if he touches himself at all while watching you both, he’s going to fail. 

he resolves to biting his tongue as jeonghan starts to fuck you properly, in hopes he might draw blood to distract from how his boner’s screaming at him for some god damn relief. 

the room sounds like a literal porn set: wet slapping and squelching, neither you and jeonghan holding back on your moans with full intents of pissing seungcheol off. 

you could almost forget he’s even there when jeonghan starts slamming into you, your body shuffling up the bed from the force. he cants your hips up so he can angle his thrusts just right into your g-spot, and you all but sob when a thumb comes to circle your clit. 

“just one more f’me,” jeonghan pants out, and almost like on command your pussy starts spasming around him. “yeah, that’s it, that’s my good baby.” 

seungcheol’s cock is so stiff he think he might just die. where your orgasm ends, jeonghan’s starts — but he doesn’t stop rubbing at your clit, pushing you into overstimulation just because he wants to feel you completely wring him dry. 

both of your moans as jeonghan shoots his load inside of you is the sexiest and most torturous sound seungcheol’s ever heard. he’s almost bitten his tongue in half by the time jeonghan’s pulling out, quick to cup his hand over your pussy to make sure nothing seeps out. 

jeonghan gives seungheol a once over to ensure there’s no cum stain on his sweats before cocking his head in your direction, beckoning the other man over. “want a taste?” 

seungcheol’s on his feet and at the bed within seconds. he doesn’t waste another moment in latching his mouth to your pussy, the mess of mixed cum gushing onto his tongue. your back’s arching from the sensitivity, but it’s futile trying to writhe away from seungcheol when he’s eating you out like a man on the brink of starvation.

jeonghan keeps your legs open with one hand pressing your thigh to the bed, the other hand planted in seungcheol’s hair — praising and directing him as he holds his head down. your head is spinning from the overstimulation. the promise you made to cheol be damned, you think you’re going to faint now if he pulls another orgasm out of you. 

jeonghan must see it: the glazed, faraway look in your eyes, how you’ve gone almost dumb with the pleasure. 

high off the surge in pride, he takes his hand from your thigh and kneads seungcheol’s ass. it’s all the warning he gets before a thumb prods at his hole. 

seungcheol’s response is muffled when jeonghan shoves his face even further into your pussy. he doesn’t push in, just circles the rim with enough pressure to make cheol shiver. 

jeonghan’s other hand then reaches down into seungcheol’s sweats and grips his weeping cook. as out of it as you are, your hand replaces his to tug at seungcheol’s hair — keeping him in place as you hump at his mouth, basically riding his face to reach one last orgasm. 

jeonghan has no mercy as he jerks seungcheol off: fist closed so tight to the point it must be painful, moving so fast he can’t feel his arm. 

your nth orgasm hits first: ripping through your body and soaking seungcheol’s face, the taste of all of your cum coating his tongue. a mere few strokes later and seungcheol’s orgasms follows with a pitiful sob into your pussy. 

he shoots ropes across your sheets before collapsing into them, head lolled across your bare thigh. 

jeonghan pats his ass with a satisfied hum. “well damn. if you wanted to cuck, cheollie, you could’ve just asked.” 

he rolls his eyes. “fuck doing that again. you know i hate being left out.” 

“doesn’t feel good, does it?” you remind him, fingers threading through his sweaty hair. 

seungcheol grumbles. “so you found out about each other and now you fuck, is that right?” you both nod at him, and he sulks. “this is exactly why i didn’t say anything!” 

jeonghan tuts. “you better get used to sharing, cheollie.”

library ✦ taglist ✦ inbox

@ttturnitup @jhthings @seungttttop @fweakygyatt @lunaryoongie @carat03 @choco-scoups @k4trinabluu @dkstar @slut4kwon @pochaccoups @nononbon @lasflower @7starlight5 @snowi14 @dianasoliss12 @orbitinghao @wvercho @aokza @aeriyell @outmylane @cherrykeyla06 @dpspolaroid @yourmarkgeolli @meow-1227 @ashleytjw @cheollieehaee @nightowl2000 @koochillando @mjmqz0103 @redemptions @rnbwsanworld @chansgf @beomgyusgrapes @jaegerlisa1 @chaosintral @chuckychangmin @zozojella @sugaringcandy333 @sternhwa @bumbleteas @defnedlcr @haomywife @mermaidlbarbie @markered-uwu @nnathhyeeonsgf @ysmx1na @strawberrycheesyyy 

[chogiwaw]

wonwoo was everything that you asked for a man.

the way he understand you.

the way he support you.

the way he look at you.

the way he communicate with you.

he was perfect and there was nothing you can do.

“let me take your photos.” he said.

you were posing in front of his camera and he complimented you.

he was always complimenting you for every little thing you did.

"now let me take yours." you pulled your phone and took his pic.

the picture of him while holding his favorite nikon camera taking your picture was your favorite. you printed it and put it on your memories photo album.

you were looking your favorite photo of him one last time before you closed the album. you held it so tightly before you closed it and put it on a box full of stuff you don't use anymore. you put the box on your storage and closed the door. as you locked your storage room, you exhaled through your mouth a little bit too loud.

"this is it." you turned away and never look back.

you buried your feelings to the deepest trench on your heart, because you need to move on and giving your best smile to the groom.

"how do i look?" wonwoo asked you.

"perfect, now go marry the love of your life."

well, he was the best thing you can asked for, but maybe you were not the best thing he asked for.

[moonlilith]

i was smiling, being aw until i wasnt

[moonlilith]

The brooding book: 1

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected short fics of adrian tepes x reader based loosely on my unfinished fic lunar tears

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader genre: angst,romance, slow burn timeline: post dracula ; pre-confession words: 867 masterlist: reverie a/n: i always headcanon adrian as someone who journals his thoughts, plus journaling was/is always one of my favourite activities. This journal will mostly be in adrian's pov, but there will be instances where the reader will reply to his entries p.s: she/you/her in colored means reader

Entry One - 1476 “The Brooding Book” as she calls it.

Date Unknown. Time meaningless.

She left this on my nightstand.

A journal. A gift. Bound in deep, soft leather — old, but cared for. I recognized the stitching. She repaired it herself. Likely scavenged it from a ruin, or perhaps the Belmont Hold. I don’t know.

She said, “You have too many thoughts, and not enough places to put them.” She didn’t say it unkindly. She never does.

She called it “The Brooding Book.”

I told her I didn’t brood.

She grinned.

She didn’t believe me.

And I suppose she’s right. This castle is too quiet now. Trevor and Sypha have gone. The echoes don’t fill the halls like they used to. Only she and I remain here — ghosts among ghosts.

I find myself listening for my father’s footsteps still. For the soft rustle of his cloak. For the sound of rage boiling under grief. But all I hear are my own thoughts. Loud. Unyielding.

She told me to write. That it might help.

She said, “If you’re going to spend your days pacing and sighing, you might as well let the pages hear it too. At least they won’t talk back.”

I think she knew the silence was swallowing me.

So, Here I am. Writing. Or… trying to.

How does one start something like this?

“My father is dead.”

That seems as good a beginning as any.

That should be the end of the sentence, shouldn’t it?

But the words echo louder than I expected.

They don’t feel like triumph. They feel like grief. Like a hole I can’t stop staring into.

⸻

He looked at me with madness in his eyes. And then, for a moment — just a moment — there was clarity. Recognition. He knew me. Not as the soldier who stood in his way, but as his son. As his child. That broke me more than any blow he dealt.

But you reached him. Not with blades. Not with fire. With your magic, the moon blessed powers.

With illusions of who he was before grief made him a monster.

She pulled them from my mind — images I didn’t know I had locked away. My mother. My childhood. Laughter. Wine. Snow in the castle courtyard. Her hand on his chest.

He hesitated.

That was all I needed.

The stake drove clean.

He didn’t scream.

He didn’t curse.

He only looked at me.

And I think, in the end… he forgave me.

Or maybe I only hope he did.

And I think, in the end… he forgave me.

Or maybe I only hope he did.

Even now, I don’t know if I feel anger… or pity.

He died not as a monster, but as a broken man in a shattered home, whispering my mother’s name.

I sometimes wonder if the madness took him… or if the pain of losing her was simply too much.

If I hadn’t struck the killing blow, he would’ve withered in his grief anyway.

I suppose that’s why you gave me this journal.

Because I can’t say these things aloud. Not yet.

Not to Trevor. Not even to Sypha.

And maybe not even to you.

⸻

Now the world expects me to move on.

To rebuild.

To lead.

To be fine.

But I don’t know how to be anything but hollow.

I watch her move through the halls, mending windows and helping villages, and I wonder how she isn’t shattered too. Then I remember — she is. She’s just better at hiding it.

She still laughs sometimes. And when she does, I find my shoulders relaxing before I realise it.

When she leaves the castle, I watch from the tower. I always wait for her to look back.

She always does.

Why does that matter so much?

Why does it terrify me when she’s gone too long?

Why does the sound of her voice steady something in my chest I didn’t know needed calming?

She doesn’t ask much. Never pries.

She left this journal and walked away.

But she knew I’d write eventually.

She always knows.

⸻

She has been… steady.

When I needed silence, she sat beside me and offered nothing but her presence.

When the dreams turned to nightmares, she lit candles and whispered protection spells until the darkness retreated.

When I tried to bury my grief in the hollow routines of this castle, she pulled me back to the world — gently. Always gently.

I do not know what I am becoming.

I have no master. No father. No clear purpose beyond restoring what’s left.

But maybe that’s the beginning.

Maybe this is where I choose who I will be — not as Dracula’s son, not as the last heir to bloodshed and legacy —

But as Adrian.

Just Adrian.

And she calls me that, too.

She prefers it.

I think I like the way it sounds in her voice.

Maybe I’ll keep writing.

If only for her.

⸻

I suppose that’s all for now.

I still think this is foolish. But maybe foolishness is what I need.

Thank you, …

Even if I never say it aloud.

– Adrian

(Alucard, if you must. But I think I like the way she says it better.)

[moonlilith]

Lunar Tears, four

𐦍☾

“The moon illuminated the area with its faint light, a quiet testament to their entwined fates. With a secret weighing heavily on her, she stood before Alucard, her heart a battleground of want and terror. Torn between love and sorrow that reverberated for eons, she looked into his eyes for clarification and forgiveness. However, the past hovered between them like a ghost, threatening to devour their brittle optimism.”

(Or, in addition to the initial trio, the prophecy has one additional fated hero. You are that hero. A saintess that the Church is pursuing.)

