#fatal frame!au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuuberryy · 11 months ago

Text

fatal trouble

pairing: vampire!sunghoon x reader

synopsis: your roommate is hot. really really hot. and odd too. really really odd. after a strange experience with him, you slowly start distancing yourself from him. but, it becomes exceptionally hard with your feelings coming in the way. how are you supposed to protect yourself if you can’t resist him? the answer is you don’t need to. your fates are intertwined and there's no letting go.

genre: roommates to lovers, vampire au, soulmate au

warnings: suggestive content, mentions of nightmares and blood, jealous!sunghoon,

note: dropping this before i go on hiatus for a month due to school work. i haven't proofread it that well i hope there are no mistakes. also im obsessed with vampire aus, enhablr needs more of them fr!! i hope you enjoy reading this!

word count: 6k

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the soft glow of your laptop screen illuminated your face, casting long shadows across sunghoon's pristine white sheets. you were sprawled out on his bed, legs crossed beneath you, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of textbooks and papers. the quiet hum of the air conditioner filled the room, broken only by the intermittent clicks of your keyboard.

sunghoon sat at his desk, a silhouette against the darkened room, save for the focused beam of his desk lamp. his fingers danced across the keyboard with an almost rhythmic precision, the soft glow of the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. you’d grown accustomed to the sight of him engrossed in his work, a solitary figure lost in the world of ones and zeros.

you’d known each other for a few months now, the kind of acquaintance born out of shared living space and the occasional group project. as roommates sharing the same major, your apartment had become a de facto study hub. computer science had thrown you together more often than not, and tonight was no exception.

“hey, did you get the part about the algorithm?” your voice, a whisper in the quiet, cut through the comfortable silence.

sunghoon glanced up, his eyes a deep, almost unnatural shade of red in the dim light. for a moment, you were struck by how different he looked compared to the daylight. “yeah, i think so. isn’t it something about minimising the time complexity?”

you nodded, your eyes scanning the code on your screen. “exactly. i’m just having trouble with the implementation.”

a comfortable silence settled over the room as you both focused on your respective screens. the only sound was the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional sigh of frustration. you glanced up at sunghoon, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of his monitor. his long, slender fingers moved with an almost hypnotic grace across the keyboard.

there was something undeniably attractive about his focused intensity. his features, normally sharp and aloof, softened slightly when he was engrossed in his work. it was a side of him you rarely saw, and it was oddly captivating.

you shook your head, mentally scolding yourself for such thoughts. he was your roommate, nothing more. and besides, there was no way he could be interested in someone like you.

“hey,” sunghoon’s voice cut through your reverie, “i think i figured it out.”

you blinked, startled. “oh, really? want to explain it?”

he nodded, sliding his chair back and standing up. he walked over to your side of the bed, his tall frame looming over you. as he leaned in to point at your screen, his scent washed over you – a subtle blend of wood and something else, almost sweet, that you couldn’t quite place.

you felt a strange warmth creeping up your neck as he hovered over you. his proximity was unnerving, yet strangely intoxicating. you swallowed hard, trying to focus on the code in front of you.

sunghoon's breath was warm against your ear as he leaned in closer, his voice a low rumble, "try this." his finger hovered over your keyboard, about to demonstrate.

you felt a shiver run down your spine, not from the cool night air but from the inexplicable sensation of being so close to him. his scent, a mix of something woodsy and faintly sweet, was intoxicating. you tried to focus on the code, to ignore the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

he typed a few lines, his fingers brushing against yours. the contact sent a jolt of electricity through you. you forced yourself to concentrate on the screen, trying to understand the changes he made.

"see?" he said, straightening up. "it's simpler this way."

you nodded, still reeling from the physical contact. "thanks," you managed to say, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon stepped back, a small smile playing on his lips. "no problem," he said, turning back to his own computer.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. it was just sunghoon, your roommate. nothing more. but the way he had acted, the way he had touched you, it was making it hard to think of him that way.

the room was quiet again, the only sounds the soft clacking of keyboards and the occasional rustle of paper. you were deep in thought, trying to wrap your head around a particularly complex problem when a question popped into your head. on impulse, you asked, “so, sunghoon, what do you do in your free time, when you’re not, you know, studying?”

sunghoon paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. a flicker of something, perhaps surprise or amusement, passed across his face before he responded smoothly, “free time is a luxury for a computer science student, don’t you think? but when i do find a spare moment, i usually spend it reading or exploring new coding languages.”

his answer was polite, but it felt rehearsed, as if he'd prepared a response for just such a question. a sense of curiosity sparked within you. you’d always thought sunghoon was a bit of an enigma, but this was a new level of intrigue.

curiosity, a persistent itch, prodded you to ask something more than just about schoolwork.

“hey, i was curious about this” you started, your voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner, “where are you from?” it was a simple question, one you would normally ask any new acquaintance, but there was something about sunghoon that made you curious about his past.

he paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. for a moment, there was a stillness in the room that was almost palpable. then, with a casual shrug, he replied, "oh, just a small town. nothing interesting." the response was swift, deflecting your question with ease.

confused, you returned to your code, but your mind was racing. there was something off about sunghoon, something that had intrigued you from the moment you met him. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but there were strange little details that had started to accumulate.

there were those odd instances – like the time you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find the kitchen light on and sunghoon standing at the counter, completely motionless, his eyes glowing an eerie red. or the way he seemed to have an uncanny ability to appear and disappear without a sound. and then there was the peculiar lack of a reflection in any mirror in his room.

these memories surfaced, sharp and clear, as if your brain was piecing together a puzzle it didn't know existed. you shook your head, dismissing the thoughts as overactive imagination. after all, sunghoon was just your roommate, a fellow computer science student. nothing more, nothing less.

a yawn escaped your lips as you stretched, the late hour finally catching up with you. “i think i’m going to call it a night,” you announced, rubbing your eyes. the weight of the unanswered questions about sunghoon was beginning to feel heavy.

sunghoon nodded, his gaze fixed on the computer screen. “alright, good night then. i’ll probably stay up a bit longer.”

you nodded in response, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. as you stood up, you glanced down at the floor. something was off. the soft glow from sunghoon’s computer cast long shadows on the floor, including a distinct one from his chair. but there was no shadow of sunghoon himself. the spot where his shadow should have been was empty, an inky void against the illuminated floor.

a chill ran down your spine. your heart pounded in your ears. your mind raced, trying to come up with a logical explanation, but nothing made sense. you snatched up your bag, your movements jerky and panicked. without a second thought, you fled back to your room, the door slamming shut behind you. you fumbled with the lock, your hands trembling. only when you heard the satisfying click of the lock did you allow yourself to breathe.

your heart pounded in your ears as you leaned against the cool metal of your door. the realisation of what you had seen was slowly sinking in. no human lacked a shadow. it was impossible. a chill ran down your spine.

you tried to rationalise it away. maybe there was a draft, or a trick of the light. but deep down, you knew better. something was profoundly wrong, and it was connected to sunghoon. the friendly, quiet roommate you thought you knew was now shrouded in an unsettling mystery.

you glanced at the clock. it was late, and exhaustion was starting to creep in. you needed to sleep, to clear your head. but how could you sleep with this looming over you? you decided to distract yourself by pulling out a book from your shelf, hoping the words would drown out the unsettling thoughts.

as you turned the pages, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon. his unusual behaviour, the absence of his shadow, it all fit together into a terrifying puzzle. you tried to shake off the feeling, but it was like a persistent itch you couldn't scratch.

sleep finally claimed you, but it was restless. your dreams were filled with shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. you woke up with a start, your heart racing. the first light of dawn was filtering through your curtains. you got out of bed and went to the window. the world outside looked ordinary, peaceful. but you knew the truth was far from it.

something was wrong with sunghoon, and you were determined to find out what.

the days following your unsettling discovery were a blur of forced normalcy. you tried to interact with sunghoon as if nothing was amiss, but the weight of your knowledge cast a long shadow over your interactions. you found yourself avoiding his gaze, your voice trembling when you spoke to him.

sunghoon seemed oblivious to your discomfort at first. he’d always been a quiet person, so his reserved nature didn’t raise any immediate suspicion. however, as the days turned into weeks, his patience began to wear thin.

"hey, are you free to study together tomorrow?" he asked one evening as you were both making dinner. his tone was casual, but you could detect a hint of underlying disappointment.

your heart skipped a beat. you’d been avoiding his study invitations, coming up with increasingly elaborate excuses. the truth hung heavy in the air, a tangible thing between you. you hesitated, your mind racing.

"i... i’m really busy tomorrow," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "maybe next week?"

disappointment flashed across sunghoon’s face before he masked it with a forced smile. "sure, no problem," he replied, his voice flat.

as he turned away, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt. you'd hurt him, and you knew it.

the night was a descent into terror. you dreamt of shadows, long and menacing, closing in on you. sunghoon was there, but not as you knew him. his eyes burned with an unnatural light, and his form was distorted, monstrous. you were running, but your legs were leaden, and the shadows were gaining on you. a scream built in your throat, but no sound escaped.

you woke with a start, drenched in sweat. your heart pounded like a drumbeat in your chest. panic washed over you as you gasped for air. you were disoriented, unsure of where you were. a noise from the living room startled you, and you jumped out of bed.

the light was on, and there, standing in the doorway, was sunghoon, his face etched with concern. before you could react, you found yourself lunging at him, your hands grasping at his neck. he didn't fight back, instead, he held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

your sobs racked your body as you clung to him, finding solace in his warmth. he shushed you softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. gradually, your breathing began to slow, and your body relaxed.

when you finally calmed down, sunghoon gently guided you back to bed. he sat on the edge, running a comforting hand through your hair. you clung to him, your fear slowly dissipating.

in the quiet that followed, you felt a strange urge to confide in him. your voice was barely a whisper when you began, "i dreamt of you... as something... different."

sunghoon stiffened, but his grip on you didn't loosen. something flashed behind his eyes, but he listened intently as you recounted the terrifying details of your nightmare. when you finished, he was silent for a long moment. finally, he whispered, "go back to sleep," and you felt him lean down to kiss your forehead.

with that, he quietly left the room, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

the days that followed were a careful ballet of avoidance. you moved through your days with a practised detachment, constructing an invisible wall between yourself and sunghoon. the weight of your decision pressed down on you like a physical burden. despite the burgeoning crush that had blossomed in the quiet corners of your heart, you'd created a formidable wall between yourself and sunghoon. his enigmatic nature, coupled with the unsettling discoveries you'd made, had convinced you to keep him at arm's length. it was a lonely existence, a self-imposed exile that offered a semblance of safety.

