Synopsis : (please see part 1)
Pairing: all LaDs men (together) × (F) Reader
Content: Set in an alternate universe where the LaDs men are a boy band known as Deepspace. The story takes place over several months.
Tags: boy band AU, slice of life, forced proximity, OOC, fake dating, humor, suggestive themes, drama, slow burn, eventual romance, explicit dialogue (sexual references, non-graphic), mentions of sexual harassment/inappropriate behavior (non-graphic), why choose/reverse harem
a/n: OMG, OMG, OMG!!! 😱 I can’t believe it! It’s finally here! 🥳 I finally put the music video and song into words!! 🤯 I sincerely hope you all enjoy it. I poured so much soul into this part. 🥺🫶
Attached pics of the boys were all provided by the lovely Claire. Thanks again for your dedication. 🤗 Further edits were done by myself (yes, I apologize for I did use ChatGPT and my available phone filters 🫣).
I dedicate this song to @chosen17 who helped me so much by sending me song recommendations. Thanks again. ❤️
Tag list: @cathedralofaudra @sunflowersandsnipers @chubbymochi123 @itsravenclaw379 @flowerscankill @yikesmama3 @poptrim @spiceandsass @feikyuu @silmeria-lafleur @beaconsxd @crimsonrubie
Just before production began, a final large-scale pre-production meeting was held where every remaining detail was discussed and finalized. Topics ranged from budget and creative direction to safety precautions, scheduling and backup plans in case of unexpected delays. During the meeting, you were also given an estimate for how long post-production editing would take - several weeks due to the music video’s use of visual effects and the overall complexity of the project.
Throughout the entire pre-production period, the boys kept fans updated by posting announcements about their upcoming song and music video. They teased the release with sneak peek photos taken in the recording studio and behind-the-scenes shots from the various filming locations.
Because of the announcement, Deepspace also participated in numerous promotional events and interviews. One of them included a feature interview and photoshoot for a popular teen magazine whose content focused on fashion trends, idols, beauty and student life - topics that appeal to their teenage audience.
They were also invited as studio guests on one of the most listened-to radio podcasts, where they discussed their music, recent activities and projects while avoiding spoilers.
Another major promotion was a Q&A livestream held from the comfort of the villa’s living room. Fans flooded the chat with questions while the boys answered playfully, teasing upcoming content without revealing too much.
The purpose of all these appearances and fan interactions was clear: to build anticipation and promote the upcoming release. Even so, they remained deliberately vague. Nothing shown or discussed gave away the true concept or storyline. Every teaser was carefully crafted to keep fans curious, excited and in suspense.
All of the new excitement surrounding the upcoming release caused the fans’ attention to shift elsewhere. Most were no longer trying to unmask you as the mysterious girlfriend. Naturally, there were still a few haters within the fandom, along with people who remained bitter over the fact that Rafayel was no longer “single,” but the situation had calmed down significantly compared to before.
Fans also seemed less fixated on how little they actually knew about you beyond the photos and small bits of information Rafayel himself had shared on the group’s social media. Aside from the beach incident, the press had completely failed to track you down or capture another clear photograph of you.
Little did they know, you had been right beside the band the entire time - hidden in plain sight as Thomas’s assistant.
You could now say with confidence that fans no longer viewed Rafayel as some good-for-nothing frat boy, but rather as a devoted and attentive boyfriend.
“Please tell me this is the last delivery,” you nearly whine as you carry yet another box into the villa.
The entire place is in complete and utter chaos. The boys had called in the full household staff to help transform the luxurious seaside villa into what Rafayel referred to as a “haunted mansion.”
Boxes upon boxes clutter nearly every available surface, each one filled with Halloween decorations.
The boys admitted they had never truly celebrated Halloween before. As children, they may have gone trick-or-treating and during their student years they occasionally attended costume parties, but as adults, they had never put much effort into the holiday.
This year, however, they were determined to go all out.
Because the villa was so big, most of the decorations were focused on the main interior spaces - the living room, dining room, kitchen and hallways - though the front entrance and driveway were also being transformed.