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader // alucard (castlevania) x (f) oc

genre: angst, romance, slow burn,

a/n: i decided to use “you” as more general, but “you” has a woman figure. I tried to make it seem like an alucard x reader as possible. However ,the reader insert has a set personality and powers. to answer any questions; it was meant to be a reader story but personally i hate the usage of y/n. The more i write y/n the more it becomes a name itself.

𐦍  Chapters: check masterlist  ☾  Check AO3

Chapter Four: STAR is born

The road, which was only a vague path, disintegrated in front of you like a dusty ribbon slicing through a patchwork of hills and thick forests. The earthy scent of moist leaves and the unsaid burden of your quest were carried by the air, which was still damp from the rain the night before and stuck to your skin.

The forest floor was dappled with sunlight, which was broken up by the dense canopy above, creating varying patterns of light and shade. The thought of Belmont Hold, a lighthouse in the looming darkness, kept you going as the days melted into a repetitive rhythm of travel, each step a tribute to your willpower.

The steady crunch of your boots on the rough gravel was accompanied by a low, persistent hum of insects. When rain did fall, the silence was just as deep, broken only by the rustle of invisible things in the bushes. Though Alucard's unwavering watchfulness provided some solace, you still felt a twinge of anxiety and like you were being observed.

Trevor let out a groan, his shoulders slumping as though he were bearing the weight of the entire world. He laughed, his voice tinged with fatigue, "I swear I'm going to start talking to rocks if I don't sleep in a real bed soon, and requesting directions from them."

Sypha scoffed, her lips tingled with enjoyment. "When we first met, you were almost halfway there. Muttering about the best way to get drunk in front of a graveyard."

"Quarterway," remarked Trevor, with a hint of humorous indignation. "Thank you very much, and I would like to maintain it that way. Plus, the rocks at least have some dignity and lack insult.”

Sharp and predatory, Alucard's golden eyes swept the surrounding woods with practiced ease, concentrating on the shadows that seemed to grow darker by the second. In a subtle display of his constant skepticism, his lips formed a tiny sneer. “If you complain about your back one more time, I’ll personally ensure you never feel it again.”

“Oh-ho, did the vampire just threaten me?” Trevor smirked. “What happened to the noble, aloof, too-good-for-this nonsense?”

“It’s remarkable how you inspire violence in people, Belmont.”

You suppressed a laugh as you pushed a flyaway hair out of your face, the wet strands sticking to your cheek. During your journey, their arguments—once a source of tension—had transformed into a familiar, somewhat comforting melody, a peculiar solace in the loneliness.

The scenery suddenly changed as you turned a corner. The trees dwindled, exposing a column of black smoke rising in the distance instead of the road's anticipated continuance. Through the silence of the forest, you heard a faint, discordant chorus of screams and the harsh clang of metal.

You broke into a run, and the others followed closely after. The woodland floor became covered with broken branches and overturned wagons, indicating a frenzied flight. As you pushed past the final few trees, a scene of anarchy emerged in front of you. 

A little settlement, lying in a shallow valley, was under attack. Flickering candles highlighted strange beings, their shapes changing and contorting as they ripped through the thatched roofs and attacked the fleeing residents. The air was heavy with the stink of smoke and anxiety.

"Night creatures," Trevor muttered, pulling out his whip. "And a lot of them."

Villagers, their faces etched with fear, urgently attempted to defend themselves with agricultural implements and homemade weapons, but they were hopelessly outmatched. The beasts, their eyes gleaming with malignant desire, surged through the settlement, their claws and teeth ripping through the residents' defences.

You saw a beast, its form a twisted combination of muscle and shadow, dragging the woman to the outskirts of the hamlet while her scream pierced the air.

It had been a short but heated debate. The urgency of their objective clashed with the frantic shouts coming from the people below, and the air crackled with unsaid tension.

"We don't have time for this," Alucard muttered in a low, clipped voice as he crossed his arms and looked down at the burning community. His golden eyes reflected the orange brightness of the flames, but they remained cold and calculating. "We aren't getting closer to the Hold every second we waste here. Dracula's armies get more powerful every second.”

His reasoning was crisp and uncompromising, and he was focused rather than heartless. Every cry from the village served as a diversion, a departure from the course he believed to be necessary.

Sypha had raised the first objection, her voice full of a calm determination. "This cannot be ignored. These people are being butchered, and they are afraid. We can assist.” Normally filled with wonder and inquiry, her eyes were suddenly shaded with intense empathy. The villagers' dread and their frank and urgent cry for survival struck a chord with her sense of justice. Not merely a nuisance to be avoided, she saw the faces of the fearful.

The grudging hero Trevor let out a sigh that was heavy with the weight of innumerable struggles and hard-earned skepticism. "As much as I hate to admit it, we need food and a nice bed. Furthermore, I don't think we'll find a more hospitable setting than the one we could save." He used a dry sense of humor in his speech to cover up the fatigue that was eating away at him. However, there was a glimmer of something more beneath the sarcasm: a grudging sense of accountability. Even if he acted otherwise, he had witnessed too much misery to just go. In his heart, he knew he couldn't abandon them to perish.

You watched the scene warily, your eyes darting from the far-off flames to Alucard's tight position. You felt the burden of your role as a saintess pressing down on you. You protected the defenseless and were a ray of hope. You were betraying your fundamental mission if you turned away from sorrow. 

The peasants' cries served as a sharp reminder of your responsibility and caused a physical ache in your chest. You were clearly struggling with yourself. Alucard's pragmatism clashed fiercely with your instinctive need to protect. Your emotions begged for action even though you could see the strategic significance of their mission and the logic of his statements.

You parted your lips to speak, to remind Alucard of the value of human life and their obligation to defend the weak. However, Alucard quickly straightened up, his attitude changing from calculating to tired acceptance before you could say another word.

"Fine," he admitted, growling softly. "We'll assist them. However, we work fast. After getting all the necessary supplies, we leave immediately.” 

With a sneer on his lips, Trevor raised an eyebrow. "All right, all right. Take a look at that. He only back down when The dear Saintess was about to say something. In the end, the vampire has a heart.

Alucard gave him a sour look. "Belmont, don't confuse compassion with weakness. Nothing is changed by this. Our goal is still our top priority.”

A wave of relief washed over you. You hadn't even had to say anything. Maybe Alucard saw the unflinching resolution in your eyes, or maybe he knew you too well. For whatever reason, lives would be saved because he had given in. You gave him a tiny, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Alucard."

There was complete panic in the village. A symphony of death reverberated through the air as night creatures, their eyes blazing with evil desire, swarmed through the winding streets. The villagers gathered close to one another, their bodies shaking in fright and their faces scarred with fear.

It had been a quick but vicious battle. The town had been ripped apart by a herd of night creatures, who had left devastation in their wake. Only a small number of people were still engaged in combat when the group got there.

You were the first to enter the battle, and as you slew the beast, silver light flared around you. As Trevor's whip sliced through blood and bone, Sypha summoned fire and ice with relentless accuracy. And with his blade slicing through the night creatures with ruthless efficiency, Alucard—Alucard was death in motion.

The village was still standing by dusk.

You had expected gratitude. What all of you hadn’t expected was reverence.

When the last monster fell, silence settled over the village.

Then came the cheers.

The villagers spilled from their hiding places, rushing toward them.

"You saved us!" a woman cried, tears streaming down her face. "We thought we were lost!"

A group of children, wide-eyed, tugged at your cloak. "Are you an angel?" one asked in hushed reverence.

Trevor, smirking, nudged her with his elbow. “Yeah, moonbeam. Are you an angel? She’s a real divine presence, a saintess who curses under her breath.”

You shot him a glare. “Oh, shut up. Don’t encourage this.”

The village elder approached, bowing deeply. “You shone through the darkness, all of you. A beacon of light when we had none. You are our star.”

“You came like a falling star,” one of the elders murmured, his old hands clasped together. His eyes, clouded by age, gleamed with something like awe. “A light in the darkness.”

The villagers had begun calling all of you the STAR. The ones who appeared when all seemed lost. The ones who shone in the night. "You are the STAR that shines in our darkness. May your light guide us through the night." The villages murmured in agreement, urging you guys to rest for the night.

Alucard exchanged a glance with Trevor. He could practically hear the gears turning in the hunter's head, the internal struggle between politeness and blunt honesty. He felt a slight grimace tug at the corner of his lips. STAR? It sounded… well, a bit corny.

Trevor cleared his throat. "That's… very kind of you," he said, the forced enthusiasm evident in his voice. He subtly nudged Sypha with his elbow. "STAR? That’s what we’re going with?" He ran a hand down his face. "Gods above, I need a drink." He whispered loud enough that only the four of them could heard it.

Sypha, ever the diplomat, smiled warmly at the villagers. "It's a beautiful sentiment," she said, her voice smooth. "Thank you." She shot a quick, pointed look at Alucard and Trevor, a silent warning to behave themselves.

Trevor scoffed at the name, muttering something about dramatic peasants, a hint of discomfort in his eyes, his cheeks flushing slightly. He shifted his weight, glancing at Alucard, his expression a mix of embarrassment and amusement. 

Sypha smiled warmly, her eyes filled with compassion, a gentle glow radiating from her. Sypha, of course, found it endearing.

But you—you couldn’t shake the weight of it.

Because you knew stars burned out.

And you were already flickering.

You stayed for two nights.

You had spent most of your time healing the wounded, though you tried to conceal just how much it took from you. You were careful—never using more than necessary, always keeping the strain from showing.

Alucard had noticed anyway.

Later on the second night, he had found you sitting alone near the village outskirts, the moon casting silver light over your weary form.

“You should rest.”

You didn’t look at him, instead watching the lantern-lit village below. “They call us the Star.”

Alucard hummed, taking a seat beside you. “You dislike it.”

“I don’t dislike it.” You exhaled. “But I know what happens to stars.”

Alucard was quiet for a moment. Then, with uncharacteristic gentleness, he said, “Not all of them fall.”

You turned to him then, searching his face for something—assurance, belief, something to hold onto.

And you found it.

You smiled, just slightly. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep burning.”

Alucard held your gaze. “Not alone.”

And beneath the watchful moon, the Star flickered on.

The village was quiet now, the fires extinguished, the dead buried. The people were safe—for now—and for the first time in what felt like weeks, the group could afford to rest.

Trevor, however, had different ideas.

“If we’re staying the night, we might as well celebrate,” he declared, dropping heavily onto a bench outside the small tavern. “And that means drinking.”

Sypha rolled her eyes but took a seat beside him. “We saved a village, not a kingdom.”

Trevor grinned. “Exactly! Which means we still have enough sense left to enjoy it.” He glanced at you, who was sitting awkwardly beside Alucard, your fingers absently tracing patterns in the dirt, exhaled, ready to retreat into your thoughts.

