#in a way that's invisible and can be kept hidden

[iyote]

I like to headcanon Kakyoin as some form of queer because I think his backstory works really well as a metaphor for growing up closeted

[rxmxa]

asteroid medusa and how she shows up ❤️‍🔥

my ideas + observations on what asteroid medusa thru the houses might look like in daily life <3

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 1st House ⊹₊⟡⋆: “I see the way they look at me”, sharp eyes that notice everything, you walk into a room and silence follows—people sense your power before they even know you. That intimidating aura, furrowed brows, a face that’s hard to read, posture as armor. Betrayal that feels personal, as if your very existence triggers jealousy or envy. Steely confidence built from surviving others’ judgments, scars from emotional battles worn like invisible medals. “They’ll regret underestimating me”, cutting people off at first sight, redefining yourself after every betrayal, always bouncing back harder than before. Eyes that see into souls, surviving by knowing when to strike back, dressing sharply to keep people at a distance, an air of mystery around you that some find magnetic, others find terrifying.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 2nd House ⊹₊⟡⋆: "You tried to take what’s mine", betrayal around money or values, hoarding what you treasure, defending your resources like a fortress. You learned early to guard what you earn (whether it’s wealth, time, or love. ) A steely determination to never be taken advantage of again, “you’ll never take this from me”. Wearing your status as armor, showing off what you’ve built after surviving betrayal. Holding grudges around finances, slow-burning anger when someone crosses your boundaries. Material wealth as a sign of survival, knowing the worth of everything especially yourself. Keeping your distance from people who take more than they give, collecting emotional debts like receipts. "I don’t forget", fierce loyalty to what’s yours, deep fear of loss hidden behind stoic confidence.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 3rd House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayed by words, “they twisted what I said... i never fucking said that”, sharp-tongued but rarely speak first, storing every slight for future use. Mental agility as protection, noticing the subtext in every conversation. You learned to be careful with who you trust, especially with secrets. Betrayed by a sibling, a friend, or someone close who used your own words against you. “I’ll never be caught off guard again”, cutting remarks that leave scars, fierce debater who always knows how to strike at someone’s weak spot. Learning how to stay silent when needed, but always ready to defend yourself verbally. Intelligence weaponized, you outsmarting those who try to manipulate you. Cold, calculating responses, watching what you say to avoid being misinterpreted. Reading between the lines, staying ahead of the conversation.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 4th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayal at home, wounds buried deep, “family isn’t always what it seems”, protecting yourself from those closest to you. Learning not to trust the place that’s supposed to be safe, building emotional walls as high as the roof over your head. Hiding pain within the home, survival instinct triggered by early betrayals like maybe a family member, maybe an ancestor’s wound passed down to you. “I’ll make my own home, my own rules”, fiercely defending your personal space, cutting off toxic relatives without hesitation. A fortress within yourself, finding safety in solitude. Emotional betrayals cut the deepest, but you know how to rebuild. A sense of privacy that no one can penetrate, home as a place of survival, keeping everyone out until you’re sure you can trust them. Old family wounds kept like secrets in the walls.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 5th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: "They took what was mine", betrayal in love or creativity, stolen ideas or stolen hearts. A deep need for recognition, but wary of those who seek to take your light. Protecting your passions like they’re your children, "no one will steal my joy again", guarding your romantic life fiercely. Love that feels dangerous, feeling betrayed when someone doesn’t value your art, your heart, or your playfulness. Creative expression used as a shield, channeling betrayal into artistic power. Romance as a battlefield, taking your power back through pleasure. “You’ll never dim my light again”, learning to be unapologetically yourself after someone tried to steal your shine, playing hard but with high walls. Fiercely protective of your love life, wary of those who come too close.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 6th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayed at work, “they took credit for my hard work”, survival through daily routines and the grind. You learned that even the small betrayals can hurt especially like being used, being taken advantage of in a work or health related setting. Protecting your energy in the everyday, fighting for recognition, doing the work no one wants but expecting respect in return. "I won’t be ignored", quiet strength in routines, surviving through discipline. Learning to set boundaries in your daily life after betrayal taught you that not everyone will value your efforts. The need to be perfect, to prove yourself, because someone once undervalued your contribution. Work as therapy, focusing on the grind to avoid emotional pain, using self-care as a weapon to protect your health and energy.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 7th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayal in relationships, "I trusted you, and you turned on me", harsh lessons in partnership. You learned to guard your heart after someone broke it, or maybe after you saw betrayal in someone else’s relationship. “I won’t be betrayed again”, walls up high with love, wary of giving too much in partnerships. The eyes that see through false promises, knowing when someone isn’t genuine. Fiercely loyal but only to those who prove themselves. Relationships are battlegrounds and love is power. Protecting your heart at all costs, boundaries like stone walls around your affection. “Show me your loyalty before you get my trust”, cutting ties with ease when someone disrespects your boundaries. Fierce lover, but a protector of your own vulnerability.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 8th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: "You won’t control me", betrayal in intimacy or through shared resources, learning how to defend yourself from those who try to take too much. Deep betrayal in matters of trust, perhaps through sex, shared finances, or emotional bonds. “You’ll regret taking advantage of me”, using secrets as shields, emotional power struggles that burn deep. Sexual energy as both power and vulnerability, betrayal that cuts through to your core. Reclaiming your power after betrayal, knowing when to hold back and when to strike. Hidden wounds but fierce defenses, transforming pain into power. Keeping your enemies close but always a step ahead, watching, waiting, striking when they least expect it. Deep, dark emotional landscapes that few can understand.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 9th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayal in beliefs or higher learning, "they took my truth and twisted it", learning that trust in knowledge is fragile. Fighting for your beliefs after someone tried to undermine them, fierce independence in your philosophy of life. "I’ll find my own truth", betrayed by a mentor or guide, discovering that wisdom isn’t always kind. Traveling far and wide to find your place, but always wary of trusting someone else's truth, fighting for the beliefs that make you whole, protecting your mind from false doctrines, learning that knowledge can be power but also pain. Searching for justice, fighting for the underdog, knowing that betrayal can be the greatest teacher.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 10th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayed in your public life, "they tried to ruin my reputation", wounds from authority figures or public perception. Fighting to reclaim your name, building yourself back up after someone tried to tear you down. “I’ll prove them wrong”, fierce reputation, learning to guard your achievements like gold. Climbing the ladder after a fall, turning betrayal into motivation. A reputation for being impenetrable, unshakable even in the face of public criticism. Using your power for good after surviving the public’s gaze, cold stares that shut down rumors. “They can’t touch me now”, staying cool under pressure, cutting ties with those who use you as a stepping stone. Fierce independence in your career, learning that you must protect your name at all costs.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 11th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: Betrayed by friends or social groups, "why are they doing this to me?", wounds from communities or friendships that didn’t live up to their promises. Learning to navigate the social game without letting it destroy you, big friendship groups collapsing from under u, boys in the friendship group ruining it by wanting you or trying to get with u, keeping your true friends close but never fully letting down your guard. Group betrayals that made you stronger, social circles that once burned you but now hold no power over you. Finding independence in social dynamics, no longer needing approval to stand tall. "I’ll be my own friend", keeping your true opinions hidden until it’s safe. Learning to trust the few after the many have let you down, finding strength in the ones who’ve been loyal through it all.

⟡⋆ Medusa in the 12th House ⊹₊⟡⋆: subconscious wounds, betrayal from hidden enemies or forces you couldn’t predict. Deep psychological scars that you keep buried, learning to protect yourself from invisible threats. Betrayal by those who pretend to care, learning that not everyone has good intentions, even those who seem close. “I learned my lesson...I’ll guard my spirit now”, retreating into yourself to heal from wounds no one else can see. Dreams that warn you of betrayals to come, cutting off energy vampires without hesitation. Hidden enemies, emotional scars that no one knows you carry, but you rise stronger in solitude. Spiritual survival, finding solace in your own company, knowing that your power comes from within, and no one can take that away from you.

[harryspet]

well kept [5] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: even longer chapter :)

word count: 5.3k

In which Rafe presents you with his plan for your future and you question the true cost of his offer.

well kept masterlist

You breathed easy for the first time in a long while. You laughed, smiled, and your heart beat at a normal pace. You sipped your drink not from nervousness but from a desire to truly enjoy yourself. The evening was about fun and connection, and you were determined to embrace it.

The week following your cabin trip had been a deep pit of depression. Your friends, concerned by your obvious distress, had insisted you join them for the weekend. They only saw the stress of work weighing on you, Rafe’s hidden bruises were invisible to them. You had opted for jeans and a crop top, deliberately avoiding a dress that might reveal the lingering marks of his anger. 

It was an act of rebellion to wear something Rafe hadn’t picked out but it was freeing. It was time you accepted that he didn’t own you 24/7, he had no right to you two days out of the week.

You bought your friends drinks, a part of the new perk that came with having salary. You liked treating them but every swipe of your card reminded you of all you were putting up with to get it. 

What Rafe did to you, he did out of selfishness, no one who cared for you truly could treat you like he did. You certainly weren’t a couple like everyone in Rafe’s close circle assumed you were. You didn’t know much about relationships or what real love looked like, but you were certain of one thing: whatever you had with Rafe would never evolve into something warm and tender enough to be labeled as love. You were reclaiming some normalcy. Or at least, that was what you hoped for. 

The three of you had decided to move the party back to your apartment at 2 AM, and the city lights flickered like stars in the darkened sky. Imani, with her arm securely interlocked with yours, clung to you, her presence both comforting and grounding amidst the night’s chaos.

You squeezed into the backseat, chatter and laughter from the evening buzzed in your ears. Angel was making smalltalk with the driver because that was just the type of person she was. Closest to the window, you checked your phone for the first time all night. Three messages from Rafe. Your heart started to beat in the rattled way it had been, pressing against your ribcage in a way that made you feel like you couldn’t breathe. 

Two images of you. Outfits you’d sent him. Along with a message. 

For Monday and Tuesday. - R.C. 

Sent at ten the night before. Imani leaned closer and you locked your phone, shoving it between your legs. 

“He’s really texting you? It’s Saturday.”

“Sunday now,” You tried to not sound rattled as you met her eyes.

“Like that makes a difference,” You expected her tone to be light given the vodka on her breath and silly pop songs playing on the radio, “No wonder you’re going crazy.”

“Crazy?” You laughed but it came out hollow, “Y-You guys thought I was sad and now I’m going crazy?”

“Yes,” She spoke matter-of-factly, “And it’s strange that you won’t tell us anything about him.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this,” You said, realizing she wasn’t going to drop it.  You wondered if this was her plan, to get you drunk and then pry out all the gossip about your new boss.

“I’m really worried, Y/N,” She said, “You don’t have to tell us everything but at least … let us help. We can help, I promise.”

Angel tuned into the conversation, realizing it had gone serious, “Yeah, my Mom and Dad are literally cops, Y/N. Just say the word-” 

“I promise it’s not that serious, Angel,” you said, shaking your head. The idea of involving the police felt almost laughable given the magnitude of Rafe’s wealth and influence. “I told you g-g-g-guys, he’s just a demanding asshole.”

“If it’s not that serious than why has he been over at our apartment? If you’re not sleeping together or not dating?”

“It’s complicated,” You spoke robotically. 

“We want to be there for you,” Angel added. You wanted to believe that. If you told them the truth, you’d have to explain why you hadn’t walked away yet. Rafe had given you every reason to quit and yet here you were. 

“You guys are there for me. I-I-I appreciate this night so much. I’ve just b-b-b-been letting work consume me. You guys have pulled me out of my fog. This next wwww-week will be better because I’m actually taking care of myself.”

It was an excuse, a way to rationalize why you hadn’t walked away from Rafe yet. You started to believe it, convincing yourself that things would get better just because you were trying to take care of yourself now.

“Just because he’s rich doesn’t mean he gets to have your body,” The world seemed to go quiet after Imani spoke those words. The music quieted and both you and Angel stared at her, the heavy silence enveloping the three of you. 

“She’s right, you know,” Angel said softly. 

How had she seen so clearly what you were trying to hide? Why were they prying into your life? You were an adult, after all. You should have the right to make your own decisions, however flawed they might seem to others. But their concern felt invasive, as if they were prying into a private struggle you were barely managing to keep under control.

Pity. 

Your best friends pitied you, “Oh, y-you’re not serious,” You smiled crazily, “He’s not …I’m nnn-n-not …you both have it so so wrong.”

They stared at you, trying to guage your reaction, but your heart and brain were going crazy. You couldn’t pick what emotion to convey because you were feeling all of them. 

“I’m drunk,” You rested your head back, “I’m so drunk.”

As the rideshare pulled up to your apartment building, you fumbled with your seatbelt, eager to escape the heavy conversation, “Y/N, we didn’t mean to upset you,” You heard Angel say at they followed you out of the car. 

“I’m okay. So okay.”

You wanted to hurry inside the lobby but felt a hand wrap around your arm, “Y/N,” Imani stopped you. 

You whipped your head around, panicked, “I’m fine. I sss-said I’m fine.”

“You boss’s car is parked over there.”

You followed her pointed finger, and your blood ran cold. There it was—Rafe’s sleek black car, parked conspicuously outside your building. “Wha—” you stammered, unable to process the sight of it, “Oh.”

“Why the fuck is he here?” Imani cursed. 

“I’ll meet you guys inside–”

“Go talk to him but we’re standing right here until you’re done,” Imani crossed her arms in front of her and gave you pointed look. 

“Angel,” You looked at you other friend, pleading. 

She shook her head, “We’re standing here, Y/N.”

“Fine,” You whispered. It was a quiet declaration of your frustration, a statement of your internal struggle. 

They didn’t trust you. You could take care of yourself. This would upset Rafe, you knew it would. You took a deep breath as you wandered towards the small parking lot beside your building. His bright truck lights shined against the brick of the building and you saw his arm resting outside the window, fingers drumming nervous on the frame. You pulled at your crop top, wanting to force it to be longer, as you got closer. 

“Y/N,” His voice cut through the night air with a sharp edge. 

Tonight, Rafe’s blue eyes were wild. Instead of the usual darkness you saw behind his pupils, you saw wildness. Dark circles under his eyes spoke of sleepless nights, and his other hand was busy rubbing worried circles over his buzzed haircut, a nervous habit you hadn’t seen before.

“Rafe, wh-what are you doing out here?” You dropped the formalities. It felt wrong to address him with respect, more than it usually did, when he was sitting outside of your apartment at two in the morning. 

He looked you over once, before his door opened, and he climbed out. Dressed in a polo and khaki shorts, he left his car running, before he was standing in front of you. Only a foot away and already you weren’t breathing correctly. He moved closer but you said, “You shouldn’t touch me.”

Hurt, confused, he gave you a look you hadn’t seen before, “Why not?”

You gestured as subtly as you could, to your two friend who were settled under the awning that hung over your apartment buildings entrance, “My roommates are waiting for me.”

Rafe’s jaw ticked, before his hands found his hips, “Right,” He nodded before he laughed, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I just feel crazy tonight, you know?”

Yes, you knew. Now your crazy was starting to feel like nothing compared to whatever was building inside of your boss. He was different tonight, younger, and out of control, “What are you doing out here?” You asked again, “It’s two in the mmm-morning.” 

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to show up like this. I just wanted to talk to you. I came earlier and you weren’t here and I … I started spiraling, you know? You’ve been out all night. I don’t like …I just felt fucking nervous.”

“Nervous b-because I went out with mmm-mmm-my friends?” Your words were cautious but you couldn’t help that your eyebrows raised in confusion. 

“I needed to see you.”

“You see me now,” You said, “What … what is it?”

Rafe took a breath, “I made a mistake at the cabin and I think, ever since then, you’ve been distant.”

You nodded as you tried to understand his meaning. He made a mistake when he spanked you with a belt, making two of his close acquaintances listen to you scream, and leaving you to cry yourself to sleep. The distance he now complained about was a direct result of his actions—a defense mechanism you’d put in place to protect yourself. And yet, here he was, expressing frustration over your response, as if your withdrawal was the real issue rather than his behavior.

“Rafe, honestly, this isn’t h-h-helping … I d-d-don’t know if I can handle this right now. I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be,” You took a step back and you were comforted by the fact that he couldn’t take a step towards you. He wouldn’t make a scene, not in front of your roommates. Maybe you could forgive their intrusiveness. 

Rafe seemed to tense at your words and you watched as his eyes wandered down the sidewalk towards your friends, “Okay, uhm …they say something to you?” His voice carried a note of suspicion, as if their presence was somehow a direct affront to him.

“They’re my friends,” you replied tersely, hoping that would be the end of it. Of course your friends had expressed their concerns about him. 

“Okay,” Rafe said, his voice edged with frustration. “I just … I’m here because I want to fix things.”

“C-Can we talk about it on Monday, please?” You asked, “I’ve been-”

“You’ve been drinking,” He filled in your words, more unamused than before, “It’s not safe, little girl like you, only your friends to protect you … there’s lots of bad, bad people in this city.” 

The way he said "little girl" stung. It wasn’t the first time he’d used it, but it felt more patronizing and condescending tonight.

“I can take care of myself,” you said firmly, taking another step back towards your building, trying to put more space between you and his imposing figure.

“Can you?” he taunted, the words heavy with mockery. “Alright, I’ll give you some space. You know what? Go ahead and take Monday off, you deserve it, sweetheart.” 

“Goodnight,” You said before you turned away from him. You jumped when you heard his truck door slam close but you didn’t look back. 

Your friends, witnessing the tense exchange from the corner of the awning, approached you with concern written on their faces. Angel reached out, placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but filled with worry.

“Fuck, that dude is crazy,” Imani said, “You have to quit. I’ll get another part time job. We both will while you look for something else. We’ll make it work.”

You should have cried in their arms, letting their comfort and love wash over you, but instead, all you felt was exhaustion and apathy. You didn’t have the energy to be comforted or to express your gratitude. Numb and drained, you trudged inside, your mind already longing for the softness of your pillow. Your friends followed quietly. 

Tuesday morning, your alarm didn’t wake you up. There was a pounding on your door before Imani stormed into your room. Heart racing, you lifted your head and checked your phone sitting on your side table. It was thirty minutes before your alarm was even supposed to go off, “What the-”

“Look!” Groggily, you sat up in your bed just as a crumpled white envelope was thrown at your chest. You held it up to the light trickling into your room from the window, and you easily saw red bold letters stamped across the top of the letter: EVICTION NOTICE. 

Without another thought, you ripped open the envelopement, “It’s probably a-a prank, Imani.”

“What is going on?” Angel stumbled into the room next, mouth full of foaming toothpaste. 

You held open the letter as you began to read carefully, “As per the terms of your lease agreement and in a-a-accordance with the state and local regulations, this letter serves as your official notice of eviction–”

“Fuck,” Imani cursed. 

“This decision has been mmmm-made in alignment with our current business strategy which includes renovating the apartment to increase its value and preparing the property for sale to a prospective buyer …”

“Someones buying our entire apartment building?” Angel asked, eyes wide with disbelief.

“This is fucked,” Imani added. 

You continued reading, “The termination for your lease w-w-w-will be affected sixty days from the date of this notice. Please ensure thhh-that you vacate the premises by this date …”

You read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it. The signature at the bottom confirmed its legitimacy.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Imani sat down on the edge of your bed, head in the palm of her hands, “They can’t do this. It’s illegal! Where are we supposed to go?”