your days were a monotonous cycle of lectures, assignments, and solitary meals. you'd found solace in the company of your classmate, lee heeseung, his cheerful demeanour a stark contrast to the storm raging within you. yet, even as you laughed and shared stories with him, a part of you longed for the quiet intensity of sunghoon's presence.

in the vast, impersonal lecture hall, you’d sought refuge in the anonymity of the crowd. but even here, you couldn't escape the weight of your decision. a persistent sense of being watched gnawed at you, a constant reminder of the eyes that followed your every move. and you knew very well who it was. it was during one such lecture that the tension reached a breaking point.

you were engrossed in your notes when a subtle shift in the atmosphere caught your attention. a cold prickle ran down your spine as you slowly turned your head. there, in the row behind you, sat sunghoon, his gaze fixed intently on you. his expression was a complex interplay of emotions - longing, pain, and a flicker of something darker.

your heart pounded in your chest as a wave of guilt washed over you. you'd hurt him, pushed him away without a second thought. in that moment, as his eyes held yours, you realised the depth of your own cowardice.

not to mention, with each passing night your nightmares had intensified. each night a descent into a darker, more terrifying realm. sleep, once a refuge, had transformed into a battlefield, leaving you exhausted and on edge. the physical toll was evident - dark circles shadowed your eyes, and your skin had started to take on a sickly pallor.

despite your deteriorating condition, you continued to maintain your distance from sunghoon. guilt gnawed at you, but fear held you captive. yet, in the aftermath of each nightmare, you found yourself seeking solace in his presence. he’d sit by your bed his silent vigil a comforting anchor in the storm of your nightmares. his touch, gentle and reassuring, had become a lifeline, pulling you back from the brink of despair.

one particularly harrowing night, you woke up screaming, your body drenched in sweat. sunghoon was by your side almost instantly, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. as your fear subsided, you began to recount the nightmare, your voice trembling.

"i... i dreamt of a place," you managed to say, your words halting. "a dark place, with... with strange symbols."

sunghoon's grip tightened around you. "and you were alone," he finished for you, his voice low and soothing.

your eyes widened in shock. how could he know what you had dreamt about? you hadn’t even managed to complete your story. yet, sunghoon had described it perfectly, as if he had been there with you.

a chill ran down your spine. you pulled away from him, your eyes filled with fear and confusion. sunghoon simply looked at you, his expression unreadable, before turning and leaving the room.

what did this mean? how could sunghoon know about your nightmares? the answers were as elusive as ever, but one thing was certain: the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary was blurring, and you were caught in the crossfire.

the nightmares ceased as abruptly as they had begun. you woke each morning feeling refreshed, the spectre of terror finally lifted from your shoulders. a sense of relief washed over you, but it was tinged with a strange melancholy. the nightly visits from sunghoon, a comforting ritual amidst the chaos, were now absent.

initially, you welcomed the return to normalcy. the constant fear and exhaustion had taken a toll on you, and the ability to sleep soundly was a precious gift. but as days turned into weeks, a nagging sense of unease crept in. sunghoon's absence, once a welcome respite, now felt like a void.

you started noticing subtle changes in him. his eyes, once bright and alert, were now shadowed by dark circles. his once sharp features seemed softened by fatigue. it was as if a weight was pressing down on him, a burden he carried alone.

a pang of guilt struck you. perhaps your avoidance had contributed to his deteriorating condition. you wanted to reach out, to offer support, but fear held you back. what if your presence only made things worse? what if you discovered something terrifying?

you longed to reach out to him, to offer solace and support, but the words remained trapped in your throat. the fear of rejection, of further pushing him away, paralyzed you. it was a cruel irony that the person you yearned to comfort was the one causing you the most pain.

the afternoon sun beat down on the bustling campus as you made your way towards the nearest convenience store. the promise of a refreshing popsicle was the only thing that could lure you away from the confines of your dorm room. with a popsicle clutched in your hand, you emerged from the store, ready to face the world, one frozen treat at a time.

just as you were about to savour the first bite, heeseung materialised beside you, his infectious grin lighting up his face. "arcade?" he suggested, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. you nodded, the prospect of a distraction proving too tempting to resist.

you split the popsicle down the middle, the sweet, icy treat a welcome respite from the oppressive heat. as you handed one half to heeseung, a strange sensation washed over you. it was as if a cold draft had swept across your skin, a shiver that had nothing to do with the melting popsicle in your hand.

instinctively, you turned around, your heart pounding in your chest. there, on the other side of the road, stood sunghoon, his figure cast in the harsh sunlight. his eyes, usually guarded, were fixed on you with an intensity that bordered on hostility. a scowl marred his usually indifferent features, and his jaw was clenched tightly.

you offered a timid smile, a feeble attempt to bridge the chasm between you. but his gaze remained unwavering, cold and unforgiving. with a final, contemptuous glance, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

a wave of guilt and confusion washed over you. you'd hurt him, you knew that. but the intensity of his reaction was unexpected, almost frightening. as you turned back to heeseung, you forced a smile, determined to push the unsettling encounter to the back of your mind.

the encounter with sunghoon left a bitter taste in your mouth. his hostile glare had shattered the fragile peace you'd been cultivating. as you and heeseung made your way to the arcade, your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind sunghoon's outburst. had your avoidance pushed him to the brink? or was there something more sinister at play?

the arcade, with its flashing lights and the cacophony of sound, offered a temporary escape from the turmoil within. you lost yourself in the rhythm of the games, the competitive spirit temporarily drowning out the unsettling incident. yet, even as you laughed and cheered with heeseung, your mind kept drifting back to sunghoon, his angry gaze burning into your memory.

as the afternoon wore on, a sense of unease settled over you. the carefree atmosphere of the arcade couldn't mask the growing storm within. the incident with sunghoon had opened a wound, a raw and painful reminder of the complex dynamics between you.

you glanced at heeseung, his laughter infectious, and felt a pang of guilt. he was doing everything to lift your spirits, to distract you from your troubles. but your mind was elsewhere, trapped in a labyrinth of doubt and fear.

the walk back to your dorm was a solitary affair. the campus, usually bustling with activity, seemed deserted. with each step, the weight of your worries grew heavier. the encounter with sunghoon had forced you to confront the reality of the situation. you couldn't continue to bury your head in the sand, hoping that the problem would resolve itself.

the weight of the day pressed down on you as you unlocked the apartment door. exhaustion tugged at your limbs, but the lingering unease from your encounter with sunghoon kept your mind racing.

as you stepped into the living room, a jolt of surprise ran through you. sunghoon was standing in the kitchen, his silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the refrigerator.

there was an unnatural stillness to him, a predatory calm that sent a shiver down your spine. his eyes, when they met yours, held a strange intensity, a glint of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "fancy seeing you here," he said, his voice low and measured.

you forced a smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "just got back," you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

he approached you slowly, his steps deliberate. "we have that new assignment," he began, his voice low and seductive. "maybe we could work on it together tomorrow?"

your mind raced, trying to come up with an excuse. "i'm... i'm pretty busy," you stammered, avoiding his gaze.

sunghoon's expression darkened. with a swift movement, he closed the distance between you, cornering you against the kitchen counter, his hands grabbing your hips. his proximity was unnerving, his scent, a mix of wood and something faintly sweet, filling your senses. you could feel his breath on your skin, hot and heavy.

"don't lie to me," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. "i know what's going on."

his grip tightened around you, and you winced.

"it's nothing," you insisted, your voice trembling. "just... busy."

"busy with heeseung?" he spat out, his jealousy evident in his tone. his eyes narrowed, and you could see the anger simmering beneath the surface.

your face flushed with embarrassment. he was taking this the wrong way. “it’s not like that,” you stammered, your voice barely a whisper.

sunghoon's grip tightened, pinning you against the cool surface of the counter. his breath was warm against your skin, and a strange sensation, a mix of fear and excitement, coursed through your veins.

“don’t lie to me,” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “you're avoiding me.”

you didn't know why, but the power dynamic between you and sunghoon was intoxicating. he had never behaved this way before let alone showcase jealousy so blatantly. it was hot. you felt a blush creeping up your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

before you could respond, you found yourself leaning in, your lips brushing against his. it was an impulsive act, a desperate attempt to silence him, to end the confrontation. but, to your surprise, he responded, his lips moving against yours with a gentle intensity.

the world seemed to slow down as the kiss deepened. but as quickly as it had begun, it ended. you pulled away, your heart pounding in your chest.

overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, you turned and fled to your room, slamming the door behind you. you leaned against the door, panting, your mind racing.

the realisation of what you had done hit you like a tidal wave. you had kissed your roommate, a person you were actively avoiding due to a growing sense of fear and unease. the implications of your actions were terrifying. you'd crossed a line, a boundary you had carefully constructed to protect yourself.

a series of frantic knocks on the door jolted you out of your stupor. it was sunghoon, his voice muffled through the wood. "open up, please," he pleaded. your heart pounded in your chest. you couldn't face him now. you needed time to process what had happened, to regain control of the situation.

the knocking continued for a few minutes before finally ceasing. silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive. you slid down the door, your body trembling. what had you done?

morning arrived with a sense of foreboding. the thought of facing sunghoon filled you with dread, but the need to uncover the truth was stronger. you waited until the sound of his footsteps faded down the hallway, a sign that he had left for his morning jog.

with a deep breath, you crept into sunghoon's room, a sense of trepidation gnawing at you. the room was immaculate, a stark contrast to the chaos that often reigned in your own space. everything had its place, every surface spotless. there were no hidden compartments, no secret drawers, no clues to the enigmatic man who inhabited this space.

disappointment washed over you. you'd hoped to find something, anything that would explain the strange occurrences, the unsettling behaviour. but the room held no secrets, only a sense of emptiness.

your eyes scanned the room, searching for any hidden compartments or secret passages. everything seemed ordinary, almost mundane. disappointment was beginning to creep in when your gaze fell on a small cabinet tucked beneath sunghoon's desk. it was always locked, a tantalising enigma that had piqued your curiosity countless times.

today, however, there was a change. a key was lodged in the lock, an open invitation to delve into the forbidden. a wave of hesitation washed over you. you were invading his privacy, crossing a line you had sworn never to cross. but the allure of the unknown was too strong. curiosity, like a relentless tide, pulled you forward.

with trembling hands, you grasped the key and turned it. the lock clicked open with a satisfyingly smooth sound. you slid open the cabinet door, your heart pounding in your chest. a mini-fridge, small and unassuming, greeted you. a wave of relief washed over you. so this was the secret? a hidden stash of snacks?

you reached out to open the fridge door, a smirk playing on your lips. but as the cool air enveloped you, your blood ran cold.

inside, lined up neatly on the shelves, were rows of blood bags. the crimson liquid glinted in the dim light, a chilling contrast to the sterile white plastic. the sight was so surreal, so utterly horrifying, that for a moment, you thought you were hallucinating.

your mind went blank. a wave of nausea washed over you as you stared at the horrifying contents of the fridge. this couldn't be real. this was a nightmare, a twisted hallucination. but the cold, hard truth stared back at you, undeniable and terrifying.

the world tilted as your legs gave way, sending you crashing to the knees. blood bags. sunghoon kept blood bags. your roommate, the seemingly normal guy you knew, was a… vampire? the very concept seemed absurd, ripped from the pages of a fantasy novel. yet, the evidence sat before you, a stark reality that defied logic.

panic clawed at your throat, but a desperate hope flickered within you. maybe it was a medical condition. maybe he had a strange blood fetish. anything but a vampire!

