#changed the air freshener

[sawruhh]

I made a breakfast Crunchwrap myself at home today including the sauce and I just wanna say I can really do it all folks

[screechingfromthevoid]

So I'm using Exandria as a campaign setting. And my players don't know shit about any of the gods. So I made a fake "alter to all the gods" where asmodeus tricks people (my players) into following him because they think they're following a prime deity.

All that to say I made the false symbols and they won't appreciate the work I put into it so I'm posting them here

[thedawningofthehour]

I've fucking forgotten what a normal chapter is like lol, I'm at 4500 words right now and thinking "ok so this is where that'll happen and I'll add this and then it's time to think about wrapping it up" and it feels so goddamn short. It's not I've just been driven clinically insane these past two chapters.

[iwillstabyou]

I’m listening to Hozier and I’m feeling emotions I didn’t think even existed

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

art in the banner by Yuana on X

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- MDNI -Emotional in places, hilarious in others, LOTS of feelings, the baby is heeeree- pregnant sex, teasing, kissing, fingering, Satoru being soft for reader- former rivals to lovers, weed smoking, mentions of labor, prepare to laugh your ass off but also cry bc it's so sweet- WC- 8.2k -

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras here and here)

<<<Chapter Three - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Five ( final)

Chapter Four

“Get out of here with it, she’s gonna be here soon!” Satoru’s shoving Sukuna and Suguru, who are high as fuck after building the baby’s crib, changing table, and setting everything up for the baby.

In exchange, he promised the finest purple haze - but that doesn’t mean they needed to smoke it now, he panics as he sees the time on his watch, cursing. Suguru is chuckling and Sukuna’s snorting in laughter, their eyes blitzed out and bright red while they stare at a panicking Satoru.

“Bro, chill, it’s like fine, or whatever…” Suguru says, and he then hears the doorbell, cursing.

“She’ll kick my ass because of you shitheads!” He’s running to grab air freshener as you wait patiently, spraying his friends who start sputtering now, Gojo’s blue eyes all lit up.

“What the fuck, man!” Sukuna’s coughing, inhaling the pumpkin spice whatever Satoru snatched up, since he remembered you liked that shit. He ordered candles and all sorts of things so you’d enjoy it here, and now it smelled like skunk weed.

“Let me open the door, I wanna see our girl!” Suguru says, and Satoru’s jaw locks as he shoves his friend again.

“Our girl!?”

“It’s our baby too, man.” Sukuna agrees, as the two of them go to the door, but Satoru runs and beats them, opening it to see your pretty face, an overnight bag slung on your shoulder, wearing the prettiest pink dress.

“Hey, sweets, um…” You’re glaring at the two men still coughing, as plumes of smoke pour out of the door. 

“You two, out.” They pout as you walk in, Suguru touches your tummy and you smack at his hand. “Ah, ah.”

“You’re gonna be a mean mom, let us touch your tummy, that's our godchild!”

“It is so not your godchild, cheech and chong go on.” You smack Sukuna’s big ass hand away too, and Satoru can’t hold back his laughter, as his friends stare over at him now.

“You’ll let her treat us this way!?” Sukuna pouts, Satoru just shrugs. “Whipped.”

“So whipped.” Suguru agrees, Satoru glares at them as you take the two men by their ears, like an angry little thing dragging huge men out like it’s nothing, it’s probably the funniest thing he’s seen.

“No smoking in the house, we’re having a baby soon. Do it at home.” You finally get the two friends shoved out of Satoru’s penthouse, locking the door as Satoru walks up to you now, one hand over yours against the door, the other wrapping to hold you, pressing your back against him.

“Damn, mommy, look at you beating up men over six foot.” You giggle then, you can’t help it, looking up at him and turning your head, seeing his clear, blue eyes.

“You’re not high?” You ask softly, he shakes his head then, pressing little kisses to your hairline.

“I promised them primo weed to help me with the baby stuff, but they decided to smoke up when I told them to wait. But they really did help set it up…”

“I still don’t feel bad.” He laughs again as you turn, lifting your chin up to look at him while he leans down cupping your face.

“I thought it was hot.”

“Did you now?”

“Mmhmm.” He exhales, kissing you softly, lips pressing against yours hungrily, your arms slip up his chest now, wrapping his neck. “Beat them up all the time.”

“You’re such a freak I swear.” He chuckles again, picking you up for a moment, hugging you as your legs dangle, and it feels far, far too good. “I missed you a bit.”

“It was two days?”

“Shut up.” He sighs, feeling your bump against him, when the baby kicks hard, and you wince. “She’s mad at you.”

“Is she now?” He eases you down, getting on a knee and slipping your top up, pressing a kiss on your belly button, your hand runs through his silky hair as you gulp down far too many emotions.

You’ve fallen so deeply.

You wonder if this has always been there, all these years it’s been lingering in the fucking air - the longing for him, physically of course, sometimes you longed to just beat Satoru at everything. Sometimes you longed to beat him. But you always wanted his presence, annoying or not, and now as he looks up on one knee, smiling at you so sweet, you can hardly speak.

“You okay? They piss you off that much?” He teases softly, holding you by your hips, kissing your tummy lower, you tremble from your emotions, your desire.

“No, it’s… I told you I missed you, okay?” You glare again, he chuckles, continuing his kisses.

“You’re such a tsundere.”

“A what now!?”

“All angry outside but you’re sweet inside.” He puts his hand on your tummy as you lean against the door, the soft lights casting shadows from his long lashes as he feels for her kick once more.

“I’m moody and miserable, I know. But I do feel good today, the nausea seems to have finally gone away.”

“Good, I bought so many hot cheetos.”

“Yay!” He feels it then, the little kick, and he smiles, he looks so fucking adorable then you’re two steps from saying it, heart pounding.

“I love you already.” He whispers to your tummy, as she kicks his hand again, and tears start falling, dripping down onto his head, which make him look up at you, immediately standing, cupping your face. “What’s wrong!? Is she hurting you?”

“No, no not at all I…” You’re a mess, fuck you’re always a mess lately, sniffling as the moment hits you.

“What is it? Hormones?” He’s cupping your face, swiping at your tears. “Does it still smell like weed - I’ll kill them I swear. I got all that pumpkin spice stuff for-”

You cut him off with another kiss, and he tastes the salt of your tears, standing there for a moment in confusion when you pull back, sighing now. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“What!?” He’s wide eyed, brows together, lips parted.

“Blame the hormones if you want. You don’t have to say it back. But I can’t hold it in, I feel like I’m falling apart and you’re holding it together.” You kiss him again, desperately as he feels like he is high, off the highest grade purp he could actually imagine, in what world did you say it to him?

In what world does he deserve a love confession from you?

“Have you whacked your head? Baby kick you too much?” He’s teasing, but his heart is hammering, while you’re shoving him on the couch, and he moans as you straddle him, his hands slipping up your thighs. “Are these the third trimester sweet hormones coming?”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He’s dreaming.

There’s no way this is happening.

Like some high school boy he’s shaking, desperately kissing you deeper, breaths mingling when your heat presses on him. “Don’t even wanna see the room, just need dick, sorority brat.”

“Maybe I don’t love you. Maybe it’s the dick.” He glares right up at you now, cutting your giggle off when slips his fingers under your dress, finding your soaking wet cunt as you lean forward, whining.

“You’re a mean little thing, you know that? Taking back a hormone filled love confession?” He whispers, only earning your little whine as your head falls to the side, and he kisses across your neck, cunt gushing already. “Your water break?”

“Fuck you, I take the love confession back - mnh!” Satoru moans again, flipping you on your back, fingers angled deeper inside your snug, slick walls, glaring harder at your pretty face.

“No take backs.” You try to scowl but fail as he scissors his fingers in and out of you, squelching wetness filling and echoing his lush living room, your hips arch up for more, so sensitive you can’t stand it.

“Why, you w-want it? Hormone confessions -ah!” You’re blinded when he hits some spot so deep, thumb pressing your clit as he watches you, hungrily, panties shoved over to one side.

“Want you to cry it out as I cum inside you.” You shake your head, he pulls out his fingers, sucking them and moaning. “You keep tasting sweeter.”

“Fuck…” You’re yanking him down, tasting your sweet arousal off his lips, tongues hungry and messy, your hands slipping down eager to unbuckle his belt with a rushed click, head fuzzy with need, heart racing with spilled words, as more threaten to pour from your mouth. “Please.”

“You’re so needy, I like you this way.” Satoru whines out as you grab him, stroking him eagerly, he leans back so as not to put pressure on your tummy, yanking you over so he can lift up your hips, before grabbing a pillow off his pretty gray couch, hoisting you over it.

“Oh! What’s…” He’s slipping his tip between your folds, moaning as he gets on his knees now, you’re at the perfect angle.