“Oh, no you don’t” Trevor’s voice cut through your brooding like a whip crack. You startled as he marched over and grabbed you by the wrist. 

“Trevor---”

“Nope! Not happening. I’ve seen that look before. You’re about to mope yourself into a spiral, and I refuse to let that happen. We already have enough brooding from the Brooding Prince.” He gestured at Alucard. 

Before you could argue, he was already dragging you toward the village tavern, much to the amusement of Alucard and Sypha, who followed behind. “God, forgive my sin.” 

“Please you’re being so dramatic.” 

“Trevor, I don’t think—”

“Exactly. That’s the point! No thinking, just drinking.” He shoved the door open with unnecessary flair.

The tavern was alive with laughter and celebration, villagers toasting to their survival. Trevor wasted no time securing a table, slamming a tankard of ale in front of you with a grin. “Here. You’re trying this.”

You crossed your arms. “I fail to see the appeal of burning my throat for the sake of ‘celebration.’”

“That’s because you haven’t actually drunk before.” Trevor shoved a wooden tankard into your hands. “Beer is different. Less pretentious. Less likely to make you whine about flavor.”

You peered into the tankard as if it contained poison. “It smells terrible.”

“It is terrible,” Alucard deadpanned.

Trevor shot him a glare. “Don’t listen to him. He’s too good for ‘peasant drinks.’”

“I have taste.”

“You have a stick up your ass.”

Sypha snorted, taking a sip of her own drink.

You sighed. “And what, exactly, do I get out of this?”

“The experience,” Trevor said smugly. “You claim to be adventurous, don’t you? Or are you scared?”

Your eyes narrowed.

Sypha smirked. “Oh, now you’ve done it.”

With a huff, you lifted the tankard to your lips and took a sip.

And nearly choked.

“Ugh!” You coughed, shoving the tankard back into Trevor’s hands. “That is disgusting!”

Trevor was laughing so hard he nearly fell off the bench.

Sypha clapped her hands together. “Oh, that was priceless.”

Alucard merely smirked. “I did warn you.”

You wiped at your mouth, scowling. “How do people enjoy this?”

Trevor, still chuckling, took a deep drink from his own mug. “Because, princess, after a few more, you stop tasting it.”

You glared at him. “I am never drinking again.”

“Oh, you will,” Sypha said with a grin. “Just wait until the next festival.”

You groaned.

Alucard, ever the amused observer, merely wrapped an arm around your shoulder and whispered, “I’ll make sure you survive it.”

You leaned into him with a sigh. “I hate you all.”

Trevor raised his drink. “To The Saintess’s first drink!”

And much to your dismay, the entire tavern cheered.

Sypha patted your back encouragingly. “You get used to it!”

Alucard smirked behind his wine glass. “Or you don’t.”

Trevor leaned in with a wicked grin. “You will.” He raised his own drink. “Round two.”

You groaned but took another sip.

By the third, your face scrunched up less. By the fourth, you were warming to it. By the fifth, you were giggling.

Trevor grinned. “See? I told you it grows on you!”

Sypha was giggling along with you, already a few drinks in. Even Alucard looked more relaxed, watching them with quiet amusement.

You shook her head, still laughing. “You dragged me here just for this?”

Trevor smirked, raising his tankard in a toast. “To not brooding.”

You rolled your eyes but clinked your drink against his. “Fine. To not brooding.”

As the night wore on, laughter filled the tavern, and for a while, you were just four people sharing drinks, stories, and terrible jokes.

And Trevor, in his own way, had won.

[moonlilith]

flirting or fighting

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected short fics of adrian tepes x reader based loosely on my unfinished fic lunar tears

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader genre: angst, romance, slow burn timeline: castlevania s2 words: 666 masterlist: reverie

↬ "She’s going to drive him to an early grave." in which trevor is so done with you and alucard while sypha enjoys it

Trevor: “Are they fighting or flirting?”

Sypha: “Yes.”

Trevor squinted at Adrian and you, who were standing far too close for comfort, voices low but sharp.

Adrian’s arms were crossed, golden eyes narrowed. You stood toe-to-toe with him, chin tilted up in defiance, the firelight catching the glint of amusement in your gaze.

"That’s not what I said." Adrian’s voice was clipped, his frustration barely contained.

"No, but it’s what you meant." Your lips curled in something like a smirk, though your tone was as sharp as a blade.

Adrian scoffed, stepping closer. "You twist my words to suit yourself."

You didn’t back down. "I don’t need to twist them. You give me plenty to work with."

Trevor raised a hand. "Okay, so they’re fighting."

Sypha took another bite of her bread. "Wait for it."

Adrian exhaled through his nose, tilting his head in a way that was almost—almost—fond. "You’re insufferable."

You, instead of looking offended, grinned. "And yet, here you are, still talking to me."

Trevor blinked. "...Oh."

Sypha smirked. "Told you."

It started, as most things did between you, over something stupid.

The rain had finally stopped, leaving the ground damp and the air thick with the scent of wet earth. Their small camp was quiet, save for the crackling fire and the occasional rustle of wind through the trees. Trevor was sharpening his sword, Sypha was sipping tea, and Adrian and you—

Well.

Adrian and you were at it again.

"You’re being reckless." Adrian’s voice was calm, too calm, which meant he was trying very hard not to lose his patience.

You, arms crossed, didn’t so much as flinch. "And you’re being overbearing."

Trevor let out a long, pained sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Oh, for the love of—are they fighting or flirting?"

Sypha, completely unbothered, took another sip of tea. "Yes."

Trevor frowned. "That’s not an answer."

"It is, actually." Sypha gestured toward the scene before them, where Adrian and you were locked in a stare-down, standing far too close for it to be just an argument.

"You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger like this," Adrian was saying, his golden eyes sharp, his posture tense.

"And you can’t keep acting like I need protecting," You shot back, your voice smooth but edged with challenge.

Adrian scoffed, running a hand through his damp hair. "That’s because you do."

"Oh? And who made you the sole authority on that?" You arched a brow, tilting your head just slightly, a knowing little smirk playing on your lips.

Trevor let out another groan, throwing his head back. "I CAN’T DO THIS. Sypha, we have to do something before they combust."

Sypha hummed thoughtfully. "No, I think we should let this play out."

"LET THIS PLAY OUT?" Trevor repeated in disbelief. "Are you mad?"

Sypha only shrugged. "Look at them. They’re arguing, but they’re also making very intense eye contact. There’s a lot of lingering tension. Neither of them is backing down." She took another sip. "Classic foreplay."

Trevor choked. "WHAT?! I CAN’T DO THIS. Sypha, it’s like watching two cats pretend they don’t want to cuddle."

"Mmm," Sypha mused, "I give them another month before one of them snaps."

Trevor groaned into his hands. "I hate this."

Meanwhile, Adrian had stepped even closer to you, voice low and carefully controlled. "One of these days, your recklessness is going to get you killed."

Your smirk didn’t waver. "And yet, you’re always there to catch me."

Adrian’s jaw clenched.

For a fleeting moment, something flickered across his face—frustration, exasperation, but also something else. Something he refused to name.

You saw it. Of course, you did.

And because you were you, you leaned in just slightly, your voice turning almost sweet.

"Oh? No sharp words now?"

Adrian exhaled sharply through his nose. "You frustrate me beyond belief."

"And yet," You mused, "you never walk away."

Trevor threw his hands up in defeat. "KILL ME."

Sypha, watching with an amused glint in her eye, watching the way Adrian’s fingers twitched—as if resisting the urge to touch you—only smiled.

"No."

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

[moonlilith]

reverie 𐦍☾ series

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected short fics of adrian tepes x reader based loosely on my unfinished fic lunar tears

"With a secret weighing heavily on you, you stood before Alucard, your heart a battleground of want and terror. Torn between love and sorrow that reverberated for aeons, you looked into his eyes for clarification and forgiveness. However, the past hovered between them like a ghost, threatening to devour their brittle optimism.” (Or, in addition to the initial trio, the prophecy has one additional fated hero. You are that hero. A saintess that the Church is pursuing.)

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn

sometimes i get too lazy with long, chapters of stories so this is a short fic that is not particularly in timeline, just to get me back into writing. also pictures are just imagery. and there will be some in the castlevania nocturne timeline

𐦍 Castlevania S1-S4 Timeline ⇢ Flirting or Fighting

𐦍 Alucard's Brooding Book ⇢ I

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

[moonlilith]

track 8: love hangover - sunarin x reader

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected song fics of suna rintaro x reader based on the song in jennie’s album ruby

ruby - s. rintarou

a/n: RUBY by JENNIE is out now!!! this is exciting and the year has just started but 10/10 album of the year!

Suna never pretended to be a decent person.

But when it came to you—damn, he really wasn’t shit.

"Fight me, Fight me, Fight me, You made me so unlike me I don’t wanna talk, come behind me Know you ain’t the one but you might be”

The initial phase was always the same.

A message. A phone call. Sometimes, he only needs to glance across the room to know how the night will conclude.

And how it was going to feel the next morning.

Regret had a taste, and it was your name against his lips, his hand on your waist, his mind screaming at him to leave while his body pulled you closer.

"Who sent you? Who sent you? Who sent you ‘round again?”

He vowed never to do this again.

He was aware that you weren't meant for him.

He was aware that you treated him like a hunter, forcing him to chase and desire.

Anyway, here he was.

Once more.

"We say it’s over, But I keep fucking with you And everytime I do I wake up With this love hangover”

Suna never enjoyed excessive drinking, but you?

You were intoxicated in a different way.

The kind that caused his heart to ache, his body to burn, and his head to spin in ways he couldn't name.

The sort that left him feeling as though he would do it again, the ghost of your nails on his skin, and your perfume remained on his sheets when he woke up.

"Ah shit, I did it again, Call me back, call me back, call me back”

He was no longer even shocked.

He called, of course. You responded, of course. Naturally, you allowed him back in as though things wouldn't end the same way they usually did.

Because, wasn't that the thing?

No matter how hard you fought or how strongly you insisted that it was finished—

You would always return.

He would, too.

Suna had lost track of how many times this had happened.

The fights. The silence. The longing.

And then the inevitable pull—magnetic, toxic, and damn near impossible to resist.

"I’m so, I’m so shady I really don’t mind when you play me Wanna switch it up, go crazy I ain’t gonna leave till you hate me”

Perhaps that was the issue.

You didn't despise him. Not quite enough.

And he—well, he didn't hate you at all.

But he should, he knew.

He should have blocked your number, stopped knocking on your door, and stopped allowing you to slide back into his bed as if it weren't destroying him, piece by piece.