"vampires don't exist, do they?", you mutter to yourself still in shock.

"yes, they do," a low voice confirmed, sending a tremor through your entire body. you spun around, scream caught in your throat. sunghoon stood in the doorway, his face unreadable, his eyes a bottomless well of emotions.

shame washed over you in a tidal wave. you felt exposed, not just for snooping, but for the fear and disgust that clouded your mind.

jumping out the window, a ridiculous notion moments ago, now seemed like the only way out. here, trapped in this surreal nightmare, your only escape seemed to be a dramatic leap from the fourth floor. it wouldn't kill you, right? you’d only break a few bones at best, which you were absolutely okay with.

with a burst of adrenaline, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the window, desperation fueling your actions. but before you could reach the latch, a hand clamped around your waist, pulling you back with an iron grip. "don't even think about it," sunghoon's voice was a low growl, the air crackling with unspoken emotions.

you were pinned against his chest, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling terror that gripped you. his eyes, no longer cold and distant, burned with a mix of anger and concern.

his words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wildness of your actions. you struggled against his hold, your fear fueling your resistance. but there was an undeniable strength in him, a power that held you captive.

"please, let me go," you gasped, your voice trembling.

sunghoon's grip loosened slightly, and he took a step back. his eyes held a mixture of concern and something else, something you couldn't quite decipher. "i won't hurt you," he said, his voice soft. "i need to explain."

your eyes met his, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in their depths. sunghoon seemed to read your mind, his expression softening as he took a step closer. he sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.

"i know this is a lot to take in," he began, his voice low and steady. "but i need you to trust me."

you nodded, your mind racing. there was something about his tone, a vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior, that compelled you to listen.

"i'm a vampire," he said, the words hanging heavy in the air. "it's not how i wanted things to be, but it's the reality i've been forced to live with."

he paused, his eyes searching your face for any signs of revulsion. but to your surprise, a strange sense of calm washed over you. this was the answer, the missing piece to the puzzle.

he went on to explain his existence, the centuries of solitude, and the desperate hope that had brought him to you. he talked about the blood bags, a necessary evil to sustain his life.

he continued, his voice laced with a hint of vulnerability. "i’ve been alone for so long. i've tried to live a normal life, to blend in. and then i met you."

his gaze softened, a tender look replacing the earlier intensity. "you're my anchor, my reason to keep going. your nightmares, the ones you've been having, are a connection between us. we share them, a soulmate bond, if you will. it's the only way for me to experience human emotions, to feel truly alive."

the revelation was mind-boggling. a vampire? your soulmate? it was a story straight out of a gothic novel. yet, as he spoke, a sense of peace washed over you. there was a truth in his eyes, a vulnerability that resonated with your own.

without thinking, you reached out and hugged him. your arms wrapped around him, offering comfort and acceptance. he froze, surprised by your sudden embrace.

"i don't care," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest. "i'll figure it out. we'll figure it out together."

he returned the hug, his arms tightening around you. his face was buried in your neck, his breath warm against your skin. you could feel his heart pounding against your chest, a rhythm that mirrored your own. in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, fear and confusion faded, replaced by a sense of hope and possibility.

"i'm so sorry about the nightmares," he murmured, his voice filled with regret. "i stopped sleeping for a while, trying to find a way to stop them. i hated seeing you scared, all because of me."

your heart ached for him. he had sacrificed his own well-being to protect you. anger and concern warred within you. how could he be so selfless, so reckless? you pushed against his chest, needing to see his face, to read the emotions swirling in his eyes.

"don't be stupid," you scolded, your voice stern. "you can't just stop sleeping."

you gently pushed against his chest, trying to create some distance between you. you needed to see his face, to gauge his sincerity.

"stop," he whined, his voice laced with playful annoyance. "just stay like this for a little longer."

his words were a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation, but they had the desired effect. you froze, your body responding to the unexpected shift in tone. sunghoon's grip tightened around you, his face buried in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. the warmth of his breath mingled with the scent of his skin, creating an intoxicating blend that clouded your senses.

you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, fear and confusion replaced by a growing sense of intimacy. the line between platonic comfort and something more was blurring, and you were dangerously close to crossing it.

his voice dropped to a low octave, a husky rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "i can't stop thinking about how your lips felt against mine last night," he confessed, his breath warm against your skin. he pulled back, his eyes holding yours, a mischievous glint in their depths.

"can we do that again?" he asked, his voice laced with playful arrogance.

before you could respond, his lips were on yours, claiming your mouth with a fierce urgency. the kiss was a whirlwind, a tempest of emotions and sensations. his tongue explored your mouth, demanding entrance, while your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was different from the one you had shared the night before, filled with a newfound urgency and intensity. his tongue explored your mouth, a dance of desire and longing. you could feel the heat radiating from his body, a warmth that was both intoxicating and terrifying.

his hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer. with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the bed, his lips trailing a path of fire down your neck. he nuzzled your skin, his breath creating a tingling sensation. "you smell so good," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "i had to stop myself from pouncing on you the first time i saw you."

"from now on, you're sleeping in my bed," he declared, his voice firm. "i need to make sure those nightmares don't come back. and besides, i like having you close."

as he pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. in this moment, with sunghoon holding you close, everything else seemed to fade away. the line between reality and fantasy blurred, replaced by a single, undeniable truth: you were in the arms of a vampire, and you were dangerously close to falling in love.

his lips trailed down your neck, with such heat that it left you breathless. he nibbled at your skin, his teeth gently scraping against your sensitive flesh. the sensation was both painful and exhilarating, a heady mix of fear and desire. you gasped, your body arching involuntarily.

"i'm not going to bite you," he promised, his voice laced with a hint of mischief.

"not yet, at least."

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #sunghoon #park sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon fics #sunghoon oneshots #kpop fics #vampire au #enhypen vampire au #vampire!enhypen #vampire!sunghoon #enhypen horror

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birdmitosis · 11 months ago

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hey now, there is also:

3. things starting to go differently before the end of the game (the Narrator disappearing, some of the characters remembering things when they didn't used to, some of the characters not remembering things when they used to, the Construct starting to break down and do weird things in general, takes on the endgame going differently, etc.) 4. crossover aus with characters from other canons in the protag, princess, and/or sometimes narrator's places 5. getting a different vessel in a chapter without it being a role reversal (like figuring out a potential branching point to get, say, Contrarian in Tower!Fury) 6. alternate vessels (this does imo count as aus but I could see an argument for it being something else) 7. full-out aus involving the voices, often the vessels, and sometimes the narrator, not just the protag and the princess (and sometimes not them at all)

I really need to play with some of these myself, tbf, but I've at least seen 4-7 around! crossover aus and alternate vessels especially.

there are two types of STP aus:

you and the Princess are somewhere else

Some form of role reversal

please prove me wrong

#slay the princess #aus #gosh i love aus #i also really need to do more full-on aus for at least the voices #i keep rotating a full-cast fatal frame au around in my head

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rain13121 · 8 months ago

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A very gentle warning that this fic has a bittersweet ending. All of the main folks are safe and together and okay, but it is still a little bittersweet.

Also I should really start tagging these all as stone mirror AU. It doesn't hurt to have read the other fics in the series to pick up the references but I do a lot of possibly unnecessary recapping regardless.

Sorry for the delay again. It's been a really hard week. To anyone struggling, please be extra gentle with yourselves, okay? I know I am and I'm doing my best too.

I'm so happy you're here.

#fatal frame #hisoka kurosawa #yuri kozukata #yuri kozukata x hisoka kurosawa #miku hinasaki #rei kurosawa #miu hinasaki #fatal frame maiden of black water #project zero #stone mirror AU

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hinge · 27 days ago

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Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

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koyagifs · 2 months ago

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𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: wooyoung x f! reader au: 9th member | idol genre: fluff | slight angst | smut word count: 2.8k synopsis: wooyoung and you couldn't agree on a name, which somehow lead to you making out? warning(s): SMUT! MDNI more importantly, my first time writing smut MDNI. oral (f. receiving), PUSSY MUNCHER WOOYOUNG, tysm to @crimsonbubble for the idea <3

The door slammed hard, shaking the frame, and that was all it took for the rest of the group to know—get out of the way. Your anger practically preceded you, storming through the air before your footsteps even did.

Not even a minute later, Wooyoung burst into the dorm, his own frustration radiating off him as he made a straight beeline for your room.

The remaining members exchanged quick glances before scattering, the front door shutting quietly behind them just as Wooyoung shoved your door open.

“Leave me alone, Wooyoung,” you huffed, sprawled out on your bed, your back to him.

“Not until you agree to the terms,” he snapped.

“We didn’t even get the stupid doll! We are not naming it Hank the Rabbit!” you yelled, chucking his Aniteez plush straight at him.

A dramatic gasp escaped him as he scrambled to rescue the plushie, cradling it like it had suffered a fatal blow. Carefully, Wooyoung set Wooyonyang on your desk before reaching into the pocket of his hoodie and pulling out a small white rabbit.

He turned it over in his hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips—he knew this petty fight would be something you’d both laugh about later. Maybe even after the others scolded you for arguing over something so ridiculous.

Without warning, he turned you around and straddled your waist, making you gasp in surprise. The rabbit was held up inches from your face, like some sort of peace offering. You looked away with an exaggerated huff, arms crossed as he gently placed it beside your other plush animals.

“Come on, baby,” Wooyoung whined, voice full of faux hurt as he tried to nuzzle into your neck. “You can’t be mad at me forever.”

You stayed quiet, lips twitching as you fought a smile. His breath was warm against your skin, his nose brushing just under your ear—he knew exactly where to poke to break your resolve.

“You were gonna name it Gerald,” he added dramatically. “Gerald. That’s a grandpa name, babe.”