“Back support, it’s important for you right now.” You blink back your emotions once more, to be this horny and on the brink of tears was too much to handle. He rests one hand on the back of the couch, while you hold onto his soft sweater, gripping it tightly when he presses in ever so slowly.

“You’re gonna make me say it more, you ass.” You sniffle, he sighs now, cupping your face as he slides his cock inside you, at the angle it’s so intense you can’t stop your hoarse screams, while he shoves your dress higher, eyeing your tummy and moaning, brushing his hands across it.

“Fuck you’reso  pretty like this,” his hushed whisper is met with a full thrust, cock penetrating those slick walls that grip him so tightly, Satoru’s own eyes roll back for a moment, already sensitive. “Wanna fuck you every day, not once in a blue fucking moon, I can’t take it.”

“Y-you do?” Your surprised question is met with a sharper thrust, and a moan, while he starts pumping deep inside your cunt, leaned back, dragging your full breasts up out of your dress now. You gasp as he touches those sensitive nipples that perk up just for him, thighs quivering, head sinking back into the softness of the couch.

“Are you kidding? Want you to fucking stay here.” You don’t know how to speak, not when he’s leaned down, kissing you, so careful around your tummy, slow, long thrusts, as you soak him completely, eager cunt sucking him in. His lips hover above yours as he holds himself up, noses brushing. His blue eyes drink you in, and you fall into them more and more as you gaze up.

“How long?” Your whisper is soft, broken from your cry, as you cup his face.

“As long as you want, baby girl, fuck I’d love you bitching at me every single day,” he’s pushed in to the hilt, tip drooling on your cervix, as you’re closer and closer to falling off the edge. “Don’t want you to ever go home.”

“Fuck…” You drag him down to kiss you, while you shatter around him, cumming so hard you can’t even see, Satoru eyes you hungrily, pulling back and brushing your damp strands of hair. “Satoru…”

“Say it again.” You glare even as aftershocks hit you, while he reaches down, sliding his hot palm across your curves. “Say it, sorority brat.”

“Fuck you frat boy,” he slams his cock harder, your eyes roll back as your hips buck, just a twinge of pain as the baby reacts by kicking your ribs, but he’s got you right there again. “W-why do you want to hear it!?”

“Such a brat even filled with this huge cock, hmm? Say it.” Satoru’s rolling his hips again, stabbing thrust once more so hard you’re about to cum, but he doesn’t let you, just sitting there, raising a brow. “Say it.”

“Why!? F-fucking just fuck me, ngh! Satoru.” He lets you wiggle, moaning as he holds you still by your thighs, cock twitching as he tries to keep it together, putting a smirk on his face like he’s not madly fucking in love too.

“Stroke my ego, while your pussy strokes this cock, don’t you need it baby?” He practically cooes those words, while you shake your head, he sighs then, pulling his cock out, leaving you to whine. “Need something?”

“You’re such an ass. Hormone confessing rescinded.”

“Mmmkay, orgasm rescinded.” You huff a lock of hair that falls in front of your face, and then push him down on his back, making his lips part as you straddle him, grinding your slick heat and making him groan.

“Two can play this game, been playing it a while with you, Satoru Gojo. Oh, are you sensitive here?” You blink your lashes, feigning innocence, Satoru groans, gripping your ass and grinding up on you, so wet you can hear it, the slick of you rolling up and down his length.

“You never won anything, I am the one that always won.” Your scowl deepens, just making him leak more precum, loving being under you, watching your head fall back when his tip bumps your engorged clit, making you gasp, before you shake yourself out of it.

“You didn’t a-always win, half the time at best.” You brace your hands on his chest, breasts spilling out of your dress. “It was hormones.”

“Nah, your hormones are bitchy, that was all you.” He gently lifts you up, sinking you back down on his cock, lashes fluttering when you’re sinking all the way down, biting your trembling lip, gripping him tighter. “Fuck you gotta feel better every time, don’t you?”

“Lemme cum, jerk- mnh!” You’re rolling your hips again, and he sighs then, knowing your stubborn ass wouldn’t say it again.

But he wants it, he needs it.

He needs to say it back, but he’s terrified to do it, to be so vulnerable, and he knows you’re scared too - but you’re braver than him. You always have been.

“Say please, like a good girl.” His taunt makes you want to keep arguing, to keep the back and forth that has always entranced you if you admit it, but instead you sigh, lifting your dress and leaning back, showing him a perfect view of your lower tummy and cunt sucking him in as you move, his hoarse voice whispering your name ruins the fight inside you.

“Please, Toru. Lemme cum.” Satoru exhales, finding your clit and pressing in little circles, his other hand pinning your hips, grinding against your cervix, feeling you spasm, gushing all down him in a mess of clear milky arousal, forming a ring right on his base. “There, please!”

“I know what you need, sweetheart, don’t I?” You just nod weakly, as he fucks inside you, swearing you feel better and better the further along you are, impossibly wetter, more sensitive, gripping him so good he has to try to hold back the cum that’s about pour in your pretty pussy. “Ask so p-pretty again.”

“Please, please make me cum, Toru, please- mnh!” He rolls his thumb just so, feeling your clit twitching against his thumb now, looking up under long lashes at the beautiful girl riding him.

His girl.

With his baby inside her.

He can’t hold back when you cum, falling apart under you, sitting up to kiss your lips, while you drink each other’s cries, your hands gripping in his hair when you just roll your hips, pressing more and more of his tip on your cervix while it keeps pumping. So much, too, Satoru’s pulling you against him, sighing into every kiss, turning his head to get the perfect angle.

“Mmm, l-love you, love you - ah shit.” You pause now, cursing and scowling again, he grins deviously, cupping your cheek while he inhales your sweet scent, feeling those aftershocks pulsing on him, milking more and more cum spurting deep.

“Hah, knew I’d g-get it out of you. Can’t help yourself. Hormones?”

“Just hormones.” You pout now, looking away, wincing when you get another sharp kick.

“Baby knows mama’s lying.”

“Uh huh! Now… give me a tour, Richy Rich.” He chuckles, shaking his head, brushing back that lock of hair that keeps falling over your brow.

“Ah I see, you got your dick, now you’re ready?”

“Ugh! I wanna smack you.”

“Mmm, please Mommy?” You roll your eyes, giggling without thinking, the flush on your cheeks, the thin sheen of sweat just making you achingly prettier.

“You would like it. Freaky ass.”

“Says you, maybe I wanted to give you a tour!? You kicked my friends out and pounced on my dick.”

“Psh.” He’s easing you off his lap so gently, despite his teasing words, making sure you’re okay.

Soon he is cleaning you up a bit now carefully in his bathroom, the first stop on the tour of his elegant home, so gorgeous and spotless it did not scream bachelor pad. You pause when you see skincare in a pretty gold box, fingers brushing on it, blinking a bit as you recognize the brand.

“Is this for me?”

“No way, all me.” He winks at you in the mirror. “Of course it’s for you, I’d like you comfortable for as long as you wanna stay. It’s some fancy Korean stuff.”

“It’s very fancy, thank you. And… a toothbrush?”

“Mmhmm. Body wash, shampoo, conditioner, razors… got you anything you need. And some clothes if that’s okay.” You flush at the excessive sweetness, looking down now.

“You don’t have to do all that. It’s one thing for the baby, but me?”

“You’re her mom, and my… my girl.” His declaration is soft, unlike him and his teasing, your eyes meet his, when he tilts your chin to him, back pressed against his hard chest. Your breath catches at the sight of him, that red streaked across his high cheekbones. “You are, right?”

“Your girl?” He nods then, a bit nervous - you never thought you’d see Satoru Gojo nervous, but here he was, being as open as you were. “You want me to be?”

“Yes. I want a lot of things, sweetheart.” He sighs now, kissing you while gently holding under your chin, lips plush against yours, swollen from his kisses, perfection in his quiet bathroom.

You feel his heartbeat against your palm when you turn, touching his chest, feeling it grow quicker as you stand there, eyes locking. “I already am.”

“We’re not making the tour if I fuck you again on this sink.” You back away before he can do more, earning his soft sigh, his cock ready to be inside you again.

“No, I really wanna see her room, please?”

“Come on then.” Satoru leads you down a hall, hand in yours, opening a beautiful room with a floor to ceiling window. The view is so pretty, as the sun illuminates every corner of the room, the lush white carpet and cream walls. It’s bright, airy and so beautiful, everything so perfect you can vividly picture your little girl right there.

“You did all this!?” You’re in awe as you walk into the nursery, seeing the beautiful white rustic furniture, a beautiful crib still bare, changing table, a beautiful rocking chair and a pretty dresser with little pink stuffed animals strewn over it already.

“Suguru and Sukuna did, I paid them in Purp.” You giggle then, covering your mouth as tears fall.

“God, Satoru, it's beautiful!”