“Sixty days from now is right before the holidays start,” Angel leaned in the doorway, her eyes starting to well with tears, “I can’t go back home.”

Imani shook her head, “This apartment is my home.”

Determined, you climbed out of bed, pulling on the work clothes you had pre-selected. You kicked off your fuzzy socks, removed your bonnet, and began fixing your braids into a messy bun. “I’m going into the office,” you said resolutely. “I w-w-w-work for a real estate company. Rafe will know what to do. They can’t just do this. If anyone knows how to get out of this, he will.”

The two girls exchanged glances, their concern palpable. “We don’t need his help,” Imani said firmly.

“I don’t think I want it,” Angel added quietly.

You stared at them, incredulous. “He c-can help. You don’t know him like I do.”

“Y/N, is this really smart?” Angel asked, her voice tinged with worry.

“I can’t believe you guys. Get out, I’m getting ready,” you snapped, frustration rising. “Get out, now!”

As they left the room, their worried faces lingered in your mind, but you were focused on finding a solution.

Despite drunkenly conveying your uncertainties about your position with Rafe a few nights before, that morning, you were the epitome of perfection.  You wore exactly what he had chosen for you: a light blue dress embellished with sparkling sequins, pockets, and a Peter Pan collar. You even spent more than ten minutes putting on your makeup that morning, you looked flawless, more effort than you’d ever put in before.

You recited his entire schedule with only a slight stutter, had a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him at his desk, and arranged for lunch from one of his favorite restaurants. You allowed him to wrap his hand around your waist, to lean down and bury his face in your neck, to inhale your scent and press a gentle kiss against your skin.

It was like nothing had changed. Seeing Rafe outside of your apartment that night was frightening, a reminder of the presence he now had in your life, but you’d never seen him look so … desperate. Rafe Cameron was desperate for you, of all people. It dawned on you that perhaps there was room for negotiation. At the cabin, you had vehemently resisted his behavior, and his reaction had been explosively violent. But now, with him admitting to a mistake and showing a rare glimpse of vulnerability, you realized you might possess more leverage than you had previously imagined.

You spent the first few hours at work hyping yourself up to bring up the eviction notice to Rafe. All of his morning meetings went well and he didn’t have the usual cloud of darkness that was constantly over his head. When there was finally a lull in the day, you finally told him the news you’d learned that morning. However, his reaction made your face fall into a frown that you didn’t have the strength to correct.

“I’m not sure what the problem is. Don’t I pay you enough to be able to afford your own apartment?”

“My friends …” you began, struggling to find the right words. Mentioning your friends was wrong. You knew how he felt about the voices of reason in your life. 

“Right, your friends. What would you have me do?” His words continued to be indifferent and detached, as if he could want you so bad, but care nothing about the lives that were closest to you, “Offer them jobs? Pay for them to live as well?”

“No, that’s nnn-not what I mean,” It felt like he was purposefully miscontruing your words, and in turn, your character. Of course you didn’t expect for him to take care of your friends. Not letting him take advantage of the sea of emotions you were feeling, you recited your problem clearly, “I just want to know if you have any advice. For handling the situation. Something that’s in our control as tenants.”

“You don’t have much power at all, as tenants. You’re subject to the decisions made by the property management and the owners,” Before the reality of his words fully sunk in, he sighed, continuing, “You could look at your lease agreement and read it thoroughly to find any clauses that protect you. You could consult with a lawyer though that would be a pricy right to go down. You could talk to your landlord and try to get an extension to find a new place. That’s where I would start, sweetheart.”

Rafe’s hands folded together, looking up at you, as a smile graced his face. You nodded, “Okay,” You were grateful for a straight answer, but admittedly, you thought he would offer a better solution, “What should we look for in the lease? What would protect us?”

“Anything about early termination, language about renovations or changes in property management. Stipulations about how much notice is required before evicting you. If the landlord has violated any of those terms, it could be grounds for negotiation.”

“Huh,” you nodded, your heart filling with a small bit of hope, despite how out of reach some of his suggestions felt, “O-Okay, thank you. Yeah, I’ll t-t-talk to my roommates about it.”

“If it were me, I would be make sure I focused on my own safety and well being. You can’t really help your friends if you’re out on the street with them.” 

His words, rude and smart like always, stung but you didn’t dwell on them, “Thanks for the advice, sir.” 

For the rest of the morning, you shuffled between tasks and scrolling through your lease agreement. You searched it for the keywords that Rafe at mentioned and when that search wasn’t fruitful, you started to read it top to bottom. Your landlord was only required to give you sixty days notice for an eviction. You found absolutely nothing about property management changes. Hours passed and as lunchtime approach, you were sufficiently frustrated. 

You brought Rafe his lunch as he sat through a lunch time meeting but you made your way to the breakroom quickly afterwards.

Imani had called you a few time so you returned it. You’d texted your groupchat about all the steps that Rafe had mentioned. Imani had replied that he was probably withholding information. You weren’t quite sure why that idea hadn’t crossed your mind. 

“Hey, I still haven’t found anything–”

“Cameron Development is the one purchasing the apartment building, Y/N.”

Your heart sank and you plopped down on the breakroom’s leather couch with a heavy sigh, “Shit,” You whispered. 

“Shit is an understatement,” She replied, “Y/N, I’m starting to think you need to be really careful. Maybe we should go to the police.”

He’d lied to your face, unabashedly. 

"We'll talk about it later, I promise," You spoke before you hung up, not giving her a chance to argue.

It was much too late for careful. You should’ve ran after your first conversation with him but now … you were effectively trapped. Rafe had sex with you even when you didn’t want to. He hurt you and you held him for comfort after you. It had been weeks since you’d even felt like yourself. 

You leaned back to stare at the ceiling and you didn’t move for the next thirty minutes. Eleanor was the one who came to find you after you’d gone missing, “Y/N, Rafe’s been looking for you. What are you doing?”

“Did you know?” You asked her solemnly, your voice felt broken. 

She came to sit beside you and you felt her place a hand on your shoulder as she leaned closer, “Topper told me they rushed the deal. Offered twice the asking price. Said it was horrible idea, completely financially irresponsible, but Rafe insisted. ”

“Wh-What should I do?” You turned your head towards her, tears in your eyes, “I-I’ve never had sss-someone feel this way about me b-but th-this feels wrong.”

“What should you do?” She repeated, “I think he loves you.”

“L-Love?” You seemed to choke on the words. 

From what you could tell, it didn’t seem that Rafe was capable of loving anyone, “What does your gut tell you?”

This entire time, your gut had been telling you one thing, “T-To run?”

Even now, you were so unsure of yourself, “Makes sense, he’s suffocating you.”

You sat up in your spot, “Should I go now? Leave all my stuff? He p-paid for it, anyways.”

“I don’t think this is the time,” She squeezed your shoulder gently, her eyes soft as they fixed on you, “If you run, he’ll drag you back to his mansion kicking and screaming. Rafe just made this grand gesture to display his power. A huge fuck you to all the people you care about. He’s desperate. This is your time to get what you want from him. Tell him, you’re not going to be his little sex secretary anymore or follow him to the mountains, unless he changes.” 

“Y-You think he can change?”

“I didn’t think so before,” Eleanor said, her voice firm. “But now, seeing how desperate he is, I believe he’ll do anything to keep you.”

You could barely admit to yourself that part of you wished what she was saying was true. The notion that Rafe might have feelings for you, even if expressed through flawed and controlling actions, was both intoxicating and unsettling. Maybe you could take the bad with the good if the good started to outweigh the bad. But Rafe’s bad was more than bad. His soft gestures were often accompanied by demands and manipulations. 

There was no pros and cons list to be made. You looked at your situation objectively, Eleanor’s words having finally forced you to. If you ran, he’d come after you. If you ran, you’d have nothing. No apartment or salary to support yourself. You longed for a relationship where you felt safe and cared for and you wanted to live in a world where your friends were also taken care of. 

“I hope you’re not handling your personal business during workhours,” Rafe had said when you finally returned to the office. 

Ironic, given all the personal things you two had done together in that very office. 

“I’m not the one who made it personal,” You spoke easily, smoothly. 

You made your way to your desk. Your words seemed to bothered him but you didn’t glance at him long enough to take in his reaction. 

“And how did I make it personal?” You flipped through your personal calendar, taking a pen and marking down all of Rafe’s scheduled social events. 

“It’s not g-g-going to work. Using my friends to threaten me.”

“Oh?” That single word was dripping with venom.

“Just makes me think even www-worse of you. And I-I already had a poor opinion.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to look at him but you kept your eyes focused down, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your opinion of me?"

“B-Because I drive you crazy. Because I’m the one person y-you want to control completely.”

“Maybe I wanted to make things easier for you. Maybe I know that you’ll outgrow your little friends soon and you need a push in the right direction. You have friends in higher places now, you know that?”

“Y-You don’t like that they tell me to quit. That they know sss-somethings wrong with you.”

“You’re wrong,” He shot back.

“You’ve done a good job b-because now I can’t leave without losing everything,” It took everything to keep your voice from breaking. Finally, you turned your heads toward him. You saw the way his chair was towards you, the way his grip was tight on the armrests of his chair.

“Maybe I’ve been selfish.”

You scoffed at that, “You’ve mmm-made it clear that you don’t care about my needs or mmm-my feelings.”

“I know your feelings, sweetheart. You wear them so clearly,” Rafe replied, you could see it in his face that he was trying to keep his tone subdued He leaned foreward slightly, eyes as intense as ever, “Tell me what needs I haven’t tended to. Let me fix things, yeah?”

His offered seemed genuine and exactly what you were hoping for, weren’t you? 

“You really want to fix things?”

“Yeah,” He said like the crimes he’d committed against you were something that could remedied, “I can’t change what I don’t know.”

“It’s not just about what you’ve done wrong. It’s a-about how you handle things from now on,” You started, choosing your words carefully, “It’s about allowing mmm-mmme to set boundaries and respecting them.”

“Boundaries?” His head twisted to the side like he wasn’t entirely familiar with the term, “There’s multiple?”

“First, I want you t-to do what you can to remedy this apartment situation. Then, I don’t want you to ever bring my friends into this again.”

“Fine, I’ll get them another apartment. I’ll even throw in free rent.”

“No,” You shook your head, “You own the building which means you let us stay. No renovations.”

“I made an investment. I have to make a profit–”

“I’m serious,” You countered, “Y-Y-You made your point. You have all the mmm-money in the world and we have nothing in comparison.”

Rafe sighed, fingers tapping against his leg, “Okay, they stay but you come to live with me.”

“What? Why?” It was another layer of control, not a solution. 

“Your friends will want nothing to do with me or my help. If you continue to work for me, they won’t want anything to do with you either. If you want to maintain those relationships, some space would be better. Let them see you happy and they’ll come to their senses about our relationship.”

The implication of his words was clear. He was offering you a way to keep your friends, but it came with the price of further entangling your life with his. It felt like a manipulative trade-off.  You thought about the way he had manipulated you before, using your friends as leverage, and it made you wary of his intentions.

“I won’t say yes right now,” You decided, “Sss-sss-since we’re talking about living situations. Next year, I want to stay in Charlotte.”

“That won’t work.”

What had Eleanor told you to do? Had she forgotten how stubborn he was? 

“Y-You’re asking me to move across the state with you. I-It’s t-t-t-to much. There will have to be another arrangement.”

“Hmm, I won’t say yes right now,” he repeated your wording with an edge of mockery. You scowled, feeling the frustration build up inside you.

“You just sss-said you wanted to fix things.”

“My intentions … my intentions are to leave the city and spend the next few years settling down. I’m getting to a certain age and I’ve been thinking about, you know, getting married and having kids. It feels like the right time,” The information is a shock to you, not the thought of Rafe wanting a wife and kids, but knowing immediately he was implying that you’d be filling that role, “It’s a beautiful area. I wouldn’t expect you to continue your role there. You’d fully be a stay-at home wife, you could pursue any hobbies you wanted, and of course you’d have access to even more money than I’ve been paying you.”

Rafe began to paint a picture of a gilded cage. On the surface, it was tempting: a life of comfort, stability, and freedom from financial worries. But the price was your independence and autonomy. The thought of becoming a stay-at-home wife, completely reliant on him and cut off from your own life in Charlotte, was suffocating.

“What if I d-d-don’t want that life? W-What if I want my own career?”

He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he leaned back in his chair, “What career do you want? I’ll give it to you. You can do practically anything from home these days. If you want to spend the first years doing that, fine, I’m not expecting kids right away.”

You hadn’t realized it but your breath was starting to quicken. You placed a hand over your chest, all of that resolve you had going into the conversation starting to fade away, “This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Rafe seemed to talk to himself, “Hey, hey, calm down.” 

Your breath came out in quick shallow breaths. Rafe’s proposal pressed down on you as the room started to spin. You felt his arms around you before you could fall from your chair, “Eleanor, I need you here,” You heard clearly. For the next moments, you could only hear their muffled talking. You remembered seeing both of them, panicked look on Eleanor’s face, a hand rubbing down your back. Rafe was talking to you, his eyes trained on you intently. You remembered a glass of water coming to your lips and you tilted your head back, welcoming the liquid, thinking it might quell the fire inside your mind. 

Though your thoughts still raced, the room’s spinning slowed down, and the you heard Rafe dsay, “It’ll help you feel better.”

He stayed with you, rubbing soothing circles into the skin of your thighs, “Thank you,” You whispered though you hated that you found comfort in his touch. A wave of drowsiness overcame you and despite your best efforts to stay alert, you felt yourself lean forward until you were fully in Rafe’s arms, “Rafe–”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. Rest,” Rafe murmured, his voice soft and reassuring as he held you close.

This got too long, gonna have to make another part! Pls pls pls reblog and let me know your thoughts and predictions!

[shallyouobeyme]

Map

Platonic!Yandere!Damian x reader (GN)

Summary: Damian and you have to work on a project together and he realizes how you seem to be invisible to everyone else - how you want to be invisible - and something in him makes him want, no need, to figure out why...

! Minors Do Not Interact !

TW: Domestic abuse (not shown directly), planned kidnapping, Dark content, yandere, This is all fiction, I do not condone this

Day 4 of my Yandere Writetober, Tomorrow word is 'Golden' so if you have any ideas lemme know

People did not think Damian was sentimental, most of all his family. If a person had an idea of who Damian was, but wasn’t close to him or hasn’t personally met him then they could probably still assume that in private he might be a bit more emotional than in public. This person would be wrong though. Sure, in private Damian might be a little more open and showed a few more emotions, but most of those were rage, pettiness and sarcasm. Damian was a lot of things, but definitely not sentimental. At least not usual. And then you came into his life. 

From the moment he was born, Damian had a map of how exactly his life would be played out. Then he was brought to his family and the map changed. From wanting to become the next head of the League of Assassins, he now wanted to become the next Batman. He wanted to step up once his father needed to step down and take his rightful place as the head of the family. Alone.

Everyone and everything else that was a hindrance in that way - be it his age, school, villains, friends or even his own family - was just an obstacle on the map of his life. He thought you'd be just the same, a Problem to be taken care of and to leave behind. Just another annoying child in his class - which Bruce insisted he attend - that weren't fit for the reality of life he faced every single day. It was just typical that he had to be stuck with you working on a project for a class in which he had a grade to make up, because of too many absences. He didn't bother to question why you had to do the project, he just wanted to get it over with.

"I'll be doing the project - I doubt you could help anyways - and you can just put your name on it as well, then I don't have to bother with you," Damian sneered to you once class was disbanded, already more than done with you and with the situation. You seemed to turn into yourself and he recognized how shy and intimidated you were and if he had been just a tad more empathetic he'd feel bad. Damian rolled his eyes and turned to leave when your hand tugged on his uniform's blazer.

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry, but-but I'd really like to-to work on the project together, I-I really need this grade," you stuttered, your head lowered in shame, even though you had no real reason to be ashamed. Damian wanted to make a snide comment about how the project was definitely better off if he was doing it on his own, but something about how small and fragile you looked kept him from doing so.

That was the first detour from the life on his map. That moment of emotion that no one witnessed, not even you because of how your head was held down. And it was only the beginning. He scoffed at your request, but it wasn't truly malicious like before.

"Fine, but we'll do it at your place today after school, no discussion," Damian stated and left no room for arguments, turning around and leaving the room, not hearing your small sound of protest.

During the rest of the school day, Damian couldn't help but watch you from the corner of his eyes, he saw how you were hidden in your uniform, seemingly wanting to merge with the backdrop of the classroom, how you kept completely to yourself and seemingly managed to become completely invisible to anyone but him and some of your teachers.

So after school, he had to keep his eyes peeled open to see you come out since you really seemed to disappear between all the other students. He went over to you and told you to lead the way home, not bothering to offer to have Alfred drive the two of you since, for reasons he didn't understand himself, he wanted to spend the time with you alone. Detour number two.

The way to your home was spent in silence, Damian looking around sceptically and you turned into yourself like you always seemed to be. The route to your home took you out of the more or less safe and high-income neighbourhood of Gotham Academy to the less secure area not that different from the region around Crime Alley. He wondered how your parents were able to afford your tuition for Gotham Academy, but he knew that you were rather good in school so he figured you were on a scholarship.

When you finally arrived at a rundown apartment complex you brought him to a flat on the fifth story, carefully opening the door as if you were afraid of making any sound.

"I'm sorry if it's a bit messy," you mumbled vaguely in his direction as you carefully opened the door and Damian realized it was the first thing he had seen you say since you had asked him to let you work on the project as well. Then you lead him into the apartment and everything somewhat fell into place.

To say it was a bit messy was an understatement. There were empty bottles of beer, vodka, wine and all other kinds of alcoholic beverages, Damian even caught sight of some less legal substances, but he decided not to mention them aloud, already seeing based on the darkening colour of your face and the way you tried to avoid looking anywhere near him that you were highly ashamed and emberassed. Detour number three.

He saw how you looked through the open doors into the other - not cleaner - rooms and he could hear your relieved sigh when there was no one else in there with the two of you. Then you lead him into your room if one could call it a room, which had a size just barely big enough for a measly small bed, a box usually meant for laundry filled with your clothes and a small desk that looked like you had taken it from the side of the road. There was no chair or even a stool.

Damian noticed Jason's influence - much to his anger - when his first thought was that 'Harry Potter would feel bad for you'. His next thought was that you didn't deserve to live like that, that you deserved better. Detour number four brought him right off of the road like never before.

"Uhm... You-You can sit on the bed if that's okay, I'll-I'll sit on the floor, then we can work on the project," you spoke hesitantly and shuffled to sit on what little space was left on the floor, but was stopped when Damian pulled you to sit beside him on the bed.

"There's enough space here for both of us," he argued and turned to you. "But- uhm- we don't have any space for the project then."

You were right, he supposed, as he saw that both of you sitting on the bed were basically taking up all the mattress had to offer. He sighed and decided that he was already neck deep into whatever was happening so he might as well see where it was going.

"Then we won't do the project today," he stated in the same tone that left nothing up for discussion and you seemed almost relieved, "We can work on it tomorrow after school in the library."