But each time he even considered leaving, you intervened—laughed at one of his sarcastic jokes, carelessly caressed his wrist, or drew him closer for a final kiss.

Swiftly he found himself back at the beginning.

"We say it’s over, But I keep fucking with you And everytime I do I wake up With this love hangover”

He shifted onto his side and let out a groan, the sunlight blazing into his sleep-deprived eyes through his curtains.

Instinctively, his arm out, only to discover frigid blankets.

Empty.

Figures.

By now, he ought to be accustomed to this.

As if staying any longer would make it real, you always left before the morning.

As if that would compel you both to acknowledge that this was more than just sex, whatever the devil it was.

That it had never been.

"You got me pouring for two I swore I never do it again Until you came over”

With a sharp sigh, he wiped his face while his phone buzzed next to him.

Before he even looked, he knew who it was.

Nevertheless—he checked.

Call me back

Suna laughed.

He ought to disregard it.

He ought to throw his phone across the room, get up, and do what he promised himself.

He ought to.

However—his fingertips lingered over your name instead.

And even before he hit the dial, he was aware—

That he was going to do it once more.

The line hardly rang before you answered.

"Took you long enough."

Your voice was taunting and lazy, as if you knew he would call. As if you never doubted it.

Suna sat up and rubbed his temple with two fingers. "Yes, yeah. "What do you want?"

A pause. The sound of sheets rustling on your end.

"Come over."

Only two words. Simple. Dangerous.

He breathed through his nose and leaned back against the headboard. "Thought we said we were done.”

You chuckled softly and knowingly. "We say a lot of things, Rin."

Wasn't that the truth?

"Ah shit, I did it again, Call me back, call me back, call me back Oh, but you know I’m gonna do it again”

Suna could already predict how this would turn out.

He'd get up, put on sweatpants, and grab his keys. He'd persuade himself on the way over that it was the last time. That when daylight arrived, he'd finally walk away.

Then he would see you.

And everything would go to hell.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

You chuckled, and he could hear the grin in your tone. "And yet… you're still coming, aren't you?"

Suna stared at the ceiling, allowing the silence to spread.

Then, a low, resigned "Yeah."

As if you already knew you had won, he heard you murmur with delight.

"Hurry up then."

The line died.

Suna dragged a palm down his face and dropped his phone onto his bed.

He ought to quit. The cycle should be broken.

However, he was already aware—

He was going to do it once more.

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

[moonlilith]

Lunar Tears, three

𐦍☾

“The moon illuminated the area with its faint light, a quiet testament to their entwined fates. With a secret weighing heavily on her, she stood before Alucard, her heart a battleground of want and terror. Torn between love and sorrow that reverberated for eons, she looked into his eyes for clarification and forgiveness. However, the past hovered between them like a ghost, threatening to devour their brittle optimism.”

(Or, in addition to the initial trio, the prophecy has one additional fated hero. You are that hero. A saintess that the Church is pursuing.)

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader // alucard (castlevania) x (f) oc

genre: angst, romance, slow burn,

a/n : i decided to use “you” as more general but “you” have a woman figure. I tried to make it seems like an alucard x reader as possible. However the reader insert has a set personality and powers. to answer any questions; it was meant to be a reader story but personally i hate the usage of y/n. The more i write y/n the more it becomes a name itself.

𐦍  Chapters: check masterlist  ☾  Check AO3

Chapter Three: Mirrored Fates

The clearing turned into a chaotic whirlpool. Wild and emaciated creatures with eyes blazing with predatory desire sprang from the darkness. In a blur of movement, Alucard reacted to their assaults with lethal elegance, his sword gleaming silver in the moonlight. With a thunderclap of his whip, Trevor caught a massive beast and pulled it away from Sypha. With magical energy burning in her hands, Sypha let forth a torrent of flames that destroyed any creature that ventured too near.

But your eyesight blurred as you swayed. Your strength was drained by the curse and the overexertion from facing Bishop Valen, running from the night creatures and now, another round with the same night creatures. The tiny but mighty dagger that you had was lost after the Trevor guy whipped it away. You curse your horrible luck. You couldn't engage in direct combat like they did. You could not, however, simply stand there defenceless.

You closed your eyes and concentrated on the fading, smoky embers of lunar energy inside of you. You visualized a wall of moonlight and a shimmering barrier, and then, with a burst of willpower, you created the energy. “Please don’t embarrass me moonlight,” you muttered under your breath. 

A beast pounced at Trevor, its claws dripping with ichor. A shimmering, semi-transparent shield appeared before its claws could touch him, repelling the assault with a dull thud. The creature flinched, its confused eyes wide. Trevor hardly glanced at the shield before turning his focus to another beast, a glimmer of astonishment visible in his eyes.

With a pack of animals around her and her face twisted from concentration, Sypha was fighting to keep her shields up. Your brow furrowed as you focused, and a sphere of glistening light surrounded her. The snarls of the beasts became irritated growls as their claws scraped futilely against the barrier. With a brief respite, Sypha let forth a torrent of fire, sending the creatures exploding in flames.

With a controlled aggression, Alucard danced in a deadly tango with a particularly nimble monster. You saw a momentary gap, a lapse in the creature's defences. You held out your hand, a tiny, focused sphere of lunar light forming in your hand. By flicking your wrist, the orb sped in the direction of the creature's eyes, blinding it with a white light. Taking advantage of the situation, Alucard slashed the beast's chest with his sword, causing it to dissolve into a cloud of ash.

You went on, breathing shallowly and moving deliberately. A dazzling flash of light when required, a protecting dome here, a shimmering wall there. You served as a silent protector and a delicate force barrier to keep the approaching darkness at bay.  

Alucard's strikes sharpened with determination, Trevor's whip flicked with deadly precision, and Sypha's flames roared with devastating power. The creatures, battered by the relentless barrage and your ethereal shields, began to falter, their bodies crumbling into dust and shadow.

The last creature fell with a thud, its menacing growl fading into the night. The clearing was shrouded in silence, the air heavy with the afterglow of magic. 

Trevor wiped a patch of grime from his face and stared at you with narrowed eyes. He whispered, "Those… shields," pointing to the shimmering remnants of your power. "You made those? Moonbeam, you're more than just a sparkler, aren't you?”

You rolled your eyes, a glimmer of irritation briefly taking precedence over your fatigue. You shot back, your voice tinged with a fatigue that verged on frustration. "Yes, Trevor, I created them," you said. "And I'm not 'sparkles and shine.' I'm trying to keep us all alive."

Sypha's eyes glowed warmly as she smiled at you. "You were incredible," she said in a tone full of sincere appreciation. You gave her a tiny, sincere grin as a quiet token of appreciation for the help.  "Thank you, Sypha."

Alucard nodded slowly and thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on yours. He said, "Your abilities are… impressive," with a rich, melodious echo in his voice.

A glimpse of something unreadable flickered between you as you locked eyes with him.  You said, "Thank you, Alucard," in a quieter tone. You experienced a peculiar mixture of relief and lingering discomfort. Even though you had demonstrated your talent, the curse's depleting effects persisted, serving as a continual reminder of your weakness.  

You attempted to ignore the slight pain in your limbs as you turned your head away from him and towards the now-quiet woodland. You broke the momentary pause by asking, "Well, what now? Do we just stand here, waiting for more of those things to show up?"

"We can't linger," Trevor stated in a sharp tone, cutting the lingering tension. “Those night creatures will be back and we can’t be sure Dracula’s underlings aren't watching us.”

Sypha gave a nod of consent. "We should find a safer place to rest and tend to our wounds." Her face seemed worried as she looked at you. "Especially yours."

Alucard stared at the treeline for a minute without saying anything. When he eventually said, "There's an old abandoned monastery to the north," "It's been deserted for centuries, but it should provide shelter."

"A monastery?" Trevor snorted. "Sounds cheery."

"It's the best option we have," Alucard stated firmly. "It's secluded, defensible, and far from any populated areas. We need to rest before we can venture."

With a clap of his hands, Trevor declared, "Okay, north it is." Let's get moving before our uninvited guests decide to pay us another visit."

The four of you leave the clearing behind and head into the darkness, Alucard at the head of the way. The only sound in the forest was the rustle of leaves underfoot. You all strolled in silence, absorbed in your thoughts.

You were curious about what was waiting for you at the monastery. More peril? More conflicts? Or maybe a peaceful moment at last. You looked around at your friends. Alucard appeared to be always on guard, his senses sharpened, his countenance a mask of indifference. Trevor strode with a resolute gait, his hand always close to his whip, his brow strained. With a reassuring grin, Sypha strolled beside you, her eyes full of peaceful strength.

These odd pals were still unknown to you. However, they appeared committed to keeping you safe and had saved your life. And you had a glimmer of hope for the first time in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, you weren't fighting this battle alone. Together, you might be able to overcome any obstacles that may arise.

Long, swirling shadows were thrown by the moon, a thin crescent blade in the dark sky, twisting familiar trees into ominous, grotesque shapes. A dismal memory of the conflicts of the night, the musty smell of the moist ground blended with the coppery tang that clung to you, a metallic reminder of spilled blood. The mark of Trevor’s whip was a flaming brand against your skin, a searing line of pain, and your wrist throbbed with a dull, persistent ache that radiated up your arm.

"How far?" you uttered, your voice almost audible above the sound of rustling leaves and your own laboured breathing, each breath a painful reminder of your exhaustion.

Alucard settled into a rhythm next to you, his motions smooth and quiet, a sharp contrast to your own tired, stumbling pace. Their forms faded in and out of the moonlight patches as Trevor and Sypha continued their whispered chat ahead, their voices a low, comforting murmur.

His piercing, observant eyes, like twin pools of molten gold, fell upon your wounded wrist, their intensity making you instinctively flinch. He said, "You are wounded," in a low, resonant hum, a smooth cadence that seemed to vibrate through the very air.

As though to hide the wound from his view, you reflexively drew your arm closer, a desperate attempt to shield yourself from his scrutiny. You whispered, "It's nothing," in a tight, guarded voice, your jaw clenched against the pain.

His quiet was a burden in and of itself, a heavy silence that pressed down on you, but he didn't press. "Bleeding does not mean it’s nothing," he said plainly, leaving the remark lingering between you like a cold, unspoken truth.

You let out a sigh, a tired resignation, the weight of the night settling heavily on your shoulders. "It was due to my false courage of trying to attack a hunter, a speaker and a vampire," you shake your head, annoyed at your own bad decision, a bitter taste in your mouth.

He gave no false pledges or clichés. He merely nodded, his eyes resting on your wrist for a brief second, his expression unreadable, before shifting back to the road in front of him. But there was a weird comfort in having him by your side, a silent, watchful guardian, his presence a steady, unwavering force.