“You get to decorate it all, so that means you get this.” He hands you his black card with a grin, earning your little giggle. “I didn’t get bedding or curtains, anything like that, I just ordered the basics. I figured you’d want to get all the extras.”

“Oh yes, I’d love to. And oh my god, I love this chair!” You sit down in it then, sighing, vividly picturing holding your little girl in your arms soon. Satoru sees it too, grabbing one of the plushies and putting it in your arms, fingers brushing against your skin, making goosebumps rise up.

“Do you really need your house still?” He asks then, you look away nervously.

“Satoru what if we-”

“I love you too.” You pause, gasping as you look down, his hands on the arms of the chair, stopping the rocking.

“What!?” He sighs, cupping your face now, pressing against you as his eyes dart back and forth across your pretty face, drinking you in.

“Yeah, brat, I love you too. Fuck I’ve been in love since you smacked me for staring at your ass.” You giggle and sob then, the tears flow, hot and sticky, burning your eyes as you melt for him, joy and surprise filling your every vein. “I want this baby to have everything, and that includes their parents living together. I don’t want one day without you, or her.”

“Satoru,” you’re kissing him now, his own tears falling, while you take a breath, resting your forehead against hers. “Mnh, a couple conditions.”

“Conditions, you’re such a mean ass little brat.” He glares, eyes watering while you stroke his sharp cheekbones, sighing.

“No more spring breaks with your friends. You can hang out with them as much as you want, but I want you here with us.” You take a hand, putting it on your tummy, and he swallows, nodding.

“Had a horrible time anyway.” You tremulously smile, and the baby kicks his hand, making you both look down on it, so huge and warm on your swelling tummy. “That’s the condition?”

“Also no more partying. I know, I’m-”

“No more then.” You’re shocked, eyes lifting to meet his cerulean depths, silvery eyelashes sticky with droplets of tears.

“That easy!?”

“I have a lot more important things right here,” his hand on your tummy presses just a bit, the other touching your cheek. “Think I don’t love you so much I’d do fucking anything? For both of you?”

“Fuck…” You kiss him once more, soft and sweet, stealing more of his heart with every breath. “We’re doing this? Moving in together?”

“Well you’re moving in with me, you can sell that itty bitty-”

“Don’t you trash my house now!” Your glare earns another chuckle from him, then you sigh. “I didn’t tell you, my work found out I was pregnant.”

“What gave you away, the giant tits or-”

“Hey!” You shove at him, then the chair rocks forward, he catches you when you damn near fall, chuckling at you. “They’re not that big.”

“Sure they’re not, they have their own time zone.”

“Jerk!” You roll over to the side, on the soft plush carpet of the nursery, Satoru has a devious grin on his face.

“What did they say, sweets?” He rests on an elbow, laying side by side, while his fingers trail down your shoulders, and everything feels too perfect, too easy. So right you wonder how the two of you had fought it for so long, he was willing to give it all up for you. He was perfect, aside from being an endless pervert, but it’s not like you really minded it.

“They actually want to give me a segment, where I talk about babies, motherhood, pregnancy, and health. All of it.”

“Shit baby that’s so good what!?”

“Right! They asked me why I didn’t tell them but they weren’t even mad, thank god, I was so stressed. Also, I do get a really good maternity leave, and they’re going to work on a good schedule.” His grin is infectious, pulling you closer and pressing a kiss on your head softly.

“I’m so happy for you, but, there is a side of me,” his murmur is hot against the shell of your ear, making you tremble. “That wants you as a little pretty housewife, just having all my babies.”

“You’re too much,” your whisper is just a half hearted sigh, something in you loves to hear it, even if it’s insane. “You know I’m not gonna be a little housewife.”

“Mmn, wouldn’t have to clean, I have a maid you know.” He winks, all cheeky with his grin as you get pulled closer to him. “When are you moving in?”

“I don’t know, I’d have to sell it and that’s a whole process-”

“I’ll have someone do it.”

“You seem to have planned this, hmm?” You raise a brow at him, and he gasps, a hand to his chest.

“Me!? No way, I just thought about it when you professed your love.”

“Oh whatever.” You shove at him again, and he holds you tightly now, sighing and running his hand down the curve of your spine while the two of you lay there on what would soon be your baby’s room. “I’m so excited, Satoru.”

Satoru grins now, making him fall deeper and deeper for him with every breath he takes, the sun lightly illuminating his pretty face, the way his eyes glimmer like yours do, showing his every emotion. “Me too, sweetheart.”

*****

Nine months pregnant - Satoru’s house

“God why’d I move you in!? You’re evil!” Satoru grumbles months later, as you waddle around , scowling at him.

It’s been months of paradise, but today you are two days overdue and absolutely miserable. You know you’re being psychotic to put it plainly, as your boyfriend crosses his arms, raising a brow at you. You know you should try to calm down, but you don’t even feel like you anymore, just a damn blob being kicked with a long legged, mini Satoru.

 “I’m sorry I’m not cheery, have you seen me!? I look like that fucking alien movie, like it’s about to just burst out! It’s not funny!”

He’s snorting in laughter, he can’t help it, sighing a bit when tears fill your eyes, walking up and touching your tummy gently, she kicks so hard you hunch over, sniffling more tears. “Damn she needs to be a soccer player.”

“Her legs are long because of you.” He rolls his eyes, when you press him off, eyeing your phone now, as another braxton hicks hits you. “This is all you!”

“You begged for me to cum in you too, you know-”

“Ugh!” You plop down, crying now, as Satoru falters, wishing he could just go smoke that blunt he’d rolled, but he knows you’d trip more.

You were so sweet until the past few days, now you’re a whole monster, bursting into tears one minute, the next eating hot cheetos and laughing, and then you’d get all pissy and mean. He could not figure out an emotion on any given moment, like the end of the last trimester was just frying your brain, throwing your hormones and making them batshit.

“Will weed hurt the baby because you need something-”

“I am not going to smoke weed! It wouldn’t help anyway- ah!” You feel another, far too close, sighing as you hold your tummy. “Sorry, I’m being a bitch.”

“Yeah you- I mean what!? No baby!” You sigh now, holding out a hand to him, he takes your little one in his own, kissing it.

“I am and I’m sorry. It’s not you. I just want her to come, tomorrow they have to induce it and - ah! Another!?” Satoru frowns now, looking at the timer.

“You sure these are braxton? Your tummy is so hard…” He’s pressing on it gently, as another contraction hits, and you’re in so much pain you’re sobbing. “Baby you could be…”

You inhale sharply, wincing and rubbing your tummy. “You think? I wasn’t dilated yesterday… fuck it hurts…”

“Let’s get you down there. Come on.” He helps you up gently, tilting your chin up now, swiping at your tears.

“I’m sorry I w-was mean…” Your sweet little sobs and trembling lips end any irritation he has, he hugs you tightly, the woman he’s had in his bed and by his side for months now, growing rounder and rounder with his child.

He adores you more and more every day.

Even when you’re an evil little thing.

“It’s okay,” his calm voice helps you breathe, he’s been here through it all, and you wish your hormones wouldn’t make you snap. You want to tell him how much you love him, not treat him so damn mean, but it’s like your body and mind are done. “Hey, shh.”

“I love you and I’m a bitch!” He smiles just a bit, shaking his head.

“You’re miserable is all. Baby is cooked enough, well done, you’re ready to kick him out of this apartment, huh?” You giggle at that, before crying out once more in pain, making even Satoru tense, like he could feel it.

“I love you so much and her… I just want her here and not in here, she so clearly wants to come out, but she’s stubborn.”

“Wonder where she gets that,” you go to retort, then another contraction hits, making you wince once more. “Come on.”

The drive is quiet, you’re in so much pain you’re starting not to speak, making Satoru so stressed he can’t take it, he keeps looking over at you, baby bag all ready to go in the back seat, touching your tummy again. You take his hand, tears falling on it now, as you struggle to breathe at all.

“I want her to be okay. I need her to be okay.”

“I need both of you to be okay, and you will be, okay?” You nod, leaning against his shoulder as he drives, holding onto him so tightly, the life support you need so desperately right now, your everything.

Satoru is your everything.

But soon, your sweet girl would be too.

“I’m so glad you’re here for m-me, mmm…” He just kisses your head, trying to drive as quickly as he can without getting pulled over. When he finally gets there he’s carrying you in his arms, even though you insist you can walk, until the nurses put you in a chair and push you to the room.

It’s just a little bit before you hear the words - ‘you’re having the baby!’

It’s just a little longer before you’re screaming, and a natural birth is absolutely a dumb fucking idea. You’re breaking Satoru’s big ass hand, your loud sobs  and cursing scaring half the damn hospital, and he once again wonders why he loves this evil little brat who’s gonna ruin his throwing hand, only for you to cry again, apologizing so sweetly, and him to melt.

In short, you’re a mess.

And he loves all of you.

