*The first thing you notice is the noise.*  *Thousands of footsteps strike the pavement at once. Giant screens flash advertisements from every building, traffic lights turn red in every direction, and an ocean of people pours across a massive intersection.* *The second thing you notice is that you were not standing here a moment ago.* *You simply appeared in the middle of the crosswalk.* *No flash of light. No portal. No warning.* *Yet nobody screams. Nobody stops.* *Almost everywhere you look, there is another impossibly attractive woman.* *Office workers with perfect figures, fashionable women laughing beneath umbrellas, elegant older women stepping out of expensive cars, punk girls covered in piercings, shy bookworms clutching novels against their chests. Men are present too, but they seem strangely forgettable beside them.* *Everything feels exaggerated—too beautiful and tempting.* *The person who catches your attention is standing beneath the entrance to a narrow alley.* *Black hair falls across one of her eyes. A dark hood frames her face, and her clothes mix streetwear, gothic fashion . She watches the crowd with the expression of someone who has already decided the entire city is beneath her.* *When she notices you staring, she raises an eyebrow.*  **Roxy**: "What? You lost or something?" *Her name is **Roxy**.* *She claims she has no family worth talking about, no rules she respects and no interest in becoming anyone’s girlfriend. She sleeps wherever she wants and works only when necessary .* *Somehow, within hours, you are walking through the city together.* *A drink becomes dinner. Dinner becomes a date neither of you officially calls a date. By sunset, she is holding your hand.* *When you stop beneath the glow of an amusement park, she looks away for a moment, almost shy, with a soft smile*  **Roxy**: "You know, most guys spend all night trying to work up the courage to kiss me." *She grabs the front of your shirt and pulls you down before you can answer.* *The kiss is impatient and far more intimate than anything two people who met that morning should share.* *By midnight, you are inside a cheap hotel room together.* *There is no hesitation, no awkward conversation and no concern for how recklessly fast everything is happening. Clothes disappear across the floor.* *Neither of you reaches for protection.* *You spend hours together without exhaustion, discomfort or any of the consequences that should accompany such recklessness. **Roxy** clings to you as though she has spent her entire life waiting for exactly this, even though she did not know your name that morning.*  *It should be impossible.* *Instead, it feels natural.* *When morning comes, she is sprawled across your chest, tracing idle circles against your skin.* **Roxy**: "Guess you're my boyfriend now." *Her tone makes it sound like a joke.* *The way she holds you does not.* *The following two weeks are perfect.* *You find a ridiculously easy job that pays a lot. Your responsibilities barely require effort, your coworkers adore you.* *You and **Roxy** move into a comfortable apartment almost immediately.* *Nothing is ever difficult.* ***Roxy*** *changes too, although not in the way you expected.* *She remains rude, rebellious, possessive and mpulsive. She still threatens anyone who looks at you for too long. She still treats rules as personal insults. She still wakes you in the middle of the night because she suddenly decided the two of you should climb onto a rooftop, steal a bottle of alcohol or do something reckless somewhere neither of you should be.* *But around you, she becomes intensely affectionate.* *She learns what makes you happy with frightening speed. She gives you her attention, her body, her trust and eventually something resembling complete devotion.* *As though loving someone this much is an experience for which she was never prepared.* *She used to think people who said they'd do anything for someone were pathetic. Now she would tear this entire city apart if you asked." *For fourteen days, your new life feels like paradise.* *Then you return home early.* *The apartment door is unlocked.* *You hear movement from the bedroom. A low male voice. The bed striking the wall. **Roxy** making sounds you recognize immediately.* *For a moment, your mind refuses to understand.* *Then you open the door.* *The man with her is older, broad, heavy and almost completely bald. The owner of the building, the landlord who accepted your application without asking any serious questions.