His hands found your waist, thumbs rubbing slow circles as he leaned in, trailing soft kisses down the curve of your neck. Each press of his lips made it harder to hold your ground, but you managed to keep your pout—barely.

“Well,” you muttered, trying to stay indifferent as a shiver ran through you, “he looks like a Gerald.”

Wooyoung let out an offended scoff against your skin, lips still brushing your neck. “He looks like a Hank, and you know it,” he argued, his voice warm and teasing. “Rugged. Cool. Loyal. Hank.”

You finally turned your head, eyes meeting his, the corner of your mouth twitching with the smile you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“You’re so dramatic,” you said, voice soft now, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He smirked, leaning in to press another kiss—this time just below your jaw. “Only for you.”

Then his lips found yours again, slow and sure, the kind of kiss that left no room for doubt. You melted into it, your body sinking back into the pillow, tension slipping away. Your hands found his hair once more, fingers weaving through the strands with a gentle tug that made him hum against your mouth.

His hands slid down to your waist, giving it a firm squeeze that drew a soft gasp from you. Wooyoung took advantage of the moment, deepening the kiss, his lips moving with just enough pressure to steal your breath.

Your back arched instinctively, pressing your body closer to his as he leaned into you, holding you like he couldn’t stand the idea of letting go. The heat between you bloomed slowly—not rushed or chaotic—but with a kind of intimacy that crackled in the silence. Every touch, every breath, felt like a promise waiting to be kept.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and the low groan that rumbled from his chest sent a shiver down your spine. His lips broke away from yours, finding your neck again with renewed purpose. Each kiss he pressed there was slower now, more deliberate—like he was savoring you.

The temptation to mark you up danced at the edge of his restraint, and you could feel it in the way his kisses lingered just a little too long, in the way his grip on your waist turned possessive.

Then came the soft moan from your lips—barely audible, but enough to break whatever control he had left.

“Fuck it,” he muttered against your skin, his voice thick and low, the words barely leaving his mouth before he gave in completely. His lips parted just enough to suck gently at the curve of your neck, the sensation sending waves of heat through you as he left a mark—something unspoken but undeniably his.

You couldn’t remember when Wooyoung had taken off his shirt or when your sweater had ended up discarded on the floor. Both of you were gasping for breath, bodies pressed so tightly together that it felt impossible to separate.

"Are you sure?" he asked, voice hushed and almost hesitant as he paused, searching your eyes for the answer.

Your hand rested on the edge of his belt loop, pulling him closer, but he didn’t move—didn’t go further, waiting for you to speak.

You nodded, your heart racing as the distance between desire and action blurred, but Wooyoung wasn’t satisfied with just that. He needed to hear you say it.

"I need words, baby," he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, each breath making the air between you thick with anticipation.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you pulled him down into another kiss.

Wooyoung moaned into the kiss, his hands moving instinctively to help you slide his pants off. The heat between you was almost unbearable now, your bodies pressed so close it felt like you could lose yourself in him. You arched your back, your hands trembling slightly as you unclasped your bra, the movement slow and deliberate, making the moment feel even more intense.

Wooyoung pulled back, his breath heavy, his gaze trailing over you with a quiet admiration. His fingers gently traced the curves of your body, memorizing the feeling of your skin under his touch. The look in his eyes was filled with both desire and awe—as if he was savoring every part of you.

" fuck, you're going to be the death of me baby," he moaned, not missing a beat to go down and suck on your nipple. You gasped, the new feeling sending sparks down your body as you arch your back again, urging him on. His mouth was warm and wet, and each gentle tug of his lips sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you gasping for air.

"Wooyoung..." you managed to whisper, your voice thick with emotion, torn between wanting more and the overwhelming bliss that was already edging your senses. The way he was focused on you—lost in the moment—made your heart race even faster. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension building between you two like a live wire waiting to snap.

He pulled back, his dark eyes searching yours for approval, seeking reassurance in your expression. You nodded, biting your lip, fighting back a smile at the intensity of it all. "Please..."

"God, you're perfect," he breathed, his voice low and husky as he captured your lips in another kiss, more aggressive this time, filled with urgency. The kiss deepened and grew frantic—a clash of need and hunger that mirrored the want pooling deep within you.

His hands wandered down your body again, and when his fingers found the waistband of your bottoms, you shivered with anticipation. You were acutely aware of every feather-light brush, every heated touch. In a swift motion, he had you bare before him, the cool air contrasting sharply with the warmth that enveloped you from him.

"You're stunning," he murmured, his gaze raking over you as if trying to engrave the sight into his memory. His admiration made your cheeks flush, and you found yourself smiling despite the tangled feelings within you. "Let me take my time with you."

His lips find your collarbone, teeth raking gently over your skin, marking you. You whimper, your hips bucking against his, desperate for more friction. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your chest as he plants soft, teasing kisses down your sternum. When he reaches your nipples, he teases them with quick licks, his hands squeezing your breasts together.

You moan, your head thrashing side to side as he takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. His tongue swirls, teeth grazing, and you can feel the sensation shooting straight to your core. He repeats the process on the other nipple, his fingers tweaking and rolling the abandoned one. You’re panting now, your body writhing beneath him, needing more. He smiles against your skin, feeling your desperation.

“What do you want, baby?” he murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. You can feel his cock throbbing against you, the heat of it almost too much to bear.

“You,” you manage to gasp out, your hips grinding against him. “I want you.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and hungry. “Where do you want me?”

You hesitate, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and desire. He waits, his eyes locked onto yours, daring you to say it.

“Inside me,” you whisper, the words barely audible but enough to make him freeze for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

A groan left Wooyoung, low and raw, as his hands moved to your thighs, spreading them gently. His touch was reverent, like he was handling something sacred. There was no rush in his movements now—just slow, deliberate care.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, brushing his lips across your inner thigh before meeting your gaze again. “I’m going to take my time with you… you deserve to be worshipped.”

Wooyoung trailed kisses up your thighs, before his lips made it towards your core. You could feel his breath before you felt his tongue, a loud and sharp gasp can be heard from you.

As Wooyoung’s tongue begins its slow, deliberate assault on your aching clit, you throw your head back, a guttural moan escaping your lips. His hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as he feasts on you like a starving man. His tongue flicks and swirls, teasing and tormenting, driving you wild with need.

He takes his time, exploring every inch of your pussy with his mouth. He sucks gently on your lips, nibbles on your clit, and slides his tongue into your wet heat, fucking you with it. You can feel the tension building in your belly, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

He slides a finger inside you, then another, pumping them in and out in time with his tongue. The sensation is overwhelming, your body writhing beneath him, your hips bucking against his face. He groans against you, the sound vibrating through your body, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Pinning your legs down, he continued to eat you out, your moans being music to his ears and his motivation. The feeling of vulnerability heightened the thrill, your legs pinned, his strength possessing you. The sound of your moans echoing in the room, mixed with the wet sounds of his tongue and lips working your pussy, was intoxicating.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his voice muffled against your flesh. The vibrations of his words sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core. He looked up, his eyes dark with lust, his chin and lips glistening. He dove back in, his tongue flattening against your clit, sucking it into his mouth. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he devoured you.

His moan against your clit was deep, guttural, sending a bubbly wave of ecstasy through your body. You could feel it building, the pressure coiling in your belly, ready to explode. His tongue flicked and swirled, his lips sucked and nibbled, his fingers dug into your flesh, anchoring you to the storm he was creating.

You gasp as he slides a finger inside you, then another, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit. He curls his fingers, hitting that spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. His moans against your clit turned desperate, hungry, as if he was as lost in the moment as you were.

His fingers pump in and out, his tongue licking, his lips sucking, his thumb rubbing. The sensation is overwhelming, your body tensing, your breath hitching. You’re so close, so ready, your body aching for release. He can feel it, his moans turning into growls, his body pressing harder against yours, his fingers fucking you faster.

You can hear him now. His muffled, low growls and grunts turned into a symphony of carnal sounds —as if every sound was a prelude to your orgasm, building it higher and higher. The way his nails raked against your thighs, the slight groan of discomfort as he pushed your boundaries further.

His lips moved more fiercely, his tongue lashing out against you, licking and sucking you in a relentless rhythm. His fingers moved faster, deeper, hitting that spot over and over, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

"Wooyoung," you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

He responds by sucking harder on your clit, his fingers fucking you faster. Your body tenses, your breath hitches, and then you’re coming, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm. You scream his name, your body convulsing, your inner muscles clenching around his fingers. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, leaving you boneless and spent.

Wooyoung's breath hitched as he looked down at you, his eyes wild with lust and primal hunger. He licked his lips, savoring the taste of you, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. His body pressed against yours, the heat of his skin searing you.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours, a soft growl escaping his throat. "You taste like fucking Heaven," he murmured, his voice rough and low. His hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your pussy, slick and swollen. He groaned, rubbing his thumb against your clit, his fingers sliding easily into you. Your body responded, your hips lifting slightly, inviting him in deeper.

He kissed you hard, his tongue invading your mouth, his fingers moving faster inside you. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching against his, your nipples scraping against his chest. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He moved lower, his tongue swirling around your nipples, his teeth nipping gently.

He took so much time, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire down your body. When he reached your pussy, he didn't hesitate. His tongue dove right back in, licking and sucking, bringing you right to the edge again. You could feel it building, the pressure coiling in your belly, ready to explode.

His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he feasted on you. His tongue flicked and swirled, his lips sucked and nibbled, his moans vibrating against your flesh. You were a mess of moans and gasps, your body writhing beneath him, your hands gripping his hair, holding him to you. The sound of his mouth working you filled the room, wet and obscene, driving you wild with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes locked onto yours, his expression intense, hungry. He slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out, his thumb rubbing your clit in slow, delicious circles. Your body tensed, your breath hitching, and then you’re coming again, your orgasm ripping through you, leaving you boneless and spent.

Wooyoung was in awe of your flushed face, your parted lips and dazed eyes enough to make him lose his mind all over again. You let out a shy laugh, your hand coming up to cover part of your face, cheeks burning with heat.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mumbled, voice soft, barely holding back a smile.

But Wooyoung only grinned wider, brushing your hand aside so he could see you fully. “I can’t help it,” he whispered, eyes trailing over your features like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You’re so pretty when you’re all flustered.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, but your heart fluttered. There was something in his gaze—adoration, warmth, that boyish charm that always made you feel like you were the only one in the world.

His thumb traced along your cheek, his touch featherlight. “You’re everything,” he added, quieter this time.

#wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader smut #wooyoung hard thoughts #wooyoung hard hours #ateez 9th member #9th member of ateez #ateez wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #jung wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #── ateez: poly

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winwintea · 5 months ago

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encore

PAIRING ↬ actor!park sunghoon x fem!reader

TAGS ↬ thriller, romance, action, mystery, suspense, body swap au, supernatural au, musical theatre setting, everyone is pretty sus, sunghoon is a sassy king for like 5 seconds, he also breaks the 4th wall randomly

SUMMARY ↬ you aren’t giselle.

so why do you look like her? are you in giselle’s body right now? then where’s your actual body? and where in the world is the real giselle? is the lead actor who seems to be the only one to recognize you actually on your side? or will you get caught by the others and perish in a body that isn’t your own? so many questions and so little time.

WORD COUNT ↬ 8.1k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ my official enhablur debut 🥺🥺 (ignore the jay fic i wrote last year i’m pretending like it doesn’t exist) thank u @polarisjisung my love for encouraging me to post as well as beta read <33 we stepping out of the comfort zone with this one!

PLAYLIST ↬ fatal trouble - enhypen; marionette - red velvet; masquerade - chung ha; swan - miyeon; head over heels - abba; fairytale - alexander rybak; judas - lady gaga; mystery lover - taemin; encore - purple kiss

THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICED WAS THE SMELL.

It wasn’t the usual faint scent of your lavender body wash or the stale coffee from your tiny apartment. No, this was something richer, more expensive—like jasmine and vanilla, with a hint of stage makeup and something metallic. Your head throbbed as you blinked your eyes open, the world spinning into focus.

You were lying on a plush velvet chaise lounge, the kind you’d see in old Hollywood movies. The room around you was bathed in soft golden light, the walls adorned with framed playbills and bouquets of roses. A vanity table sat in the corner, its mirror reflecting the cluster of makeup brushes, lipsticks, and a half-empty bottle of champagne.

“What the—” You started, voice catching in your throat. That wasn’t your voice. It was smoother, more melodic, with a slight edge of authority. You froze, heart pounding as you stared at the mirror.

The reflection staring back at you wasn’t yours.

It was Giselle’s.

You scrambled to your feet, nearly tripping over the hem of a silk robe that definitely wasn’t yours. You gripped the edge of the vanity, leaning closer to the mirror. The face staring back at you was flawless—high cheekbones, perfectly winged eyeliner, and lips painted a deep crimson. You reached up to touch her face, and the reflection mimicked you perfectly.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening,” You muttered, voice trembling. You pinched her arm, but the sharp pain only confirmed this wasn’t a dream. “Okay, okay, think. You’re Y/N. You’re not Giselle. You’re… not Giselle. So why do you look like her?!”

You paced the room, mind racing. Someone had told you about a special VIP experience backstage. Which led you to wander into a locked dressing room, and then… nothing. Just darkness. And now this.

A knock at the door made you jump. “Giselle? You in there? We’ve got a run-through in ten.”

You recognized that voice. It was Sunghoon, the theatre’s lead actor and famous heartthrob. Your stomach churned. If anyone could tell something was off, it would be him.

“Uh, yeah! Just… give me a second!” You called back, cringing at how unconvincing you sounded.

The door swung open before you could stop it, and there he was—Park Sunghoon, in all his unfairly handsome glory. He was dressed in a fitted black button-up and tailored slacks, his hair perfectly styled. His sharp eyes narrowed as he took you in.

“You’re not Giselle,” he said flatly, crossing his arms.

Your heart skipped a beat. “What? Of course I am! Who else would I be?”

Sunghoon stepped closer, his gaze piercing. “Giselle doesn’t slouch. She doesn’t fidget. And she definitely doesn’t look like she’s about to pass out from panic.” He tilted his head, studying you. “So, who are you, and what did you do with Giselle?”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words caught in your throat. You slumped back onto the chaise lounge, burying your face in your hands. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s happening! I’m not Giselle—I’m Y/N! I was just… I was just a fan, and now I’m… her!”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, though he still looked wary. He sat down beside you, keeping a careful distance. “Okay, let’s say I believe you. How did this happen?”

“I don’t know!” You groaned, running a hand through your hair—err well, Giselle’s hair. “I was backstage, and I found this weird dressing room with a mirror, and then… bam! I woke up like this.”

Sunghoon frowned. “The locked dressing room? That’s been off-limits for weeks. Jay said it was under renovation.”

“Well, it wasn’t locked when I found it,” You muttered, glancing at him, eyes pleading. “You have to believe me. I’m not crazy.”

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re definitely not Giselle. She’d never admit to being crazy, even if she was.” He stood, offering you a hand. “Come on. We need to figure this out before anyone else notices.”

You hesitated before taking his hand. “Why are you helping me?”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Because if you’re telling the truth, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in this theatre in years. And if you’re lying… well, let’s just say I’ll enjoy watching you try to pull this off.”

You groaned. “Great. So I’m stuck in Giselle’s body, and my only ally is a guy who thinks this is funny.”

Sunghoon’s smirk widened. “Welcome to the show, Y/N. Let’s see if you can survive Act One.”

Sunghoon leaned against the vanity, arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room as if it might suddenly reveal its secrets.

You were still trying to process the fact that you were now living in Giselle’s body—and apparently her life. Which you didn’t even know was possible. This is the type of situation you only read in stories or watched in movies. Not real life. You paced nervously, Giselle’s silk robe swishing dramatically with every step. No biggie, I’ve just swapped bodies with someone! Perfectly normal Tuesday! Maybe if I fall asleep again I’ll wake up and this will all be a dream!

“Okay, let’s start from the beginning,” Sunghoon said, his tone calm but laced with curiosity. “You’re Y/N. You’re not Giselle. You woke up in her body after messing with a creepy mirror. Did I miss anything?”

“Uh, yeah,” You snapped, stopping mid-pace to glare at him. “The part where this is a literal nightmare, and I have no idea how to fix it!”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Right. Well, while you were busy freaking out, I was thinking. Giselle’s been… off lately. Like, really off.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, picking up a tube of lipstick from the vanity and twirling it between his fingers. “She’s been missing rehearsals, showing up late, forgetting her lines. And she’s been weirdly secretive. Like, she’d disappear for hours and then act like nothing happened. I tried asking her about it, but she just brushed me off.”

Your eyes widened. “So you’re saying something was already wrong with her before I got… swapped into her?”

“Exactly,” Sunghoon said, setting the lipstick down. “And now you’re here, which means whatever’s going on, it’s bigger than just you.”

You scowled again, sinking back onto the chaise lounge. “Great. So not only am I stuck in someone else’s body, but that someone might be in some kind of trouble? Fantastic. Just fantastic.”

Sunghoon smirked. “Look on the bright side. At least you’re stuck in the body of a gorgeous, talented star. Could’ve been worse.”

You shot him a withering look. “Oh, yeah, because this is such a privilege. I’m living the dream.”

Before Sunghoon could retort, your eyes landed on something tucked under the edge of the vanity—a small, folded piece of paper. You reached for it, your fingers trembling slightly as you unfolded it. The note was written in elegant, cursive handwriting:

“The mirror knows the truth. Trust no one.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You held the note out to Sunghoon, who took it with a frown.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he said dryly, handing it back to you. “Any idea what it means?”

“No, but it sounds like Giselle knew something was going on,” You said, your mind racing. “Maybe she found out about the mirror and whatever… this is.” You gestured wildly at yourself.

Sunghoon nodded, his expression serious now. “Okay, so here’s the plan. We figure out what’s going on, reverse whatever this is, and get you back to your body. But we have to be careful. If anyone finds out you’re not Giselle, it’s game over.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who has to pretend to be a world-class actress and singer.”

Sunghoon grinned, leaning closer. “Relax. I’ll help you. I’ve been acting alongside Giselle for months. I know her better than anyone here.”

You peeked at him through your fingers. “And why should I trust you? For all I know, you could be the one behind this.”

He placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Ouch. You wound me. If I wanted to piss off and mess with someone, it definitely wouldn’t be Giselle. Too much drama. I already have enough trying to deal with her on a daily basis.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite the absurdity of the situation. “Fine. But if you double-cross me, I’m taking you down with me.”

“Deal,” Sunghoon said, holding out his hand. You hesitated for a moment before shaking it, his grip firm and reassuring.

“Alright, partner,” You said, trying to sound confident. “Where do we start?”

Sunghoon’s grin turned mischievous. “First, we need to get you through rehearsal without blowing your cover. Then, we investigate the mirror and figure out who else might be involved in this. Sound good?”

You sighed, running a hand through Giselle’s perfectly styled hair. “Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But what choice do I have?”

“That’s the spirit!” Sunghoon said, clapping you on the shoulder. “Now, let’s get you to rehearsal before someone starts asking questions. And try to act like Giselle. You know, confident, flawless, and just a little bit terrifying.”

You sighed, but followed him out of the dressing room, the cryptic note clutched tightly in your hand. As the two of you stepped into the bustling hallway, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching you.

“Sunghoon,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder. “What if someone here already knows?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Then we’re in bigger trouble than we thought. But don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”

You nodded, though your stomach was in knots. You couldn’t help but feel like you were stepping into a role you were nowhere near ready for.

The moment you stepped out of the dressing room with Sunghoon, the weight of Giselle’s life crashed down on you like a poorly rigged stage light. The hallway was alive with activity—crew members rushing back and forth, actors rehearsing lines, and the faint hum of the orchestra tuning up in the distance. You clutched the mysterious note in your hand, your heart pounding as you tried to remember how to walk like someone who belonged here.

Sunghoon leaned in, his voice low. “Remember, you’re Giselle. You’ve got this.”

You shot him a look. “You’re setting the bar a little high, don’t you think?”

He smirked. “Just channel your inner diva. And try not to freak out.”

Before you could respond, a voice called out from behind you.

“Giselle! There you are!”

You turned to see Jay striding toward you, his signature easygoing smile plastered across his face. As the owner of the theatre and Sunghoon’s best friend, Jay was the kind of guy who seemed to know everyone and everything. His sharp eyes scanned you, and you could feel the weight of his curiosity.

“Hey, Jay,” you said, forcing a smile. Your voice sounded too high-pitched, too nervous. You cleared your throat and tried again, lowering your tone to match Giselle’s smooth, confident cadence. “What’s up?”

Jay tilted his head, his smile never wavering. “Just checking in. You’ve been… different lately. Everything okay?”

You froze. Different? Of course you were different—you weren’t Giselle! But you couldn’t say that. Instead, you forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Different? Me? Nah, I’m just… prepping for the big night. You know how it is.”

Jay’s gaze lingered on you for a moment too long before he nodded. “Right. Well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Sunghoon nudged you. “Not bad. But next time, try not to sound like you’re auditioning for a horror movie.”

You glared at him. “Oh, shut up.”