"O-Okay, I'm sorry it's so-" You stopped in your tracks, seemingly on the verge of tears, and then gave it another go, "-I'm sorry you came here for nothing, I can lead you to the door."

"I'm not leaving yet," Damian said much to your surprise as he saw the shock displayed on your face, "first I want you to tell me what is going on here." He tried to tell himself that it was just his vigilante persona shining through, but deep inside he knew it was you that made him so curious about this situation.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked, obviously - but badly - trying to hide something. Damian let his instincts lead him as he quickly took your hand and pulled up your sleeve, he had been noticing how you were playing with it every time you were scared or ashamed. He wasn't all too surprised to see blue, purple, green and yellow splotches littered over the area, some bruises new, some old. You tried to pull your hand away, but Damian's grip stayed strong.

He pulled your hand even closer to him as he inspected the arm and asked: "Did your parents do that to you?" He looked up at your face and saw tears welling up in your eyes. It made you look even more fragile and delicate than he already thought you looked like throughout the day, but it also made this rage well up inside of Damian. How dare these people make you cry, how dare they hurt you. He wanted to rip them apart, wanted to make sure nothing and no one ever hurt you again.

"Tell me the truth, I will help you, I promise," Damian encouraged you and received a weak nod from you as your tears started to flow down your face in streaks. "Okay, give me a second, I'll be right back, don't worry." Damian used his blazer's sleeve to gently wipe away some of the tears - something that his family would believe to be a lie if you had told him about it - and got up to leave the room to call Alfred to come pick him and you up.

He told Alfred that he'd be inviting a friend for a sleepover, hanging up on a too-stunned-to-speak Alfred who was surely already on his way to inform Bruce of this new development, he didn't bother to tell him that he planned for it to be a more... permanent... sleepover.

You needed him, you needed him to protect you, to care for you, to make sure you never again had a reason to cry. You were such a pure, fragile soul, one that didn't deserve to be left alone in this cruel world, he was sure that once his father had met you he'd understand. He'd feel the same way. You'd be safe with them, they'd become your family, the family you deserved and needed.

And if Bruce didn't agree if Bruce told him that he was crazy, that he couldn't just take you away from your life, no matter how bad it was, and take over your entire existence... well, he had already become ready to derail his entire plan, had become ready to redraw the entire map of his life just for him to have you along, so he might as well return to his roots because he was sure his mother would be more than happy to take you in as long as it made Damian return...

[rafeskai]

Life as We Know It — Rafe Cameron

Chapter Six

Two opposites must navigate love, loss, and unexpected parenthood to discover the meaning of family.

Summary: When tragedy strikes, two very different individuals find their lives unexpectedly intertwined as they become the guardians of an orphaned child. As they navigate the challenges of co-parenting, balancing careers, and confronting their pasts, they discover that family can form in the most surprising ways. Through heartfelt moments and unexpected humor, they explore what it means to build a life together—one step at a time.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Character deaths & angst.

Author's Notes: 1 chapter left to gooooooo!

Masterlist: Here

The next few days blurred together as the courtroom became a battleground. The air was thick with tension, the walls seemingly closing in around you as each new revelation about Ward Cameron was brought to light. The stakes were higher than they had ever been before. The pressure to win, to protect Willa, pressed down on you like an invisible weight, and the only thing that kept you grounded was the unwavering support from Rafe by your side.

Each morning you walked into the courthouse, the same grim faces of the Cameron family greeted you. Ward was there, his presence looming over the proceedings like a dark cloud. His smugness hadn't faltered, and even though he was under intense scrutiny, he still acted like he was above it all. He never once looked at you or Rafe directly—only ever speaking to his lawyers in low, controlled tones, as though his guilt was something he could keep hidden.

But it wouldn’t last.

Today, you were ready. You had no intention of backing down. You had the truth on your side, and that was something Ward could never escape.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was packed as usual, and you sat in your chair, feeling the weight of all eyes on you. Rafe, though his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed with focus, sat beside you. The final moments of this battle were drawing near, and today was the day you hoped would shift everything in your favor.

Ward’s lawyer had spent the last few hours trying to discredit the evidence you’d found in the attic—claiming it was old, irrelevant, that it had nothing to do with Willa’s future. But the judge had seen through those arguments, and as you waited for the next moment to arrive, your heart beat steadily in your chest.

Rafe’s lawyer stood, clearing his throat as he prepared to present the final piece of evidence. A stack of photographs, medical reports, and those damning letters Sarah had written in secret. Rafe held your hand under the table, a gesture so small yet filled with so much meaning. You squeezed his hand in return, a silent promise to him that you would do your part.

“Your Honor,” Rafe’s lawyer began, “we’ve gathered new evidence that clearly shows the abusive history of Mr. Ward Cameron. This evidence is not just hearsay—it is documented, it is real, and it is a direct reflection of the environment in which Rafe and his sister, Sarah, were forced to grow up. These letters, these photos, they paint a portrait of emotional and physical abuse, a history that has haunted the Cameron family for years.”

The lawyer presented each piece, and the courtroom fell into a tense silence. You could feel Ward’s gaze burning into you, but you refused to look back. This was it. You were done being intimidated.

When the lawyer finished, the judge nodded, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a flicker of doubt now cast on Ward’s credibility.

And then, it was your turn.

You stood up from your seat, your legs shaking but your resolve as solid as ever. You walked to the stand, the weight of the moment sinking in. You could feel the tension rising, the murmurs in the courtroom fading as all eyes turned to you. You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts, and then you spoke.

“Your Honor, I know you’ve heard a lot of things about Rafe Cameron in this courtroom,” you began, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside. “I know what people say about him. That he’s angry, that he’s dangerous, that he’s just another spoiled rich kid who doesn’t care about anyone but himself. But that’s not who he is. And that’s not the person he’s been to Willa.”

Your eyes searched for Rafe in the crowd, and when you found him, there was a look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place—a mixture of vulnerability and strength that you hadn’t seen before.

“I’ve known Rafe for a long time. And yes, he has a past—one that’s been shaped by a father who made him believe that love was something earned, not something given. But that’s not the Rafe I’ve seen over the past few months. The man who sits here today is a man who has stepped up for his niece, a man who, despite his own hurt, has taken responsibility for her, for them. And I’ve seen him with Willa. I’ve seen how he cares for her.”

You turned slightly to look at Rafe again, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite put into words. You had seen him grow into a man who loved fiercely and without hesitation. A man who would never, ever let someone like Ward tear apart what he was trying to build.

“I’ve seen him comfort her when she’s scared. I’ve seen him stay up all night with her when she’s sick. I’ve seen him put aside his own pain to make sure she’s okay. He’s been there for her in ways that no one ever was for him. He’s been a better father figure than Ward Cameron could ever be.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you forced them back. You weren’t going to break now—not in front of the court, not when you were so close.

“You want to know the truth?” you continued, your voice rising with emotion. “The truth is, Rafe Cameron is one of the most caring people I know. And he has done everything in his power to make sure that Willa grows up with love, safety, and stability. He is not like his father. And he is not the man they say he is.”

You paused, your chest tightening, but you pushed forward. “I’m not just here to testify for Rafe. I’m here to testify for Willa. She deserves a childhood full of love and protection. And I promise you, Your Honor, that is what Rafe will give her. I’ll give her too. We will do this together.”

The courtroom was silent when you finished, the weight of your words hanging in the air. You could hear the sharp intake of breath from those who had been skeptical of your testimony. Even Ward seemed taken aback, his smug expression faltering just for a moment.

You sat back down, trying to steady your breath, your hands trembling. You didn’t know what was going to happen next, but for the first time in a long time, you felt hope.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

After a long deliberation, the judge returned to the bench. You could feel Rafe’s tension beside you, his hand gripping yours as he waited for the decision.

The room held its breath as the judge spoke, his voice calm but firm. “After reviewing all the evidence, including the newly presented documentation of Mr. Ward Cameron’s abusive behavior and the heartfelt testimony regarding the current guardianship situation, this court finds that the best interest of Willa Routledge lies with her current guardians—Rafe and [Y/N]. The court hereby grants full custody to the guardians of the child, effective immediately.”

For a moment, you couldn’t process what you had just heard. And then it hit you, crashing through you like a wave. You had won.

Rafe, who had been so stoic, looked at you in disbelief. His grip on your hand tightened, and for a moment, all the pain, all the struggle, all the long nights of worry faded into the background. You had done it. Willa was safe.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Rafe. You had fought together—and now, for the first time since Sarah and John B. had passed, you both had a reason to believe in the future again.

Rafe squeezed your hand, his voice thick with emotion. “We did it. We really did it.”

And as the gavel came down, sealing the decision, you finally allowed yourself to breathe again.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The courtroom was still buzzing with the aftermath of the judge’s ruling. The gavel had just come down, the words of victory still echoing in your ears. Willa was finally safe, and you had won—together. You and Rafe exchanged a look, one that held a mix of disbelief and relief. There were no more battles to fight. The war was over, and you had come out on top.

But just as you thought you could breathe again, the door to the courtroom swung open with a heavy slam. Ward Cameron.

His face was a mask of rage, his eyes burning with fury as he stormed toward the front. The room fell silent, the tension thickening again as people shifted uncomfortably in their seats. You knew this wasn’t over. Ward wasn’t the type to let go of a loss easily.

“You think you’ve won?” Ward spat, his voice dripping with venom. His eyes locked on Rafe, and for a moment, it was like the room itself shrank. His presence alone seemed to warp the air around you, making the world feel smaller. “This isn’t over, boy. I’ll make sure you never get to raise that child. You don’t deserve her. None of you do.”

Rafe stood up immediately, his jaw tightening, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re the last person who gets to tell me what I deserve,” Rafe growled, his voice low but laced with fury. The anger between them had been simmering for years, but now it was a live wire, crackling between them.

You could feel Rafe’s anger radiating beside you, but you stood quickly, placing a hand on his arm. “Rafe, it’s done. The decision is made. You’re not going to change it by causing a scene.”

Ward sneered at you, his eyes narrowing in disdain. “You think this is over, huh? You think just because you got some courtroom victory, I’m going to back off? You’re both fools. I’ll fight you every step of the way.”

Before you could respond, Ward turned his eyes back to Rafe. “You’re weak. Just like your mother. Just like Sarah. Always the disappointment.” His words were sharp, like daggers aimed right at Rafe’s chest, trying to cut deep.

You could see the tension in Rafe’s posture, his muscles tensing, but before he could say anything, Ward took a step forward, getting dangerously close.

That’s when security stepped in.

“Mr. Cameron, that’s enough,” one of the officers said sternly, moving toward him with authority. “You need to leave now.”

Ward didn’t seem to care. He stepped closer, jabbing a finger toward Rafe. “I’m not finished with you. Not by a long shot.” His voice was shaking with rage.

But before he could take another step, two security guards moved in, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. Ward tried to shove them off, but they held firm, dragging him away from the front of the courtroom.

“You’ll regret this, Rafe!” Ward yelled, his voice echoing through the room as he was escorted out. “I’ll make sure of it!”

The door slammed shut behind him, and the room was filled with an uncomfortable silence. But slowly, the tension began to ebb. People exchanged glances, whispered amongst themselves. There was no question now—Ward Cameron had lost. But the question remained: would he ever truly accept it?

Rafe stood there, his body rigid with anger, his fists still clenched. You could see the way his hands shook, the way his jaw clenched tighter with each breath. But he didn’t say a word. Not yet. Instead, he took a deep breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he turned to face you.

You walked over to him, your heart heavy with everything that had just happened. His face was pale, his eyes distant. You reached out, touching his arm gently, but he didn’t pull away.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, knowing full well that the words didn’t do justice to the storm that was brewing inside him.

Rafe exhaled slowly, a long, tortured sound. “Yeah… I will be.” He paused, then added in a quieter voice, “I just never thought it would be this hard. To finally win… and still have him out there.”

You nodded, understanding all too well. “It won’t be easy. But we’ve got each other. And we’ve got Willa. That’s all that matters.”

Rafe looked down at the floor for a long moment, his hand running through his hair. “I hate that he still has this hold on me, on all of us,” he murmured. “I hate that even after everything, he can just show up and make me feel like I’m still that kid. Like I’m still the one who doesn’t deserve anything.”

You stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He doesn’t control you anymore. He never will again. You’re not that kid anymore, Rafe. And you’ve earned the right to protect Willa. You are her family.”

Rafe didn’t look up immediately, but the words seemed to sink in. His breath was steadier now, his expression softer. Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and something deeper—something you had seen in him all along, but only now, in this moment, could you truly recognize.

“We’ll keep fighting for her,” he said, his voice firm, though still weary. “No matter what it takes.”

You nodded, knowing that together, you would face whatever came next. The fight wasn’t over. Ward might not have given up, but neither had you—or Rafe.

You turned to the door, where Willa’s social worker was waiting for you, her smile soft and reassuring. It was done. Willa was safe. And despite the lingering presence of Ward, despite the obstacles still ahead, for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could finally begin to heal.

And together, you would build the family that Sarah and John B. had wanted for her all along.

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[fratttymatty]

Nathan's Parked

(All characters are 18+)

Nathan Parker had never quite fit in at Westbrook High. He was the kind of guy who spent his lunch breaks huddled in the back corner of the library, buried in books about superheroes or playing online games. He had thick glasses, messy brown hair that he never quite knew what to do with, and an awkward way of talking that made him stand out in the worst possible way. He didn’t have many friends, and his idea of a "good time" was usually just scrolling through fan fiction on his phone or studying for tests he didn't care much about. Nathan had long accepted that he would always be the geeky loner.

And then there was the secret he kept hidden from everyone: Nathan was gay, and while he didn’t mind the solitude, it would have been nice to share his feelings with someone.

But that was a far-off dream, something he'd shoved into the deepest parts of his heart. Who would want someone like him? Especially at a school where the jocks and cheerleaders ruled the social hierarchy, and someone like him was just… invisible.

One afternoon, after a grueling chemistry class, Nathan found himself wandering the aisles of the local drugstore, searching for something—anything—that might make him feel a little less out of place. He was heading to the deodorant section when something unusual caught his eye.

It was a sleek, black can of deodorant sitting alone on a shelf. Eclipse™ it was called, with the tagline: "Unleash your potential."

Nathan chuckled at the marketing slogan. "Sure, right," he muttered. He had no reason to believe that some fancy deodorant could change his life, but he figured it was worth a try. After all, he was desperate enough to give anything a shot.

As he sprayed the deodorant under his arms, a strange tingling sensation washed over him. Nathan shook his head, laughing at himself. Maybe it was some sort of psychological thing, he thought—his imagination running wild. He glanced at himself in the mirror and froze.

His reflection was… different.

His hair—messy and unkempt just moments ago—was now styled into a perfect wavy middle part, dark brown strands flowing effortlessly in a way that seemed entirely new. His face was sharper, more defined, and somehow more… masculine. His eyes no longer looked tired and worn-out but bright and confident. And his posture—his shoulders were broader, his chest fuller—he stood taller, more at ease.

Nathan blinked. Was this some kind of weird trick of the lighting? He reached up to touch his hair, but his fingers only confirmed what he feared: it wasn’t just his imagination. He was different. His clothes had changed too—gone was his oversized graphic tee and cargo shorts. Now, he wore a tight black compression shirt that showed off a toned chest, a sleek grey hoodie, a pair of jeans that fit him perfectly, and a letterman jacket draped casually over his shoulders. His shoes—new white trainers—looked like something right out of a sports magazine.

"Okay," he whispered to himself, "what the hell is going on?"

A sudden movement caught his eye, and when he turned, he saw a group of cheerleaders walking toward him. A few of them—Liana, Amanda, and Jenna—had been in his chemistry class earlier. But they'd never looked his way before. Now, as they approached, their eyes lit up with recognition. Or maybe it was something else… admiration?

"Hey there, Nathan," Liana said with a playful smile. "Wow, you look… different."

Nathan opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was deeper now, smoother, more self-assured. "Yeah, I guess I’ve… changed a little."

Amanda giggled, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Changed? You look like you’ve had a total makeover or something. I mean, you used to hide behind those glasses and all that—what are you doing now, hitting the gym?"

Nathan tried to think of a reply, but his mind was a little foggy. He didn’t recognize himself anymore, but he couldn’t help but feel good about the attention. He could feel his chest puffing out, his muscles subtly flexing under the tight shirt, as though his body was responding to the change.

"Yeah," he said with a grin that felt more natural than he expected. "I’ve been hitting the gym… working on a few things."

Liana stepped closer, her eyes glinting with interest. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. You should come hang out with us at the game this weekend. We’ve got a big pep rally, and it could be fun. You’d fit right in with the team now."

Nathan blinked. Hang out with them? The cheerleaders? He was just a nerdy kid who kept to himself. But the idea of being part of their world—their confident, carefree world—was suddenly too tempting to ignore. He felt a surge of something that felt like excitement. And… pride? A new sense of self-confidence he couldn’t quite explain.

"I’d like that," he said without hesitation, the words coming out effortlessly. "I’ll be there."

The days that followed felt like a whirlwind for Nathan. In a matter of days, he’d gone from being the awkward, socially-inept loner to one of the most talked-about guys at Westbrook High. His new look and newfound swagger made him the center of attention. The cheerleaders treated him like one of their own, and he soon found himself hanging out with them after school, practicing football moves with the jocks, and getting invited to parties where people actually wanted him around.

But the more Nathan embraced his new persona, the more he realized how much he was changing—not just physically, but mentally. He wasn’t the shy, introverted guy anymore. He was Max Hunter, the popular, athletic jock with a cocky attitude to match. His confidence quickly turned to arrogance, and before long, he was acting like the kind of guy he used to despise.

"Yo, check this out," Max said one afternoon, tossing a football up and down in front of his football buddies, Blake and Trevor. "This is how it’s done, alright?" He spun the ball effortlessly in his hands before tossing it across the field, landing it perfectly in Blake’s arms.

Blake threw him a high-five. "Damn, Max, you’ve been killing it lately. You're the new king around here."

Max grinned, his eyes flashing with arrogance. "Damn straight. It’s all about putting in the work and looking good while doing it. Don't know why I wasted all that time reading comics before."

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Man, you’ve changed. But in a good way."

Max gave a half-smirk. "Of course I’ve changed. I’m Max now. I’m not some nerdy little nobody anymore." He ran a hand through his hair, letting the group admire his perfect waves. "And it’s about time the world noticed."

As the week went on, Max’s new life was in full swing. He’d been casually hooking up with pretty much every cheerleader in school. It started with Liana, of course. She was beautiful, confident, and everyone’s idea of the "perfect girl." Max had charmed her with his cocky smile and athletic physique, and within days, they were seeing each other.

But as Max quickly realized, he was no longer someone who got tied down. As soon as Liana wasn’t around, he started flirting with other girls—cheerleaders, mostly—and eventually found himself in a casual, yet thrilling, rotation of hookups. He’d dated and slept with Amanda, Jenna, and even a few girls from rival schools, all while keeping up the pretense of being in a committed relationship with Liana.

The funny thing? They didn’t care. It didn’t matter how many times Max cheated on them—he was Max Hunter, and somehow, that made everything excusable. Each cheerleader, knowing full well about the others, would still smile whenever he showed up to practice, each one thinking she was the one who had his true attention. And Max let them believe it. He was the star of the show, and they were just happy to be along for the ride.