With the distant hoot of an owl and the rustle of leaves, the silence stretched like a tapestry, woven with unspoken questions and unspoken fears. In the chilly night air, you could feel the weight of his stare, the ancient power that radiated from him, a palpable energy that made you shiver.

Before you could stop yourself, the question slipped out of your mouth: "Why? Why are you helping me?"

He didn't respond right away, instead keeping his eyes on the road ahead as though he was searching for a response in the fading darkness. He finally said the words, "You are the Saintess," in a low, melodious growl, his voice resonating with an ancient authority. "You are needed."

You repeated, "Needed?" as a query and an appeal for comprehension, your brow furrowed in confusion. "However, I don't get it. For what purpose am I required?”

"To fight," he answered in a hard, determined tone, his voice laced with an unyielding resolve. "To fight a battle unlike any other."

Your features were obscured by confusion. "A battle?" you asked in a doubtful tone of voice, a flicker of irony in your eyes. You wanted to laugh at the absurdity, “You do know ‘The Saintess is a healer’, right?” You air quoted it in the same tone those bishops used to worship and introduced you.

Alucard opened his mouth, debating on whether he should just tell you, his eyes flickering with an internal struggle, but he shook his head and just nodded. You stopped in your tracks, laced with confusion, but continued your pace, catching up to Alucard.

The trip to the monastery was a haze of fatigue and anxiety. Your legs ached and your head was still spinning from the night's events as you staggered up the overgrown path, each step a painful effort. Every step was difficult because of the curse, which constantly depleted your power, leaving you weak and vulnerable.

You finally arrived at the monastery as the first rays of dawn tinged the sky in shades of purple and grey. It was a dilapidated wreck, with ivy growing up its walls and windows that were dark and deserted, a skeletal reminder of its former glory. However, it provided cover, a brief escape from the forest's perils.

Your body was heavy with fatigue as you fell upon a stone bench covered with moss in the courtyard, the rough texture of the stone a stark contrast to your aching muscles. Sypha, Trevor, and Alucard huddled around you, their faces displaying a mix of interest and worry, their eyes searching yours for answers.

"So," said Trevor in a gruff voice, a hint of concern beneath the gruffness, "you were running. From those creatures?"

You nodded while keeping your eyes on the dilapidated archway that opened into the inner courtyard, a sense of unease lingering in your gut. You continued, "And… other things," in a hardly audible voice, your voice trembling slightly.

"Other things?" With a wrinkled brow, Sypha inquired, her eyes filled with a gentle curiosity.

"I… I don't remember much before," you initially said in a tentative tone, your voice barely a whisper. "Just… the Church."

"The Church?" Trevor snorted, a hint of derision in his voice. "What, you were a nun on the run?"

With a glimmer of pain on your face, your eyes clouding with painful memories, you shook your head. "I was raised there," you clarified in a strained tone, your voice thick with emotion. "Everything was it. My family, my home, my mission." The words caught in your throat as you paused, struggling to contain the surge of emotion. "Until they turned on me."

“Turned on you?” Sypha sat next to you, her hands warm as she rested them on top of yours, offering solace in any way she could, her touch a comforting anchor in the storm of your memories. “What happened?”

You hesitated, the memories, a tangled web of confusion and betrayal, threatening to overwhelm you. "Lunar magic. I can defend, I can heal, I'm capable of things others don't comprehend. They tried to control me in ways that I refused and--"

"And they tried to kill you?" Alucard inquired in a menacingly low voice, his voice a chilling echo of your own fears.

With a chill down your spine, you nodded, your eyes wide with a lingering terror. The words hung in the air, a stark echo of the nightmare that had become your reality. As the others watched, their expressions a mixture of concern and morbid curiosity, the fragments of your past began to coalesce, sharp and vivid, like shards of broken glass.

A flood of sunlight, warm and golden, poured through the stained-glass windows of the church. The air hummed with the sound of chanting, the melodic voices of the choir rising in a harmonious chorus. You, a young girl, knelt before the altar, your hands clasped in prayer. The intricate patterns of the stained glass danced across your face, painting it with vibrant hues. A gentle hand rested on your shoulder, and you looked up to see the kind, weathered face of the head priest, his eyes filled with a paternal affection. "You are blessed, " he whispered, his voice warm and reassuring. "The light of the moon shines brightly within you."

You remembered the library, filled with ancient tomes and scrolls, their pages whispering secrets of lunar magic. You spent countless hours there, absorbing knowledge like a sponge, your mind eager to understand the power that flowed through your veins. The priests praised your dedication, your aptitude for healing, your ability to channel the moon's energy. You were their prized student, their shining star.

The feasts, the celebrations, the sense of belonging. The warmth of camaraderie, the feeling of purpose. You were a part of something larger than yourself, a vessel for the moon's benevolent power. You believed in their words, in their teachings, in their love.

The warm images shattered, replaced by the cold, harsh reality of betrayal.

The meeting room was dark, the air thick with tension. The faces of the priests, once filled with kindness, were now contorted with fear and anger. "You are a threat," the head priest hissed, his voice laced with venom. "Your power is too great, too unpredictable. We cannot allow you to remain."

The accusations, the whispers, the fear-mongering. "Heretic," they called you, their voices echoing through the halls. "Sinner. Abomination." The words stung like acid, burning away the last vestiges of your innocence.

The chase. The frantic flight through the labyrinthine corridors of the church, the sound of their footsteps echoing behind you, a relentless pursuit. The glint of steel, the flash of torches, the roar of their voices. "Stop her!" they cried, their voices filled with bloodlust.

The gates, once a symbol of sanctuary, were now a barrier, a prison. You stumbled through them, your heart pounding with terror, the sound of their enraged cries echoing in your ears. The world outside was a blur of trees and shadows, a stark contrast to the familiar walls of your home.

The villages, once havens of safety, were now battlegrounds. The screams of the innocent, the clash of steel, the stench of burning flesh. The faces of your protectors, contorted with pain and fear, their bodies falling to the ground, lifeless.

You blinked, the images fading, leaving you breathless and trembling. The weight of the memories pressed down on you, a suffocating blanket of grief and betrayal. You were no longer the innocent girl who had knelt before the altar, filled with faith and hope. You were a hunted fugitive, a pariah, a survivor. The Church, your home, your family, had become your enemy, and the world outside, a dangerous, unforgiving wilderness. “They pursued and hounded me into the woods. They murdered those who attempted to defend me and destroyed the villages where I was safe.”

Trevor murmured, "I have never been a fan of those bloody bastards," as his fist clenched. "So you've just been running since then?" With a gentle tone, Sypha inquired.

Unable to speak, you nodded once more. The memories came flooding back, along with the betrayal, uncertainty, and terror. You had sacrificed your life for the Church, devoted yourself to its principles, and received violence and hatred in return.

The courtyard was silent, and it pressed down on you, a suffocating weight mirroring the burden of your own memories. You weren't sure how to accept the silent consolation that Sypha's warm hands continued to provide over yours, her gentle touch a stark contrast to the icy grip of fear. Unusually silent, Trevor stroked his palm over his jaw, his eyes dark with a weariness that hinted at a deeper understanding. But Alucard was still inscrutable, his golden eyes examining you with a chilling ferocity, an intensity that made you feel exposed.

At last, Trevor shook his head and mumbled, "I detest priests. Self-righteous idiots. I've never seen one who wasn't attempting to murder, burn, or intoxicate me.” The amusement, a thin, sardonic smile, didn't quite reach his eyes as he scoffed. "They don't seem to have changed all that much."

You exhaled sharply, a bitter hiss that escaped your lips, almost like a laugh. "No, they have not. Not that I've participated in any of their drinking activities." Trevor clutched his mouth in mock disbelief. "You my friend, when we find a bar, we're getting beer."

Sypha's fingers gently squeezed yours before letting go, her eyes holding yours with a quiet reassurance. "You're not alone anymore," she replied softly. "Whatever happens next, we'll figure it out together." You wanted to believe it, your heart aching with the need for that truth. However, the weight of years spent fleeing, hiding, and battling did not evaporate overnight.

Alucard finally spoke. "You need rest." His tone was stern, but not cruel, a subtle softening in his voice that betrayed his concern. "The curse, the fight—you're pushing yourself too far."

You squared your shoulders, instinctively defensive. "I'm fine."

His eyes shifted to your shaking fingers and the way you still held your wrist close to your chest, a protective shield against unseen pain. He didn't say anything, but the look he gave you indicated he wasn't convinced, the intensity of his gaze a silent accusation.

Trevor sighed, a sound that carried the weight of weary resignation. "Fine or not, we are all fatigued. Let us get inside before something decides to finish what the night creatures started."

Like the skeletal remains of your history, the monastery was dead. The musty smell of damp earth and old parchment hung in the air as crumbling stone hallways extended into the night. Dust swirled in the glints of moonlight that filtered through shattered stained glass, casting fractured patterns of color on the floor. From the murals, you could see the broken faces of saints who had been forgotten, their cracked features and faded colors a testament to neglect and time.

A proper home for the abandoned.

Trevor grunted and fell onto a stone ledge. "If anything tries to eat us, wake me up." Despite rolling her eyes, Sypha sought cover close to him.

You didn't sit right away. Rest seemed like an unaffordable luxury, but the fatigue clung to you, a heavy weight on your limbs. Rather, you approached one of the shattered windows and gazed at the small crescent of the moon. Not much light. It makes sense why your body aches.

Alucard moved closer, his footsteps on the stone almost imperceptible. "You’re still pushing yourself,”

You let out a breath without glancing at him. "Are you this perceptive all the time?"

"When I feel like it." His voice had become softer and less piercing, a subtle warmth replacing the usual chill. "You ought to let Sypha take care of your wounds."

You tilted your head slightly to meet his gaze. "Why do you care?"

He paused as if weighing his response. At last, he responded: "Because I've seen what happens to people who fight until there's nothing left of them."

You shivered, a full-body tremor that sent goosebumps down your arms, not because of the cold, but because of the way his words sank deep into your chest, a chilling echo of your own fears. You didn't know what to say to that.

The weight of tiredness ultimately prevailed. You took a slow breath and nodded. "Fine."

Alucard did not respond, but as you turned away, you felt his presence linger for a brief second, a faint warmth in the air, before he retreated into the darkness.

You lay down on the uneven, chilly stone, the cold seeping into your bones. The monastery was a tomb of silence, broken only by the faint rustle of my own worn cloak. Sleep claimed you quickly, but it was not peaceful.