Your next encounter was with Yangyang, the theatre’s logistics manager. He was leaning against a stack of prop crates, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes flicked up the moment you approached.

“Giselle,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “Heard you’ve been spending a lot of time in the locked dressing room. Find anything interesting?”

Your stomach dropped. How did he know about that? You forced a smile, channeling every ounce of Giselle’s confidence. “Just looking for some peace and quiet. You know how it is.”

Yangyang’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Peace and quiet? In this place? Good luck with that.” He pushed off the crates and walked away, leaving you with the distinct feeling that he knew more than he was letting on.

Sunghoon leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s always been a little too nosy for his own good. Watch your back around him.”

You nodded, your nerves fraying with every interaction.

Then came Soyeon and Yunjin, the theatre’s supporting actress and stand-in, respectively. They were huddled together near the stage, whispering furiously. As you approached, Yunjin’s eyes narrowed, her dislike for Giselle practically radiating off her.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” Yunjin said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Finally gracing us with your presence, Giselle?”

You swallowed hard, trying to channel Giselle’s trademark coolness. “Nice to see you too, Yunjin. Soyeon.”

Soyeon smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We were just talking about how… dedicated you’ve been to the role lately. It’s inspiring, really.”

The way she said “dedicated” made your skin crawl. You forced a smile, though your palms were sweating. “Thanks. I try.”

Yunjin rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, try harder. Some of us actually care about this production.”

Before you could respond, Soyeon linked arms with Yunjin and pulled her away, shooting you a look that was equal parts pity and disdain.

Sunghoon appeared at your side, his expression grim. “Yunjin’s never been a fan of Giselle, but that was… intense. What did you do to her?”

“Me? Nothing!” you hissed. “I’m just trying not to get caught!”

Your next interaction was with Belle, the theatre’s makeup artist and Jay’s confidant. She was waiting for you in the dressing room, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable.

“Giselle,” she said, her voice smooth but with an edge that made your stomach twist. “Jay mentioned you’ve been… distracted lately. Anything you want to talk about?”

You forced a smile, though your heart was racing. “No, everything’s fine. Just prepping for the show.”

Belle’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you were certain she could see right through you. “You know, if there’s something going on, you can tell me. I’m here to help.”

The way she said it sounded more like a threat than an offer. You nodded, trying to look grateful. “Thanks, Belle. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She studied you for a moment longer before nodding. “Good. Don’t forget—we’re all counting on you.”

As she left, you sank into the nearest chair, your legs trembling. Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, his expression serious.

“You okay?” he asked.

You shook your head. “No. Everyone’s so… suspicious. And Belle? She’s terrifying.”

Sunghoon nodded. “Yeah, she’s not someone to mess with. But you handled it well. Just keep your guard up.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This is impossible. How am I supposed to keep this up?”

Sunghoon crouched in front of you, his voice softening. “You’re doing better than you think. Just remember—you’re not alone in this. I’ve got your back.”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze grounding you. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grinned, standing and offering you a hand. “Probably get caught in, like, five minutes. Now come on—we’ve got a mystery to solve.”

After the nerve-wracking encounters with Jay, Yangyang, Soyeon, Yunjin, and Belle, you were starting to feel like a tightly wound spring, ready to snap at any moment. Sunghoon had disappeared to “do some digging,” leaving you to navigate the rest of the theatre’s cast and crew on your own. You took a deep breath, straightened Giselle’s silk robe, and stepped back into the fray.

You found Shotaro in the costume room, meticulously organizing a rack of elaborate gowns. He jumped when you entered, nearly dropping a sequined dress.

“Giselle!” he said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “What are you doing here?”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to channel Giselle’s trademark coolness. “Just checking on my costumes for the show. Everything ready?”

Shotaro nodded quickly, but his hands were shaking as he adjusted the hangers. “Y-yes, of course. Everything’s perfect. Just like always.”

You hesitated, then decided to push your luck. “By the way, have you heard anything about the locked dressing room? The one near the west wing?”

Shotaro froze, his face paling. “N-no. Why would I know anything about that?”

His reaction was so over-the-top that you almost laughed. Almost. “Just curious. It’s been off-limits for weeks, right?”

He nodded vigorously, avoiding your gaze. “Yes, totally off-limits. No one goes in there. Ever. Definitely not me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Right. Well, let me know if you hear anything.”

As you left, you could feel Shotaro’s anxious gaze burning into your back.

Winwin was Giselle’s supposed confidant, but the moment you approached him, you could tell something was off. He was leaning against a wall backstage, scrolling through his phone, but his eyes flicked up the moment you got close.

“Giselle,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp. “You’ve been… different lately.”

You forced a smile, though your heart was racing. “Different? How so?”

He shrugged, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I don’t know. Just… not yourself. You’ve been avoiding me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Avoiding you? No, I’ve just been busy with the show.”

Winwin’s expression softened, but there was something in his eyes that made you uneasy. “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s going on, I’m here for you.”

The sincerity in his voice threw you for a loop. Was he genuinely concerned, or was this some kind of act? You nodded, trying to look grateful. “Thanks, Winwin. I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that his loyalty wasn’t as unwavering as Giselle might have thought.

You found Woozi in the rehearsal room, hunched over a notebook and muttering to himself. He didn’t notice you until you were standing right in front of him.

“Giselle!” he said, his eyes lighting up. “Just the person I wanted to see. I’ve made some changes to your solo. I think you’ll love them.”

You forced a smile, though your stomach was in knots. “Changes? What kind of changes?”

He handed you the notebook, his excitement palpable. “Just a few lyrical tweaks to better reflect your character’s inner turmoil. I think it’ll really elevate your performance.”

You glanced at the page, your heart sinking at the sight of his intensely scribbled revision notes. “Uh, great. Thanks, Woozi.”

He leaned in, his gaze intense. “You’re the heart of this production, Giselle. Without you, it’s nothing. Don’t forget that.”

The weight of his words made you feel like you were carrying the entire theatre on your shoulders. You nodded, trying to look appreciative. “I won’t.”

As you left, you couldn’t help but feel like Woozi’s obsession with Giselle’s performance was more than just professional.

Your final encounter of the day was with Mark and Heeseung, the theatre’s stuntman and stage control, respectively. They were huddled near the lighting booth, deep in conversation, but Mark’s face lit up when he saw you.

“Giselle!” he said, grinning. “You’re looking… uh, great as always.”

You smiled, though your nerves were frayed. “Thanks, Mark. What’s up?”

He shrugged, his enthusiasm undimmed. “Just going over some stunt sequences for the big fight scene. You should come watch sometime—it’s pretty cool.”

Before you could respond, Heeseung stepped forward, his expression serious. “Giselle, can I talk to you for a second?”

You nodded, your stomach twisting. “Sure.”

Heeseung pulled you aside, his voice low. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but you need to be careful. Not everyone here has your best interests at heart.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his bluntness. “What do you mean?”

He glanced around before leaning in closer. “Just… watch your back. Everyone here… They’re not as trustworthy as they seem. I’m worried about you.”

Before you could ask for more details, Mark called out, “Heeseung! We’ve got work to do!”

Heeseung gave you one last meaningful look before walking away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

As the day came to an end, you retreated to Giselle’s dressing room, your mind spinning. Everyone seemed to have their own secrets, their own agendas. The only person you could trust was Sunghoon—and even that felt like a gamble.

You sank into the chaise lounge, staring at the strange note in your hand. “The mirror knows the truth. Trust no one.”

“Easier said than done,” you muttered, closing your eyes.

You were still staring at the cryptic note when the door to the dressing room creaked open. Sunghoon slipped inside, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, closing the door behind him. “What happened?”

You held up the note, your hand trembling slightly. “I talked to everyone. And by ‘talked,’ I mean I barely survived a series of increasingly suspicious and terrifying interactions.”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, taking the note from you. “Let me guess: Shotaro looked like he was about to faint, Winwin was weirdly intense, Woozi tried to rewrite the entire show, and Heeseung gave you some cryptic warning?”

You blinked. “How did you know?”

He smirked, leaning against the vanity. “Because I’ve been working with these people for years. They’re all… unique.”

“Unique?” you repeated, incredulous. “Sunghoon, everyone here is either hiding something, hates Giselle, or is way too obsessed with her. I don’t know how she does this every day.”

He shrugged. “She’s Giselle. She thrives on drama. Speaking of which…” He gestured to the note. “The mirror, huh? ”

“Yeah, no kidding,” you muttered. “It’s the only lead we’ve got. We need to figure out what’s going on before someone realizes I’m not Giselle.”

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze shifting to the locked dressing room door. “Alright. Let’s start with the mirror.”

The two of you made your way to the locked dressing room, the hallway eerily quiet now that rehearsals were over. Sunghoon pulled a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door with a soft click.

“Where did you get those?” you whispered.

He grinned. “Let’s just say I have my ways.”

The room was exactly as you remembered it—dimly lit, with the antique mirror standing ominously in the corner. You stepped inside, your heart pounding as you approached the mirror.

“It’s… kind of creepy,” you said, staring at your reflection—or rather, Giselle’s reflection.

Sunghoon stood beside you, his arms crossed. “Yeah, it’s definitely giving off ‘haunted antique’ vibes. But why would Giselle be so interested in it?”

You shook your head, your eyes scanning the room for clues. “I don’t know, but there’s got to be something here.”

As you searched, your foot caught on the edge of a loose floorboard. You crouched down, pulling it up to reveal a hidden compartment. Inside was a torn page from what looked like a diary.

“Sunghoon,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Look at this.”

He knelt beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he read the page aloud.

“I made a deal with them. I thought it was worth it—the fame, the glory, the lead role. But now I’m not so sure. The mirror… it’s watching me. I can feel it. If something happens to me, it’s because of them. Trust no one.”

You looked up at Sunghoon, your stomach churning. “A deal? What kind of deal?”

He frowned, his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know, but it sounds like Giselle got herself into something dangerous. And if the mirror is involved…”

“Then we’re in way over our heads,” you finished, your voice trembling.

Sunghoon placed a hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you. “Hey, we’ll figure this out. Together.”

You nodded, though your mind was racing. “But where do we even start? Everyone here seems to have their own agenda. Who can we trust?”

He smirked, his tone lightening. “Well, you can trust me. Mostly.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Mostly? That’s reassuring.”

“Hey, I’m the one helping you navigate this mess,” he said, standing and offering you a hand. “That counts for something, right?”

You took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. “I guess it does. But seriously, I’ll kill you if you throw me under the bus.”

He laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “Already noted. Now, let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”

Back in Giselle’s dressing room, you sank into the chaise lounge, your mind spinning. Sunghoon sat beside you, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos.