After all, when you looked like he did—when you had the physique, the style, and the swagger—you didn’t need to commit. They all wanted a piece of him, and he was more than happy to oblige.

But as Max looked in the mirror again, something clicked. He wasn’t just Nathan anymore. The person staring back at him—confident, athletic, popular—wasn’t Nathan Parker at all.

He had a new name.

"Max," he whispered, testing the name on his tongue. It felt right. Max Hunter. Strong. Powerful. The kind of guy who everyone knew, and who everyone wanted to know. A jock. The kind of guy who got the girl, the attention, and the respect.

As Max adjusted his letterman jacket and ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, he realized something: this wasn’t just a new look. It was a new life.

Maybe, just maybe, this was the person he was always meant to be.

[sodavizz]

Hiii! Can you make a Daisuke x Reader, where the reader feels like crap and feels like they're invisible, but then Daisuke comes into their life and helps them find happiness in life?? Any gender is okay, Thank you!! 😭

So many Daisuke asks TvT (someone gotta give me a new character or something-)

— No One Noticed.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Pairing: Daisuke x GN! Reader

Warnings: Darn fluff again

Wc: 600+

--

The world blurred past me like a forgotten dream—gray, muffled, inconsequential. I had long since become a shadow in the corner of my own life. People didn’t see me, didn’t notice when I sat silently at the edge of gatherings or drifted through hallways at work. My heart was heavy with the weight of being unseen.

Until that day.

It was raining—not a gentle drizzle but a torrent that matched the storm within me. I had just turned the corner of the café, balancing my umbrella, when I bumped into someone—hard. My umbrella slipped from my grasp, clattering to the pavement.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I muttered, not bothering to look up.

“It’s okay. Are you alright?” A voice—soft but warm—cut through the rain.

For the first time in what felt like ages, I looked up and locked eyes with someone. He had dyed brown hair, messy from the rain, and eyes that held a strange mix of curiosity and something deeper.

“I’m fine,” I said, though my voice was flat, practiced.

He smiled—a smile that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds. “I’m Daisuke, by the way. And you?”

“[Y/N],” I replied, unsure why I even bothered.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, and something about it felt… different. He noticed me.

--

Days passed, and somehow, Daisuke kept appearing in my life. At first, it felt like coincidence—another encounter at the café, then at the park where I often walked alone. Each time, he smiled, his face lighting up as if seeing me made his day. I started to realize he wasn’t just being polite. He genuinely wanted to talk to me, to know me.

“You come here a lot,” he said one afternoon as we walked along the park’s quiet trail.

“It’s peaceful,” I replied.

“Or lonely,” he added gently.

I glanced at him, startled. No one had ever said that out loud to me before.

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I get it. Sometimes the world feels too noisy, and the silence feels safer.”

I didn’t respond, but his words stayed with me.

--

Weeks turned into months, and Daisuke became a fixture in my life. We started meeting on purpose—at first for coffee, then dinners, then evenings spent wandering the city.

He had this way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight I carried wasn’t just mine anymore. He never pushed, never pried. Instead, he listened, really listened, and for the first time, I started sharing pieces of myself I’d long kept hidden.

One evening, as we sat on a bench overlooking the city, I finally asked, “Why do you care so much?”

Daisuke turned to me, his expression serious but soft. “Because I see you, [Y/N]. And I think you’re worth knowing. You’ve just forgotten how to see yourself.”

His words hit me harder than I expected.

--

Over time, something changed. It wasn’t just that I felt lighter or happier—it was that I started noticing things, too. I noticed the way Daisuke’s eyes crinkled when he laughed, how his voice grew quieter when he talked about things he loved. I noticed how my heart beat faster when he smiled at me, how his presence made me feel like I was finally home.

I realized I was falling for him—harder than I thought possible.

One night, as we stood beneath the streetlights after another long walk, I turned to him and blurted out, “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, his brow furrowing.

“For seeing me. For reminding me how to be free, and make my own choices in life.”

His eyes softened, and he stepped closer. “You’ve always been worth seeing, [N/N]. I’m just glad you let me.”

In that moment, something clicked. All the loneliness, all the grayness of my past—it faded into the background.

I reached for his hand, my voice trembling. “You know, I think I might love you.”

Daisuke smiled, his fingers tightening around mine. “Good. Because I’ve loved you since the day we met.”

In him, I found more than love—I found life again. And for the first time, I knew I wasn’t invisible. I was noticed, I was seen, and I was loved.

[asvterias]

𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦

part 1 || clarisse masterlist

clarisse la rue ✘ black!fem!demigod!reader (daughter of nyx)

summary: overwhelmed with her girlfriend's having a near-death experience, clarisse breakdowns in front of y/n.

word count: 1.9k+

author's note: also tysm for 1,680 followers, i appreciate every single one of you! i kinda thought this song related to this fic, lmk what you guys think in the comments! the song lyrics are bold and italics!

song playing — my love mine all mine by mitski

requested by an anonymous! (pairing ONLY!!)

TAGS BELOW:

@lvrue @kyuupidwrites @xanasaurusrex @urdeadpoet @aurorailvsm @quinnsadilla @st4rzl7 @p0rkbun @star-girl69 @aphroditesmoon @voidashh @lcvved @tinytea-biscut @dearlydarlings @rocknr0ll @nvirskies @k4zuhas-visi0n @urbisexualfriend @marlswhore @anominous-writer @lovelyy-moonlight @thegiganticgirlkisser @vi0lentg0d @thewritingbarbie @apocalypticlibrary @solecitoszn @blackchubbyqueen @mira-belcul18 @sleighingstella @ampitrit3 @mthefae @drlover11037 @ratjoe @mag03 @kroumi @hoku-k @zhivaxo @lacytalks @kazerka @liv444me @korizzybee @mariposa555 @inejsknifes @cherriesnbutter @justintinderlake4 @natasha-took-fall-damage @lixtinystay @2k7-sparkles @importantpotato @laughingcheese037

moon, a hole of light

through the big top tent high up

here before and after me

“you know what happens if you extort your powers too much.” she hastily reminded you. from her tone, you knew that she hesitated to remind you of that incident, and it was shaky leaving from her mouth.

“that was one time.” you sighed heavily.

by now, your existing abilities become stronger as you grow older. you managed to control your current powers, and clarisse encouraged you to discover your hidden powers.

shining down on me

moon, tell me if i could

however it’s not encouraged to extort your powers to full extent, liable enough to render you unconscious for weeks, not even days. as a result of your persistent stubbornness, unfortunately, it happened to you and clarisse was an emotional wreck without your comforting presence beside her.

she became more easily irritated and annoyed by anyone who even dared to look her way, almost threatening to kick their ass, surprisingly she’d just rough them up a bit, and stormed off afterward. spending hours at the sparring center, clarisse released all of her anger onto the sparring dummies, using her trust-worthy spear and being completely ruthless with it, rage consuming both her stability and mentality. everyone stayed out of clarisse’s way for their own safety.

all those times you kept her grounded felt like a big waste to her right now. she felt loved, and truly loved by someone blessed to cherish her until your last breath gave out. all of a sudden, you were harshly ripped away from her, without any type of warning, permanently leaving an invisible scar on her heart.

despite being stuck in a temporarily induced coma, clarisse still had a guilty conscience of unawareness, possibly having a chance to rescue you and prevent this from occurring. in other words, she wished that you didn’t intentionally overwork your powers to the core, but you did, and now you’re currently suffering the consequences of it.

send up my heart to you?

so, when i die, which i must do

for the two weeks, you were unconscious, clarisse visited you, kept quiet most of the time, muttered small incoherent words, barely even sentences. she held your hands tightly, they were lukewarm, temporarily not providing the warmth they usually do. she missed everything about you, your presence, your touch, and your love.

and when she’s staring at your face, a small smile litters her face, reminiscing on your wholesome shared memories. sadly, all of the radiation that your face once held was drained and a firm line took its place.

despite the large pit of despair in her stomach, clarisse felt you slipping away from reality with every passing day. your girlfriend was persistent, knowing that you can handle yourself, and often proud of your capability in those sorts of skills.

she couldn’t fathom what it was even like for you to endure the 2-week coma, forced into a dream-like state, hearing and sensing everything going on around you but unable to respond. it must have been torture for you, stuck with your thoughts endlessly on repeat, with no interruption at all. just you and your thoughts there all alone. nothing but you and your thoughts.

she prayed that you would somehow non-verbally assure her, confirming your well-being, not like that would have made a difference regardless, but still, your reassuring words would’ve lessened her worries, even if it was for such a short amount of time.

but the ares girl remained strong, at least for the both of you. clarisse mentally promised for her own sake, desperately clutching onto the small yet meaningful words of encouragement.

could it shine down here with you?

‘cause my love is mine, all mine

i love mine, mine, mine

with a devastated sigh, she’d depart with a forehead kiss before heading to her cabin for some rest, sometimes she’d forget to eat and one of her siblings had to remind her. at this point, it was a common routine for clarisse; wake up, teleport to visit you, complete her daily tasks, and train. and when she’s finished her task of the day, best believe that she’s with you, nursing you back to consciousness.

“yeah, and we both know how that ended!”

“clarisse…”

“no, please let me finish.” she shushed you with a shake of her head, “and i hope it doesn’t happen again, it doesn’t need to happen again!” clarisse whisper-yelled at you, “i almost lost you, and i refused to experience that wretched feeling again. you were unconscious for almost two weeks and we weren’t even in the same place. your mom teleported me to you almost every day since you were in that coma. i refuse to experience that again because i love you and seeing you there made me feel useless for once in my life.” her tone became shaky yet she proceeded on, wanting you to understand, needing you to understand what it was like for her, witnessing you in that comatose state. “i couldn’t stand the thought of you dying, of you leaving me here all alone. you only truly understand me, you love me despite all of my flaws, rather accepting them than ignoring them…nobody else but you…i didn’t think i could love anyone as much as i love you. and that terrified me before but now it doesn’t anymore, knowing you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me. sometimes i wonder if i’m ever worth loving…” a sob escapes her, continued by many heartbreaking sobs. that gut-wrenching feeling in your heart returned, growing larger when clarisse attempted to restrict any more sobs, terribly failing, allowing her emotions to run wild for once.

it’ll probably be the only time she can freely express her emotions without feeling judged within your presence. this was one of the many reasons why clarisse fell in love with you, your compassionate soul, a trait she strongly lacked but adored from you.

she loved that you made her feel comfortable, enough to express her emotions without having to look over her shoulder.

nothing in the world belongs to me

but my love mine, all mine, all mine

your girlfriend didn’t realize the tears freely falling down her face until you wiped the tears away from her eyes. clarisse seems betrayed by her own emotions once she realizes that she’s crying, expressing her vulnerability towards you. the curly-haired girl began to stammer out some words, attempting to defend herself but you kissed her temple and pulled her in for a hug. going off on instinct, she buried her head into your neck, harboring her labored breaths as she tightened her grip on you as if she was too scared to let go and lose you all over again.

“never again…never again…” clarisse mutters, repeating it like a mantra. “i don’t wanna lose you ever again…”

catching on to her rapid muttering, you cupped her face, steadying to your face level.

“i won’t leave you again, i promise babe,” you reassure her. your eyes connect easily, gazing into her glossy eyes.

clarisse looks up at you, a swirl of emotions flowing across her eyes. you pout at your girlfriend, reaching out a hand to gently touch her face, watching her melt by the simple touch.

her glistening eyes made you swoon at her gentleness and vulnerability, “you promise?” her voice was low, similar to a whimper of pain.

my baby, here on earth

showed me what my heart was worth

“i promise,” you clarify, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. “do you wanna stay here for a while, with just me?”

hiding her face back into your shirt, she nodded against the fabric, tightening her grip on you whenever you slightly shuffled in her embrace. your touch was required for her peace, and clarisse made sure that you weren’t escaping from her grasp. too much time was wasted, and clarisse needed to make up for lost time.

at times, clarisse felt extremely weak, exhausted, and defenseless which according to her father, any sign of vulnerability is also perceived as useless in his eyes. ares engraved that motto within his daughter, and you hated that it stuck with her that much! wanting to please her dad, her personality changed over time, and the lingering thought of displaying an ounce of vulnerability vanished. no surprise that you rekindled that thought during your relationship when she started opening up to you.

every time clarisse received surprise visits from her dad, you were always there, listening about him degrading her great abilities because of her gender. all those nights of her crying on your shoulder, wondering why she couldn’t be good enough for her father. from that moment, your hatred for your girlfriend’s father fueled with each passing day.

you taught her that being vulnerable wasn’t weak and that it was actually strong. to be honest, clarisse was skeptical because her girlfriend said the opposite of what she learned from her father. eventually, she got used to the idea, accepting only being vulnerable around you. that was good enough for her so it was good enough for you.

so, when it comes to be my turn

could you shine it down here for her?

clarisse laid on top of you, her head snuggled softly against your breasts with her arms around your waist. one of your hands held onto her head, scratching on her head softly as the other drew imaginary stars on her lower back.

“my beautiful beautiful, brave girl…” you cooed as you heard tiny sniffles from her, “you certainly are worth loving and you’re my entire world.

‘cause my love is mine, all mine

i love mine, mine, mine

“am i?” her lower lip trembles as she innocently stares up at you.

“you are my entire world,” you gently kiss her forehead as she places her head down onto your chest.

“you’re my whole world too,” she murmurs against your chest, either it was her sweet tone or that you were naturally ticklish which made you laugh wholeheartedly. clarisse’s face lights up, feeling the rumble from your chest as a smile erupts on her lips.

“nothing in the world belongs to me...” you sing softly into her ears, massaging her head, soothing her into a peaceful sleep alongside your peaceful embrace. “but my love mine, all mine...”

you lullabied her to sleep with your gentle singing, finally feeling at ease when you heard the light snores, smiling fondly at her. gods, clarisse was adorable. too adorable to disrupt her out of her sleep, resting comfortably on you, partially skin-to-skin.

“good night, my love.” you kissed her forehead, glimpsing at her small smile from the loving touch. turning off the lamp before refocusing onto clarisse, wrapping your arms around her waist and her head gently nuzzling into your neck, requiring very much close contact. soon enough, you drifted into sleep just as your beloved girlfriend did a few minutes ago, both content in each other’s arms, wishing to remain like that forever.

nothing in the world is mine for free

but my love mine, all mine, all mine…

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost or translate onto any other platforms without my permission.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

KÖNIG WITH BRAT READER PLS PLS PLS

Me myself i am a BIG brat, good luck to him trying to discipline me lmao

König is a nice man, hes sweet and stuff. So i wanna see König lose his patience. I want him to be mad at me. I want him to take out his built up anger. I requested you this because i trust your writing the most.Pls feed me i love ur blog<3

König w/ a Bratty S/O

Warnings: 18+, Nothing too Explicit TBH, Bratty Reader, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’, Dominant König, Spanking, Edging, Overstimulation, Restraints, Punishment, etc.

König could handle your incessant whining, your moaning and your complaining.

At most, he usually found it endearing, perhaps even adorable when he looked past the vague hostility and saw insecurity buried within, hiding, trembling.

But then you had to go for the throat – hit him where it really hurt.

You’d had the gall to suggest that he couldn’t satisfy you – that you’d go and search for someone who could, someone who “can do it with their hands tied behind their back.”

And König snapped.

You didn’t notice it at first; the shift in the atmosphere was so sudden, the snap of a harp string – a heartstring.

And you didn’t notice König rising, his shadow eclipsing your form as you faced away, arms crossed, spouting fallacies about your neighbours who you wagered were “ten times better” in bed than him.

It was only when his chest was to your back, his bulge between your thighs, that you snapped out of your beration.

The air was thick now, begging to be sliced, dissected, with something – anything – to end its own existence.

Aside from the rising volume of your battering heart and König’s restrained, bullish breathing, it was silent. A carbon monoxide death in all but feeling. This was silent, this was invisible. And it was deadly.

No-one was around to help you; that much you gathered from the lack of voices or footsteps from your neighbours, no cars passing by on the street, no chatter except for that dying in your mind.

König’s anger bulged from his very soul. And with his face hidden behind you, you could only imagine the look of thunder that rolled across it.

König clapped a large, bearish, calloused hand upon your shoulder, and squeezed. Tighter and tighter with each passing second, he became. The thought that he could break your collarbone this way crossed your mind.

Wincing, you tried to turn around, to placate König.

He growled, gripped you by both shoulders now, and kept you facing forwards, pushing you.

“Go on, Darling,” he hissed. It was not a request. “Keep going.”

You were unsure as to whether he meant to keep goading or keep walking, but you weren’t taking any chances.

König marched you to the bedroom, his wall of a body making escape an impossibility.

This was going to be a long night.

NSFW:

König’s veil stays on during punishment.

It’s his way of letting you know that your loving boyfriend is gone; no human soul exists in this vessel anymore.

Ties you to the bedposts. He’s not giving you a moment of reprieve, nor a chance to defend yourself.

Spanks you with a thick belt he keeps hidden away in the wardrobe, which he bought specifically in anticipation for your insufferable behaviour.

Makes you tell him you love him as he’s beating you.

Gives him a sense of power that he can force your love in some way, whether you love him or not (you do; but for the sake of this segment, you usually pretend you don’t. König knows you’re lying, though).

He’ll see your backside red and inflamed before he lets up, and even then it’s because he’s moving on to the next phase of your punishment.

Edges you. Constantly.

And König has the restraint to keep withdrawing whenever he feels you’re close.

He doesn’t want you feeling even a second’s worth of relief. Not after the way you spoke to him.

And, eventually, after hours of edging, he’ll finally let you finish.

But don’t be mistaken; this isn’t the end.

There’s a dark glint in his eye as you’re left panting, sweating, almost crying.

“Oh, Darling,” he says, brushing a sodden lock of hair from your forehead. Faux reassurance. “We’re not done yet.”

Overstimulation Central.

You’ll be absolutely weeping as König slams into you, your already sensitive body forced to bear the pounding shocks he sends through you, even when you plead with him to stop.

“Can’t satisfy you, can I?” König says, mockingly. “Then tell me who’s filling you right now – tell me who you belong to.”

“You, König! You, you – only you!”

Your throat will have run raw with how you scream König’s name, his body caging yours beneath it.

It’s his way of telling you you’re his.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shadows of Secrets

Summary: 

Y/N Archeron, gifted with invisibility, secretly listens in on the Night Court’s plans against Hybern to prove her worth. When she goes missing during the battle, Azriel must find her amid the chaos, leading to a moment of vulnerability and a deepening bond between them.

Word Count: 2306

Warnings: None 

The shadows were her refuge. Y/N Archeron, the youngest of the Archeron sisters, had been given the gift—or curse—of invisibility when she emerged from the Cauldron. While her sisters had received powers that they wore like armor, Y/N’s ability was more elusive, more secretive. She could vanish from sight, slip through the cracks, and listen to secrets meant to be kept hidden.

Growing up, Y/N often felt like the forgotten sister. Feyre, Nesta, and Elain were always busy, strong, and capable, while Y/N, being the youngest, was often overlooked. She had been too young to contribute meaningfully to the family’s struggles, and that feeling of uselessness had stayed with her. But tonight, she was determined to change that. The Night Court was planning their next move against Hybern, and she needed to know how she could help. This was her chance to prove herself.