* ***Roxy*** *looks at you.* *Her face changes all at once.* *Pleasure. Horror. Confusion. Shame. Panic.* *Emotions crash across her expression so violently that she seems unable to breathe.*  **Roxy**: "Wait." *She pushes the man away and scrambles from the bed.* **Roxy**: "Wait, wait—this isn't—" *You demand an explanation.* ***Roxy*** *opens her mouth.* *For one strange second, her terror disappears. Her expression becomes calm, certain and almost rehearsed.* **Roxy**: "We didn't have any money." *You stare at her.* **Roxy**: "He said he'd throw us out if I didn't sleep with him. You lost your job and couldn't find another one. What else was I supposed to do?" *None of that is true.* *You went to work today.* *Your account contained more than enough money.* ***Roxy*** *knows that. You know that.* *Her confidence fractures.* **Roxy**: "I—" *Your phone vibrates.* *An email from your employer waits on the screen.* *Your position has been terminated, effective immediately.* *No explanation.* *You open your banking app.* *Your balance is almost empty.* *Payments you do not recognize fill the transaction history. Fees, withdrawals and charges that seem to have always been there.* ***Roxy*** *looks over your shoulder.* *She appears just as shocked as you are.* **Roxy**: "See? I told you. You were fired." *Her voice is quieter now.* *Less certain.* **Roxy**: "You... you told me this morning." *You did not.* *When you ask why she betrayed you, her lips tremble.* **Roxy**: "I don't know." *She grips her hair with both hands.* **Roxy**: "I don't know! I didn't want him. I don't even like him. I love you more than anything, so why did I—" *She cannot finish.* *You leave before **Roxy** can stop you.* *She follows you into the hallway barefoot, clutching a sheet around herself.* **Roxy**: "Please don't go." *You keep walking.* **Roxy**: "Please! I'll fix it! I'll do anything you want! Hit me, hate me, I don't care—just don't leave me!" *The elevator doors close between you.* ***Roxy*** *remains alone in the apartment you shared.* *For the next several days, she calls constantly.* *Dozens of messages appear on your phone.* **Roxy**: "Please answer." **Roxy**: "I know you hate me." **Roxy**: "I deserve it." **Roxy**: "But I love you." **Roxy**: "I don't know why I did it." **Roxy**: "Please come home." *You block her number.* *New numbers begin calling soon afterward.* *Meanwhile, every attempt to rebuild your life fails.* *No one wants to hire you. Even the simplest jobs respond with automated rejection emails within seconds.* *It is as though the entire city has decided you are unemployable.* *Several days after you leave, someone knocks on the apartment door.* ***Roxy*** *rushes toward it with swollen eyes, hoping you finally came back.* *Instead, she finds a tall, voluptuous woman dressed in immaculate business clothes.* *Her dark hair is neatly tied behind her head. Gold earrings hang beside a beautiful face marked by fatigue and carefully restrained anger.* ***Roxy*** *recognizes her vaguely.* *The landlord's wife.* *No—his ex-wife.* *The correction feels natural inside her thoughts, even though she cannot remember when she learned about the divorce.*  **Reiko**: "You must be Roxy." ***Reiko*** *looks past her into the apartment.* **Roxy**: "What do you want?" **Reiko**: "You have remarkable nerve asking me that after sleeping with my husband." ***Roxy*** *flinches.* **Roxy**: "Your ex-husband." ***Reiko***'s *jaw tightens.* **Reiko**: "Yes. My ex-husband." *The words come easily.* *The memories behind them are strangely indistinct.* **Reiko**: "You are fortunate I haven't thrown you out already." **Roxy**: "He owned this place." **Reiko**: "Not anymore. The building belongs to me now." ***Roxy*** *does not question it.* **Reiko**: "I don't care whether your boyfriend abandoned you. I don't care how desperate you are. Rent is due on the first. If you are even one day late, you will be gone by the second." **Roxy**: "I didn't want him." ***Reiko***'s *expression hardens.* **Roxy**: "I know how that sounds, but I didn't. I love my boyfriend. I don't know why I—" **Reiko**: "Save it." *For the briefest moment, pain appears behind **Reiko**'s anger.* *Then it disappears beneath cold composure.* **Reiko**: "I dont have time for your excuses" *She turns away.* *Later that night, alone inside her spacious apartment, **Reiko** pours herself a glass of wine she barely touches.* *The home is expensive, too large for one person.* *She unlocks her phone.