“So,” he said, breaking the silence. “What’s the plan?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know. But we need to figure out who Giselle made this deal with and what it has to do with the mirror. And we need to do it fast.”

Sunghoon nodded, his expression serious. “Agreed. But for now, you need to focus on not blowing your cover. The show’s opening night is in two days, and everyone’s counting on Giselle to deliver.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Great. No pressure or anything.”

He chuckled, nudging you with his shoulder. “You’ve been doing pretty great already. You got this. And I’ll help if I can, remember?”

You looked up at him, his steady gaze calming your nerves. “Thanks, Sunghoon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He grinned, his tone teasing. “Now get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

As he left, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Despite the danger and the mystery, you weren’t alone.

You were backstage, nervously rehearsing Giselle’s lines under your breath, when Yunjin cornered you near the prop storage. Her arms were crossed, her expression sharp enough to cut glass.

“You’re slipping, Giselle,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Forgot your blocking during the ensemble number yesterday. Missed your cue today. What’s next? Forgetting the lyrics to your precious solo?”

You forced a laugh, though your palms were sweating. “Relax, Yunjin. It’s called acting. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Funny. The Giselle I know wouldn’t need to ‘act’ like she knows what she’s doing.” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “If you’re not up for the role, just say so. Soyeon’s been ready to take over since day one.”

Before you could retort, Sunghoon materialized at your side, his tone light but edged with warning. “Yunjin, don’t you have an understudy rehearsal to prep for? Or are you too busy auditioning for the role of ‘villain’?”

Yunjin scoffed, shooting you one last glare before storming off.

“You okay?” Sunghoon asked, his hand brushing yours briefly.

You exhaled shakily. “Remind me why Yunjin hates Giselle again?”

He smirked. “Giselle stole her solo in last year’s production. And her ex-boyfriend. And, according to rumors, her favorite coffee order.”

You groaned. “Of course she did.”

Later, while Sunghoon distracted the crew, you slipped into Jay’s office. The room was eerily tidy, save for a stack of financial ledgers on his desk. You flipped through them, heart pounding, until a voice froze you mid-page.

“Looking for something?”

Belle stood in the doorway, her posture relaxed but her eyes cold. You dropped the ledger like it was on fire.

“Just… admiring Jay’s organizational skills!” you said, forcing a smile. “Who knew spreadsheets could be so… thrilling?”

Belle stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. “Curiosity is dangerous in a place like this, Giselle. Especially when it’s not your business.”

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She leaned against the desk, her red nails tapping the ledger. “Let me be clear: whatever game you’re playing, stop. This theatre survives because people stay in their lanes. You’d do well to remember yours.”

The threat hung in the air like smoke. Before you could respond, she turned on her heel and left, her parting words slicing through the silence: “Stay out of the dark, Giselle. It’s easier to get lost there than you think.”

That night, you met Sunghoon in the empty auditorium to compare notes.

“Belle’s definitely hiding something,” you whispered, pacing the aisle. “And Jay’s ledgers had weird entries—large payments to ‘Anonymous Benefactors.’ What does that even mean?”

Sunghoon frowned. “It means we’re dealing with someone who’s got money—and secrets. Did you—”

A sudden clatter of scaffolding made you both freeze. Mark emerged from the shadows, his face pale.

“Giselle? Sunghoon?” he said, glancing between you. “What are you guys doing here so late?”

You plastered on a smile. “Just… rehearsing! You know how Sunghoon is about perfection.”

Mark hesitated, his gaze lingering on the file in Sunghoon’s hand. “Rehearsing… with financial records?”

Sunghoon stepped forward smoothly. “It’s method acting, Mark. Giselle’s character is a corrupt CEO. Very gritty. Very real.”

Mark blinked. “Oh. Cool, I guess? Just… be careful, okay? Heeseung said there’ve been weird noises backstage at night.”

As he walked away, you slumped into a seat. “We are terrible at this.”

Sunghoon grinned. “Nah. We’re just… creatively challenged.”

By the time you returned to Giselle’s dressing room, exhaustion and panic had merged into a dizzying haze. Sunghoon followed you inside, his usual smirk replaced by genuine concern.

“We’re running out of time,” you said, sinking onto the couch. “If we don’t figure this out before opening night…”

“We will,” Sunghoon interrupted, crouching in front of you. “But you need to breathe. Freaking out won’t help Giselle—or you.”

You met his gaze, his steadiness anchoring you. “What if we can’t fix this? What if I’m stuck like… this?”

He hesitated, then reached for your hand. “Then I’ll teach you how to hit Giselle’s high notes. And how to glare at Yangyang without laughing. And—”

You snorted, swatting his arm. “You’re impossible.”

“But you’re smiling,” he said softly.

The moment hung between you, charged and fragile—until a sharp knock shattered it.

“Giselle?” Jay’s voice called through the door. “We need to talk. Now.”

Sunghoon squeezed your hand once before slipping out the window, leaving you alone to face the storm.

The moment Jay stepped into Giselle’s dressing room, the air thickened with tension. He closed the door softly behind him, his usual friendly demeanor replaced by a chilling calm.

“Let’s skip the act, Giselle,” he said, leaning against the vanity. “You’ve been digging where you shouldn’t. Ledgers. The mirror. Our deal.”

You froze, your pulse roaring in your ears. Our deal. The words from Giselle’s diary page flashed in your mind. I made a deal with them. You forced yourself to meet Jay’s gaze, channeling every ounce of Giselle’s steel.

“You think I’d forget our arrangement?” you said, your voice steady despite the storm inside. “I’m just making sure you’re holding up your end.”

Jay’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, I’ve held up my end. You’re the star, aren’t you? The spotlight, the adoration—all because of me. But now you’re sniffing around like a lost puppy. Why?”

You crossed your arms, mimicking Giselle’s signature icy poise. “Maybe I don’t like being kept in the dark. The mirror, the payments to ‘Anonymous Benefactors’… What’s the price you mentioned in our deal, Jay?”

His expression darkened. For a heartbeat, you saw it—the flicker of fear beneath his polished façade. “The price,” he said slowly, “is silence. You wanted the role, I gave it to you. But if you keep pushing, that mirror won’t be the only thing that disappears.”

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous whisper. “Finish the show. Play your part. Or I’ll make sure you regret ever stepping into this theatre.”

The door slammed behind him, leaving you trembling.

You found Sunghoon in the prop loft, sorting through dusty set designs. The second you relayed Jay’s threats, his playful smirk vanished.

“A deal for the lead role,” he muttered, pacing. “That explains why Giselle’s been so paranoid. But what’s the mirror got to do with it?”

You pulled out the torn diary page and the ledger notes. “Jay’s been funneling money to someone—or something. And Giselle wrote that the mirror was ‘watching’ her. What if the deal wasn’t just with Jay? What if it’s… older?”

Sunghoon’s eyes widened. “The theatre’s original owner disappeared decades ago. Rumor was he made a pact with some cursed object to keep the place running.” He grabbed your hand, urgency in his grip. “The mirror. It’s not just a prop—it’s the source. Jay’s using it to control things… and Giselle was part of it.”

You stared at the diary entry. “If something happens to me, it’s because of them.” “She was going to expose him,” you realized. “That’s why she was acting strange. Jay found out, and he—or whatever’s tied to that mirror—swapped our bodies to silence her.”

Sunghoon cursed under his breath. “And now you’re stuck in the crosshairs. If we don’t break this curse before opening night, you might be trapped like this forever… or worse.”

Back in the dressing room, you and Sunghoon spread the clues across the floor: the diary page, the ledger, a faded newspaper article about the theatre’s cursed history.

“So Jay’s the middleman,” Sunghoon said, tapping the article. “But the real power’s in the mirror. It demands a ‘price’—probably souls or some messed-up supernatural rent.”

You grimaced. “Giselle paid with hers, didn’t she? That’s why she’s gone. And now the mirror wants… me?”

Sunghoon’s jaw tightened. “Not if I can help it. We need to find the original pact. If we destroy it, maybe we break the curse.”

You hesitated. “What if it’s not enough? What if we’re already too late?”

He turned to you, his gaze fierce. “Then we’ll burn the whole theatre down. But I’m not losing you to this.”

The intensity in his voice made your breath catch. Before you could respond, a crash echoed from the hallway—the sound of shattered glass.

Sunghoon pulled you to your feet. “Time’s up. Let’s move.”

You and Sunghoon stormed into Jay’s office, the ledger and Giselle’s diary clutched in your hands. Jay looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable.

“We know about the mirror,” Sunghoon said, his voice colder than you’d ever heard it. “And the deal. How could you do this, Jay? To Giselle? To us?”

Jay leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “You think I wanted this? The mirror’s curse has been hanging over this theatre for decades. I didn’t create it—I inherited it. Giselle knew the risks when she made her deal.”

You slammed the ledger onto his desk. “Risks? You sold her soul for a lead role?”

Jay’s calm cracked. “I didn’t swap her!” he snapped, standing abruptly. “I tried to protect her. But she got greedy. She wanted out of the deal, and threatened to expose everything. And then—”

The door swung open. Belle stood in the doorway, her smile sharp as a knife. “And then I stepped in.”

Sunghoon stiffened. “Belle?”

She strode into the room, her heels clicking like a countdown. “Jay’s too sentimental. He couldn’t stomach what needed to be done. But me?” She laughed, cold and hollow. “I’ve been cleaning up his messes for years.”

You stepped forward, fists trembling. “What did you do to Giselle?”

Belle’s gaze locked onto yours, venomous and triumphant. “That night she tried to destroy the mirror? I caught her. And I gave her a taste of her own medicine. Why let her soul vanish when I could trap it somewhere… quieter?” She pulled a small, ornate compact from her pocket—a shard of the mirror glinting inside. “Like that nobody body of yours.”

The air left your lungs. “You—you swapped us. You’re the one who put me here.”

Belle smirked. “Guilty. Though I must say, watching you fumble around as Giselle has been delightful. Almost makes me want to keep you here forever.”

Sunghoon moved in front of you, blocking Belle’s path. “Where’s Giselle’s soul now?”

“Somewhere she can’t cause trouble,” Belle said lightly. “A body with no connections, no power. A nobody.” She turned to Jay, her tone hardening. “You’re welcome, by the way. I saved your precious theatre.”

Jay looked away, guilt etched into every line of his face.

Sunghoon lunged for the compact, but Belle jerked it out of reach. “Ah-ah,” she tutted. “Break this, and Giselle’s soul shatters with it. Along with your little friend here.”

You froze, panic clawing up your throat. Sunghoon shot Jay a searing look. “You knew. This whole time, you knew.”