The flames erupted, a blinding, angry red, licking at the crumbling stone and splintering wood. The air shimmered with unbearable heat, and the chants of prayer twisted into a chorus of agonized screams. Hands, gnarled and burning, seized you, pulling, scratching, scorching. A familiar, yet cruelly distorted voice whispered in your ear, each syllable a shard of ice: "Saintess… sinner… heretic."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence, as you gasped awake. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and antiquity, but beneath it, a phantom smell clung to your skin: smoke, acrid and cloying, a taste of a nightmare.

A shadow shifted in the dim light of the waning moon. Alucard. He sat close, his golden eyes reflecting the faint moonlight. Even though he wasn't directly observing you, a subtle tension radiated from him, a silent question hanging in the air. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the subtle concern in his expression.

"You aren't asleep," your voice raspy.

"I don't require much." A pause, his gaze flicking to your face. "You had a dream."

You forced yourself to stand, the chill of the stone a stark reminder of your nightmare. "A bad habit."

His eyes searched yours, a silent offer of understanding. "You don't have to deal with them by yourself."

The words lodged in your throat, a lump of unspoken fear. For so long, isolation had been your only shield, your only defense. Now, faced with an offer of connection, you felt a wave of disorientation, a fear of vulnerability. You turned to the window, the rising moon a cold, distant light.

"Get some rest," Alucard urged, his voice softer, a hint of something akin to empathy in his tone.

You nodded, though you doubted sleep would return. Not when the ghosts of your past, the whispers of 'heretic' and the taste of smoke, lingered in the shadows, threatening to consume you.

A false impression of tranquillity pervaded the air as the morning sun's long, golden rays filtered through the trees. The night had been agitated—old wounds reopened, memories roused—but now your determination awoke along with the rest of the world. You looked at the other people. While Sypha stretched and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Trevor sat by the final remnants of last night's fire, absently polishing the handle of his whip. Alucard was standing a few steps away, engrossed in ideas that were out of your grasp, his eyes focused on the horizon.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Trevor let out a breath. He responded sternly, "Alright," in a somewhat softer tone than previously. We have two options: either we take action or we just stay here and mope about the past. You're already fighting this battle if the Church and those night creatures are pursuing you. Meanwhile, we have more pressing issues to address."

Sypha gave a nod of agreement. "The real danger is Dracula. We require more than simply our own might if we are to have any chance of stopping him. We require information, tools, and a strategy.” 

"Not sure if you caught this while being chased, Moonbeam, but your people, the church, waged war on Dracula by burning his wife at the stake." Trevor paused, a rough scrape in his throat. "His mother," he added, gesturing toward Alucard. "In return, he's waging a war with the whole humanity."

You opened your mouth, a faint "Oh-" escaping, a breathy sound lost in the courtyard's silence. Alucard's jaw tightened, a muscle twitching beneath his skin. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, momentarily dropped to the stone floor, a flicker of something dark and intense passing across them. You bit down on your tongue, the metallic taste of blood a sharp reminder. Not now. Not here.

Push it down. The mantra echoed in your head, a familiar shield against the rising tide of unwanted images. The stained-glass windows, once a source of comfort, now fractured into shards of memory: the flames, the screams, the contorted faces of the dying. His mother. The words, a stark echo of your lost world, threatened to shatter the fragile dam you'd built against the nightmares.

Your cloak felt heavy, a shroud of past betrayals. The Church's brand, invisible but searing, pressed against your skin. Focus. Breathe. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, forcing the images back into the dark corners of your mind. They clawed at the edges of your consciousness, insistent, desperate to break free. No.

Alucard stood a few feet away, his silhouette sharp against the fading moonlight. His hands were clenched at his sides, knuckles white, a silent struggle against an unseen force. His father. The one who should have been a protector is now a source of unimaginable pain.

Did he feel it too? The twisted echo of fate? The Church, a puppeteer's hand forcing your path, just as grief twisted his. A shared burden, a silent understanding you desperately wanted to ignore. Don't think about it. The familiar, desperate denial.

You took a breath, a slow, deliberate inhale, the cool air filling your lungs. No hesitation. The air tasted of ash and damp stone, a bitter reminder of the world you were trying so hard to forget.

Trevor, with a decisive nod, stated, "And thus, we go to Belmont Hold."

Your breath hitched, and the same question formed in your mind as Alucard's. You both spoke at once: "Belmont Hold?"  The sound of your voices, so perfectly aligned, startled you. You felt a warmth spread across your cheeks as you met Alucard’s eyes, a brief, shared moment of surprise. Then, you quickly looked down, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your cloak.

"It's a treasure trove of knowledge," Trevor explained. “A hidden vault housing centuries of accumulated knowledge about monsters, magic, and the instruments required to defeat them. If we're going to stand a chance against Dracula, we need what's inside."

Trevor crossed his arms. "It has been abandoned for years. My family's legacy, and the one thing that could genuinely help us right now. We uncover it, prepare, and then figure out how to defeat the scariest nightmare of all."

A glimmer of doubt twisted within you. Facing Dracula was more than just a struggle; it was a combat against an eternal power of hate and grief. And yet, looking at the three of them—Trevor with his unflinching resolution, Sypha with her calm determination, and Alucard with his eerie intensity—you knew there was no going back. You have already completed the first step.

You took a deep breath and pushed off from the stone bench. "Then we head to the Belmont Hold. We fight Dracula. We put an end to this."

Trevor smirked. "That's the spirit, moonbeam."

Alucard cast you a glance, his golden eyes flickering with something indecipherable. A quiet approval?  A warning? Or something else, buried beneath centuries of grief. 

Either way, the path ahead was clear.

And the four of you stepped forward, bound by fate, purpose, and the looming shadow of war.

a/n: writing fighting scenes is my worst nightmare, I hope in the future I wont have to write so much of it cause my brain is tired of trying to come up with a unique fighting scenes. but alas stay tune for more!

[moonlilith]

track 7: mantra - suna rintarou x reader

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected song fics of suna rintaro x reader based on the song in jennie’s album ruby

ruby - s. rintarou

“This that pretty-girl mantra, this that flaunt you. Just touched down in L.A. ”

Suna Rintarou was used to watching from the sidelines. Unfazed, cool, and unreadable. After all, he had a reputation to maintain. The man who never became overly interested. The one who played it cool.

But perhaps he was staring a bit too intently when you strolled in, overflowing with confidence and giggling loud enough to draw attention. You walked in, carrying yourself as if the world belonged to you. 

Perhaps he was observing how you threw your hair and how your lips curled at the corners when you realized that everyone was staring at you.

Maybe he was wondering how the hell someone could glow like that.

“Pretty girls don’t do drama, ‘less we wanna. It’ll be depending on the day. ”

You weren't just attractive; you were dangerous. The type of girl that can annihilate someone without raising a finger. And you knew it. 

You did not ask for permission to exist in a loud manner. You just did. Unapologetic. Fearless. Beautiful in a way that went beyond appearances. 

Suna was not dumb. He noticed how other males looked at you, how they leaned in too close, convinced they had a chance. Convinced that you would even glance at their way.

 A grin appeared on his face as he debated which guy you would let approach. Suna wasn't lying if he didn't wish it would be him.

He also witnessed your dismissive laughter, as if they were not even worthy of your time. 

He liked that about you.

You weren’t just a pretty face. You had a bite. Looks that could kill. 

“Mix me with the drama (drama) Check you like commas (ah) ”

Hours blurred into a flurry of neon lights, and bass-heavy music, and Suna although never letting his gaze away from you, noticed that you got closer. Or was it him that got closer? Not that the details matter. 

The infrequent, carefree yet purposeful touch of Suna’s fingertips against your skin. He never pushed too hard or hung on for too long.

But he never let you stray too far either.

Suna slipped in next to you while you were leaning against the bar and drinking something sweet and potent. Even when he was in his typical laid-back stance, his presence was captivating.

His voice was smooth above the music as he inquired, "Are you enjoying yourself yet?"

You swirled your drink and hummed. "It depends. Will you dance with me or will you spend the entire evening hiding in the shadows?”

His lips twitched. “Lurking’s kind of my thing.”

You rolled your eyes, setting your glass down. “Boring.”

You took hold of his wrist and dragged him onto the dance floor before he could react.

Suna didn’t resist.

"I thought I'd give you a little more time to enjoy the attention,"

He could see the twitching of your lips even as you rolled your eyes.

Yes. You were his.

“Daytime baddie use her mind Quick switch of the fit for the night (night) ”

You moved effortlessly to the music, the rhythm pouring through your blood. Suna, for all of his lack of interest, moved just as fluidly, his hands landing at your waist with confidence that sent shivers down your spine.

It was easy to get lost in him—the way he looked at you, the lazy smirk he hardly bothered to conceal, the way his fingers tightened just enough to indicate he was paying attention.

The air between you was dense with something unsaid, something lurking beneath the surface.

And then— 

“It's not that deep (deep), I'm not that drunk (drunk) Sometimes girls just gotta have fun. ”

—your phone buzzed.

a message. A name on the screen made your stomach turn.

Suna noticed it before you could hide it, his eyes flicking to yours.

"Do you want me to delete it for you?" he inquired, his voice deceptively light.

You sighed, locking your phone and not replying. "No need."

He tilted his head, looking at your face. "You sure?"

You gave a nod. "I'm not that dumb."

Suna refrained from pushing. Didn't ask any questions. Just drew you in, hands warm across your skin.

He whispered, "You look good tonight."

You raised your chin in a smile. "I always look nice."

Leaning forward just enough to let his breath ghost on your ear, Suna laughed.

"Yes," he whispered. "But you're mine tonight."

The message on your phone suddenly becomes irrelevant.

Not when Suna had this look on his face.

“Pretty girls packed in a Defender, know I’ma defend her. Never let her catch no stray. ”

A guy tried to approach you too closely at the club. Too close to his liking.

Suna was there before you could say anything.

With a single sharp look and a well-placed arm between you and the jerk, the message was clear.

You smirked at him and cocked your head. "I didn't think you were the envious kind."

He just shrugged, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "I didn't think you were the kind to allow anyone to approach."

You stepped into his personal space and caressed his wrist while laughing.

"Good thing you're not just anybody, isn't that right?"

Yes.

This could become second nature to him. 

“Throw it back, all that ass Me and my sis, way too attached”

You smiled, twisting in Suna's embrace as the bass beat beneath your feet. He wasn't much of a dancer—not in the wild, reckless way you were—but he had his own style of moving, slow and purposeful, hands firm at your waist as if he wasn't going to let you go.

Not tonight.

You caught his glance, golden in the low lighting, keen and unreadable. He wasn't really attempting to figure you out. Suna wasn't the kind to dig. But he noticed you in a way that most others did not.