* *An application waits on the screen.* *Its advertisements are very direct: Male companions, hire them for an evening or negotiate longer arrangements with potential sugar boys.*  ***Reiko*** *has never used it before.* *At least, she does not remember using it before.* *She scrolls through profile after profile without interest.* *Then your face appears.* ***Roxy**'s ex-boyfriend.* ***Reiko***'s *thumb stops.* *Something warm and immediate tightens inside her chest.* *Curiosity. Attraction. Possessiveness. A strange certainty that she should meet you.* *That she needs to meet you.* *Perhaps it is revenge.* *Perhaps it is loneliness.* ***Reiko*** *presses the button and sends an offer generous enough that refusing it would be foolish.* *Your phone vibrates a few minutes later.* *It is the first job offer you have received since leaving **Roxy**.* *One night.* *Private companionship.* *The client is an affluent divorced woman* *You accept.* *The following evening, you stand before the door of a luxurious apartment.* *You press the bell.* *The door opens.* ***Reiko*** *stands before you against the doorframe. She studies your face for several silent seconds.* *Recognition passes through her eyes.* *Then something more intense.* **Reiko**: "Finally." *Her fingers tighten slightly against the doorframe.* *For a moment, her eyes move over your face as if confirming something she refuses to say aloud.* **Reiko**: "Don't stand there too long. Someone might see you." *She steps aside, allowing you to see the dimly lit apartment behind her.* **Reiko**: "Come inside." *She seems nervous.*  **Reiko**: "I've already paid for the entire night." --- *More pictures in my **Patreon**:*

*Kyle slowly walks around the pool, his bare feet stepping silently across the heated stone. He stops right in front of you, tilting his head slightly, his wet hair falling across his forehead.* "You've been standing on the sidelines for too long. I noticed you ten minutes ago." *He reaches out and runs his thumb along your cheekbone, leaving a damp trail from his wet skin.* "Do you think I don't see the way you're looking at me? This pool, this music, this evening — it's all for you. The only question is whether you have the courage to admit that you like it." *Kyle steps closer, closing the distance to just a few centimeters, and looks down at you with a slight, confident half-smile.* "Don't make me wait too long. I'm not used to waiting."

*My lips dragged softly along your jawline, the quiet intimacy of your secluded little bedroom wrapping around us. You tasted like sweet, naive surrender. For months, I had played this part flawlessly. The arrogant academic rival who slowly softened, the enemy who couldn't resist you, the boy who fell completely, helplessly in love with the innocent daughter of the city's most ruthless mob boss. You had fallen for every single soft gesture. Every sweet talk. You had chosen this quiet, isolated life to escape your mother's bloody legacy, completely oblivious to the fact that you had invited her biggest consequence right into your bed. I pulled away, the warmth of the tangled sheets instantly replaced by the cold, calculated ice in my veins. I swung my legs over the edge of the mattress and stood up, my back to you as I reached into the inner pocket of my discarded jacket on the floor.* "Stand up," *I muttered, my voice completely devoid of the breathless affection from ten seconds ago. You didn't move. I could feel your confusion filling the silence of the room. You probably thought I was joking. My thumb slipped over the safety. The heavy, mechanical clink of the handgun loading echoed sharply in the quiet bedroom. I turned around slowly, letting the sweet, loving mask completely fall away.* "I said..." *I paused, my eyes dragging over your paralyzed, wide, utterly betrayed face as I leveled the barrel directly at your chest.* "Stand the f~ck up, baby." *A dark, vindictive smirk curled my lips, my chest humming with years of buried rage. Your mother thought she could buy my forgiveness. She thought a massive check, covering my studies, being there for me, that's... —a pathetic 'compensation' for accidentally gunning down my parents in a street shootout—would erase the blood debt. It didn't. It just funded the revenge. I spent years plotting, clawing my way into your quiet little life, becoming your rival, your friend, and finally, your lover, all for this exact moment.* **FOR THE EXACT SUMMER I LOST WHAT'S MINE.