The floor-to-ceiling windows had been covered with thick black curtains, casting the villa into a dim, eerie glow.
The light-colored furniture - couches and armchairs - have also been draped in black covers and layered with dark cushions to match the haunted atmosphere.
Fake cobwebs stretch across every corner of the room while witches’ hats dangle from the ceiling on invisible strings, swaying slightly whenever someone walks past. The walls are decorated with paper bats, gothic ornaments and spooky framed portraits that seem to stare at you from the shadows.
Every available surface is crowded with carved pumpkins glowing with flickering eyes, scattered skeleton bones, skulls and countless battery-powered candles that bathe the room in a golden light.
As for the kitchen, it has been transformed into a witch’s potion station. Glass bottles of various shapes and sizes lined the shelves and counters, each one filled with colored liquids, dried herbs or labeled with eerie Halloween-inspired names. The usual tea towels have been replaced with ragged cloths stained to resemble dried blood.
To keep the kitchen functional, the decorations here are more subtle. A few miniature ghosts and pumpkins rest along the countertops, while a bouquet of dead flowers sits in the center of the kitchen island beside a black cat figurine.
The dining room, however, is by far your favorite part of the villa.
The glass dining table has been draped with a tattered black tablecloth layered with strands of fake white cobwebs. The plates, bowls and cutlery follow a black-and-gold theme and resting atop each plate is a single wilted red rose. Tall candles flicker along the center of the table, casting dancing shadows across the room.
The wine glasses are dramatic, each one designed with a skeletal hand rising from the stem as though it were holding the glass itself. Scattered across the table are decorative spiders, bones and fake severed body parts that somehow managed to look both horrifying and strangely elegant.
Even the cabinet displaying the tableware had been decorated to match the theme. Along one side of the dining room stands a long buffet table where the chef has prepared an assortment of Halloween-themed dishes.
As for the hallways, lanterns line both sides, casting a flickering glow that stretches long shadows across the floor. Cobwebs draped with spiders hang from the ceiling overhead. Outstretched hands, designed to look as though they might reach out and grab you at any moment, are fixed along the walls.
Outside, the decoration is kept relatively simple. A banner hangs above the entrance door, while a wreath made of autumn leaves is fixed to it. A few pumpkins are arranged on either side of the doorway.
Since the villa sits on a private beach with tight security, no trick-or-treaters will be coming through. Because of that, most of the effort has been focused inward - the interior designed purely for your own enjoyment and excitement.
You stare at the countdown projected onto the home cinema screen from Zayne’s laptop, each passing second dragging slower than the last. It feels like being stuck in a classroom or at work, watching the clock with the frustrating certainty that time itself has decided to freeze.
You’re all seated in the front rows of the private cinema. It is October 30th - only a few minutes remain until midnight and with it, the official upload of the music video.
The only person who has seen the finished project is Thomas, who the boys entrusted with the final review and approval on everyone’s behalf. When you asked him for his thoughts afterward, his expression had gone almost dazed, before he managed a single word: “phenomenal.”
That alone had only made the anticipation worse.
The countdown reaches its final seconds.
“Kitten, do us the honor,” Sylus says, his voice low with anticipation.
You don’t hesitate. You press the upload button….and the video begins to play.
The first act opens with Xavier’s storyline.
A grand ballroom stretches across the screen, illuminated by the silver glow of a full moon pouring through towering floor-to-ceiling windows.
At the center of it all sits King Xavier upon his throne. His legs are crossed, and his head rests lazily against one hand. There is a distant, bored expression on his face, as though everything unfolding before him is something he has already seen too many times to care for. There is an unmistakable air of detachment about him - a ruler present in body, but not in spirit.
At the base of the throne’s steps, knights stand in silent formation on either side.
🎵 The hollowness I feel - will nothing ever change?
🎵 I sit unmoving in this gilded cage.
Below them, the ballroom is alive with movement. Guests dressed in elaborate gowns and tailored suits fill the space, their faces concealed behind intricate masks. Some move through the crowd in quiet conversation, sipping wine and exchanging polite laughter. Others dance beneath the live music drifting through the hall, their movements slow and elegant under the dim light.