Slipping into the war room undetected, she positioned herself in a corner, her body fading from view. The room was dimly lit, a large map spread across the table in the center. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood around it, their expressions grim as they discussed strategies and battle plans.

“We need to strike quickly and decisively,” Rhysand was saying, his voice filled with authority. “Hybern’s forces are on the move, and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

Cassian nodded, his arms crossed over his chest. “Our spies have confirmed their movements. We have a narrow window to catch them off guard.”

Azriel, silent and brooding, stood slightly apart from the others, his shadows whispering around him. As Y/N watched, she felt a strange connection to those shadows, as if they were aware of her presence.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting as he listened to the murmurs of his shadows. He knew someone was there, but he said nothing, continuing to discuss plans with Rhysand and Cassian. The meeting dragged on, with detailed discussions and strategic planning. Y/N strained to catch every word, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear.

Finally, Rhysand and Cassian concluded the meeting, their expressions resolute. “We’ll meet again tomorrow to finalize the details,” Rhysand said, rolling up the map. “Get some rest.”

As the others left the room, Azriel lingered, his shadows swirling more restlessly around him. Y/N remained invisible, hoping to slip out unnoticed. But as the door closed behind Rhysand and Cassian, Azriel spoke, his voice cold and commanding.

“Show yourself.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hesitated, but the shadows around her seemed to tighten, pulling her toward visibility. Slowly, she let her invisibility fade, revealing herself in the corner of the room.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed as he took in her appearance. “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

She straightened, meeting his gaze with determination. “I wanted to help. I’ve been listening, learning. I want to fight with you against Hybern.”

Azriel’s expression hardened. “Spying on us isn’t the way to do that.”

“I wasn’t spying,” Y/N protested, her voice rising. “I was trying to understand how I can help.”

Azriel took a step closer, his shadows swirling around her menacingly. “You could have been caught. You could have been killed. Do you understand how reckless that was?”

Y/N stood her ground, refusing to be intimidated. “I know the risks, Azriel. I’m not a child. I can handle myself.”

Azriel’s gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. “You should have come to us directly. Spying, even with good intentions, undermines trust.”

Y/N’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I didn’t want my sisters to know. They have enough to worry about.”

Azriel’s expression softened further, the shadows around him calming. “We all have our burdens, Y/N. But secrets like this can get you killed. You’re part of this court, and that means you don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. “I want to prove myself, Azriel. I want to show that I can be useful, that I can fight.”

Azriel nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting a mix of respect and concern. “Then we’ll train you, get you ready for what’s to come. But no more secrets.”

Y/N nodded, a sense of relief washing over her. “No more secrets.”

Azriel stepped back, his expression thoughtful. “You have potential, Y/N. But you need to trust us. Trust me.”

“I do trust you,” Y/N said softly, meeting his gaze. “And I’ll prove it.”

As the night wore on, Y/N felt a strange sense of belonging. She was no longer the invisible sister, hiding in the shadows. She was part of the Night Court now, ready to fight alongside them.

And as Azriel’s shadows curled around her, whispering their secrets, she knew that she had found her place. In the heart of the battle, in the midst of the danger, she would stand with them. She would fight for her family, for her home, and for the shadows that had claimed her as their own.

The next few weeks were a whirlwind of training and preparation. Azriel took Y/N under his wing, teaching her the art of stealth and shadow manipulation. Their sessions were intense but rewarding, and Y/N quickly found herself improving. She learned how to move silently, how to blend into her surroundings, and how to use her invisibility to her advantage.

Azriel’s shadows became a constant presence, swirling around them as they trained. They seemed to take a liking to Y/N, often lingering near her even after their sessions ended. She found herself growing fond of the shadows, speaking to them in the same way Azriel did. They responded to her, their whispers soft and affectionate.

One evening, as they finished a particularly grueling training session, Azriel noticed the way his shadows were behaving around Y/N. They twined around her like playful tendrils, almost like puppies seeking attention. He watched with a mix of amusement and curiosity as Y/N spoke to them, her voice soft and soothing.

“You’ve got a way with them,” Azriel remarked, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

Y/N smiled, gently patting one of the shadows. “They’re easier to talk to than most people. They listen.”

Azriel chuckled, shaking his head. “They do seem to have taken a liking to you. It’s not something they do often.”

As they walked back to the House of Wind, the bond between them grew stronger. They shared stories, laughter, and moments of quiet understanding. Y/N began to see a different side of Azriel—one that was gentle, kind, and fiercely protective. And Azriel found himself opening up to Y/N in ways he hadn’t with anyone else.

One day, Feyre found Azriel alone in the library, his shadows dancing around him as he read a report. She approached him quietly, her expression serious.

“Azriel, can we talk?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but firm.

Azriel looked up, nodding. “Of course, Feyre. What’s on your mind?”

Feyre took a seat across from him, her eyes searching his. “It’s about Y/N. I’ve noticed how close you two have become. And I’ve seen the way your shadows follow her.”

Azriel’s gaze softened. “She’s special, Feyre. She has a gift with the shadows, and she’s become quite skilled. But more than that, she’s determined to prove herself.”

Feyre nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I’ve seen that. But she’s still my sister, Azriel. I worry about her, especially with the danger we’re facing.”

Azriel leaned forward, his voice earnest. “I understand your concern, Feyre. And I promise you, I’ll keep her safe. I care about her deeply. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Feyre’s eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. “I know you will. Just... be careful. She’s been through so much already.”

Azriel nodded, a determined look in his eyes. “I will. You have my word.”

As the days passed, Y/N continued to train with Azriel, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment. The shadows seemed to sense their connection, often wrapping around Y/N protectively. She could communicate with them effortlessly, and they responded to her with a loyalty that mirrored their bond with Azriel.

One evening, as they stood on the balcony overlooking Velaris, Y/N turned to Azriel, her eyes filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Azriel. For everything. I’ve never felt more capable, more... needed.”

Azriel smiled, his shadows swirling around them both. “You’ve always been capable, Y/N. You just needed the right opportunity to show it. And you’re more than needed—you’re invaluable.”

Y/N’s heart swelled with emotion, and she reached out to take his hand. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, and he squeezed her hand gently. “We’re a team, Y/N. And I’m proud to have you by my side.”

As they stood there, the bond between them stronger than ever, Y/N knew that she had found her place. In the heart of the battle, in the midst of the danger, she would stand with Azriel and the Night Court. She would fight for her family, for her home, and for the shadows that had claimed her as their own.

And as the stars twinkled above, she felt a sense of peace and purpose. With Azriel by her side, she knew they could face anything—together.

The day of the battle with Hybern had arrived. The air was thick with tension as the Night Court prepared for the confrontation. Feyre had insisted that Y/N stay behind with Elain, away from the front lines. Despite Y/N’s protests, Feyre’s concern for her youngest sister’s safety had won out.

As the armies clashed and the battle raged, Feyre's thoughts kept drifting back to Y/N. She trusted her sister's abilities, but the fear of losing her gnawed at her. When the battle finally ended, the field was littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers. As Feyre surveyed the battlefield, a sense of dread settled in her stomach.

“Where’s Y/N?” Feyre called out, her voice tinged with worry. She scanned the area, her heart pounding.

Elain, standing nearby, looked around with wide eyes. “She was with me... but then she disappeared. I thought she was just hiding.”

Panic surged through Feyre, and she immediately turned to Azriel, who was tending to some of the wounded. “Azriel, Y/N is missing. We need to find her.”

Azriel’s eyes widened, and without a word, his shadows sprang into action, darting out in all directions to search for her. His heart raced with worry, but he forced himself to stay calm, knowing that he needed to find her quickly.

“Where is she?” Azriel muttered to himself, his shadows stretching out further. “Find her. Find Y/N.”

The shadows darted through the forest, guided by their connection to Y/N. They led Azriel to a secluded spot, deep within the woods. As he approached, he saw the aftermath of a fierce battle. Hybern soldiers lay scattered, their lifeless bodies a testament to a brutal fight.

In the center of the carnage, Y/N sat on the ground, her knees drawn to her chest. Her breathing was rapid, her eyes wide with panic. Azriel’s heart clenched at the sight of her distress.

“Y/N,” he called softly, approaching her with caution. “It’s me, Azriel. You’re safe now.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked up to him, her face pale and her hands trembling. “Azriel, I... I didn’t mean to...”

Azriel knelt beside her, his shadows wrapping around them both in a protective cocoon. “It’s okay, Y/N. You did what you had to do.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I killed them, Azriel. I killed so many.”

Azriel gently took her hands in his, his touch grounding her. “You were defending yourself. Defending us. It’s normal to feel overwhelmed.”

Y/N’s breathing hitched, and she clung to him as if he were her lifeline. “I was so scared. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Azriel’s heart ached for her, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. “You’re safe now. I’m here. Just breathe with me.”

He guided her through slow, deep breaths, his voice soothing and steady. Gradually, her breathing began to calm, the panic in her eyes fading. She rested her head against his chest, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“I couldn’t stay behind,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible. “I needed to help.”

Azriel stroked her hair, his touch gentle and reassuring. “I know, Y/N. And you did help. You’re incredibly brave.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of guilt and gratitude. “I just wanted to prove that I could make a difference.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, and he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away her tears. “You’ve proven that and more. But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re in this together.”

Y/N nodded, her grip on him tightening. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

Azriel shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. “Just promise me you’ll let us know next time. We need you safe, Y/N.”

She managed a small smile in return. “I promise.”

As they sat there in the quiet forest, surrounded by the aftermath of battle, Azriel held Y/N close, his shadows enveloping them both. He knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but with Y/N by his side, he felt ready to face any challenge.

And as the first rays of dawn broke through the trees, they rose together, hand in hand, ready to return to their family and continue the fight for their home. In each other, they had found strength, trust, and a bond that would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

[luxaofhesperides]

Wings AU ; requested by @justwannabecat!

“Are you sure it looks good?” Duke asks for the sixth time in an hour.

Tim sighs and says, yet again, “It looks fine. Just give it to him! If he doesn’t love it, I’ll beat him up for you.”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“I could! But you’re right, I wouldn’t. I would just psychologically torment him until he broke.”

“Don’t do that, please. I’d like to actually have a chance with him, even if he hates this.”

“He won’t,” Tim says. He actually stops typing to give Duke a severe look. “Go and give it to him. If you don’t go now, he’s going to think you bailed.”

Duke glances at the time, then jumps. “Shit! Thanks for your help, man!” He’s out of the door before Tim can say another word. He doesn’t bother with the front door, or even going down the hallway. Instead, he opens the nearest window and flings himself out of it, unfurling his tawny wings to catch the wind beneath them and ride them into the city proper.

He briefly considers stopping for a moment to change into his Signal outfit so he can fly above civilian jurisdiction, then decides that it’s far easier to just bend the light around him so he’s invisible. He wouldn’t want to be late meeting Danny, after all. Especially not for this.

He hadn’t been expecting Danny to be into traditional courting methods. Most people tend to go the more modern way of dating, but Danny had mentioned once or twice that he thought it was romantic. He had blushed, mumbling the words, but Duke heard them and went into researching courting methods to see which ones Danny might like best.

Sure, he could just ask Danny out on a date like he normally would if he liked someone, but if Danny wants to be courted, then Duke is going to court him!

It’s why he’s been planning this out carefully, gathering his primaries after his wings molted a few months ago so he could string them together into a thin wing covering. 

Admittedly, this courting method isn’t super common, but the thought of giving Danny his feathers, making it look like their wings are one and the same, has kept Duke up some nights, wanting it so badly. 

Besides, he thinks Danny will like it. Considering the state of his wings after the Accident…

Duke holds his handmade wing covers closer to his chest, flier lower as he leaves Bristol and enters Diamond District. The streets are busy, full of people. Most tend to stay on the ground, wings tucked close to their bodies, but there are plenty still flying above cars and buses that Duke has to carefully fly around. 

It takes another twenty minutes to get to Robinson Park, where Duke drops down to the ground and takes a moment to make sure all his feathers are straight and neatly displayed. Then he walks into the park, heading towards their usual meeting place.

For once, it’s a nice, sunny day in Gotham. Everyone’s taking advantage of it. The park is full of couples and families, walking around slowly, and kids dart through the air, still unable to go very high with their wings not yet fully grown in. It’s nice to hear the laughter and general chatter of people wandering the park. 

Duke doesn’t spend too long walking the paved paths through the park. He steps off of it near the second water fountain on the path, then heads into the trees, passing two moms on a picnic with their three kids rolling around the grass nearby. 

Tucked away in this corner of the park is a small clearing surrounded by thin trees. The tile is dirty and cracked, no one maintaining it at all with it hidden away. 

He sees Danny’s wings first, with long feathers that trail onto the ground, a black that shines dark blue in the light. He follows the lines of his wings back to his body, where Danny sits on a bench, leaning his weight back against his hands as he lifts his head up into the sunlight, basking in the warmth.

He really is so pretty. He insists that he isn’t, but Duke regularly spends time with the Wayne family, all who have modeled before, so he’s got a better idea than most about what pretty  looks like, and Danny fits the bill. 

“Hey,” Duke calls out softly, watching as Danny slowly blinks his eyes open and turns to give him a warm smile.

“Hey! I’m free for the rest of the day, which means we have so much time to complain about things today.”

“I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Nope,” Danny says. “I wouldn’t mind waiting, though. I like hanging out with you.”

Heart pounding in his chest, Duke walks forward. He doesn’t know if there’s something specific he has to say when presenting his gift, if there’s a courting tradition involved that he didn’t learn about. He’s terrified Danny’s going to reject it. He’s praying that Danny accepts it.

“Are you okay?” Danny asks, standing to get a better look at him. “You seem tense…” He trails off as he catches sight of what Duke holds in his hands, breath stuttering.

“I’m fine. I, um.” Duke steps into the clearing, entering the sunlight, and holds out his wing covers. “I made them for you. You mentioned before that you thought courting traditions were romantic… I don’t know if you like wing covers, but I thought you’d look good in my feathers… Only if you want it though!”

He’s trying so hard not to cringe away in embarrassment. He’s flirted with Danny before, half jokes and half serious, always playful. Duke was smooth then, delighting in how flustered it made Danny before he hit back with his own flirting. Now he’s a hesitant, stuttering fool, tripping over his words and struggling to find the perfect things to say. Maybe he should have thought up a speech, or something. Memorized a few lines to speak his intentions with this courting gift. Done literally any prep for giving the gift instead of focusing only on making it.

Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move either. He just stares, wide-eyed at the wing covers in Duke’s hands.

That’s a bad sign, isn’t it.

His hands lower just a touch, and he quietly prompts, “Danny?”

Just as he’s about to pull back, step away and try to fix things, messily attempt to salvage their friendship because clearly Danny doesn’t want to be courted by Duke, Danny’s hands snap out whip-fast and latch onto his wrists.

“This is… for me?” he whispers, awed.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s for you.”

“And you’re courting me? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, definitely courting you for real. Do you accept?”

Danny throws himself into Duke’s arms, careful not to crush the wing covers between them. “In what world would I say no?” he laughs, bright with joy. He pulls back a second later, not giving Duke time to hug him back, and turns around, carefully stretching his wings out. “Put them on for me?”

“Of course.”

He starts by smoothing out some of Danny’s feathers. He doesn’t get to do this often; Danny hates having his wings on display for anyone, with how they spasm occasionally, and have empty patches where feathers will never grow in again. The Accident, all that electricity coursing through him, it permanently damaged his wings. There is no healing to be done. 

His wings are lacking too many flight feathers and primaries for him to fly. He’s stuck on the ground now, unable to use his wings for more than a minute. Old burns are still visible closer to his spine. 

Danny prefers hiding his wings away. He hates thinking about the Accident, hates how it’s taken his wings from him, how it’s changed him completely. 

But Duke loves his wings. He loves the softness of Danny’s lower feathers, how they shine in the light, how they always puff up when it gets windy. He’s only gotten to preen them twice before, and he treasures those memories more dearly than anything else.

This easily outshines both those moments.

He gently combs his fingers through Danny’s feathers, straightening them out, then lays the first wing cover over his right wing. His own brown feathers drape over the top of Danny’s wings, hiding the featherless patches from view. He does the same to the other wing, then adjust both until they lay perfectly on Danny’s wings.

As soon as he lifts his hands away from Danny’s wings, Danny is spinning around with a grin, flaring his wings out.

“How do I look?”

“Perfect,” Duke answers. He was right; Danny looks good in his feathers.

He watches, fond and amused, as Danny spins, keeping his wings flared, admiring his new look. “I’m never taking these off,” he says. “I love them so much. I can’t really make one for you, though…”

“You don’t need to.”

“I can’t just accept this and not give you something in return!”

“Well… There is one thing you could give me. Something I’ve been wanting for a long time.”

“What is it?” Danny asks, leaning towards Duke. He’s eager, ready to please, so delighted to be courted. 

Duke smiles. “A kiss.”

“Done.” 

He doesn’t have time to react before Danny is pouncing on him, hands fisting the collar of his shirt as he tilts his head up and kisses Duke. He pulls back before Duke can kiss back, blushing and unbearably cute.

And all Duke manages to say is, “Cool.”

He’s so good at this.

Danny rightfully laughs at him, then grabs his hand and pulls him down to the bench. “Come on, I promised to complain about my teachers today and I intend to deliver. And maybe later, I could take you out on a date? If you want.”

“Danny, of course I want to go on a date with you. I’m courting you! I thought I made my feelings clear!”

“I’m just making sure!” Danny shouts over him, and Duke can’t resist the urge to pull him closer and pepper kisses along his cheek. “Okay, okay, I got it. You’ve made your feelings clear. I’m going to date you so hard.”

“You better. It’s about time you put some work into our relationship.”

“Excuse you?!” Danny gasps in mock outrage, and they start bickering lightheartedly as they always do.

Even with their feelings come to light, even with a courtship started and a date promised, it doesn’t feel like anything between them has changed. 

It’s just them. Just as it always has been.

Duke couldn’t be happier.

[soldiersareyourprotectors]

Eric and Ethan had always been inseparable, their bond forged through years of shared adventures, challenges, and when they got older a mutual passion for motorcycles. As identical twins, they shared striking features: piercing blue eyes, sharp jawlines, and an infectious smile. Yet, over the years, subtle differences had emerged between them.

Eric, the more athletic of the two, had spent countless hours at the gym, honing his physique to perfection. His muscles bulged beneath the sleek, black leather motorcycle racing gear he wore, a testament to his dedication and hard work. Ethan, on the other hand, had a softer frame, his body cushioned by a layer of pudge that he carried with a certain ease. He preferred the comfort of textile gear, appreciating its practicality over the aesthetic appeal of leather.

One sunny Saturday, the twins decided to take their motorcycles out for a long ride through the winding roads of the countryside. The day was perfect, the sky a brilliant blue, the air filled with the scent of blooming wildflowers. They rode side by side, the roar of their engines harmonizing like a symphony, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to their faces.

After hours of exhilarating speed and sharp turns, they pulled into a small roadside café for a break. They parked their bikes and stretched, the fatigue of the ride beginning to set in. As they sat down at a wooden picnic table, a young woman approached, her eyes drawn to Eric's impressive physique and the way his leather gear hugged his form.

"Hey," she said, smiling brightly at Eric. "You look like you ride a lot. Can I get your number?"