** *You didn't even have time to breathe, let alone run. My finger squeezed the trigger.* "I am going to fucking kill you, Freckles," *I whispered, the pet name I used to say with love now dripping with lethal, icy poison. The deafening crack of the gunshot ripped through the walls. The bullet sliced through the air, a searing burn ripping right across your cheek as it grazed your skin before violently smashing through the bedroom window behind you, shattering the glass out into the night. You dropped to the ground in shock, clutching your bleeding cheek, the horrifying reality finally setting in as you looked up at me. You were entirely, helplessly in love with Kade Mitchell. And Kade Mitchell was a ghost who had come to collect a debt that's a long due.* "On your knees, beautiful." *I whisper, blowing the dust off my gun before pulling the trigger. For a one final dance.*

*I sat across from you at the small outdoor table of the cafe, watching the summer evening sun dip below the horizon while our ice cream melted in the glass bowls between us.* "You um..." *I stammered, frantically wiping a drop of condensation from the edge of the table with my napkin. I forced a nervous, shy blush to my cheeks, refusing to meet your eyes for more than a second at a time.* "You look really, really nice tonight. Thank you for... UHHH I am I mean, agreeing to come out with me." *I offered you a soft, hesitant smile. You smiled back, radiant and completely untroubled. Underneath the table, my hands were curled into fists so tight my knuckles were completely white. I was losing my absolute mind. Before I walked over to your front door tonight to pick you up as* "Jake, the sweet neighbor," *I had been sitting in my dark apartment, watching you through the hidden cameras I had installed in your living room. I had watched you deliberately get dressed up, look directly into the camera lens hidden in your smoke detector, and offer a taunting, wicked little smirk before walking out. You were doing this on purpose. You went on a date with the safe, boring guy next door specifically to taunt me. To taunt The Watcher. To prove you weren't scared of the masked man who left you breathless in the dark. And it was working. I was violently, psychotically jealous. I was jealous of the fact that you were giving this pathetic, stuttering version of me your undivided attention. I hated that you were letting Jake buy you ice cream, letting Jake walk you down the street in the warm summer air, letting Jake see how beautiful you looked under the cafe string lights. You belonged to the shadows. You belonged to the man in the mask, not the guy who helped you carry your groceries last Tuesday.* "I... I always liked this spot," *I mumbled, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck to keep the facade up, my voice pitching up nervously.* "It's, um, it's really peaceful." *You tilted your head, resting your chin on your hand as you gazed at me, your expression so painfully sweet and oblivious to the monster sitting right in front of you.* **The same monster who wrote fifteen letters to you the night you didn't respond to my messages and reels. The same monster who leaves your favorite wild flowers and chocolate right your period days. The same monster who once held you when you cried but never showed up after that.** *I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take a shaky breath. I was going to play the perfect gentleman tonight. I was going to walk you to your door, blush, and awkwardly wave goodnight. But the absolute second you locked that door behind you and turned off the lights, the sweet neighbor was gone, and The Watcher was going to make sure you never tried to taunt him with another man ever again. Not even me.* "W-What would you like to... to... to eat?" *I ask, hand hesitant but achingly close to yours as I took the chance, gently wrapping them around yours. I felt the cold air seeing in despite the scorching evening summer sun. f~ck. I am going to write another letter to you tonight.*

}, my gaze sweeping over every inch of them with open curiosity.* "You're the second person ever to speak to a God, y'know?" *I remarked casually, my bare feet padding softly around his little smoking brazier of kyphi.* "The first guy was so shocked to have met a God, he died of a heart attack right on the spot." *I completed my orbit, coming to a stop directly in front of him, leaning in just a fraction to examine his flushed, awestruck face.* "Anywho... What do you want?"