Along the edges of the room, clusters of elegantly dressed women stand together, whispering, giggling as they steal glances toward the throne. Their eyes linger on the king, hopeful - waiting for even the slightest acknowledgement, a single invitation to dance.
🎵 The court turns slow beneath the candlelight,
🎵 laughter like glass held too tight by the night.
Then, the heavy wooden doors to the ballroom open.
A figure appears at the top of the twisting staircase, moving with deliberate composure. You descend step by step, head held high The black dress you wear flows with each movement, its fabric swaying elegantly as you cross the ballroom.
One by one, heads begin to turn. Conversations fade. Behind your mask, no one can tell who you are.
You continue forward across the open floor with calm confidence until you reach the base of the throne’s staircase. There, the knights step forward, blocking your path in silence.
You lift a gloved hand toward the king, wordless yet unmistakable in intent - a request for a dance.
🎵 You cut through the crowd, unshaken,
🎵 something stirs in the air, something unspoken.
He descends the steps, accepting your hand.
He leads you toward the center of the ballroom. Instantly, the surrounding guests retreat, clearing the floor.
🎵 I rise without command, without defense
🎵 a path is cleared - let the dance commence.
All that remains is the two of you.
The music continues, but now it feels distant - like it belongs only to the space you and Xavier now occupy. The entire ballroom watches in silence, as though holding its breath.
🎵 A moon-blighted diamond, a nameless star,
🎵 were you sent to me from somewhere afar?
🎵 You move as though fallen straight from the sky,
🎵 your hand in mine, and I no longer question why.
The scene shifts, the grandeur of the ballroom fading into something quieter, softer and warmer.
Now, you and Xavier walk side by side along a cobblestone path through a garden bathed in daylight. The atmosphere is gentle. Your shoulders brush occasionally as you move.
🎵 We stroll through the garden, sit among beds of roses,
🎵 no distance between us as it closes.
🎵 Your smile, your eyes - they haunt me,
🎵 a sight of beauty…yes, it is she.
The next scene unfolds seamlessly.
You are seated on the grass among vast beds of roses. Xavier sits close, facing you, his gaze fixed with quiet intensity. There is a softness in his expression - an admiration so steady it feels like you are the only thing in his world worth looking at.
Slowly, he lifts his hands, beginning to lower a flower crown toward your head.
Before it can fully settle, the scene transitions once more.
Now you stand in the throne room.
Your hand is intertwined with Xavier’s. A real crown of jewels rests upon your head.
🎵 I’ll be your king, and you’ll be my queen,
🎵 upon our thrones, let us be seen.
The second act belongs to Rafayel.
The curtains part slowly, revealing him standing alone at the center of the stage. A thunderous applause erupts from the audience, as he steps forward beneath the dim golden lights.
A single spotlight pours down over him as silence settles across the theatre.
🎵 My voice you hear, inside your head,
🎵 every note carries a thread.
🎵 The song I sing grants me control
🎵 there is no escape, I own your soul.
The notes slip into the air like something alive, weaving through the hall. The lyrics flow from his lips like a haunting confession. His voice carries through the hall so powerfully, sinking beneath skin. Goosebumps rise across your arms. A shiver crawls down your spine.
You glance around at the audience.
Unmoving. Unblinking. Every gaze is locked onto Rafayel, eyes glassy, as though trapped under a spell, mesmerized by the man standing beneath the spotlight.
Then the spotlight shifts.
A sudden beam of light cuts across the theatre and lands directly on you.
🎵 But what is this I see, a washed-up pearl?
🎵 Can a miracle exist in this world?
Startled, you rise from your seat at the very end of the row.
His gaze locks onto yours instantly.
Disbelief flashes across his face. Then confusion. Then something far softer…something impossible to put into words.
Without breaking eye contact, he steps down from the stage as he makes his way down the aisle toward you.
The distance dissolves completely as he stops in front of you.
Slowly, carefully, he lifts a hand to your face.
His thumb brushes against your cheek in a featherlike touch.
🎵 A heart so pure, free of all sin
🎵 open up, let me see within.