Perhaps that was what kept you coming back to him.

Maybe that's why you disregarded your phone when it buzzed again.

“It's not that deep (deep), we're not that dumb (dumb) Look at them Bonnies on the run”

With your fingers tightening around the material of his shirt, you whispered, "Let's leave."

Suna smirked slowly and teasedly. "That eager, huh?"

You didn't deny it, but you rolled your eyes.

It might have been the way he gazed at you. Perhaps it was the fact that you didn't feel like running for once, or perhaps it was the way the music and the drinks were making your head spin.

Not from this.

Not from him.

“Love what it feels like To be off of the grid, like, all night ”

In murmured discussions and wavering lighting, time passed slowly. It was a warm night, full of the kind of electricity that buzzed like a live wire between you and Suna. 

He leaned on the hood of his car, observing as you twisted your drink in your palm, his gaze shifting between him and the city skyline.

"Are you always so quiet?" you teased, taking a step closer.

Suna gave a lazy chuckle and tilted his head. "You always this loud?"

A smirk. "Only when I want to be heard."

“Swerve off all the creeps, no weird vibes We ain't never let it ruin a good time”

He moved in a way that you liked—unconcerned, aloof, but somehow always there when it counted. Although he wasn't the kind to hover, he was constantly observing and listening.

You also didn't mind being watched for once.

You slid into the passenger seat of his car and said, "Are you coming or what?"

Suna shook his head and smirked. "Bossy."

Nevertheless, he followed.

“Ain't nobody gon' dim our good light This the words we're living by”

The drive was quiet, but not the awkward kind. The kind where the silence was its own conversation. The kind where every glance meant something.

Suna tapped his fingers on the wheel, stealing a quick look at you. Your head was tilted back, eyes half-lidded, the neon lights outside casting a glow on your skin.

You looked like trouble.

He kinda liked that.

“This that pretty-girl mantra, she's that stunna Make you wanna swing both ways”

At a red light, you turned to face him directly, your eyes flashing with mischief.

"You always this hard to read?"

Suna hummed and pretended to think. "Maybe."

You huffed, but your voice sounded cheerful. "Guess I'll just have to figure you out, then."

He looked at you with an unreadable expression.

"Good luck with that."

But something told him that you were not the sort to back down from a challenge.

And maybe he didn't want you to.

"Inside glowing like the sun (sun, s-) You gonna feel us every day (day)”

With your legs resting on his lap in the backseat and his fingertips making languid lines across your skin, the ride back was peaceful. You two didn't need to say much because Suna didn't want to talk until absolutely necessary.

When he saw you staring back, he simply observed you, his eyes heavy and his lips curling.

"What?" you inquired in a quieter tone than previously.

He dragged his thumb along your knee and whispered, "Nothing." "I was just curious how long you plan to continue acting like this is a lighthearted endeavour."

Even though your breath caught, you continued to look.

He always managed to surprise you just when you thought you understood him.

"I don't act," you remarked.

Leaning back and grinning as if he knew something you didn't, Suna hummed. "Yes."

You detested how quickly he irritated you.

However, you discovered that you didn't really mind as you dragged him into your apartment, his hands grabbing your hips, and his lips meeting yours.

Not when Suna was involved.

a/n: super pumped about jennie's new album RUBY which will be released on March 7th! divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

[moonlilith]

ruby - suna rintarou x reader

˗ˏˋ 🍒 ˎˊ˗ interconnected song fics of suna rintaro x reader based on the song in jennie's album ruby

Tracklist:

track 7: mantra

track 8: love hangover

divider by: @bernardsbendystraws

[rudamaruda520]

me as a writer

[emeraldknightess]

this is the most relatable thing i’ve ever read

[moonlilith]

like my bf ask me what’s the plot and all i can answer is this vague scene thats gonna happen somewhere in the story but when & where is out of the question cause i have not figured it out

[moonlilith]

Lunar Tears, two

𐦍☾

“The moon illuminated the area with its faint light, a quiet testament to their entwined fates. With a secret weighing heavily on her, she stood before Alucard, her heart a battleground of want and terror. Torn between love and sorrow that reverberated for eons, she looked into his eyes for clarification and forgiveness. However, the past hovered between them like a ghost, threatening to devour their brittle optimism.”

(Or, in addition to the initial trio, the prophecy has one additional fated hero. You are that hero. A saintess that the Church is pursuing.)

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader // alucard (castlevania) x (f) oc

genre: angst, romance, slow burn,

a/n : On ao3 there is a name for plot reasons but here i decided to use “you” as more general but “you” have a woman figure. I tried to make it seems like an alucard x reader as possible. However the reader insert has a set personality and powers. to answer any questions; it was meant to be a reader story but personally i hate the usage of y/n. The more i write y/n the more it becomes a name itself.

𐦍  Chapters: check masterlist  ☾  Check AO3

Chapter Two: Ashes of Faith 

A faint, almost ethereal echo of residual magic throbbed through the air. Closed-eyed, Sypha held out a hand, palm up, as though grasping something intangible.  She knitted her brow. She whispered, "She passed through here," her voice barely heard above the sound of the leaves rustling.  However, the trail... Wispy.  similar to smoke in the wind. 

Trevor knelt and traced the faint ridges in the soft ground with his fingers. “A snapped twig here, a cuff mark there.” He grunted. "She’s trying to cover her tracks. Clever Girl.  “She almost seems to be floating. Here, I assumed finding the saintess would be easy, sitting in one of the various churches. Why is a mere saintess going out into the woods like this?” He sniffed the air, his hands up pausing his companions in their tracks, a habit honed from years of tracking beasts.  “There’s…something else.  Night Creatures.” 

Alucard took a deep breath after concluding his survey over the treetops. “I can smell her,” Trevor quirked a brow, “Not her actual aroma, but the lingering effects of her enchantment. It’s there but it’s dim. Like moonlight on dew.”

"Moonlight on dew," Trevor said again, his tone somewhat amused. "You're getting poetic in your old age, Alucard." 

Ignoring him, Alucard concentrated on the enchanted aroma. Alucard stood apart; his gaze focused on the deep forest ahead. He inhaled deeply and his demeanour changed from stoic to something else.  Recognition?  He cocked his head slightly as if listening to something only he could hear. "Well, there's an old settlement constructed around an abandoned chapel; she must have sought refuge or cared for the wounded. We are heading north."

And for the first time in what seemed like an eternity, you let yourself breathe.  The days in Orlin passed with a lovely pace.  You awoke with the sun, assisting the people with their daily work, your hands finding familiar comfort in the dirt, tending crops and caring for cattle.  You sat with the kids, their laughing a melody that chased away the darkness in your heart, telling them simple songs and stories about the moon and stars. 

In the evenings, you gathered with the villagers around the crackling fire, exchanging stories and laughter, the warmth of their company melting the frigid loneliness that had clung to you for so long. However, the nagging thought that this time will not endure is always present in your mind. Nothing lasts in your life. Nothing remains the same. 

The people, with their simple faith and open hearts, looked past the Church's labels.  They saw a woman whose touch could heal wounds and calm restless spirits, not a heretic.  They offered you not only a place to stay but also their understanding after noticing your fatigue and the intense anguish in your eyes. One evening, the village elder informed her, "You bear a heavy load, child."  "But you don't have to carry it alone." 

You looked at her, a flicker of surprise in her eyes.  No one had ever spoken to you like that, with such genuine concern, without the veiled expectations of the Church.  "I'm not meant for this," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  "I'm not meant for kindness, for community.  I bring misfortune, I—" 

The older intervened, "Hush, child," in a soft yet stern voice.  "You provide light and healing.  The darkness should not persuade you otherwise." You wanted to think she was sincere.  In order to forget the atrocities, you had seen and the suffering you were carrying, you wanted to stay and immerse yourself in the village's warmth.  However, the worry was always there, muttering cautions in your ear. 

You were aware that the Church would keep looking for you until they did.  And you couldn't, wouldn't, jeopardise the security of these generous people who had taken you in.  You have witnessed the fate of those who dared to provide your assistance and those who dared to disobey the Church.  You'd heard the cries, smelt the charred flesh, and seen the flames. You cannot let them take innocent again. Not this time. 

You were startled out of your reverie by the watchman's frenzied cries, "The Church! They're coming!" shattered the brittle haven you had discovered in Orlin as it reverberated through the quiet night.  The villagers felt a surge of anxiety, yet they looked at you with eyes that were a mix of defiance and terror.  You felt a strong sense of protection as you witnessed their faith in you and their readiness to keep you safe. 

However, it was a desperation-infused protectiveness.  You were aware of the Church's power.  You were aware that the knights' armour and their zeal would be too strong for the villagers' crude implements and unshakeable faith. 

"We will defend you, Saintess," the village elder said, her voice trembling but resolute.  "We will not let them take you." 

Another sight, a recollection from a lifetime ago, appeared before you as you closed your eyes.  The sun shone on the magnificent church, illuminating the kneeling audience with a rainbow of hues from its stained-glass windows.  The feeling of belonging, the singing of your name, the warmth of their affection...  You had been their Moonlit miracle, their Saintess, a beacon of healing and hope.  The same voices that had praised you were now demanding your blood and calling you a witch and a heretic. 

The recollection faded like a dying ember as you opened your eyes.  The current situation was harsh and merciless.  With their torches gleaming off polished steel like predatory eyes in the darkness, the knights were drawing near.  You were forced to choose.  Either stay and fight, putting these defenceless villagers' lives in danger, or run away and subject them to the Church's wrath. "No," you answered firmly, even though her throat was shaking.  "You can't battle them.  All you'll be doing is entering a death trap.  I refuse to allow that to occur.” 

"But—" 

"No," you repeated, your voice rising. "I will face them alone. It is my burden, not yours. You have shown me kindness; you have sheltered me. That is more than I could have ever asked for. But I cannot let you pay the price for my sins." 

You stumbled on your feet as a wave of vertigo swept over you. Your ear was being whispered with sneaky doubts as the curse tightened its hold. It growled, You're weak. You're terrified. It's going to kill you. The fear persisted like a leaden weight in your stomach, even if you forced the notion away. The idea of forgetting was dreadful. Not right now. Not after...You inhaled deeply, strengthening your determination. You have to resist letting fear rule you. You needed to be strong for both you and the villagers. You had to face your mortality in order to face the Church. However, how?  How am I going to defeat them all?   

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "For everything." 

You exchanged a silent vow with the elder as you locked eyes for the final time.  Then, leaving behind the villagers' anguished cries and the warmth of the only refuge you had ever known, you turned and walked towards the village's edge, towards the approaching torches and the sound of marching feet.  The cool night air contrasted sharply with the fire's warmth as you stopped at the edge of the trees. 