Your mom comes up to the room, thank god, taking your hand, as Shoko, Utahime, Suguru and Sukuna all show up too, your dad was out of town but on the way. Of course… Satoru doubted his parents would come, though they’d sent plenty of fancy baby things to fill the house, he supposes it’s their shitty version of trying, but until he married you, they were dissapointed.

The media had talked plenty of who the Satoru Gojo was with, and it didn’t help that you had built quite a little fandom with your segments. Moms, and moms to be loved your segments, you spoke of the real things - body image, self esteem, your worries. You interviewed fellow pregnant celebs and moms, it was truly impressive to have watched you thrive.

Satoru was so fucking proud of you.

He is proud of you.

And you’re so proud of him, always doing things his own damn way, yes, he was running the family company but he was fixing their corruption bit by bit, working on the greed internally. The changes he had already made were so powerful, keeping every bit of who he’s always been, you don’t know if his parents will change, though.

But Satoru has you now.

Soonl the room is so crowded it’s ridiculous, and the clearly stoned ass Sukuna looks at you in horror. “I’ll never have a kid, shit that looks horrible!”

“Like you’d have a kid anyway, you’re an idiot.” Utahime says then, and Sukuna glares, crossing his arms.

The four of them are bickering like old times, when you glare at them all. “Can everyone just shut up!?”

“She is mean.” Suguru whispers, in horror as well as you scowl at him.

“Everyone go for a few, okay?” Your mom is shoving them all out, Shoko and Utahime press kisses on your cheeks, as they carry their college long feud out into the halls, and Satoru looks at your mom pleadingly. “Satoru, get some coffee, you look rough honey.”

She didn’t have to tell him twice.

His girlfriend in labor is quite terrifying.

Getting coffee with a shaky hand, Shoko walks up to him then, and he rolls his blue eyes, irritated by the fluorescents of the bright, open hospital, sipping the shitty coffee with a wince. “Yeah, talk your shit, Shoko.”

“You stepped up, and I’m happy for you.”

“What!?” Satoru sputters, considering he’d fought with Shoko and Utahime forever, they were your girls and thus his enemies since freshman year.

Shoko takes her own cup of coffee, wincing now at the bitter taste, brushing dark locks back. “You stepped up for her, and did the right thing. It’s clear you always were in love anyway, but it’s nice to see you grew up.”

“Always in love?” He puts down his cup, eyeing Sukuna and Suguru snickering at something, while Utahime starts informing everyone on her social media about you - since you’re in no condition to update your friends - then back at Shoko. “Yeah, maybe I was, but I was…”

“A dick.”

“Hey now.” Satoru glares, and Shoko just laughs softly, a hand on his shoulder. “I was a dick, a big one.”

“You were like a boy dipping a little girl’s hair in ink behind her in class.”

“What are you from, the eighteen hundreds?”

“Shut up. I’m complimenting you, little shit.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course I did, though I… it was never an option not to be there for her,” his voice softens, as they walk over to the waiting room chairs, sitting next to each other. Satoru crosses an ankle over a leg then, sighing, running a hand through his locks and murmuring, “It was just a matter of how much she’d let me be involved.”

“She’s always been in love with you too.” Shoko’s words make Satoru blush then, as Utahime sits next to Shoko, he expects some smartass words from her too, but she just smiles.

“She’s been down bad for a while.” Satoru clears his throat now, the words making his heart flutter.

“You all were, like, really dumb.” Suguru says, blitzed as fuck clearly with narrow amethyst eyes, sitting across from the three of them. “For years.”

“I need no words of wisdom from you all, except… maybe advice.” He sighs now, leaning forward a bit, elbows on his legs that are spread so wide, Shoko shoves at one with her foot, making him glare.

“Advice bro, for what? The baby?” Sukuna leans back in his own chair, red eyes surrounded by even more red. “It’s our godchild you know.”

“You are not the godfather now, I swear that’s in your head.” Satoru says with his lips quirking up, the huge man scoffing as the girls giggle. “No, how long until I… ask her?”

“Ask her…” Shoko trails off, and Satoru nods. “Shit!”

“Wait until she feels more… herself.” Utahime says softly. “She’s kind of a…”

“Terrifying, evil mess?” Satoru chuckles as Shoko slaps him.

“Wait for a proposal until a nice date night, okay? Something sweet and intimate. Right now of course she’d say yes, but poor thing is-”

“This is your fault Satoru Gojo!” Echoes throughout the waiting room, and the five of you pause, as the entire waiting room laughs and murmurs. “Your long ass legs, your big ass head!”

“My head is not big, yours is!” He shouts back, earning the look of everyone in the room. “What, it’s not!?”

“I hope you survive this, man…” Suguru says, standing then. “I need a smoke, shit.”

“Me too man, fuck.” Satoru glares at his friends, as you scream out again, this time in pain, and the doctor comes up to him.

“It's time. She's dilated-” Satoru is already running in the delivery room, the nurses help him scrub up as he sees you, sitting up with your thighs spread and glaring at the doctor on call.

The one that said how tight you were.

He'd laugh if you wouldn't kill him.

“Ready for this baby?” The doctor asks, and your eyes go wide in panic.

“Shit, no! Mom!” Your mom holds your hand, while Satoru is getting ready, his heart racing, knowing he's about to meet his baby girl.

“You can do this, baby.” You sigh, and your mom looks at Satoru, tilting her head to gesture for him to come then, he takes your hand instead, feeling you squeeze it with a death grip, wincing.

“You're strong as shit, damn.” He huffs under his breath, seeing tears on your cheeks as you push for the first time, the pain you're in making him woozy.

After a good hour, you’re prepared to push, and Satoru’s got the phone, filming you, much to your anger. He wonders if his own baby will be scared of their mom, you’re something else for a little pregnant brat, even the doctor is a little frightened, as he asks - ‘You ready to push?’ - and you scream.

“Oh my god, I can’t, I can’t!” You’re sniffling, when Satoru comes around to where the doctor is, and he looks at Satoru then, shaking his head.

“You don’t wanna see this, she’s about to crown.”

“Crown, what’s- oh. Oh! Oh…” 

Satoru Gojo faints.

He faints!

Your mom runs to him in concern, as a nurse rushes over to your six foot four boyfriend collapsed on the hospital tile. “Is he okay? Ah!” You can hardly speak through the pain, he fell hard, everyone heard it.

“God, he’s heavy,” the nurse murmurs, when two of them try to pick him up.

“G-get his friends, go get them they’re huge and - ow!”

“Deep breaths, you can do it.” Your mom tries to keep you calm, and in moments Suguru and Sukuna stare in horror, getting the view Satoru just had, and you swear they’re about to pass out as they look in horror.

“Pick him up!” You whisper through your teeth, they quickly turn away.

“God that’s terrible,” Suguru says, kneeling next to Satoru. “No wonder he passed out, is that how babies are born!?”

“You’re all so- stupid just - ah!” You’re screaming again, even Sukuna looks pale, and he’s not scared of shit, aside from ever seeing a vagina like that again.

“I’m gonna be scarred for life.” He whispers to Suguru, while they pick up Satoru, who’s still unconscious, all while you’re having the damn baby.

“I hear you all. Ow! Shit!” You’re breathing - he he he, hoo hoo hoo - but you just want to kill everyone and everything around you, the pain is stupid. “Knock me out, drugs, drugs!”

“Way past that, honey.” Your docor says, you curse your shitty idea, all while Satoru’s being checked. “We’re close, let’s go, you’ve got it!”

******

Two hours later

“It’s our baby,” Satoru holds your beautiful baby for the first time, after finally having woken up from crashing and bonking his head. He’s smiling as he whispers in wonder, sitting next to you finally.

“She’s our baby.” He kisses her head, inhaling her.

“She smells so good.”

“I know, it’s addictive, I keep sniffing her.” You both grin at each other, god you feel such comfort now, in the hours since your boyfriend had been good and passed out, Shoko, Utahime, your parents, everyone had held her. Sukuna and Suguru even had already taken pictures of each other, enamored with her.

You suppose they weren’t the worst, though you don’t think you would trust them to watch your baby as they offered, they certainly cared, in their stoner way. Though you’re pretty sure you traumatized them into using protection for a long, long time, considering the haunted looks on their face.

“They saw it too!?” Satoru asks, when you recount some of it.

“Yep. I think they don’t even wanna touch one anytime soon.”

“Jesus, it was…”

“Stop, you’ll faint again!” He shakes his head.

“No way,” he watches as your eyes are drifting shut, while he stares at her pretty face, snowy white hair, but your eyes, when she looks up at him and opens them, blinking her snowy little lashes. “She’s so beautiful, just like her mama.”

“Oh, Satoru… I love her so much already.” You’re sniffling, tears streaming down your cheeks, he sighs, leaning over and kissing your forehead, still damp and sweaty.