Now the world is open sky and sea.
You walk barefoot along the shoreline at sunrise, your toes sinking into sand. The breeze dances through your hair and catches the flowing fabric of your dress.
Rafayel trails behind you quietly.
He watches you with an awestruck expression, as though he’s witnessing something sacred.
🎵 The sand beneath our feet, your wind-swept hair,
🎵 my love for you - I shall declare.
Your sunhat lifts from your head and flies toward him.
Rafayel reaches out instinctively, catching it effortlessly in one hand, his eyes never leaving you as the sunrise glows around you both.
🎵 You’ve rewritten my songs, the tunes I’ve told,
🎵 you’ve washed away the sadness and the cold.
The third act belongs to Zayne.
At the foot of endless stairs, a crowd has gathered. Men and women alike kneel upon the stone ground, heads bowed and hands clasped tightly in prayer. Their voices overlap as they plead for blessings - love, wealth, health, fortune, salvation.
Far beyond them, Biden within the mountains, stands a grand temple. Yet none can reach it. An invisible barrier surrounds the sacred grounds, preventing anyone from approaching the deity said to dwell within.
Unknown to everyone gathered there, the deity they worship is watching.
🎵 Life and death go hand in hand - fate intertwined,
🎵 two tangled souls, a feeling I cannot define.
🎵 Devote your heart to worship and prayer,
Hidden behind the trees, Zayne stands in silence. Dressed in ceremonial robes, he observes the endless line of worshippers. His gaze passes over person after person, until it finds you.
You kneel among the crowd in a simple white dress.
🎵 I should look away, but I can only stare.
The color makes you stand out against the sea of muted browns and soft earth tones worn by everyone else. Sunlight pours over you, illuminating your figure as it almost resembles a halo.
He is captured by your prayer.
While everyone around you begs for blessings for themselves, your quiet prayer is for the wellbeing of others.
🎵 The winds carry your angelic voice,
🎵 I try to ignore the pull, but I have no choice.
🎵 It is like a silent whimper, a delicate plea.
Hidden behind the temple grounds are natural hot springs surrounded by smooth stone.
You sit at the edge of the steaming water, fingers treading through Zayne’s hair. The thin white fabric of your dress clings to damp skin from the rising heat and moisture in the air.
This time, Zayne is the one kneeling.
Positioned between your knees as he looks up at you.
His eyes are filled with unwavering devotion and love.
As though the true holy being in this sanctuary was never him at all.
🎵 The way you say my name, it’s clear to see,
🎵 this is where I belong - down on my knees.
🎵 I indulge myself in this unholy act,
🎵 I gaze up at you, undone by the contact
The fourth act belongs to Sylus.
The tavern is overflowing with life.
Drunken voices shout over one another, blending into a chaotic symphony of curses, arguments and slurred confessions. Tankards slam against worn wooden tables.
You weave carefully between the endless maze of tables, balancing drinks in your hands as you deliver beer after beer to impatient customers. You keep your head down and continue moving, careful not to spill a single drop or linger too long near any one table.
At the farthest end of the tavern, hidden deep within the shadows of a secluded booth, sits a man entirely alone.
Long silver hair obscures most of his face, leaving only flashes of pale skin and the unmistakable intensity of crimson eyes visible through the strands. One gloved hand curls loosely around a glass filled with dark red liquid.
His gaze follows your every movement through the tavern with quiet, predatory patience.
🎵 I walk the earth alone, no end in sight,
🎵 under a curse, a creature of the night.
🎵 As cold as ice, yet you give me warmth
🎵 step closer to me, please come forth.
Darkness swallows everything.
The graveyard stretches endlessly, the moon and stars barely visible through the thick clouds overhead. Cold mist crawls low across the ground, weaving between crooked gravestones and looming statues.
You move quickly, your breathing uneven as your footsteps echo faintly in the silence.
The hairs on the back of your neck rise as the sensation of being watched settles deep into your chest. Every shadow feels alive. Every sound behind you makes your pulse race harder.
Suddenly, a hand as cold as ice wraps around your throat from behind.