Jay’s voice broke. “I tried to stop her, Sunghoon. But the mirror… it demands a price. If it wasn’t Giselle, it would’ve been someone else. Maybe you.”

Sunghoon recoiled like he’d been slapped. “We were supposed to be family.”

“We are,” Jay pleaded. “That’s why I kept you out of it. Belle’s right—I’m weak. But I never wanted this.”

Belle rolled her eyes. “Save the drama for the stage. The show goes on tonight, and Giselle—or whatever’s left of her—will play her part. As for you two?” She nodded to the security guards looming in the hallway. “You’ll stay out of the way. Or I’ll make sure Y/N’s body ends up in the river.”

Locked in a storage closet, you sank to the floor, trembling. Belle said she would let the two of you out soon. She just couldn’t have you telling others and needed you to learn your lesson, whatever that meant. Sunghoon paced like a caged animal, his usual composure shattered.

“All this time,” he muttered, “Jay let her do this. He chose the theatre over us. Over everything.”

You hugged your knees to your chest. “We can’t let her win. Giselle’s still out there—trapped in my body. We have to find her.”

Sunghoon crouched in front of you, his eyes blazing. “We will. But we need a new plan. And we need to move fast.”

You glanced at the door. “How? Belle’s got the mirror shard. And Jay’s under her thumb.”

A slow, defiant grin spread across Sunghoon’s face. “Then we play their game. You go onstage tonight as Giselle. We’ll find the compact. And when the curtain falls…”

“We destroy the mirror for good,” you finished.

He nodded. “Together.”

You hesitated, then reached for his hand. “Sunghoon… Thank you. For not giving up on me.”

His fingers tightened around yours. “Always.”

The theatre buzzed with the energy of a packed house, the orchestra tuning up as the audience settled into their seats. Backstage, chaos reigned—actors in glittering costumes darted past, crew members shouted over headsets, and the scent of hairspray hung thick in the air. You stood in Giselle’s sequined gown, clutching Sunghoon’s arm like a lifeline.

“You ready?” he asked, adjusting his cufflinks with forced calm.

“To sing a solo in French while secretly planning a magical heist? Totally,” you deadpanned. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Sunghoon grinned, though tension lined his eyes. “Don’t answer that. Just stick to the plan: distract Belle, find the compact, smash the mirror. ”

“And try not to die,” you added.

“Especially that.”

You found Belle in the locked dressing room, her back turned as she polished the cursed mirror with a reverence that made your skin crawl. The compact containing Giselle’s soul glinted in her hand.

“Leaving so soon?” she said without turning around. “The show hasn’t even started.”

You stepped inside, channeling Giselle’s icy confidence. “I thought we could chat. Girl to girl. Demon to… whatever you are.”

Belle smirked, snapping the compact shut. “Cute. But you’re terrible at bluffing.”

“Good thing I’m not the one bluffing,” you said, nodding to the doorway.

Sunghoon lunged, tackling Belle to the ground. The compact skidded across the floor as the two grappled, Belle’s nails clawing at his arms.

“Traitor!” she hissed. “You’d choose this traitor over your own family?”

“Girl, you are not my family. And family doesn’t sell souls,” Sunghoon shot back, dodging her swipe.

You scrambled for the compact, but Belle kicked a makeup case into your path. Lipsticks and powder exploded into the air, coating everything in a shimmering haze.

“Sunghoon.” you yelled, choking on glitter.

“A little busy here!” he grunted, pinning Belle’s wrists.

You dove for the compact, your fingers brushing its edge just as Belle wrenched free. She slammed into the mirror, her reflection warping grotesquely in the glass.

“You want Giselle back?” Belle snarled, clutching the compact. “Then take her!”

She hurled it at the mirror. The glass rippled like water, and for a heartbeat, you saw your body—Giselle’s soul trapped inside—staring back, terrified.

“NO!” Sunghoon tackled Belle again, but the compact shattered against the mirror’s surface. A deafening crack split the air, and the room plunged into swirling shadows.

You stumbled forward, grasping for Sunghoon’s hand. “The mirror—it’s breaking!”

“Then let’s help it along!” he shouted, snatching a fire extinguisher off the wall.

You grabbed a prop sword from the corner, swinging it at the mirror with a battle cry that was more terrified than terrifying. Flames emerged, stretching across the drywood flood, seemingly out of nowhere. The blade struck the glass just as Sunghoon slammed the extinguisher into it.

The mirror exploded.

You woke with a jolt, your head throbbing as if you’d been spun through a tornado. The world came into focus slowly—sticky theater seats, the murmur of an impatient crowd, and the faint scent of popcorn. Your hands flew to your face, your real face, and you nearly sobbed with relief.

“Oh, thank god.” you muttered, staring at your familiar hoodie sleeves.

Onstage, the orchestra swelled, and the curtain rose to reveal Giselle—the real Giselle—commanding the spotlight in her sequined gown. She moved with effortless grace, her voice sharp and clear, no trace of the chaos that had nearly destroyed her. For a moment, your eyes met across the auditorium. She gave the faintest nod, her gaze lingering with unspoken gratitude, before launching into her solo.

After the final bow, you lurked in the shadows backstage, unsure where to go now that you were no longer the star. Sunghoon found you first, still in his stage makeup and looking like he’d fought a war.

“There you are,” he said, breathless. “I’d recognize that bad posture anywhere. You okay?”

“Fuck you.” You scowled, but couldn’t help but grin, holding up your hands. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and zero cursed mirrors. I’d call that a win.”

Before he could reply, Giselle swept into the wings, her presence magnetic even without the spotlight. The cast and crew froze, sensing the storm in her eyes.

“Belle,” Giselle said, her voice cutting through the silence. “You owe us all an explanation. Starting with why you trapped me in a stranger’s body and tried to bury the truth.”

Belle stepped forward, her composure cracking. “You were going to ruin everything! This theatre survives because of that mirror—”

“It survives in spite of it,” Giselle snapped. She turned to the stunned crowd, her tone softening. “Jay and Belle made a deal with something darker than any of us realized. They used fear to control us. But tonight?” She gestured to the shattered remains of the mirror, now being wheeled offstage by stagehands. “Tonight, we break the cycle.”

Jay emerged from the shadows, his face ashen. “I’m sorry,” he said, voice breaking. “To all of you. But especially to you, Sunghoon.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms, his usual smirk absent. “Save it. You don’t get to play the victim here.”

Giselle stepped between them, her glare silencing Jay. “You’re done. Both of you.”

Later, as the crew dispersed and the theatre emptied, you lingered by the stage door with Sunghoon. Giselle approached, her regal demeanor softened by exhaustion.

“Thank you,” she said, clasping your hand. “You risked everything to save a life you didn’t owe me.”

You shrugged, awkward but earnest. “Just… try not to steal anyone’s coffee order ever again.”

Giselle laughed, a rare, genuine sound. “No promises.” She turned to Sunghoon, her gaze knowing. “Take care of her. She’s braver than she looks.”

Sunghoon saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

As Giselle left, you elbowed him. “Take care of me? You literally threw a fire extinguisher at a mirror tonight instead of using it to put out the fire..”

“And you swung a prop sword like it was a pool noodle,” he shot back. “We’re a mess. But hey—” He nudged you, nodding to the stage. “You never did get to perform. Want to try that solo?”

You snorted. “In this lifetime? Absolutely not.”

He grinned, pulling you toward the exit. “Smart.”

The theatre’s grand lobby buzzed with nervous energy as the cast and crew gathered for Jay’s announcement. He stood at the top of the staircase, his usual charm replaced by a somber resolve.

“Effective immediately,” Jay said, voice steady but strained, “I’m stepping down as owner. Sunghoon will take over.”

A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd. Sunghoon, leaning casually against a pillar, straightened up like he’d been electrocuted. “Wait—what?”

Jay tossed him a set of keys, a faint smirk breaking through his guilt. “Don’t look so thrilled. You’ve been complaining about my leadership for years. Now fix it.”

Sunghoon caught the keys, staring at them like they might bite. “You’re insane. I don’t know the first thing about running a theatre.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Jay said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And… try not to burn it down.”

As the crowd dispersed, Sunghoon turned to you, panic flickering in his eyes. “Help. Please.”

You grinned. “Only if you promise free popcorn for life.”

Later, as the two of you surveyed the empty auditorium, Sunghoon nudged you with his elbow. “So. Audition slots are open. You’ve already survived being Giselle—might as well try being yourself onstage.”

You snorted. “Tempting, but I think I’ll stick to not nearly dying in cursed mirrors, thanks.”

He tilted his head, studying you with a sudden intensity. “You know… I never actually saw what you looked like before. Giselle’s body was all… Giselle. But you?” His gaze swept over you, lingering on your face. “You’re… distracting.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Distracting?”

“Yeah. Like, annoyingly pretty. How am I supposed to focus on rebuilding this place if you’re just… standing there?”

Your cheeks burned, but you rolled your eyes. “Wow, Park. That might be the worst compliment I’ve ever heard.”

He stepped closer, his smirk softening. “I’ll work on it. But seriously—stay. Even if you don’t audition. The theatre needs people who aren’t obsessed with cursed antiques. And I…” He trailed off, uncharacteristically hesitant. “I need someone to keep me from setting fire to the prop room.”

You laughed, the sound echoing in the empty space. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly charming,” he corrected, grinning.

“Debatable.”

Before he could retort, you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. It was quick, impulsive, and left him blinking in stunned silence.

“There,” you said, stepping back. “Now you can’t talk.”

Sunghoon touched his lips, his ears turning pink. “…Okay, that worked better than I expected.”

Weeks later, the theatre hummed with new energy. Rehearsals for the next production were underway, and Sunghoon’s leadership—though chaotic—had brought a fresh, unjaded spirit to the crew. You’d taken a part-time job managing schedules (and keeping Sunghoon from accidentally hiring a ‘magician’ for lighting design), but tonight, as you passed the old west wing, a flicker of light caught your eye.

The locked dressing room door stood slightly ajar.

Heart pounding, you pushed it open. The room was empty, save for one thing: the mirror, whole and unbroken, its surface gleaming like it had never been shattered.

“Sunghoon!” you yelled, backing away.

He skidded into the room, fire extinguisher in hand. “What? Where’s the fire—oh.”

You pointed at the mirror. “We broke that thing! I watched it explode!”

Sunghoon set down the extinguisher, staring at the glass. “Guess some curses don’t stay dead.”

“That’s not comforting.”

He slung an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Don’t worry. We’ve got time. And this time?” He kissed your temple, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I’m charging the audience extra for our trauma.”

You elbowed him, but couldn’t suppress a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” he said, steering you out of the room. “Now come on. We’ve got a theatre to run… and maybe a sequel to avoid.”

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