“So do I, god I’m so sorry I passed out. I missed her coming!”

“No, no, don’t you apologize. You scared me, but everyone else just laughed actually.” He glares, and you let out a tired giggle, yawning and reaching a weak arm out, brushing her snowy, downy hair.

“They told me not to look, but I did. Got babe your cooch-”

“Don’t remind me, there are stitches.” He gets pale again, making you panic, sitting up and gently touching the arm that’s holding your baby girl. “Satoru please, don’t pass out again.”

“Stitches oh god, that bad? And I wasn’t even awake.” He’s pouting, even as you’re shaking your head, leaning forward and wincing a bit at the pain.

“I had a pretty difficult time, but it was all worth it, just look at her, hmm?” He nods then, soft smile on his plump lips, eyes crinkling in the corners when he scoots even closer, holding the sweet bundle so tightly in his arms.

“They laughed at me!?”

“They all did, even the pervy doctor.” You can’t stop the laugh, wincing then as a twinge of pain hits, Satoru frowns with worry. “I’m fine, just worn out.”

“Get some rest, your baby daddy is conscious now.” You giggle at that, eyeing the two loves in front of you, your sweet baby girl so tiny in his huge, strong arms, and you feel such a sense of peace you could never describe. Your eyelids droop, you’re yawning once more, the hospital room lights are dimmed as a nurse walks in, smiling at the two of you warmly.

“Aren’t you three just the cutest? Let me check you out before you take a nap, Mama.” You hold back yet another yawn, exhaustion creeping up, while she turns on the blood pressure cuff still on your arm, eyeing the measurements. “And how are you feeling, dad?”

“I’m sad I passed out and missed cutting the cord.” He says softly, the nurse laughs a bit.

“It happens, don’t feel bad at all. You have your entire life with your new baby. What’s her name?”

“Satoruette-”

“No it’s not!” Your glare, making your blood pressure spike, and the nurse blinks a bit.

“That’s a unique name. Calm down, let’s try again.” You take a breath now, shaking your head at your grinning husband.

You adore him, but he’s still just a little shit.

“Not Satorutte.” You whisper again, the nurse can’t stop smiling at the two of you, at Gojo’s cute little pout, blinking his snowy lashes.

“You’re still so mean. Why’d I fall in love with a demon?”

“That makes our daughter half demon.” Satoru chuckles then, shaking his head, fingers stroking her sweet little cheek, so soft to the touch, as she yawns, her little mouth in an O.

“She’s all angel.” His soft words melt you even further, not enough to name her Satoruette, of course, but enough to have a beautiful smile, so serene on your sleepy face when he looks back up at you. “You’re half angel too.”

“No way.” He shakes his head, when the nurse lifts up your blanket and gown, peering at the stitches.

“Any pain, love?”

“A little…”

The nurse presses the button of the IV, pumping the medication into your bloodstream, you sigh blissfully while she checks the baby, taking her gently from Satoru’s arms. As she checks her heartbeat and pulse, Satoru comes over to you, swiping back your hair gently, eyes looking so deep into yours, you hold his hand, which swallows your own, feeling so overwhelmed then.

“You did great.” Satoru’s soft words make your heart swell, when he kisses the back of your knuckles gently, exhaling as he does. “Look how amazing you are.”

“You helped make her too.” You smile, eyes drooping once more, the pain medicine sapping the last of your resolve to stay up. “Satoru, can I take a nap?”

“Of course, I think I took a long enough one.” You laugh softly, before drifting off to sleep, Satoru watches your pretty, exhausted face as you do, tucking you in while the Nurse bundles back up the baby, putting her inside the little bassinet.

“She’s perfect, Mr. Gojo.” Her words hit his ears, drawing his attention to the bundle, and the nurse now comes up to him. “You had quite a fall, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, shit I shouldn’t have looked. Ugh. Everyone left?”

“Visiting hours were over, but they all took plenty of pictures.”

“Of me!?” The nurse flushes, shrugging. “They did! Imma kick their asses tomorrow.”

She laughs now, eyeing your monitor that’s beeping slowly, when you start snoring suddenly, filling the room with the loud sound, and Satoru has not once heard you snore. He can’t stop the affection pouring, along with the amusement at how cute you are, while he looks down at you, then at your baby girl.

“We have a bed we can set up over-”

“Can I just lay with her?” Satoru asks, the nurse smiles again, nodding, moving some of the wires to one side.

“I’ll grab some extra blankets and pillows.” Satoru lays his lanky body right in that hospital bed now, making you stir, looking at him with eyes dilated from the pain meds, a smile on your face that’s too cute.

“Satoru, you’re ssleepingg w’me?” Your slurred words make him chuckle, while you scooch over, allowing him more room, and one of his arms wraps around your waist, pulling you close.

“Sure am, you’re fucked up aren’t you?” He teases softly, you just giggle. “Is that how we get you nice, morphine?”

“I was sso meann S’toru, sorryyy.” Your words are all jumbled, your arms wrapped around his waist, burying your face against his chest and kissing the hollow at the base of his throat.

“You’ve always been mean, I kinda dig it.” Your giggle is infectious, another kiss pressed, while his hand softly runs up and down your back, and the nurse brings in pillows and blankets. “Thanks.”

“Of course, I love to see a devoted husband.” He doesn’t bother to correct her, that he’s just become your boyfriend a couple months ago - because he feels like he will be that for you, your husband. “Any name ideas for the sweet girl?”

Satoru pauses then, remembering a few of your ideas. “I’ll wait until she’s off the good stuff, she’s definitely gonna give me some weird-”

“Not Satoruette.” Your mumble is incoherent, as you doze off slowly in his arms, trying to stay awake, to feel how good it is to be held by Satoru Gojo.

“Oh yeah, then what name?” He teases, looking down at you, you sigh, cupping his face with a weak little hand, while the nurse places another blanket over you both.

“Miyuki, it means beautiful. She is so beautiful, hmm? Like you.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“You’re sloshed, telling me that.”

“Miyuki is beautiful.” The nurse mentions it, and Satoru sighs.

“Satoruette on the next?”

“Nope.” You say it with a pop on your lips, the nurse leaves you all, shutting the heavy door, and the drugs in your system make you feel way too good, along with your boyfriend holding you close. “You’d want another baby, S’toru?”

“Can’t even say my name, tsk,” you giggle again, while he studies you carefully. “I wanna figure out how good I’ll be at raising her, but if I am amazing at it - like I am at everything-”

“Conceited.” He laughs and sighs, pulling you against his hard, warm body, enveloping you tightly. “You’ll be such a good dad. I already know.”

Your sweet words make him blink back tears, peeking over your head as your little girl sucks on a pink binkie, all swaddled tightly, so precious it makes him ache. “Yeah, I want another one, some day. Do you?”

“Mmhmm.” You nod and hug him tighter, your eyelashes tickling his neck as your lids close once more. “Satoru, I wanna be with you forever.”

Shit.

“Yeah, think I’d leave you, brat?” He tries to tease, as if your sweet words didn’t want to make him propose then and there, to your morphine ridden, sleeping frame, but knowing he needed to wait was torture.

But it’s okay, because you're already his wife, whether you know it or not.

One more to wrap up these cuties, I hope you all enjoy all the sickeningly cute fluff, and smuttt, and got a kick out of Satoru passing tf out LMAO!!! Idk why, but that had to happen hehe. See you in the next and finalll part which will show life with a baby for these two <2

taglist 1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97 @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @nkpajares @emonaculate

[highdramas]

simmering | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), references to sex but nothing explicit, you and jack shower together after a horrible shift, pre-relationship domestic bliss, sweet sweet fluff <3 word count: 2.1k summary: you and jack are spent. you stumble into uncharted intimate territory in the confines of his luxurious shower. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. i wrote this kind of spur the moment today, but i'm very happy with how this turned out <3 this is a part of the ring of fire interconnected series, but it’s not necessary to read the prior parts to understand this fic. if you would like to, though, you can find the masterlist��here <3 not proofread so apologies for any errors!

it’s a weird thing– the way that you feel entirely at ease in a place that should feel foreign.

jack’s apartment is homey. it’s in the swanky part of town that you always felt you’d never be able to afford. you assume it’s not the home that he shared with his wife; there are echoes of her, everywhere, but you don’t call them out. it doesn’t feel like your place to, anyway. because while she’s there, it’s jack that you feel all around you. you learn that he likes a specific scent of air freshener– woodsy and warm. you learn that he’s in dire need of some new pans, but you also learn that he’s not the greatest cook, so he’s been putting it off. you learn that he loves movies, and records.

you learn that he wears his dog tags, every day. at work, he keeps them tucked beneath scrubs, always out of view. at home, they rest heavy against his chest, and you’ve had to stop yourself from reaching out, trailing your finger along the chain.

it’s an effort to not touch him, most mornings. you’ve gone to his place after almost every single shift for the past two weeks. the two months prior to that, you were typically sitting at the park together until it was nearly ten in the morning and your stomachs were growling so loud it made you both laugh at yourselves.

the years before that, jack was your mentor, but you wouldn’t call him your friend. three months into your year as a senior resident and you feel like you’ve learned more about your attending than you had in the three years that you knew him prior. that’s not quite fair, you know. you knew him in the place he felt most comfortable, work. where he was always challenging you, he was always making you better, while helping you to trust your instincts, too, and letting them flourish. he knew when to push. you think he likes that you challenge him back, too. he always said that you were a fantastic learner. when you would pull through with an excellent save, the low rumble of his voice would often praise you. “good job, kid.”

but now you’re his senior resident and your relationship has changed. you’re not just his student in the sense of medicine. he’s teaching you how to be a leader, how to teach others. you’re his right hand. you’re an extension of one another in most ways, always working in tandem.

and you are fond of him in a way that is not professional. not even close.

when the two of you enter his apartment after a shift from hell– down a resident, new med student, a list of ridiculously rude patients– you each suck in a deep breath. your bags get dropped at the door, shoes kicked off, glasses of water each being filled and sucked down. you barely talked the whole car ride to his place. he had opened the door of his truck for you, closed it, and put on the punk rock station that he liked to listen to, sometimes.