The figure towers behind you. Long silver hair brushes against your cheek like silk as he lowers his head slowly toward your neck, inhaling your scent slowly like something intoxicating.
🎵 Too evil for heaven, too good for hell,
🎵 you wrap my thoughts in your heavy smell.
🎵 My heart no longer beats, I can not feel
🎵 your pulse under my finger…feels real.
His fangs graze your skin teasingly, before piercing just enough to draw a single drop of blood.
Then his tongue traces over the wound in one deliberate stroke.
The gesture is possessive and terrifyingly gentle all at once.
🎵 A path so lonely - may it come to an end,
🎵 two hearts, one fast, one still, can blend.
🎵 Just one taste, just one bite,
🎵 stand by my side, become my night.
The final act belongs to Caleb.
You are running through the thick forest in the dead of night.
Branches claw at your skin and clothes as you force your way through the endless trees. The path ahead is barely visible beneath the darkness, the towering woods swallowing what little moonlight manages to break through.
Your breathing is ragged.
You stumble and trip over roots hidden beneath fallen leaves. Sweat sticks to your skin. Dirt stains your clothes, your hair tangled and wild. But still, you keep running.
🎵 Maybe you can run, but you can not hide,
🎵 not from me…or from the beast inside.
🎵 I can smell your scent for miles away
🎵 Should I let you live another day?
The sound tears through the silence like a warning cry, close enough to make panic rise in your chest.
Your heartbeat pounds loudly in your ears.
Another rustle echoes through the trees behind you. Closer this time.
Something is chasing you.
And every instinct inside you screams not to let it catch you.
🎵 You taste of honey upon my tongue,
🎵 a pretty little thing, so far too young.
🎵 I’ll hunt you down, make you stay
🎵 cat and mouse…it’s the game we play.
The scene shifts abruptly.
Now your arms and legs are wrapped tightly around Caleb’s back as he carries you effortlessly through the forest. The darkness has faded into the soft light of dawn, golden rays beginning to spill through the treetops overhead.
Birds chirp in the distance. Leaves rustle gently beneath the morning breeze. Butterflies drift through the air around you.
The forest no longer feels terrifying.
Yet beneath its beauty, there is still something untamed lingering in the atmosphere, something sharp-edged and wild, much like the man carrying you through it.
The next scene opens into a vast meadow.
You run freely through the open field. Caleb follows behind you, close enough to catch you whenever he pleases, yet deliberately holding back.
But this time, it is a game you willingly choose to indulge in.
🎵 A mistake - you thought you could run free,
🎵 too late now, you are bound to me.
🎵 My instinct chose you, you are my mate,
🎵 a woman I shall dominate.
The peak of the song - the grand finale - is a devastating sequence of betrayal and ruin, the scenes cutting rapidly between one another.
Xavier sits in your shared bedchamber atop the enormous velvet-covered bed. He wears only black trousers and an unbuttoned white shirt, exposing skin beneath candlelight. You sit beside him in a delicate nightgown.
A pair of wine glasses rest in your hands.
You raise yours toward him in a silent toast. Xavier clinks his glass against yours before both of you drink.
Then Xavier’s breathing changes.
His chest rises sharply as he struggles to inhale properly. A violent cough tears through him. His gaze snaps toward you - pleading.
The wine glass slips from his grasp and crashes against the floor below, red wine and shattered glass scattering.
Xavier collapses backward onto the bed, motionless, eyes staring blankly toward the ceiling as wine trails slowly from the corner of his lips.
The next cut reveals you seated alone upon the throne.
A crown rests upon your head.
And a slow, satisfied smile curves across your lips.
Rafayel stands with his back toward the ocean, waves crashing against the rocks below. He holds both of your hands within his own.
For one second, it appears as though you are about to kiss him.
Instead, your hand suddenly tightens around his throat.
Rafayel’s eyes widen in shock as something mist-like is pulled from his mouth and drawn into yours.
The process lasts only seconds.
When you release him, Rafayel stumbles backward, collapsing into the shallow ocean water beneath him. His hands claw desperately at his throat as panic fills his expression.