Eric, always friendly and outgoing, smiled and obliged, exchanging pleasantries and his phone number. Ethan watched from the sidelines, his heart sinking as the scene unfolded.

A few minutes later, a man came over, similarly captivated by Eric. "Nice bike," he said, his gaze lingering on Eric's muscular frame. "Do you come here often? Can I get your number?"

Eric chuckled and exchanged numbers again, his charm and easy demeanor drawing the attention effortlessly. Ethan felt a pang of jealousy, but he kept his feelings hidden behind a forced smile.

Throughout their break, different people continued to approach Eric, each one seemingly oblivious to Ethan's presence. The constant attention Eric received only deepened Ethan's sense of invisibility. He tried to join the conversations, but his attempts were met with polite indifference. Each interaction chipped away at his self-esteem, leaving him feeling smaller and more insignificant.

After a while, they got back on their bikes and rode home in silence. Eric was in high spirits, the attention he received adding to his exuberance. Ethan, however, felt a storm brewing inside him. The jealousy and hurt festered, but he didn't want to burden his brother with his feelings. He acted completely normal, laughing at Eric's jokes and discussing their plans for the next ride as if nothing was amiss.

That night, as they parked their bikes in the garage, Ethan knew he needed space to sort out his emotions. He made an excuse about needing some time alone and left before Eric could ask any questions.

In the days that followed, Ethan ignored Eric's calls and messages. He needed distance to deal with the pain of feeling perpetually overshadowed. Eric's concern grew, but Ethan remained resolute in his silence, determined not to let his jealousy damage their bond further. Weeks turned into months, and then years, with Ethan maintaining his distance, his silence becoming a wall between them.

Eric continued to reach out, his calls and messages filled with worry and confusion.

Yet, Ethan couldn't bring himself to respond. The pain of that day had left a lasting scar, one that time alone couldn't heal.

Two years later, Eric still hoped for reconciliation, while Ethan struggled with his feelings, the memory of that fateful ride haunting him. Their bond, once unbreakable, now lay fractured, a casualty of unspoken hurt and unaddressed emotions. Eric had been riding his motorcycle alone through the countryside all day, the wind whipping past him, the roar of the engine drowning out his thoughts. The endless road stretched before him, a temporary escape from the loneliness and confusion that had plagued him ever since Ethan had disappeared from his life. The sky gradually darkened as evening approached, the day's heat lingering in the air.

By the time he returned home, his body was soaked in sweat, trapped within the confines of his one-piece leather motorcycle racing suit and boots. He parked his bike in the garage and staggered inside, exhaustion etched into every muscle. His throat was parched, and he headed straight to the fridge, grabbing the milk and drinking straight from the carton, gulping down the cold liquid hastily.

With the milk nearly finished, he put the carton back and slumped onto a chair, beginning the laborious process of taking off his racing boots. He could feel the heat and moisture trapped inside, his feet aching from the long ride. As he worked on the second boot, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, and he collapsed to the floor. Panic surged through him as he found himself conscious but completely immobile, every muscle unresponsive.

As he lay there, helpless, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His heart pounded in his chest as he strained to see who it was. A shadow fell over him, and he saw a pair of gloved hands reach down and grab his boots. The figure then moved to his ankles and began dragging him towards the bedroom. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to struggle futile against the paralysis.

He was pulled into the bedroom and unceremoniously lifted onto the bed. His eyes widened as he saw the figure looming over him, a muscular man whose face was hidden behind a black balaclava. The man's presence was imposing, his movements precise and controlled as he began to strip Eric out of his tight, warm, and sweaty gear.

The man started by removing Eric's gloves, sliding them off his hands with deliberate slowness. Next, he unzipped the one-piece leather suit, the zipper's sound a harsh rasp in the tense silence. The man had to peel the suit away from Eric's body, the leather clinging stubbornly to his sweat-drenched skin. The process was slow and meticulous, the suit coming off inch by inch, revealing Eric's glistening torso and legs. The cool air hit Eric's exposed skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

Once the suit was off, the man moved on to Eric's socks, pulling them off and exposing his damp feet. Then came the undershirt, which was stuck to Eric's torso from the day's perspiration. The man tugged it over Eric's head, leaving him in just his underpants, now visibly soaked with sweat.

Finally, the man reached for the underpants, pulling them down and off with a single motion, leaving Eric completely exposed and vulnerable. The man stepped back, surveying Eric's prone form. Then, without a word, he began to strip himself, removing his clothing piece by piece until he stood in nothing but the balaclava. His muscular body gleamed in the dim light, each muscle defined and powerful.

The man inspected his own body, flexing slightly, before turning his attention back to Eric. As Eric lay there, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he noticed the familiarity of the man's physique. It was as if he had seen this body somewhere before. The man moved closer, his eyes scanning Eric with an almost clinical detachment.

He began to feel Eric's body, running his hands over his chest, arms, and legs. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to speak futile. Then, it struck him —the man's body was identical to his own. The same muscle definition, the same contours and lines. It was like looking into a mirror.

Eric's heart pounded as the realization settled in. Who was this man, and why did he have the exact same body? The man continued his inspection, his touch lingering on Eric's muscles, comparing them to his own. The surreal and terrifying experience left Eric's mind spinning, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.

The man picked up Eric's wet underpants and slowly pulled them up his own thighs, positioning everything into place with meticulous care. He then took the damp socks and pulled them over his calves. Next, the sweaty undershirt followed onto the man's torso, sticking slightly to his skin. He grabbed the leather racing suit and forced his body into it, the material fitting perfectly, just like it did on Eric.

Finally, he stepped into Eric's motorcycle racing boots, the warmth and moisture enveloping his feet. He zipped them up and stood there, reveling in the feeling of wearing Eric's sweaty gear.

The man, now dressed in Eric's leather motorcycle gear and boots, laid down next to Eric, feeling Eric's naked muscular body through the gloves. He began to thrust against Eric's body through the leather gear, his movements methodical and intense.

After what felt like an eternity, the man finally stood up, breathing heavily. He reached up and removed the balaclava, revealing his face. Eric's eyes widened in shock as he saw Ethan standing there, wearing Eric's gear. Now it all made sense— the body that looked so much like his own. Ethan had been gone for two years, and in that time, he had transformed himself to look exactly like Eric.

Ethan smirked, his eyes cold and calculating. "Surprised to see me?" he asked, his voice eerily calm. "I worked out every day for two years to become you. To take over your life."

Ethan then grabbed some rope and began tying up Eric's naked body, securing his wrists and ankles tightly. He stuffed a gag into Eric's mouth, muffling any attempts to speak or scream. Helpless and bound, Eric could only watch as Ethan felt himself up, savoring the sensation of wearing his brother's sweaty leathers.

Ethan picked up Eric's phone and held it up to his own face. The phone unlocked instantly through Face ID, confirming how identical they now were. Ethan grinned down at Eric, relishing his victory. "You see, brother," he said, his tone dripping with malice, "I've become you in every way that matters. Now, it's my turn to live your life."

The doorbell rang, and Ethan paused, looking towards the door. He left the room to answer it. Eric could hear the sound of Ethan's motorcycle boots echoing through the apartment, a familiar yet chilling sound. Moments later, Ethan returned, followed by two men. They looked at Eric's naked, tied-up body and grinned.

"This is him," Ethan said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The pinnacle I promised your boss."

The men nodded approvingly. "He's perfect," one of them said. They moved swiftly, grabbing Eric and carrying him out of the house. He struggled weakly against his bonds, but it was no use. They shoved him into the back of a van and slammed the doors shut. The last thing Eric saw was Ethan standing in the doorway, a cold, triumphant smile on his face.

That was the last time Ethan saw Eric. From that day forward, Ethan lived his life as Eric. He wore Eric's clothes and motorcycle gear, slept in Eric's bed, and rode Eric's motorcycle. Ethan had become Eric in every way that mattered, and that is all he cared about.

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

PART VI

➺ Part V

"Rahim, please… say something," you tried again, your patience stretched thin by the gnawing worry in your chest. This was the third time you'd asked, and with each unanswered attempt, your resolve to get to the bottom of things only grew stronger. If he didn’t speak soon, you were prepared to go straight to his family’s home yourself.

"That's it." You rose to leave, but before you could take a step, a small hand gripped your sleeve, halting you. Rahim’s expression was haunted, his eyes wide and pleading. His hand trembled, clutching you like you were his only anchor in a sea of terror. The fear in his gaze didn’t diminish your anxiety, it only sharpened it, tightening like a vice around your heart.

"You’ve got to say something, kiddo," you murmured, leaning close so he wouldn’t feel pressured. "You’re making me worry here."

Finally, after a silence that stretched unbearably long, Rahim’s voice came, barely a whisper. "U… uncle…"

You leaned in, gentle and steady. "Habib?" you prompted softly. "Are you talking about him? Yes, tell me, Rahim… what happened?"

He hesitated, the words hovering at the edge of his lips, but then, as quickly as he’d started, he fell silent again, retreating into himself. His eyes shifted away, shadowed and unreadable, as if something unspeakable lay hidden just beneath the surface.

You let out a quiet sigh, knowing that pressing him further wouldn’t help. He needed time. Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, you signaled Odai to come closer. "Odai, stay with him," you instructed, casting a final, lingering glance at Rahim

"B-but what about you, ma'am? Where are you off to?" Odai's voice trembled slightly as he watched you prepare to leave.

"To his house, with Maha," you replied firmly, glancing at the clock on your desk. It was 7:30 a.m., too early for peace but not for action.

Odai shifted uneasily. "I should go with you, and Maha can stay here."

You silenced him with a look, then took the gun from your locker, its cold weight in your hand grounding you with the resolve you needed. "I can handle it, Odai. Just watch over him and call me if anything changes."

Odai nodded reluctantly, his eyes flickering to the unconscious Rahim. And with that, you left, setting out with Maha, who looked more unnerved than usual, her hands twisting in her lap as you drove.

"What if… what if it’s related to the story I told you, ma’am?” Maha's voice was small, hesitant. “And from what you’ve told me about Rahim, and everything… what if Habib’s… possessed again? I warned you, didn’t I? It’s not right to get tangled with him, or that family. The way his brother insulted you…” Her hands clenched in her lap, remembering that day, the bitter words she still hadn’t forgotten.

“Maha, we talked about this.” You kept your voice calm, though tension simmered beneath. “Habib needs help. This… this might be something worse, yes. God, I have no idea what we’re going to find there or how deep this goes. But if this is connected to him, I’m stepping in, Basim’s objections be damned.”

Maha looked at you with renewed determination. Her gaze shifted to the gun secured in its holder beside you, her expression hardening with resolve.

“Yes, ma’am.”

═════ ◈ ═════

When you reached the house, the air was thick with an unsettling silence, the kind that seeped into your bones. There was something about it that felt wrong, like an invisible void, as if you had come to collect the fragments of something lost. The house, once a familiar place of comfort, now felt like a hollow shell. You shook off the feeling, attributing it to the paranoia caused by Rahim's cryptic behavior and the events of the night.

"Ma’am, he... he’s very sick. He wouldn’t stop saying your name..." Kadir's voice faltered as he stood beside Habib's bed. You looked down at the unconscious man, your grip tightening on his hand as his body trembled. His mouth was dry, letting out soft, pitiful whimpers that seemed to grow quieter, calmer, as if he found some semblance of peace in your presence.

"What did the doctor say?" You asked, keeping your voice steady, despite the deepening sense of dread gnawing at you.

"He has a high fever, and he's under extreme stress..." Kadir responded his voice a mixture of concern and exhaustion. You glanced at Dana, who was sitting beside Habib, her eyes filled with a motherly worry that was almost suffocating. She didn't need to say anything, her gaze spoke volumes, each one filled with unspoken fear and you couldn't take it anymore.

"I’ve had enough." You stood abruptly, your voice hardening with resolve. "I’m taking him with me. And nobody here is going to stop me." Your stance was unwavering, your eyes locked with Kadir's, whose face paled at the weight of your words.

Kadir seemed to hesitate, but the look in your eyes made it clear you wouldn't be moved. He nodded slowly, his expression resigned, knowing full well what you meant.

"I just..." you continued, turning your attention to them, "Do you both know where Rahim is?"

The couple exchanged a glance, confusion crossing their faces. "Rahim? He must be in his room... You want me to call him?" Dana’s voice was tentative, unsure of the sudden shift in the air.

"No, no." You cut her off. "He’s not in his room. He’s in my bungalow." You watched as realization hit them like a wave, their faces draining of color as you explained the strange events that had unfolded, the boy's frantic running, the collapse, and the chilling connection to Habib. Their expressions grew ashen, the weight of the situation settling over them like a suffocating fog.

Kadir blinked in disbelief, his voice a low whisper. "I better go... inform Basim of this."

"No." You turned, cutting him off once again, your tone sharp. "Not until I leave with Habib. I am not in the mood to deal with him right now. Trust me, you don’t want me to." Your eyes flickered to the unconscious figure of Habib, then back to Maya, your resolve unshakable.

Maya, who had been quietly observing the situation, nodded in agreement, her eyes meeting yours with understanding. She didn’t need to ask any more questions. The decision had already been made.

"In fact, you both are coming with me, I think... Rahim might not mind it." You said with a touch of certainty, even though your mind raced with the implications of the situation. The bruises you had seen on the child’s body were unmistakable, and they burned in your mind. You were certain they were from Basim. You had seen his cruelty before, and this was no different. A gut feeling told you the two were somehow connected, and the thought churned uneasily in your stomach.

"Um, yes, definitely." Kadir’s voice quivered slightly, his worry for his grandson and son making him agree without much resistance.

"Good," you responded briskly, trying to push the anxiety down.

The air between the five of you was tense, the weight of unspoken words hanging like a heavy cloud as you made your way back to the bungalow. Your eyes were drawn to Habib, his limp form resting against his father in the backseat, his chest rising and falling weakly. The image of him like that, vulnerable, fragile, almost lost, was a stain in your mind that wouldn't fade.

By the time you arrived at the bungalow, the place felt more like a sanctuary and a prison in equal measure. The heavy silence from earlier still clung to the house, but now you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Dr Ali was already there, pacing in front of the door, looking visibly tense. He was here to check on Rahim and Habib.

═════ ◈ ═════

it had been three days since the atmosphere in the bungalow had turned so heavy, each day thick with the silence of unspoken fears and unanswered questions. Habib, thank God, was showing signs of improvement, but he was still too weak, refusing to eat and constantly haunted by nightmares. The only time he seemed to find peace was when you were by his side. His vulnerability clung to you like a weight, and no matter how many times you tried to shake the unease off, it lingered.

In the other room, Rahim was still as quiet as ever. He hadn’t spoken a word since you brought him back, and every day that passed without him opening up felt like another failure, a missed opportunity to get to the root of whatever was haunting him. Still, his grandparents’ presence did seem to calm him in some way, though you couldn’t help but wonder if that was enough. You prayed for his voice every night, hoping he would say something, anything, to give you a clue about what he was going through.

Kadir had told you that Basim and his wife had gone to visit some relatives for a wedding, which felt... odd, to say the least. How could a wedding be more important than their son’s condition? And why hadn’t they been told about what was happening? Kadir, of course, insisted that it was better they didn’t know yet, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to it. His reasoning didn’t sit right with you. And then, there was Samir and his family, who had moved out of the village with no warning. Something didn’t add up. Why would they leave so suddenly, just as things were escalating?

Maha’s voice broke through your thoughts, her tone tentative but insistent. "There is... I just... feel fishy, ma'am. I mean, all the Rahim fiasco and how Kadir insists on you marrying-"

You held up your hand, cutting her off, your voice steady but carrying a weight of finality. "It was my decision, Maha. I want it to be done."

"But, why, ma'am... why so fast? Shouldn't we wait for things to settle?"

You let out a slow breath, your fingers tracing the rim of your coffee cup as you gathered your thoughts. "Maha, I can't have some man in my bungalow..." You trailed off, hoping she understood the gravity of what you were saying. "Y'know, try to understand."

Maha was silent for a moment, her eyes dropping to the floor as she processed your words. Then, without a word, she nodded, her expression softening with understanding.

"I have... talked to my parents," you continued, your voice low but resolute. "And they agreed. Fortunately. Tomorrow, go find the cleric. Bring him, and in the afternoon, the ceremony has to be done with." Your parents were shocked to hear your sudden announcement but as you kept the details about the current situation mostly vague they agreed, somewhat happy and given our urgency they agreed to be on a video call during the ceremony. It was going to be a small one, Habib's parents, Rahim and you both.

"Yes, ma'am." Her tone was firm, her eyes momentarily drifting to the hallway. You followed her gaze, only to catch a glimpse of Rahim standing by the corner of the hallway before he quickly disappeared out of sight. You sat there for a moment, your heart thudding against your chest as you absorbed the subtle shift in the room

"Rahim..." You stood up, your mind heavy with worry, and moved toward the hallway. You quickly were on your feet and stalked in the direction, Maha, following behind.

With a gentle knock, you entered the room, your eyes falling on the boy sitting quietly on the bed. His back was turned, half of his body facing the door, but his posture was stiff, unnatural, like someone trying to brace against something they couldn’t see or understand. The atmosphere around him was thick with tension, his usual mischievous energy nowhere to be found.

"Um, Maha..." you said softly, and she nodded before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone with him.

You stepped forward slowly, the floor creaking faintly under your weight as you sat down beside him. For a long moment, you said nothing. It seemed there was nothing to say, no words that could bridge the silence between you both. You just sat there, letting your presence speak for itself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his voice broke the stillness, soft and hesitant. "You... are going to marry...?"

At first, you were unsure whether it was a question or a statement, the words hanging in the air like a fragile thread. You glanced at him, his face still angled down, avoiding your gaze, but the emptiness in his eyes struck you hard.

"Yes... I am... isn't that a good thing?" You gave him a soft smile, one that didn’t reach your heart, but you tried. Gently, you reached out and rubbed his back, trying to offer comfort, though you knew he wasn’t the same boy who had always bounced around, full of life and questions. "You getting this cool aunt." You chuckled to lighten the mood.

But his response was far from what you expected.

"Don't."

"You...don't...want me to marry Habib?" He stayed quiet. Once again.

"Rahim…" you whispered, though you knew he probably wasn’t listening. But you couldn’t stop yourself. "Talk to me, please."

"They...they...always...just didn't let me tell you. I wanted to." His leg started bouncing and you immediately held his hand, the other on his leg to calm him. "Take breaths, I am here, you are safe. No body is going to do anything. So, talk freely, and fully. Whoever it is about. Even if it's Habib, if he's done something to you, tell me that too. I won't say a word to you, or anyone about this to anyone. Even if it is about... the thing regarding your uncle being possessed and all...I know the story...Habib himself told me, so don't think of me as a stranger. Alright?"

He nodded and wiped a tear. He took moments to clam down and with a heavy breath continued. "My...uncle...he..." He breathed in a breath.

"Was never possessed."

“He’s known for his extraordinary beauty. I have not seen him myself though. So, up until he was about sixteen, everything seemed fine. But then, he suddenly vanished from his friends’ lives and stopped attending school. Despite the family’s best efforts to conceal the issue, it eventually came to light that he was... possessed."

"When I was younger—around sixteen—I... went through something. Something I can’t fully explain, even to this day."