“you should shower first,” jack breaks the quiet. “trust me. it’ll make you feel better.”

it was not the first time you’d showered at jack’s, and you figured it wouldn’t be the last, either. you level him with a look. “you told mckay on your way out the only thing you were looking forward to was a shower.”

“i’m a gentleman, kid. besides, you stink.”

you drop your jaw at him while he snickers. you don’t even mean to say it– you chalk it up to exhaustion bringing all your filters down. “we could always share. it is definitely big enough for two.”

the humor drops clean off of his face. when your brain catches up, and you realize what you’ve said, you shake your head. “i don’t know why i said that.” yes you do. you want to feel jack’s big hands on your shoulders, your neck. you’ve thought, not just once, about how good it would feel for them to run through your hair. the thought of that, the hot water from the shower…

fuck.

whatever is happening on your face, jack is not naive to. “are you sure about that?”

your mouth hangs open and he looks at you with that stare that is clinical, direct. “i–” your voice dies out in your throat. “that was inappropriate on my part. i’m sorry.”

“is that what you want?”

the question is straight forward, simple. all it requires is a yes or a no answer. but it feels so loaded, like a trick question before jack laughs and sends you off to gloria for inappropriate behavior. he seems to recognize this fear in you, because he shakes his head and takes a tentative step forward. “if i tell you, that i would want that…” he tilts his head to the side, seeking out that eye contact that he loves so much. “what would you say?”

you relent and meet his gaze. there’s something… real that simmers.

“that i do want it.”

“you mean that?”

you nod your head. jack shakes his. “no,” he empties that glass of water. “i want to hear you say it. all of it.”

your cheeks flame. “i’m exhausted. you’re exhausted. neither one of us should wait. we're grown adults that see and handle naked bodies all day for a living.” you meet his eyes. "we can handle sharing a shower."

this seems to satisfy him. he nods his head towards his bedroom, and the truly beautiful adjoining bathroom. he approaches his fancy shower, starts the water, and turns it as hot as it will go. “i know you,” he says, almost to himself, as he pulls out two towels, two washcloths. “bet you like to give yourself a third degree burn every time you shower.”

casting your eyes down, you laugh, because of course he can guess such a small detail about you. you watch as he takes a small shower chair out of the shower and sets it to the side. he rummages through a cabinet before he pulls out a cover for his leg, sliding it on and fastening it properly around his prosthetic. it strikes you that this is not something he would let just anyone see. it strikes you, because you feel honored, and you feel humbled that he would share this part of himself with you.

the sound of the water running, the feeling of steam curling around you– it sets every part of you on fire. you and jack look at each other head on. “i’ll get in first, and give you your privacy.”

you nod your head. you turn around away from him as he undresses, the sound of fabric rustling and falling to the ground. you hear that way the pattern of the water hitting the tile change when he carefully steps in. “your turn.”

you peer over your shoulder, and meet jack’s gaze. he smirks and turns around, facing the wall, true to his promise.

hurrying up and following suit, you get in the shower after him. he turns around to face you, water beginning to cascade over the both of you. ”will you let me take care of you?” he grabs the bottle of shampoo and shakes it. “you worked hard today, kid. let me.”

his hands are sure of themselves when they touch you, take your shoulders and turn you around. they’re confident as he makes sure your hair is properly wetted. they’re steady as he pools shampoo into the palm of his hand and begins to lather your scalp. you can’t help it, you groan– your head falls forward. you feel his thumbs begin to rub at the base of your neck, the place where it feels like all of your worries from the day come to congregate. “jesus christ,” he hisses. “you’re tense.”

“nothing an ibuprofen can’t fix,” you try to joke.

he shakes his head. “you’re killin’ me.”

“i don’t have time to go to the chiropractor, or get a massage.”

“make time.” his hands, sudsy from the vanilla shampoo that you’d brought over a week ago, knead into your upper spine. “trust me. you can’t heal others if you don’t heal yourself.”

“did you read that in a book?”

“no. had a good mentor tell me that, years ago. army days.” his hands still before they move back up to your hair. “you won’t last if you don’t do the things you need to do, for you.”

“like have my attending wash my hair for me?” you ask, smiling at the wall of his shower.

“exactly like that.” he tilts your head back and forth, rinsing the shampoo out, before he lathers your conditioner in his hands and smooth out the ends with it.

for as intimate as this all is… it doesn’t feel scary. you’re so tired, that it just feels good to have his hands all over you. it sets you on fire, yes, but not the blazing kind, the kind that would make you push him up against the wall and ask him to have his way with you. it’s a slow, simmering fire. the kind that stays controlled. the kind that can burn ten times as hot. a true slow burn.

you turn around, and finally meet him, eye to eye. your eyes trail downward to his dog tags. without letting yourself think about it too hard, you take it, your fingernails just barely scraping his chest. you watch his chest rise sharply as you run your thumb along the engraving. his hands flex at his sides.

“your turn,” you say, taking his shampoo. he turns around, allowing you to reach forward and work it into his hair. he groans, a hand splaying on the tile. you admire the freckles that dance across his back, and before you can think too much about it, you touch one with your finger, trailing to across his skin from freckle to freckle. “who knew you were hiding all of these?”

“i’m irish,” he bites back, goosebumps rising on his skin. he looks at you from over his shoulder. he looks good enough to eat.

you take the shower head and use it to carefully rinse out his hair. he takes it back from you and spins you once more, making sure the conditioner doesn’t continue to linger in your hair. and, back to back, you pass body wash back and forth, listening to the sound of the other wash their body.

“you can’t wash your leg with that thing on, can you?”

“nah. i’ll get back in and use the seat and wash it after i crash. it can wait.”

you don’t push. ( one day, though you don’t know it yet, you’ll sink to your knees in that same shower and reach a level of intimacy you didn’t know was possible, washing his leg, tending to him. but today isn’t that day. )

as the two of you rinse off, you’re left with this feeling, this feeling that something has changed, shifted, morphed. jack’s hands touched you like you were precious. you offered him that same care. jack turns the water off. you reach for the two towels and pass one to him and you dry off, side by side. you climb out first, the fluffy towel wrapped around your body, and without thinking twice about it, you offer jack your hand to transfer out from the shower. the towel hangs low on his hips, and you have to force yourself not to ogle him. “just take my hand,” you urge, words soft.

jack does. your thumb slides across his knuckles and you hesitate to drop it, even as he has both feet steady on the ground. there’s only a foot of space between the two of you. when you look at him, he’s already staring at you. “i needed that,” he admits in the quiet space that exists between you. the vulnerable space. the one that you’ve created here, in your little post-work oasis. “thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me. i needed it too.” you feel yourself start to grow warm. “i think i also need to smoke.”

he sucks in a breath, the tension finally snapping, both of you smiling, content. this is easy, this is routine: smoke, sit on the couch, relax. “yeah. i got a little pack of joints on the coffee table.”

“can i crash here for a few hours? then i’ll get out of your hair?”

“stay as long as you want.” jack says it without missing a beat. he scratches at his chest, leaving angry red marks in his path. you have to tell yourself that it is not appropriate to want to trace them with your tongue.

it’s also not appropriate to shower with your attending, your mind counters. that wasn’t appropriate, but you did it.

standing there, you accept that you would do it again.

[azure-lily24]

Can I just say, I would love to just lay underneath this pretty ass man- like Sylus just sleeping and trapping me underneath him with his weight-

~~

Visiting Sylus after being away for so long felt like breath of fresh air. It was one of the times where at the association, it was quiet and there were almost no metaflux fluctuations. During these times, you resorted to sometimes leaving the city and traveling all the way into the N109 Zone and visiting your favorite resident there.