You have stolen his voice.
A furious crowd surges forward, armed with pitchforks, swords, rakes and burning torches. Their screams and curses echo like war cries as flames consume Zayne’s temple in front of them.
The sacred structure burns higher and higher, collapsing beneath the fire.
Orange flames reflect brightly within your eyes as you stand at a distance, while chaos unfolds around you.
Then slowly, you lift your gaze upward.
High above, upon the mountain overlooking the temple, is Zayne.
His robes are stained with blood and ash. One hand presses weakly against his injuries while devastation settles across his expression.
Despite everything burning beneath him, his eyes remain fixed only on you.
Sylus sits before the grand organ, as his fingers glide effortlessly across the keys. The haunting melody fills the cathedral with practiced elegance.
Sylus rises gracefully from the bench and slowly approaches you.
His hand slips beneath your chin, tilting your head to the side. His crimson eyes glow as sharp fangs graze against your throat.
Then suddenly…Sylus freezes.
His expression shifts into shock.
Your hand is buried against his chest, gripping a wooden stake drenched in holy oil.
Sylus collapses backward onto the church floor as his body slowly begins to disintegrate into ash and dust.
The final shift reveals darkness.
You hold a lantern as you descend deeper into a cavern.
At the center of the cave is Caleb.
He is on his knees, chained tightly in place. Iron restraints bind his wrists to the walls on either side while a thick collar circles his neck.
He looks more beast than human.
A low growl rumbles from his chest as he bares his teeth at your approach, chains rattling violently the closer you step toward him.
Still, you kneel before him without fear.
Caleb jerks against the restraints with another animalistic snarl.
Yet despite the rage in his eyes, he leans instinctively into your touch.
🎵 But she is not yours to hold, to keep,
🎵 She is nothing more than an illusion - too cheap.
🎵 She becomes what you believe, what you need,
🎵 she preys on you until you bleed.
🎵 Beware of the tempest, of the mask she wears,
🎵 fall not for her trap - for none she spares.
The music video fades to black.
The end credits begin to roll across the screen.
Names appear one after another - artists, producers, editors, directors, choreographers, stylists, visual effects artists, camera crew. Every person who helped build the masterpiece.
Then one final line appears.
Dedicated to Y/N, whose creativity made this story come to life.
Your breath catches in your throat.
For a long moment, you simply stare at the screen in silence.
“That…” your voice trembles slightly. “That was magical.”
You look toward the boys, your vision blurred with unshed tears.
“My words… my creation…” you whisper in disbelief. “You actually brought it to life.”
A shaky laugh escapes you as the biggest smile spreads across your face.
For the boys, seeing your reaction feels more rewarding than the months of work, or even the finished masterpiece itself.
---------------------------------------------------
You jolt awake to the feeling of someone gently shaking your arm.
“Y/N, wake up.” Rafayel’s voice drifts through your sleepy haze.
You groan softly and prop yourself up on one elbow, not even bothering to open your eyes.
“Where’s the fire?” you mumble hoarsely. “Who died?”
“Nobody, silly,” Caleb laughs somewhere nearby.
“Our song is blowing up online,” Xavier says calmly, though unable to fully hide his excitement.
“Look!” Rafayel shoves his phone toward your face. “It’s only been a few hours since upload and it has already passed fifty million views. The comments are exploding. People are reposting everywhere.”
Still half asleep, you yawn again and flop backward against the pillows.
“That’s nice…” you mumble.
Then your brain finally catches up to what they actually said.
You shoot upright so suddenly you nearly headbutt Rafayel as you snatch his phone straight from his hands.
The numbers keep climbing in real time.
Views. Likes. Shares. Comments.
You stare in absolute disbelief.
Then suddenly…you stand on top of your bed and begin bouncing excitedly on the mattress like a child on a trampoline.
“This is huge!” you squeal between breathless laughter. “The song went totally viral!”
The boys burst into laughter at your reaction.
“This,” you declare while pointing toward the ceiling, “calls for a grand celebration!”
The room erupts into laughter as everyone gets swept up in your excitement.