Your heart thumping in your chest, you thought, this is it .  With the dim glow of the lamplight acting as a beacon in the darkness, you took one final glance back at the village.  Then you moved into the darkness, the rustling leaves engulfing your steps. 

Your footsteps were heavy as you left behind your short-lived hope. The clearing was a ballet of light and shade as the torches flashed. The smell of damp ground and pine, along with the metallic tang of blood, lingered heavy in the air. Bishop Valen stood in front of you, a mask of rage covering his face. But memories flashed through your mind as you gazed at him. You viewed him as the guy who believed in and admired you as the Saintess, not as a hateful bishop. You remember the day you questioned the church's rulings over the Targovishte burning. 

And his words still linger, "You were my greatest disappointment," Valen spat, his words cutting deeper than his blade.  "You betrayed my trust; you turned your back on the light." 

"And tonight, your tricks end here, heretic," he hissed, his palm tightening on his sword's hilt. You swayed too much, hoping he'd alter his mind, your breath rushing out in jagged gasps. The wound in your side throbbed, and the curse sapped your vitality. You knew you wouldn't win a direct fight. You needed to be smarter.

Valen leaped, his blade a flurry of steel. You dodged, utilising a nearby tree as cover. You conjured a swarm of lunar moths in an attempt to distract him, but they flickered and died, a weak shadow of your former might. "Your magic is failing you, child," Valen snarled, his eyes gleaming with malicious satisfaction. He pressed his attack, causing you to repeatedly retreat. 

A searing pain ran through your arm. Valen's sword grazed you, causing a deep cut. You yelled out, tripping and your eyesight blurred. "Remember the screams of those witches?" Valen taunted, his voice full of hate. "Will you scream like they did?" Your heart clenched. You pushed the discomfort aside and concentrated on the fight. You could not afford to lose control. But Valen was unrelenting. He pressed his advantage, and his strikes became more ferocious. You were cornered with your back against a rocky outcrop. You were stuck. Valen raised his sword, ready to strike the killing stroke.

"May the Gods above forgive our sins for taking you," 

ROAR.  

A guttural shriek rang across the trees. They emerged from the shadows, gaunt beings with skin stretched taut over bone and eyes full of evil hunger. The knights yelled in terror, and their ranks broke as the beasts struck. You were aware of your vulnerability in the midst of the pandemonium. Injured, tired, and facing a new threat. You were caught between the Church and the Night Creatures. You stumbled back, grabbing the opportunity to escape. You couldn't fight everyone. But your legs were leaden, and your breath was ragged. The curse was a vice around your heart that sapped your strength. 

The gnarled branches clawed at your cloak as you rushed through the deadwood woodland. The beasts followed you relentlessly, their snarls booming through the forest. One of them lunged, raking its claws against your arm. You shouted out, stumbled, and fell to your knees. No, not like this.

The creatures were everywhere, their foetid breath scorching across your face. You were stuck, backed up against a collapsing stone wall. Their snarls rang in your ears like a symphony of nightmares. You lashed out weakly, your assaults scarcely registering on their thick hides. Your movements were slow, and your vision blurred.  Almost there, you thought, your lungs burning. Almost to the edge of the woods…

Then you saw them. 

The silhouettes of three people against the moonlit sky. More enemies. Your heart fell apart. You had stumbled into another nightmare after escaping the first one. Fear tore at your throat. You needed to leave. “Please, what is going on with my luck? Three encounters in a night are just vile God.”  

You lunged without thinking. Your silver blade, your lone weapon, glittered in the moonlight as you aimed for the nearest figure, a woman with a cascade of fiery hair. Strike first. Escape later. The attack was a desperate gamble, a split-second decision born of fear. 

  However, your attack failed to land. A whip sprang out of nowhere, wrapping around your wrist and throwing you off balance. You shouted out as the intensity of the pull knocked you off your feet. 

  A rough voice yelled, "Whoa there!" "Who the hell are you?" 

Your eyes darted between the three figures as you fought against the whip's tight hold. The three of them were odd. The tall one exuded an aura of ancient strength that chilled your spine, his eyes gleaming with an unearthly brilliance. A vampire. Their species, monsters of myth and evil, had been spoken to you. The man with the whip, his hand hovering close to the sword at his hip, was all jagged edges and suspicious mistrust. Additionally, the woman had a strong magical energy that crackled in the atmosphere. a speaker. A magician. Fuck. You curse under your breath, seems like you chose the wrong night to be brave.  

"Let me go!" You growled, your rage fueled by dread and desperation. "You're in my way!" 

  The woman answered, "Not until you tell us who you are and what you're doing here," in a remarkably composed tone. "We're not your enemies. Please let us explain and we all calm down first." 

"Enemies?" You sneered. "You're preventing me from getting away. You become enemies as a result.”  

The tall figure stepped forward; his eyes narrowed. "We were fighting those creatures," he said, his voice low and melodic, sending another shiver down your spine. "The same creatures that were chasing you." 

You hesitated, your gaze shifting between them. Were they telling the truth? Or was this some sort of trap? You couldn't trust anyone. 

  A bloodcurdling howl shattered the forest's quiet. The creatures. They were close. Too close. 

  Your breath caught. You were stuck. Between these three strangers and the terrifying menace closing in. Desperation clawed at you. You had to make a decision. 

  "Help me," you pleaded, your tone raw and urgent. "Please." You tried to summon the little lunar magic in your hands, gazing up at the moon. It was full. That’s enough to defend yourself.  

The tall person's eyes wavered. He and the other two looked at each other. "She's the one," in an eager tone. "She's the Saintess." His eyes were focused on the small light that emitted from your hands. Your small dagger was lost after being reflected by the other man.  

  The whip-wielding man snorted. "The Saintess? The Moonbeam? This girl who just tried stabbing her dagger into the air?" You couldn't even bother giving him any reaction, eyes focused on the glowing eyes, like burning coals, pierced the darkness, gaining with every stride. 

  "She's more than she seems," returned the tall one, staring at you. "I've seen her power." 

  The woman's eyes widened in recognition as she gasped. She exhaled, "The prophecy…" "It's true." Her attitude changed from one of scepticism to one of awe as she gazed at you. "You… you're her, aren't you?" 

  "Her? With a quivering voice, you questioned, "Who are you talking about?" 

  "The Saintess," the woman stated in a respectful tone. "The person who controls the power of the moon. The one who is going to save us.”  

"Save you? Your mind racing, you said, "From what?" 

  Before they could respond, the animals charged into the clearing, staring at you with luminous eyes. All around you. 

  In the moonlight, the tall one's blade gleamed as it was drawn. His expression was tough and resolute. He said, "We'll explain later." His sword floats close to him, his stance going nearer and shielding you from the view. "For now, we fight." 

  He faced you, his eyes locking with yours. "You're one of us now," he declares.  

"Whether you like it or not." And the whip-man added. "Great. Another stray with otherworldly abilities. Alucard, Sypha, and now you." He made an unclear gesture. "We might as well start charging rent now." You heard Sypha, the Speaker, gently prod the man, saying, "Trevor, not the time and place." 

  Your heart sank. They weren't trustworthy. No, not yet. You were aware, however, that you couldn't do this by yourself. 

  You inhaled tremblingly, a sensation of inevitability against horror. Saintess aren't someone who should get used to battlefields, running, and certainly not with the weird group you had going. But here you are. You had to battle to prevail. 

a/n:

i cant stop laughing at the 'roar' there's nothing else comes into mind.

also im well aware that u guys have a problem with its not being reader but for me I'm like ??? cus like how sure are you the "reader" that I wrote is the same as the "reader" in your mind? but anyways

[moonlilith]

Hi im sorry why do you tag your x oc works in x reader tags when it isn’t a x reader?

honestly it was intended to be a reader au with all, (still can be imo) but the short answer would be i hate y/n.

nothing wrong with it but the more i write y/n the more it feels like y/n is a name itself.

plus when i went through the tags to find something to read, there’s always oc fics so i thought it was no big deal. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️

[sunarots]

taste ━━━ suna rintarou & miya osamu

pairing. suna rintarou x fem!reader, miya osamu x fem!reader

summary. when your ex starts dating your least favourite person on campus, your ex-best friend from high school, you can’t help but feel a little betrayed. you quickly realise a way to get back at him: his best friend.

tags & warnings. blended smau, secret dating, friends to exes to lovers, friends to lovers, 2 endings, strong language, kms/kys/similar jokes, alcohol use, mental health issues and discussions, implied sex, sexual jokes and discussions, reader & characters have low self esteem, innuendos, cheating, ooc.

taglist. open! send an ask/reply to be added <3

status. ongoing

additional. any images i use for the character of y/n is only intended as a reference and not to imply that is what you look like. i am going to try my best to use diverse images for these references, however it may not always be possible. that being said, i do not own any reference images other than the general social media images.

profiles i || profiles ii

♡ = contains written portion

chapter one. boyfriend applications

chapter two. ask her

chapter three. theories

chapter four. boo you whore

chapter five. help is on the way, dear! ♡

chapter six. hell yeah plotting!

chapter seven. lame and vintage

chapter eight. ugly.

chapter nine. official member

chapter ten. road trip

chapter eleven. people change ♡

chapter twelve. lunch date! ♡

chapter thirteen. room swap ♡

chapter fourteen. bullies

chapter fifteen. petty queen

chapter sixteen. no more faking ♡

chapter seventeen. conspiracies

chapter eighteen. we good?

chapter nineteen. party trick

chapter twenty. milking a dead cow ♡

chapter twenty-one. it’s so joever

chapter twenty-two. tweaking out

chapter twenty-three. wrong twin

chapter twenty-four. regret ♡

chapter twenty-five. encouragement (in all the wrong ways)

chapter twenty-six. where’s the trust?

chapter twenty-seven. starter ♡

chapter twenty-eight. who looks bad now? ♡

chapter twenty-nine. we need answers!

chapter thirty. we need to talk.

chapter thirty-one. i’m so cooked ♡

chapter thirty-two. :/

RINTAROU ROUTE!

chapter one. the big leagues ♡

chapter two. 2 YEARS LATER

chapter three. is he self aware?

chapter four. 2 YEARS LATER

OSAMU ROUTE!

chapter one. when it matters ♡

chapter two. welcome to hyogo

chapter three. 2 YEARS LATER

chapter four. 1 YEAR LATER

[moonlilith]

i stayed up till 3am reading this and theres no regrets!

Currently im team sunarin 😴👀

[theaftersundown]

*writes two paragraphs after months of literally nothing and it took three hours*