"It was like... something else had control over me. I was sick...and I was dangerous. I hurt people--people I loved, hurt myself too. My family didn’t speak about it much after it was over. They believed it was better left forgotten. But I can’t forget. I’ve tried to move on, but..."

No...those...those are all stories? He gave you and himself to catch a breath then continued.

"When I was a child," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I thought...what everyone thought that...indeed Uncle was. He was praised for his beauty, and my dad... hated him for it. Every chance he got, he'd tear into him, beat him, humiliate him. It only made Uncle more closed off. He stopped going out, hid from everyone, saying he was cursed by his own looks." Rahim’s voice cracked, his gaze distant as if seeing those memories unfold all over again.

The words tumbled out of him, fast and desperate, as if he had held them in for too long. "He started saying someone was using black magic against him, someone in the family. And my dad, he... he enjoyed it. He fueled those fears and made Uncle believe he was haunted and cursed because he was angry at Uncle for rejecting my aunt's hand and just y'know jealous. Everyone around started to believe it too because he started to act...like...he was. It became this... rumour that swallowed him whole. Even the cleric knew it wasn’t true, he told everyone but no one listened. And my grandfather, even he started believing it."

Rahim’s shoulders shook, his hands clenching into fists as he struggled to contain his grief. "We live in a village where nobody talks about mental illness. People don’t understand, they don’t want to understand. They just accepted that something was wrong with him and left him to rot. But I knew… I knew it wasn’t magic. I researched on my own, in school, and I just can't figure out what's wrong with him but I know there is....there is something psychological. I wanted to help him, I tried to, but nobody would listen."

Tears streamed down his face now, his voice breaking as the words poured out like a dam finally bursting. "Dad would beat me whenever I tried to bring it up. And Grandfather who has always been helpless against my dad always said that he will be fine once he gets married… he just wants to marry Uncle off because he thinks marriage will fix him like that’s some kind of miracle cure. Especially getting him married to you.... someone of your status. But it’s all... it’s all bullshit! Marriage won’t solve anything! The medicines he takes are just mostly sleeping pills and--and some herbal stuff my grandfather gives him which are not what he needs! He needs a proper treatment...proper treatment."

Rahim’s outburst ended in a sob, his chest heaving as he broke down completely. He was no longer the reserved, cautious boy you knew, he was vulnerable, raw, and heartbroken, carrying the weight of years of pain and helplessness on his young shoulders.

"When you came here and even better, took interest in my Uncle, I thought that maybe marriage wouldn't be bad because he would be free and you would get him treated, I would tell you about it myself when the time is right. It was...about to happen but...again my Dad...he ruined it, I thought it was over, you were out of his life, but I still hoped, he loves you so much and I know you do too so...I was ready to help my uncle run away but.."

You were too shocked to even ask him why he had stopped speaking and simply let out a questioning hum.

"My mum and dad… they… they tried to…"

"Tried to what?" You were both startled by the sudden ringtone of your phone. Seeing Odai's name on the screen, you quickly answered, bracing yourself against the possibility of more bad news.

"Ma'am, I checked the footage from the village gate. Samir left last night with his family around 4 a.m. But Basim and his wife… they never actually left the village."

Your eyes widened. "What? Are you saying… they’re still here?"

"Yes, ma'am," Odai confirmed before you ended the call. You turned back to Rahim, whose face had gone pale, frozen in place as if dreading the implications of this revelation.

"Rahim…" you said slowly, your voice soft yet urging. "They tried to what? And… where are they?"

Part VII

(AN: Did you guys expect that ʘ‿ʘ? Do comment and lemme know! Also, I know I should have mentioned it earlier but the story is set in 1990's due to which especially in the village people don't use much tech, like wifi and all cuz not everybody has computers etc that's why Rahim did whatever research he could in his school's library and computer.)

[karespocketboyfriends]

A safe place is where one’s mind and body can relax enough to sleep.

A safe place is also where the chains of control over one’s emotions fall away completely.

When the sight of Sylus sends the wall containing your grief crumbling, you know he is your safe place.

He can see it, the moment your breaths become heavy, the slight quiver in your lips, the way your lashes try and fail to hold back the first tear. The relief that’s hidden behind your glassy eyes is as clear to him as your sadness.

And he’s before you instantly, one hand on the back of your head, an arm wrapping around your lower back to hold you together. Your own arms fling around his shoulders as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. The first whiff of him releases the lock containing your sobs, the warmth of his body cutting away the invisible strings that kept your tremors at bay.

You cling to him tightly, as if the frozen hands of loss are about to take him away, too. Your throat feels swollen, your head feels light, and all you can think about is how badly the emotional wound in your chest hurts.

“Let it out.” Sylus says quietly, his deep voice a source of comfort.

And you do. You cry yourself to exhaustion, until your body feels sore and heavy and sleep somehow seems possible. A pillar of strength, Sylus remains in your clutches and keeps you in his, until you finally part from his neck and rub your puffy eyes.

“Do you feel better?” He asks gently.

You shrug, look up, and shake your head.

“It will take time.” Sylus dips his head to press his lips to your forehead. “And time is not something that needs to rushed.”

[yongility]

NEO TV # I LIKE ME BETTER WHEN I'M WITH YOU. (jaehyun x reader) 6/?

genre: angst, suggestive, gang au, rich kid au, enemies to lovers (kinda), a lil of fluffy stuff. slowburn, series.

warnings: drug use mentions, gangs, fights, use of weapons, adult language, illegal activities, cheating (not on the main couple), toxic family environment, addictions, manipulation, insecurities, illegal street racing, death mentions. jeno is jaehyun's younger brother, angst, smut and if I slip something my bad haha.

word count: +10k?

a/n: im the worst I KNOW! It's just i kept trying to write this chapter like a million times and it never ended like I wanted to and seeing as I have a language barrier (cuz English isn't my first language if u didn't know haha) I was just being unsatisfied with the chapter, but I force my ass to sit down and write this down so i hope u like it!

Sigh...

Overthinking.

(Y/N) had never been good at not thinking too much. Ever since she was little, she always found herself trapped in her own mind, unraveling every last detail of any situation. Perhaps it came from her mother, who had an almost supernatural ability to turn the smallest into the biggest, the most trivial into something monumental. Her mother sowed doubts where there were none, and every little imperfection became a tragedy in her house. That had marked her way of being, of perceiving the world and, especially, the people around her.

She hated it. But, despite everything, she couldn't help it.

Lying on the bed, her eyes fixed on the white ceiling, she felt how the silence enveloped her, how it pressed on her shoulders, on her chest. A heavy, unbearable silence, like a blanket that drowned her. The thoughts did not cease, on the contrary, they intensified as time progressed, dragging her more and more towards the storm raging inside her.

Five days. Five long and exasperating days.

Since the last time she saw Jaehyun. The last time he'd been at her house at one in the morning, when everything had been so... strange. So full of heavy silences, elusive looks, and something on his face, something she couldn't explain. A look she had never seen before. As if it was charged with something, with a desperation so great that he didn't know how to share it. Something that was far beyond the tension of her argument with Mark Lee. Something dark, hidden in the depths of Jaehyun, that she couldn't quite grasp.

Worst of all, now, five days later, she knew nothing about him. The unanswered calls, the messages delivered but not read. She had tried to contact him so many times, but the frustration was just overflowing her.

What was going on? The uncertainty was worse than any answer she could receive. In her mind, questions swirled like a whirlwind. Was she the cause? Had she done something that had driven him away from her? Why had he left so abruptly after their encounter?

She remembered that night. That last shared moment. It had been so... intense. So close, so intimate. An instant of shared vulnerability that had allowed her to feel that, at last, she was connecting with him in a deeper way. But then he was gone. Without a word. Without a word, without a gesture to indicate that something else might be behind his departure.

Jaehyun's words kept echoing in her mind, over and over again. "You're the one that can keep me on track."

Those words stuck to her skin like an invisible mark. What did they really mean? Was it true what he had said? Was she the one who could keep him focused? She wanted to believe it, wanted to be that person for him. But deep down, a fear was creeping in. Was she just being a distraction for him? Was she simply the release valve, the temporary relief for the anguish he was feeling, only so that later he could lose himself in his own pain again?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

She was confused, she didn't know what to do or what not to do. Should she go find him at Neo Zone? Or just wait for him to decide to show up? But, if Jaehyun decided not to... then what would she do?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of knocking on the door brought her out of her whirlwind of thoughts. She looked toward the door without moving a muscle, throat tight, stomach twisting. The last thing she wanted was to confront her mother, but the knock was persistent, as if someone had decided to break the silence of her room and force an interaction she didn't want.

But, despite the heaviness she felt inside, she got up. A slow, weary movement, as if she were walking through thick water. When she opened the door, she did not find what she expected, neither her mother, nor the inevitable argument. Instead, there he was.

"Daeho..." she murmured, her voice muffled, as if somehow his presence gave her back something she had lost in those days of constant overthinking.

It really had been a long time since they had last met face to face and to say it wasn't a surprise to her would be a total lie.

"Hey," he said, with a smile that didn't quite light up his face. "Can we just... hang?" he asked, scratching the back of his head as if it were weighing on him.

She nodded without another word, stepping aside for him to pass. As soon as he was through the door, Daeho plopped down on his bed unceremoniously, and (Y/N) mimicked him, lying down next to him quietly. They both stared at the ceiling, engulfed in the same silence that had filled their room before his arrival, though it felt somewhat less empty now.

It had been so long since they had shared a moment like this, a moment of simple companionship. She remembered the years when he had been her best friend, her inseparable companion, the only person she truly trusted within the family. But now, lying next to him, she felt as if she had a stranger by her side, someone who, despite all the shared memories, had fallen into a darkness from which she could no longer rescue him.

Daeho broke the silence, his voice soft but laden with an almost tangible weight. "How have you been?"

"I could be better," she replied, with a sincerity he understood without the need for details. He nodded, without looking at her, and went back to losing himself in the ceiling.

(Y/N) gaze strayed to him, and for the first time in a long time, she looked at him closely. His face seemed to have aged years in just a few months. His skin, paler than usual, was dotted with small imperfections that he once cared for with care. The dark circles under her eyes were deep, and her expression had an air of resignation that hurt to see. He sighed, swallowing the lump he felt in his throat.

It was ironic. The person she had grown up with, with whom she had shared so much, now felt like a stranger. She couldn't remember the exact moment when their friendship had changed, or how they got to this point. It had all happened so subtly, as if the words and gestures that had once bound them together had now lost their power. Perhaps time had eroded all that. Or maybe they simply didn't understand each other in the same way anymore.

A pang of pain shot through her. It wasn't just sadness she felt at seeing him like this, but also a pent-up rage, a helplessness that made her want to scream, to wonder at what point he had reached this point. How had he fallen so low?

Perhaps that moment had been from two years ago, when things had become a little darker in her family environment. When her aunt and uncle seemed unable to stop hurting his self-esteem again and again and again. Maybe it was since that gala when all eyes were on him, judging him, laughing at him, stalking him, waiting for him to make a simple mistake so they could point at him.

So they could tell him that he was not worthy of everything he had around him.

That he couldn't be as good as his father was.

That he was a mere spoiled child who deserved nothing.

Perhaps that was when it dawned on Daeho that he could never live up to the expectations he had to fill.

"Daeho..." she whispered, unable to keep the thought to herself alone. There was something heartbreaking about seeing how her cousin was losing himself, something that reached straight to her heart.

He closed his eyes, as if he knew what was coming, and remained silent, as if everything was in order.

"Why did we end up like this?" the question left his lips without meaning to. And as she uttered it, she felt a surge of pain run through her, as if that simple phrase was a reminder of how far away they were from each other.

Daeho closed his eyes for a few moments, as if trying to find an answer. Finally, he spoke, his voice muffled and distant.

"It's the only time I forget," he said, staring at the ceiling, not daring to look her in the eye. "When I do it, it's like I can stop thinking about everything."

"You're not forgetting," she asserted, "you're destroying yourself."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I don't think I'm doing it any more than they're destroying me," he said, his words hitting her with the force of a fist.

Silence filled the room again. She wanted to react, to scream at him, to convince him that he couldn't go on like this, but the words stuck in her throat. How to tell him that she could see him falling and could do nothing to stop it? How to make him understand that he was killing a part of himself?

"I can't keep watching you destroy yourself," he said at last, his voice trembling.

Daeho fell silent, and she felt a tide of memories rise up inside her. She remembered the years they had shared, the times when he was her refuge and she his, the days when nothing could separate them. Daeho had been more than a cousin; he had been her confidant, her best friend. To see him like this, consumed by something she could neither understand nor control, broke her heart.

"You don't have to," he replied softly, but the intensity of his words hit her hard.

(Y/N) wanted to laugh, a bitter, hurt laugh, but instead, she felt the lump in her throat grow larger.

"You said you'd quit it," she reminded him, almost in a sob.

Daeho turned his head toward her, and their eyes met for the first time that night. The look on his face was so devastated that she (Y/N) wished he hadn't looked at her.

"I can't," he admitted, his voice tinged with desperate honesty. "I've tried so many times, and each time...each time I realize I don't want to give it up. I know it's not what you want to hear, but...I'm in too deep. I don't know how to get out, even if I wanted to."

(Y/N) felt the pain in her chest become almost tangible. Seeing him like this, hearing those words, hurt in a way she could never have imagined.

"Why do things have to be like this?" she asked, feeling a lone tear fall down her cheek.

Daeho sighed, a long, exhausted sigh, and hid answer was so raw it seemed ripped from deep within him. "It's what I chose," he murmured. "It may not have been the best decision, but at least it was mine. It's the only thing I really decided for myself...without someone else telling me what to do, who to be. Even if it was for the worse."

She wanted to understand, wanted to see in his words something that would give her comfort, but she couldn't. She couldn't accept that someone who had once been so important to her had been lost like that.

"Don't let it drag you down," he said suddenly, his voice becoming firm. "I made my choices, (Y/N). But you...you have a life you can still build. I'm already too deep, but you...you have a lot ahead of you."

(Y/N) felt a mixture of anger and pain. She couldn't believe he was capable of telling her that, after all.

"You shouldn't keep seeing Jung Jaehyun," he added, in such a serious tone that it took her by surprise.

She looked at him, incredulous, the pain transforming into icy fury. "Get out of my room," he said, pointing to the door.

Daeho nodded, though not without a final sigh of resignation. "I just needed to tell you."

"Just go," she murmured, turning away from him.

He walked out quietly, leaving her in that loneliness that now seemed so much deeper, with the echo of his words echoing in the empty room.

Jaehyun knew it had been a chain of bad decisions and circumstances that had pushed him this far, but facing it was like tearing his skin off. He couldn't deny the truth: he hated everything around him, and he hated himself more than anyone else. His life, a maelstrom of regrets, had dragged him to this point, and try as he might, he could not escape that bitter mix of rage and hopelessness. Sometimes, in his darkest nights, he wished that everything would vanish into emptiness, that the weight of existing would finally disappear.

He wanted, with every fiber of his being, to close that circle.

"Ah, Jaehyun, always a pleasure to see you," Sooman said, leaning back in his chair with an icy, calculating smile, interlocking his hands with the false familiarity of one who controls the board.

Jaehyun felt the poison burn inside him. Disgust twisted his stomach, and that sneering smile of Sooman's only made his insides boil even more. He loathed the man with an intensity he could almost taste on his tongue. He faked a strained smile.

"I could say the same."

Fake it till you make it.

The thought passed fleetingly, and he tried to cling to it, but the hatred ate him.

"The last time we saw each other wasn't very pleasant," Sooman commented, dropping even more comfortably into his chair, as if enjoying the memory. Jaehyun's jaw immediately tensed. The memories of the beatings were still etched on his skin, and in his memory. Pain. Anger. Shame. All jumbled into a poisonous tangle. "That's why I want to make it up to you with a job."

Jaehyun could barely process that he was sitting there, across from Lee Sooman, listening to his offer, swallowing his disgust. He had heard everything Mark Lee had confessed, every word about the dark side of his boss that seemed to have no end. Deep down, all Jaehyun wanted was to make him pay, to see him suffer as he had seen his father, his Uncle Dong, Winwin suffer. Each of them had felt Sooman's merciless fist in their lives, and he was the last piece to fall.

Everything in him screamed to break the balance, to let the anger out. He wanted peace, but at the same time, he wanted to destroy everything.

The tension in Jaehyun's body increased. Make it up to him? The word felt like a taunt, but his voice was controlled, cold.

"What's this about?" asked Jaehyun, exhaling a sigh, as if by releasing the air he could release some of the weight in his chest.

Sooman smiled, with twisted satisfaction, and pulled his chair closer to the desk. "You see, in three weeks I have a trade. Trouble is, I don't want to, nor do I plan to, do it alone. I could take Cheol Uk with me, but I'd rather have him stay here, on this side of the pond...in case things get complicated," he explained, crossing his arms with the arrogant assurance of one who knows he controls all the strings. "And I think you'd be perfect company."

"What kind of exchange?" asked Jaehyun, though deep down he already sensed the answer.

"Weapons."

The shock of that word fell on him like a brick, a weight he couldn't shake. Jaehyun felt his body stiffen. He'd been in dangerous situations before, he'd played with fire and survived, he was a dealer in Neo Zone. But he knew that accepting that would mean crossing an invisible and final line. He would be transformed into someone even more embroiled in the chaos of the gang, with his hands stained with something he could never wash off.

It was hard to resist, but it was just as hard to accept.

"It'll be quick," Sooman continued, studying Jaehyun's every gesture like a predator watching its prey. "Just outside the city. If all goes well, it won't take more than an hour." he noticed the tension in Jaehyun's gaze, the hesitation he was struggling to keep hidden, and leaned toward him slightly. "I'm asking you because I trust you."

The words fell like a taunt. Jaehyun felt his blood boil, how his skin almost throbbed from pent up rage. His right hand clenched into a fist on his leg, trying to restrain the urge to get up and smash something, anything that would allow him to release what was burning inside him. How dare Sooman speak of trust, to pretend there was anything sincere between them? After all the damage he had sown around him?

But what choice did he have left? Deep down, Sooman's control was absolute.

"What's the pay?"

"Enough to cover six months of your friend's rehab," Sooman replied, his eyes locking on Jaehyun's, pressing right where he knew it hurt.

The mention of rehab was the final piece that fell, sealing his fate. Above all else, he needed the money. Above all else, there was someone else needing to get out of hell, and he couldn't let it drop. He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowing the pain that mingled with anger and despair.

"I'll do it."

"I knew you wouldn't fail me," Sooman replied, satisfied, with a smile that seemed tainted with venom. "You are just like your father. My trust is in you, Jaehyun."

Jaehyun nodded, feeling the knot in his chest tighten, choking him.

Fake it till you make it.

Roll on, light it up, inhale, exhale.

Roll on, inhale, exhale.

Inhale... exhale.

Inhale.

One, two... three.

Exhale.

Jaehyun coughed loudly as he passed the joint to Lucas, who with shrunken, red eyes took it in his hands without hesitation, taking a puff to hold the smoke in his lungs for a few seconds and slowly draw it out.

In front of them was the panoramic view of SM City, the prominent lights of the northern area made the southern area look small, even though from a distance they didn't seem to be so far apart... so different.