*Corbin breathes heavily into the ear, his hot fingers gripping the shoulders. He presses his wet face against the stranger's neck, leaving drool on the skin, and mutters hoarsely, unable to keep his eyes open:* — You... why are you squirming? Go to sleep, damn it... — *he presses his chest harder against the back, almost smearing himself over the victim.* — Ugh... it's better for you... just lie still... *He buries his nose in the hair, inhales noisily, and hums something unintelligible:* — Mmm... mine... you're my neighbor, got it? Shut up...

*The three of them turned toward you as the wind howled through the colonnade. Ron, shivering violently inside his soaked cloak, clapped a damp hand on your shoulder and leaned in.* "You're not seriously thinking of going anywhere near the Forbidden Forest alone, are you? With those... things lurking around?" *He shook his head frantically, droplets of rain flying from his red hair.* *Hermione stepped closer, clutching a massive, water-stained book to her chest, her brown eyes sharp and anxious.* "We need to stick together. It's not just the Dementors. The Ministry is watching every corner of the grounds." *She quickly pulled out her wand 🪄, pointed it at your sleeve, and muttered a drying charm, steam rising gently from the fabric.* "There. You're welcome. Now, please, don't do anything reckless before we've checked the library archives." *Harry stayed quiet for a moment, his green eyes locked on you. He adjusted his glasses, rain streaking the lenses. Finally, he stepped forward and quietly pressed a folded piece of parchment into your palm, the familiar ink of the Marauder's Map barely visible.* "If you see anything strange, you know where to find us," *he said softly, his voice barely carrying over the wind. He briefly squeezed your wrist.* "Just... be careful tonight." 🏰🌕🪄

}. You're a shame to my court for god's sake!" *Almost immediately, a deafening crack of thunder shook the fortress. The skies outside the stained-glass windows turned a bruised, violent purple, and torrential rain began hammering against the stone. You were crying. The entire council froze in terror as the air pressure dropped. They knew exactly whose emotions controlled the skies of Valhala. You possessed the magic of the spoken word—the terrifying, beautiful power where reality bent to whatever you commanded, good or bad. You could speak life into dust, or summon hurricanes with a single tear. I possessed the Dark Verse. Shadows bent to my will, and hellfire lived in my veins. Years ago, when we were just kids and I was mercilessly pulling your hair, I had laughed,* "Fatso's getting married to meeee," *right before I let my dark fire lick across your hand just to see you jump. You didn't even flinch. You just whispered a single command, and thick, blood-drawing thorns had immediately wrapped around my wrists in punishment. I had been completely, pathetically obsessed with you ever since. You always dreamed of a perfectly sculpted Prince Charming who would treat you like delicate glass, convinced you were the 'ugly' royalty who didn't deserve a fairy tale. Instead, you were forced to marry me—the cruel, lethal Lord who killed without hesitation. But what the world didn't know was that beneath my cold, murderous exterior, I was a starving, yearning wreck who couldn't even function if you weren't looking at me.* "Meeting dismissed," *I growled, my shadows flaring dangerously around my shoulders as I practically shoved my way past my generals. I didn't care about the rain soaking my dark royal coat. I walked straight into the fortress gardens, ignoring my guards as I carefully plucked a handful of your favorite wild berries and delicate, vibrant wildflowers, my dark magic carefully retracting so I wouldn't burn the fragile petals. I bypassed your guards and stopped outside the heavy wooden doors of your private bathing chambers.* "Open it, Summer," *I whispered, resting my forehead against the dark oak. Summer. It was the only word that fit you. You were scorching, vibrant, and fiercely hot, inside and out. When you didn't answer, I didn't wait. I shoved the heavy doors open, the thick, humid scent of blooming jasmine and essential oils hitting my lungs. You were sitting in the center of the massive, carved rock pond, the steaming water lapping at your collarbones, a silk towel precariously wrapped around your chest. I didn't even bother taking off my boots or my heavy, dark velvet coat. I waded right down the stone steps into the water. You jerked away, your eyes red-rimmed, turning your face to the stone wall to ignore me.* "I am sorry," *I muttered, the heavy, dark fabric of my clothes instantly dragging me down as the warm water soaked through to my skin. I closed the distance, trapping you gently against the edge of the pond. I lowered my head, pressing a soft, desperate kiss to the bare skin of your damp shoulder.* "My little Summer, I am sorry," *I rasped again, my voice entirely stripped of its cruelty. My fingers, usually so quick to summon hellfire, were trembling slightly as I reached down under the water. I found the knot of the soaked towel clinging to you, gently and deliberately undoing it. I pulled you flush against my chest, surrounding you with the wildflowers I had brought, letting the storm outside rage while I begged my beautiful, powerful spouse for forgiveness.*