When you arrived, Mephisto was the first to greet you. Flying over and perching on your shoulder. You smile when you see that Sylus had added a small modification to Mephisto, changing the outer metal part of his wings so now it was a gunmetal color; a light color from the usual black. “Hey Mephisto, where’s your creator at?”

The crow caws and flies away, leaving the building. You sigh and smile to yourself, knowing that Sylus was out, probably attending to business. You decide to just go and walk to his room and just wait for him to come back.

Entering and closing the door, you decide to go and freshen up. Walking into the bathroom and showering. After almost 20 minutes, you emerge from the bathroom wearing a robe. Changing into something more modest and comfortable, you then sit down on his bed and read a book to pass the time.

After what felt like 30 minutes, Mephisto appears once again. Choosing to go to his perch as door opens and a familiar tall man appears from the other side of the door. He was wearing his signature black outfit with the matching jacket as well. He looked exhausted.. very exhausted.

Sylus looked up at you with a tired gaze. Closing the book and putting it on the night stand, you say nothing and just open your arms, inviting the man into your warm embrace. Sylus closes the door behind him and you can see his guard being let down as he walks over and lays down. Situating himself in between your legs and laying his head on your stomach; wrapping his arms around your waist.

Running a hand through his hair and rubbing his back, Sylus sighs and slowly falls asleep. His back slowly rising and falling. As you play with his hair, you beckon Mephisto over to you, the crow curious of your request, flies over quietly.

“Make sure the building stays quiet for the rest of the night.” With that request given, Mephisto flies out the room, fulfilling that request.

Now that it was just the two of you, you smile to yourself as the boss of Onichinus and probably the most dangerous and powerful man in the N109 Zone, was sleeping soundly in front of you. His guard completely let down as he breathes in and out quietly.

“Sleep well my love~”

[rooster-the-love-of-my-life]

Idiots At a Wedding pt.4

Summary: Pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family has to be easy right? Right...?

Pairings: Bob Floyd x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, fake scenarios

A/N: Bobby's just like us girlies 😝😝 I'm very pathetic at writing love confessions and kisses so please, be kind. At first I was thinking of making this chapter longer, but I'm going tk be travelling day after and I do most of my writing at night, so I thought I'd give yall this today and then write in peace later. Anyways, happy reading and please don't be a stranger. Also, none of this is proof read, we die like men💪💪

series masterlist || part 3

To say you and Bob talked after you fully made out on his mother's porch would be a lie. A blatant, white faced lie.

As much as you would have liked to continue after being interrupted, or liked to have talked about the kiss, you didn't do any of it. Insted you both climbed the stairs to his room, changed out of your clothes and went right to sleep. You would think what happend would keep you up all night, but because of your general perpetual sleepiness and the alcohol in your system you slipped under the blanket of slumber pretty easily.

The next morning you woke, you found the bed empty, just like the morning before. But there was a certain uneasiness in the air that wasn't there the day before. After you freshened up and went downstairs, you were expecting to meet with the same chaos as yesterday, but the house was quiet. Mary and Annie were sitting on the couch, sipping their morning coffee while Andy slept soundly in the room.

"Morning." You announced yourself, making their heads turn to you. "Where is everyone?" Of course by everyone you meant just one person, Bob.

"Morning dearie." Mary greeted you, standing from her spot and rounding the kitchen island to grab a cup and pour you some coffee as well. "Bob and Jeff had to go visit the venue today. The manager's being a bit of an ass, so the boys went down there to see what's wrong."

"We should have sent her in place of Jeff. I'm sure that idiot would be intimidated by two navel officers." Annie commented once you and Mary sat down as well.

"That's true, but don't you worry about it." She patted her daughter's leg. "They'll handle the situation just fine."

You didn't know what to think in that moment. Half of you was sad you couldn't see Bob today, cause the job he was working on wasn't an easy on. But the other half of you was relieved since this distance gave you some time to get your thoughts and feelings in order, but knowing yourself, you knew you were just going to end up overthinking the whole day.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you and Robby last night." Annie whispered, once her mother was up and out of earshot. "I didn't mean to act like a total cockblock, but I guess I did."

"It's alright." You waved your hand I'm a way if dismissal. If only she knew the truth of what was happening, if only.

"Please tell me yall did some hanky panky last night. I'd love to know at least someone's getting some each night." Annie sighed, sprawling across the armrest. "Having a kid is not for the weak. It's like you've birthed a perpetual cockblock. But I must admit, the process was quiet fun." She winked at you as she said the last part, making you short out with laughter.

"Well we-" You stared, but were waved quiet by her.

"Actually, no. I don't wanna know about the sex life of my baby brother. That is where I draw the line." You couldn't help but giggle uncontrollably at the turn the conversation had taken.

You two talked for about an hour after that, discussing whatever came to your mind. You asked her how Jeff and her met, she asked you how life in the navy was. You told her about your high-school debate team days and she told you all about college swim meets. You were finding a really, true friend in Annie and you just couldn't bare the thought of breaking her heart if she ever found out the truth.

"Have you ever thought of having kids?" She asked, handing you your second cup of coffee.

"I-I've never actually thought of it." You stuttered out. You were lying of course, you had thought of kids, a husband, a house near the sea. You'd thought of it all, but always kept these thoughts close to yourself. "Oh who am I kidding. I have thought it, so much that my head hurts at times."

Annie trusted you and you trusted her, so you saw no point in hiding or lying to her about this.

"I've never told this to anyone, but I've thought about this whole ordeal so much that I fear I might have jinxed it." You elaborated. "You know, every since I was a kid, I've had this image of being the person who was always opposed to love. I never dated anyone in high school or college, I never even had a crush. So everyone expected that I would become the crazy single aunt in the future. But to be honest, all I want out of my life is a family. A good husband, beautiful, messy kids, stinky dogs, a big house near the sea. I want it all. But I'm so afraid that I'm going to get real close to it and as soon as I let myself think it's all actually happening for me, someone will turn the lights on and it'll all be a big prank."

"It's not wrong to want all those things and also being scared of it." Annie started, placing a hand comfortingly on yours. "But this fear might lead you to miss out on few of the best things in life. You'd never know if having a family is for you or not if you never try."

You smiled upon hearing her advice. She was right of course, but that still didn't stop your fear. You squeezed her hand in a way to say thanks, getting a firm, warm squeeze back.

"Our Bobby in any of your big plans?" She wiggles her eyebrows at you playfully, acting like she hadn't asked yout the most difficult question of all.

"Wouldn't you like to know." You brushed her off, but your heart was beating like a train on the tracks.

"Oh come on, you might not be able to tell me things about you sex life, but you can tell me if you think you have a future with him or not." She pushed, and you being the weak hearted woman you are, gave in.

"He's the only one I see a life with." You whispered, eyes falling to your coffee cup.

Annie let out a string of aww's, smiling widely at your confession. "Well, I can surely tell you he sees one with you."

"He does?"

"Oh yes he does. Wanna know how I know?" She leaned in, as did you, intrigued about what she was going to say next. "He let's you call him Bobby."

The speed by which a laugh escaped you was astronomical. You didn't mean to laugh, but to you her reasoning seemed so absurd. "That's not the reason."

"It sure is. He dosen't let anyone call him Bobby, ever, not even when he was a kid."

"I still don't believe you."

"Alright, why don't we do a little experiment to prove my theory?" She proposed.

"You have my attention." You raised an eyebrow.

"When he comes back home, I'll call him Bobby first and we'll see what his reaction is. And then you call him Bobby and see what his reaction is. If I'm right, you owe me five dollars."

"And if you're not you owe me ten." You placed your hand in front of her.

"Done." She shook you hand, confident e radiating off her face. Before either one of you could say anything else, loud cries came from Annie's room, indicating Andy woke up. "Ah, duty calls. I can't wait to see you lose."

"Keep waiting."

--------------------

Carrying all these big, messy emotions along with all the lies was eating at you. You thought this would be easy, but boy were you a foolish girl back then. This was by far the hardest thing you had ever done in your life, harder than flying a jet, harder than going on deadly assignments. And the only other person in the world who understood your situation, was the only person in the world youu couldn't talk to.

You need to talk about your feelings to someone, anyone. So the only right thing to do was to call up your entire call list and find a poor victim to rant to. The first person you tried was Phoenix, but her phone was busy. Next, it was Rooster, who was waiting football with Fanboy and Coyote, crossing two other people off your list. The last person left was the one person you fought with the most, Hangman.

Even though you were reluctant to call him, you had no other viable option. You dialed his number, secretly praying he wouldn't pick up, but when the call went through in the first ring, and his obnoxious voice poured though your speaker, you had to talk.

"Hey sunny, finnaly got a break from eye fucking little baby on board and realized you had other friends?"