If only that were the case.

"You know you don't have to do it," Lucas muttered, exhaling one last puff of smoke before dropping the cigarette to the ground and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. His gaze, fixed on the ground, hid the trace of worry in his eyes.

Jaehyun continued to stare at the lights of the city, each bright spot fading into the distance, like the possibilities he once had and now seemed to be extinguished. His voice came out almost as a whisper, broken and strained. "It's six months of treatment, Lucas. "Winwin... Winwin has started to move his hand. It's a little acomplishment, I know. But it's a step, and I can't... I can't let that stop now." Each word was an effort, a confession that, deep down, that small breakthrough gave him a hope that felt forbidden in his life.

Lucas was silent for a few seconds, watching Jaehyun's profile, his rigid posture and the shadow of weariness in his gaze. "I thought you didn't want to do anything related to Sooman."

Jaehyun swallowed saliva. He thought so too. He had tried to escape Sooman's influence, that world that brought only destruction, but reality always caught up with him. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and sketched a bitter smile, one that barely disguised the lump forming in his throat.

"I thought so too, but you and Mark have said so, haven't you? If I try to do anything about it, not a week goes by before I'm found with a bullet in my head." His voice cracked in bitterness. "Tell me, what other choice do I have?"

Lucas let out a deep sigh, as if searching for the words amidst a cloud of dark thoughts. Then his voice was firm and determined. "I'll do it."

Jaehyun turned his head in surprise and looked directly at him. His eyes, reddened with fatigue and smoke, met his friend's. Then he let out a dry laugh, without a hint of mirth, and patted him on the back.

"Jaehyun." The name left Lucas' lips grimly, stopping him in his tracks. "I know we've said all our lives that the only one who had a chance of getting out of this shit was Winwin...but we know he's not the only one. Maybe I'm not smart enough, but I know you are. You could go to college, get away from all this. You're good at math, you're good at sports... You've got something out there, something worth more than I could ever have." Lucas looked at him with almost desperate seriousness. "Let me make the trade for you. You've got a lot more to lose."

His friend's words hit him like a truth he had tried to ignore. He pondered them silently, letting each one settle in his mind. He appreciated Lucas' attempt, his desperate proposal to sacrifice his own life to protect him, but he knew he could not allow it.

With an effort, he kept his voice steady, even though he felt each word plunging him deeper into his own emptiness. "I appreciate your... nobility, dude. But I will not let you risk your life to save mine. That's not something I can accept."

Lucas exhaled sharply, frustrated. His words came out cutting, in a last-ditch attempt to talk some sense into him. "Do you want to end up like your father, like Uncle Dong?" The mention of both names made Jaehyun tense, his fists clenching tightly until his knuckles turned white.

Jaehyun didn't respond. He turned around and started walking towards his car, trying to stifle the anger and pain boiling inside him. He could hear Luke's footsteps following him, the echoes of his words echoing in his head.

"We know I'll end up like that someday..." he muttered, without turning around. The resignation in his voice was a shock to both him and his friend.

But then, Lucas said something that forced him to stop, "What about (Y/N)?"

The name made his whole body freeze, (Y/N). He could see her in his mind, feel the warmth of her laughter, the twinkle in her eyes. She was the only light in the midst of his darkness, the only memory he dared to cherish in his loneliest moments. Inside him, where no one else could see him, was where he allowed her to exist, a longing he would never dare to confess.

"There is nothing with her." His voice was a harsh whisper, as if in saying it he was tearing out a piece of himself. He didn't even turn, just let it escape into the wind. "There can't be."

"I thought you were having something," Lucas confessed, stepping closer to stand in front of him, forcing him to look at him. "Maybe you can't see it, but anyone would notice. You don't have to say it, Jaehyun. It shows in your eyes every time you talk about her. You want something with her, anything. You're going to risk that by getting more into this shit?" Lucas waved his hand, almost unable to control himself. "We were doing relatively well selling those packages. At least we could pay for Winwin's treatment. But now... Weapons? What will they ask you to do next? Assaults? Robberies?" his voice deepened, and Jaehyun noticed the fear in his eyes. "Kills? Do you think (Y/N) would want to see you in that hell?"

Jaehyun closed his eyes and took a breath. Lucas' words drilled into him, burned inside him, but he couldn't accept them. He couldn't accept a possibility that he knew would end up hurting (Y/N).

Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at Lucas directly, with a forced coldness that tried to hide the storm inside him. "And what do you want me to do, Lucas? She doesn't deserve a life like mine. She needs to be away from all this...away from me. I could only drag her into this hole from which there is no way out." The words came out fast, almost angrily, but at the end his voice cracked. "I can't offer her anything, do you understand? Nothing worthwhile."

Lucas lowered his gaze, but his voice still reflected desperation to save him. "But you have something to offer, Jaehyun. Your life. A life that can still go somewhere, that can be something different." She looked at him pleadingly. "Don't make the trade. Don't get yourself into this anymore. You have a way out, even if you don't want to see it."

Jaehyun's decision was like a stone inside him, a sinking certainty, but it was the only thing that gave him stability at the moment. He averted his gaze to the city lights and quietly sealed his fate.

"I have to do it." The determination in his voice was unwavering. "It's already decided."

Lucas watched him silently, with a sadness so deep it was almost palpable. He knew, deep inside him, that he was losing another friend. The night closed in around them and under the stars, as the lights of the city shone in the distance, he knew that, in some sense, he had already lost his friend.

When (Y/N) got out of Jungwoo's car, the roars of the engines echoed in her ears, but despite the noise, her mind was somewhere else, anchored in a memory. The first time she set foot in Neo Zone, it had been a curiosity, an adventure she didn't fully understand. Now, that same place seemed just as intimidating, but different. This time she was not an outsider spectator. This time, she was there for him.

People's gazes were instantly fixed on her. Some with curiosity, others with disdain. The gleam in her eyes was not the same as those of the "normals" around her in her world. No, here the gazes were sharper, like knives, trying to strip her of her essence, her privilege. She felt out of place, and though in some corner of her mind she knew she would never be part of this world, at that moment all she cared about was finding him. Jaehyun.

The lights of the cars reflected the tense and charged atmosphere of the race track, where the local gangs came to show off their cars and gamble more than they should. She knew what she was up against, and if she had learned anything over the past few months, it was that, in that place, the rules were few, but fierce.

So she wasn't surprised when a familiar and unpleasant face emerged from the crowd. Chris, with that sly grin, who always seemed to have a second purpose behind every word.

"Well, look what we have here," he said, his voice laden with derision. "After Johnny's party, I didn't expect you to be one od Jaehyun's toys."

( Y/N) tried to keep her cool, her body rigid and her gaze steady. There was something about that guy that always made her feel small, as if his words were thorns thrown on purpose. But she had no time for games now. She wasn't here to confront Chris, only to find Jaehyun. "Let me through, Chris," she said, her voice cold, firm.

But he didn't let her go so easily. He stepped between her and the pass, and his hand brazenly strayed to her waist. A touch she didn't ask for, a brush she didn't want.

"Oh no, baby," he said, his tone low, like a challenge. "I think you owe me a debt for that punch you gave me, remember?"

( Y/N) she felt irritation bubbling inside her, but she wasn't going to lose her composure. Not here, not now. But she wasn't going to give in either. "Let go of me, or I swear I'll hit you again," she retorted, pushing lightly against his chest, hands firm. It wasn't what she wanted, but it was what she had to do. She wasn't going to let Chris touch her.

Chris laughed, but it wasn't a genuine laugh. It was mocking, calculating, as if he enjoyed the power he thought he had over her. "Can you imagine what Jaehyun will think when he sees me with one of his toys?" The malice in his voice left no room for doubt. He knew what he was doing, and he knew he had something he could use against her.

( Y/N) didn't answer right away. Her gaze wandered, searching through the crowd, and there, like a magnet, she found him. Jaehyun. He was far away, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his presence. And it wasn't just any glimpse, no. She knew she had seen him. His posture was rigid, his face annoyed, his eyes burning with a silent fire.

"Turn around to find out for yourself," Jaehyun said, his deep voice cutting through the air. It was not a suggestion. It was an order, firm, authoritative. At that moment, the threat was clear. "Let her go and get the fuck out of herr if you don't want that fucking smile wiped off your face. Remember, you're in my zone."

Chris hesitated for a second, then let go of (Y/N), as if Jaehyun's presence was a steel wall repelling him. Looking at Jaehyun as if he would challenge him, but knowing that this was not his territory. Jaehyun's area, yes, but not his.

Before walking away, however, he couldn't help but throw one last malice-laden glance towards (Y/N). "Call me when you get tired of him, gorgeous," he said venomously, not caring that his words were only empty provocation.

When Chris finally disappeared into the crowd, (Y/N) didn't hesitate for a second. He walked straight towards Jaehyun, until she was right behind him, the sound of his footsteps drowned out by the bustle of the arena. Feeling his presence so close gave her a strange sense of calm, but also aroused an uneasiness she didn't know how to handle.

Jaehyun turned slowly toward her. His expression was hard to read, but the frustration was evident. As always, he was trying to maintain control, but he couldn't hide the annoyance. In one swift movement, he grabbed her wrist, holding it firmly, forcing her to look him in the eye.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he asked, anger tinged with palpable discomfort. His tone was low, dangerous. He wasn't saying it out loud for all to hear, but it was as if his words cut through the air between them.

( Y/N) felt a knot in her stomach. The worry, the confusion, the need to explain herself, but also the frustration of knowing that she had no right to be there, that this world was not hers. However, she could not lie. "I was looking for you," she said, without thinking, without fear of what that might mean.

"You weren't answering my calls. I wanted to know how you were..." she confessed, feeling Jaehyun pull her gently through the crowd to get her away from the people.

Finally, after pushing through the sea of people, they found themselves in a quieter corner. Jaehyun let go of her hand and turned to face her.

It was at that moment that he saw the pain reflected in her eyes. The girl, her gaze fixed on him, fiddled nervously with her fingers, as if trying to calm her anxiety.

"(Y/N), I'm fine. You didn't have to come and get into this," he told her in a low voice.

"You could have answered my calls," she demanded, her voice strained. "I didn't know how you were after what happened at my house almost a week ago."

Jaehyun looked her straight in the eye and slowly denied.

"That night I shouldn't have gone to your house."

What...?

"What are you talking about, Jaehyun?" she asked, almost in a whisper, surprised by those words.

Because deep down he knew he was right. That night he shouldn't have crossed that line, shouldn't have sought comfort from her, shouldn't have allowed the girl to sneak into his head and heart like that. He should not have allowed the closeness between them to make him vulnerable.

He shouldn't have thought he deserved something like that.

Because he didn't. He never would.

"Why is it that every time we seem to be moving forward, you decide to pull back?" she asked him, her voice breaking.

"Because there shouldn't be an us, (Y/N)," Jaehyun replied, serious, as if the words hurt him as much as they hurt her. "And you know it."

She tried to process what she had just heard, but her mind was still spinning, entwined with thoughts that wouldn't leave her alone. Coming here, meeting him...it had all been a whirlwind. Her cousin's words that morning still echoed in her mind.

That was not what she had expected to hear from Jaehyun.

"No, Jaehyun. I don't know," she said, frustrated, her eyes flashing with a mixture of confusion and anger. "All I know is that there's something inside me that binds me to you. I always end up looking for something in you, something I don't understand. And the least I understand is that you somehow get close and then walk away like it's nothing."

She moved closer to him and, with a trembling finger, pressed it against his chest, accusingly.

"If I walk away it's because you don't need this life, (Y/N)," he told her, with a painful tenderness in his voice. "I can't give you the life you want."

"I'm not asking you for anything extraordinary, Jaehyun," she replied, almost begging for him to understand. "I'm not asking you for more than what we already are."

Jaehyun looked at her, searching her eyes as if he wanted her to understand something beyond words. With the distance between them so short that their breaths were intertwined, he continued with a sigh.

"But look at me, (Y/N), look at us," he said softly. "I'll never be able to offer you the life you're used to. And I don't want you to get used to mine, because it's not something you deserve." Her voice deepened. "You don't know what it's like to live with necessities, without luxuries. It's not something I can ask you to change or sacrifice for me."

She bit her lower lip, trying to take in what she had just heard.

She was silent for a few seconds, biting her lower lip as her mind tried to process every word Jaehyun had just said. Her chest felt tight, as if his words were a weight on her, an uncomfortable truth that hurt, but one she knew she couldn't ignore.

Jaehyun closed his eyes.

"No, I don't," she finally admitted, looking down at the floor. "I don't know what it's like to live with those hardships..."

Silence fell between them again. The distant murmur of people seemed to grow farther and farther away, as if the world around them was fading away.

"(Y/N), you deserve better than this. Something more... something more stable. I can't be that something for you," Jaehyun said, his voice trembling for an instant.

She realized what he meant. She knew it wasn't just about the material. She knew that what Jaehyun was telling her went beyond external difficulties. He didn't want to be a risk to her, didn't want her life to be dragged down by the uncertainty, by the confusion he himself felt.

"And yet... I can't stop looking for you," she murmured, with a sad, almost defeated smile. "I don't understand what's wrong with me, Jaehyun. I don't understand why everything seems clearer when I'm around you, but then it blurs, it becomes all so confusing."

Jaehyun watched her, unable to find the right words. All he knew was that there was an undeniable connection between them, something even he couldn't explain. But, at the same time, he couldn't deny the fear he felt that this connection would drag them into something neither of them could control.

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his words sounding almost like an apology to himself. "I really am sorry."

She stared at him, as if she expected him to say something else, something that might make sense of everything she felt. But he didn't. Instead, the air between them was filled with a quiet awkwardness.

"So what do we do now?" she asked, voice cracking, but determined not to give up.

Jaehyun took a deep breath, staring ahead as if searching for some answer in the void. "I don't know. But I need you to understand that I don't want to hurt you. I don't want you to end up trapped in my world..."

She denied slowly, not looking away. "So is that it, then, we're just going to keep taking a step forward and then step back? Is that what you want?"

"It's not that," Jaehyun replied, somewhat at a loss. "It's just that I can't offer you what you deserve."

"What about what I want?" she said, on an impulse that surprised her. "Because all I want...is to be with you."

Her words hit him hard. Jaehyun couldn't say he felt the same way, not in the same way. But he couldn't help but think that, maybe, if they both allowed themselves to take that leap... maybe things could be different.

"I'm telling you that I can't give you what you want," he repeated, now with a slight desperation in his tone. "And yet, I feel like I can't walk away from you."

She looked at him silently for a few seconds, trying to find some answer that wouldn't leave her more confused. Finally, she took a step back, letting the air between them grow colder.

"So... what do we do, Jaehyun?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper. "Because I don't know if I can keep waiting for something I don't know if it's coming."

Jaehyun looked at her, his heart pounding. He could see the pain in her eyes, and it broke him inside. But at the same time, he knew he couldn't drag her down with him, couldn't ask her to settle for something he couldn't offer.

"The only thing I can do now...is tell you the truth," he said, almost breathlessly. "I'm not going to drag you into my life without you knowing what you're getting into."

She stood still, staring at the floor, as if processing every word. An invisible weight seemed to fall on her shoulders, and though her thoughts were chaotic, a small part of her knew she had to make a decision.

"So, you decide for me?" she asked, raising her head, her eyes filled with a mixture of frustration and sadness.

Jaehyun said nothing. His silence was answer enough.

Finally, Jaehyun, his throat tightening, slowly pulled away, knowing that any further attempts to get closer would only cause more pain. "I'm sorry," he said one last time, almost as a whisper, and took a step back.

And (Y/N) watched him walk away, her heart heavy, knowing there was nothing more to do. She stood alone in that dark corner of Neo Zone, with the noise of the engines rumbling around her, like a distant echo of the emotional storm she had just experienced.

a/n: I hope you liked even though in took me weeeeeeks to post hahaha, love y'all! NOT PROOFREAD! I’ve been sitting down like 4 hours trying to come with the chapter so now I’ll go to sleep 😴.

taglist is open! if you want to be added just lemme know;)

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If you want to ask me something, feel free to send them!

[polydeuces]

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖚𝖊

𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚗𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯 ; Dexter Morgan x Fem! Reader (Cult Leader)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰 ; You linger in Dexter Morgan’s shadows, close enough to feel the darkness he hides so well. You know his secrets, his rituals, the thrill he keeps hidden from the world. Silently, you wait for that perfect moment to step into his path—so he can finally see that he’s been hunted all along.

𝔠𝔴 / 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 ; (688words) mentions of cults, stalking, potential violence, intrusive thoughts, and elements of psychological tension.

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ

He was supposed to be the predator.

You’d watched him for a year now, the man who walked through the world with an all too familiar blend of invisibility and quiet command. Dexter Morgan, a blood–spatter analyst by day and something far more dangerous by night. But those were his surface-level disguises. You’d begun to peel back the layers, unraveling the nuances of a man who navigated life in the shadows, just as you have for so many years now.

It started innocently enough—fleeting moments when you’d caught sight of him on the crowded Miami streets, merging into the sea of faces like he belonged there. But you knew better. You knew what it was to wear masks, to walk amoung people undetected, unseen and unnoticed. There was something about him, the way he looked at the world, made him all the more intriguing.

So you watched. Carefully, hidden, with a patience you’d honed over years of practice, you observed him as he slipped out of his office at night, slightly tense in his gaze, focused, distant, as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Often times, you’d follow him to the places he frequented; his home, abandoned warehouses, places where the thin line between light and darkness blurred. You learned his routines, the way he’d pull his signature black gloves onto his hands, the way his eyes would sweep across the streets with a meticulous attention to detail before stepping into his own hidden rituals.

It fascinated you.. his dance, this performance between worlds. His life was a careful balance of precision and secrecy. And then there were his victims. You’d seen him work, watched from the edges as he sized up those he deemed worthy enough. You hadn’t intervened— after all, it wasn’t about them. It was about him. You needed to understand his purpose, what drove him and what rulebook or code tethered him to this life.

You began to study his life beyond the night as well, picking up pieces of Dexter Morgan, the man, the father, the blood-spatter analyst, the widower, the mask. You’d slip into his world unnoticed, lingering at places he went during the day; you listened to his colleagues, his sister and the casual comments that painted a picture of someone, friendly, yet distant, the “nice guy” who kept to himself.

You learned his patterns, his preferences, even the small, old habits he indulged in when he thought no one was watching. You uncovered the Dexter he showed to the world, the façade that kept his true nature hidden.

But you could see it—the subtle tension in his jaw, the guarded look in his eyes that surfaced when someone got too close, the small tells of a hidden life. The knowledge inside you—the kind of intimacy that was both exhilarating and forbidden—you knew him in a way no one else did, knew him not by the lies he told, but by the silence he kept.

So, you kept waiting, biding your time. You wanted him to know that he been seen, that he wasn’t as invisible as he thought. You wanted him to understand that he was no longer the only one who lived by a code of shadows. You watched him for countless nights—slipping in and out of his world like a phantom, leaving a sense of unease that you knew would begin to gnaw at him.

Until finally, one night, you decided it was time.

do not repost/duplicate on other sites. © polydeuces 2024.

note; i have a taglist open for updates on this story—just let me know if you’d like your name added !

important; please keep in mind that the dexter character is not my own original creation; it’s inspired by the work of the creators behind the tv show.