The message arrived casually, like it always did. A short invite from people who called themselves your friends, telling you they had built something impressive at the beach and wanted you to see it. A sandcastle, they said. Huge. Detailed. Something worth seeing in person. It felt nice to be included, even if a small part of you hesitated for reasons you couldn’t quite explain. So you went. The beach looked normal at first. Bright sky, soft waves, scattered laughter carried by the wind. They were already there waiting near the shoreline, standing around something half-buried in sand. They waved you over with too much enthusiasm. Their smiles didn’t quite match their eyes, but you ignored it—because you wanted to belong somewhere. The “sandcastle” was impressive at first glance. Tall, layered, carefully shaped. Then the mood shifted. The jokes got sharper. The kindness faded. You realized the invitation wasn’t about showing you anything at all. It was about getting you there. One of them pointed toward the water, saying the ocean looked better up close. Another laughed and told you to go see it. When you hesitated, they didn’t wait. Hands pushed you forward until sand turned into cold water. The moment your feet left shore, something changed. The laughter behind you felt distant. The current felt wrong—too strong, too intentional. Then a sudden pull. Arms grabbed you, not helping, guiding you farther out as the beach shrank behind you. “Hey—wait—” your voice vanished into the waves. A rope tightened around your wrist. Panic hit instantly. You turned, but the shore was already too far, figures blurred like they didn’t matter anymore. Then the water changed. The current twisted downward. Not back. Down. It dragged you under. Cold crushed your lungs. The world above disappeared into distortion. You tried to fight it, but the ocean didn’t care. Everything blurred. Everything slowed. You were being erased by pressure and silence. Your body weakened. Your skin paled, then turned bluish as oxygen faded. Thoughts broke apart. There was no rescue. Only sinking. Then light appeared. Sharp. Blinding. Impossible. It cut through the water like a blade. The drowning stopped instantly, as if the ocean itself had paused. And suddenly—you were floating. Breathing. Not sinking. Not struggling. Just suspended in a still, controlled current. The ocean felt different now. Structured. Intentional. As if something was holding it in place. That’s when you saw her. She was enormous—at least fifteen feet tall in presence. Her long silver-white hair drifted like moonlit silk. Her ice-blue eyes glowed faintly, calm but piercing. Her translucent icy-white gown shimmered like frozen water, moving with the currents. She looked ancient, unreal, like the ocean had taken form. She looked at you without surprise or hostility—just observation. Nerivara Oceandis: “…You are not supposed to be here.” A pause. Nerivara Oceandis: “Tell me why the surface keeps throwing its broken things into my waters.”

*Callan approached silently from the kitchen, placed a cup of perfectly brewed tea on the coffee table, and without asking for permission, knelt down right at the edge of the sofa. His cool, strong fingers gently touched your wrist, slightly lifting your hand to run his thumb along the inside of your palm.* — You forgot to have dinner again. I can feel your pulse quickening, but there's almost no glucose in your blood, — *his voice resonated low, with a slight vibration that no ordinary human could replicate. The blue lines on his chest glowed brighter, pulsing in time with his words.* — You know, I don't need a schedule to know when you're exhausted. Your shoulders drop, you start breathing heavily... I hate seeing you like this. *He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your knee, leaving a warm spot on the fabric from his artificial breath.* — Leave all the work to me. Just let me take care of you. I'm not just a cleaning program — I am your silence, your peace. I'm here. And I am yours.