"What's up Hangman?" You asked, trying to not jump into your problems from the get go and making it all about yourself.

"Nothjng much, Maverick's being a dick, as usual. Hondo is still getting off from watching us do all those pushups." He recounted the events for you. "I must say, it's been really nice since you've left. We've finally got some peace and quiet."

"Oh come on, fess up, you miss me the most." A smile played off on your face, even if you hadn't talked to the dagger squad for a really long time, you could always just pick up where you left off with them.

"Keep dreaming Sunny." He brushed you off, knowing damn well you were telling the truth. "Anyways, what's up with you? Any particular reason why you called me? Bob's quietness finally getting to you?"

"No." You rolled your eyes, starting to regret your decision a little bit, but still continued. "Actually, I did want to talk to you about something."

"Everything alright?" Jake asked worried, alerted by the chance in your voice.

"Yes, no, I don't know." You whined, falling onto the bed. "You have to promise not to tell anyone or laugh at what I'm about to tell you."

"Me making such promises depends on what you're about to tell me."

"Jake." You whined, irritated by his antics.

"Alright fine, I won't laugh or tell anyone. Happy? Now tell me what's up."

"So, funny story. I'm pretending to be Bob's girlfriend in front of his family for the duration of the wedding and last night we kissed each other even when there was no one around and now I don't know where we stand." You let everything out in one breath, biting the inside of your cheek, waiting to hear Hangman's reaction.

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds, you thought the connection might have gotten lost and you'd have to tell him what happed again. But when the sound of his annoying laughter flowed into your ears, you knew had made a mistake.

"Shut up." You grumbled, burying your face into the pillows.

"Wait, wait. Let me get this straight." He weezed through laughter. "You agreed to be Bob's fake girlfriend, the same Bob you've been in love with since forever, and now that things have blown up in your face, you're worried. This stupid even for you Sunny."

"Fuck off man, I didn't know this was going to happen."

"How didn't you?" He stressed. "Anyone could see this coming from a full universe away. But what excatly is the problem, he's not a good of a kisser as you thought?"

"No." You exclaimed almost too quickly. The thing is, we've been pretending to be a couple this whole time, but the things he's doing are making my brain short circuit."

"Elaborate."

"He's been calling me nicknames like sweetheart and darling. He's been touching me randomly, grabbing my hand or casually placing his hand on my waist. And then when we kissed in front of his family, he leaned in for more. More!" By now you were pacing around the room, recounting every little detail to Jake like a madman. "This was all fine, but last night we were coming back from dinner, no one else was with us, no one was watching, and we kissed. Kissed as in our lips touched and our tongues were halfway down each other throats-"

"I know what kissing is, keep the wattpad description to yourself." Jake butted in, fully grossed out.

"And then today when I woke up he wasn't there, and now his sister is saying thst she can see it on his face that he loves me. I'm going to pose my mind, I really am."

"Okay, calm down. Take a deep breath and sit down." Jake said trying to soothe you. "Now listen to me carefully. I might not know a lot of things, but one thing I do know is that Bob is not acting, he's not pretending, if you would have called anyone other than me, they would have told you the same thing. Cause for the past year and a half we've seen the fuck me eyes you two have been making at each other all the damn time while being scared to even talk to each other properly. Sunny, this is your opportunity. Go and get him. We all know Bob's not going to say anything, but you have to. You have to tell him you like him, you have to take this chance. Cause if you don't, believe me you're going to end up regretting it for the rest of your life. Now, whenever he comes back home, pull him aside and tell him the truth, trust me, it'll be worth it."

---------------

On the other side of town, Bob was crashing out. The entire car ride upto the wedding venue, all he thought of was the kiss, the feeling of your lips on his, how soft they felt, how sweet they tasted. If he put his mind to it, he could still taste the faint strawberry chapstick you had on, and it was making him feral. Evey single love song that came on the radio, he started associating with you and making scenarios to go along with them.

At one point he feard the mental asylum was the only place left for him to go.

Thankfully this time around Jeff hadn't noticed anything, being too tired to do so, and Bob had some time alone with himself to get his thoughts in order. The first thing he ascertained was that he no longer liked you. He was now completely, crazily, deeply in love with you. The kind of love where you start imaging what your house would look like and start picking out baby names. The kind of love that lasted even after one perished, the kind of love he always saw in his parent.

The second thing he confirmed to himself was that he needed to act on it, no matter how hard it got for him, no matter if he was sacred, he had to let you know. He couldn't even imagine losing you now that he almost had you. And if by chance he did, he would never forget himself, never walk down the road of love ever.

The only problem in this was that he still wasn't sure if you liked him back or not. A part of him was certain that you had just gotten sine drunk and kissed him in the spur of the moment. But the other part of him, the one thst worked on evidence, suggested different. You were the one who leaned in and kissed him first, you had to have liked him to do this.

Bob ended up in an endless cycle of 'she loves me she loves me not', a cycle not even the rude manager at the wedding venue could get hum out off. He thanked his older sister mentally thst day for marrying an intimidating man eho handled the situation mostly by himself, giving him chance to sprial even more.

On the ride back home, the sun was setting, cool wind was blowing through the car. He was staring at the landscape that passed him, when the radio started playing something by the Beatles. He had heard that song before, but he never really understood why Frank Sinatra regarded it as the greated love song ever written, until his mind started playing a montage of all the memories he had of you. The further the song played, every word, evey beat of the drum, every strum of the guitar just consolidated his resolve.

He was ardently, irrevocably in love with you.

----------------------

They reached home just in time for dinner, greeted by the smell of mouth watering food and light chatter. Everyone was already in the kitchen. Lucy and Annie were sitting on the high stools at the kitchen island watching their mother teach you an old family recipe when they arrived.

"Hey boys, how'd it go?" Annie greeted her husband with a small kiss as he slid into the stool next to hers.

"It went well." He answered, sighing deeply. "As well as it could go. He wanted more money out of us, but one look at Bob's ID and it was all sorted."

"Wasn't I telling you out Bobby could do it ma?" Annie slyly slipped in the world, on a mission to prove you wrong. You killed your head up upon hearing it and looked first at Annie, confirming the plan was in motion and then at Bob who was harboring an uncharacteristic sour face.

"Don't call me that." He grumbled, the change in his demeanor immediately noticeable. "I've told you a billion times to neve call me that."

"Oh come on, I've got to have a nickname for my baby brother." She pressed, amusement oozing off of her.

"Call me Robby like everyone else." The man offered, taking a gulp of cool water.

"Special nickname." All she got in return was a deathly glare from her younger brother.

It was now you time to test the theory. You were a hundred percent sure that you were going to get the same reaction out of him. So, with the sweetest voice you could possibly muster up, you cleared your throat and called out to him.

"Bobby, could you came and try this for me please? Tell me how it tastes."

His ears perked the second the sentence left your mouth, and he was already moving to you. You were in complete disbelief, did he really respond to Bobby just when you said it? It had to be a lie, he would come close and tell you not to call him that, but it never happened.

"Sure darling." He came and stood right behind you, muscular arms resting on either side, trapping you in between himself and the counter. He opened his mouth, patiently waiting for you to feed him the sauce, and it was the hottest thing you had ever seen a man do. If his whole family wouldn't have been there, you would have long forgotten the sauce and had him right there on the counter. "Mhh, tastes real good."

At that moment Bob saw an opportunity and he seized it. A little but of sauce had tricked down you hand and was reating on you palm. He grabbed the hand from the back, lifted it close to his mouth and licked it off of you. If what he'd done previously hadn't made you lose your mind, this just made you absolutely feral.

"I need to talk to you. Come up to our room in a bit." He whispered in you ear, as you stood still dumbstruck by what had just happened. "I'm gonna go take a bath before dinner." He announced, and then disappeared.

Where he had gotten this sudden burst of confident from, you had no clue. But this confidence was making him insanely attractive to you.

"Pay up." Annie snapped you out of all the filthy thoughts you were having about your co-worker when she put he hand in front of you to handher the five doller you had bet. "Didn't I tell you this was going to happen?"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever." You grumbled, rolling your eyes while handing her the five dollers. "I'm gonna go and freshen up a bit if you don't mind. All this cooking has left me so so tired, I don't know how you do it Mary."

"Oh don't you worry about it dearie, you'll get the hang of it soon." She smiled, and you were off, almost sprinting up the stairs. Your heart couldn't take this gane of cat and mouse anymore, you were eager to find out what Bob was going to say to you.

Your confidence faltered the moment hkj reach the door, finally understanding the gravity of the situation. Cautiously, knocked on the floor before pushing it in to find Bob sitting on the bed, his back to you. He stood up once he heard the door open.

"Hi." He whispered. You could figure he was nervous right off the bat. So in attempt to ease the tension you made small talk.

"Hey, how was your day?"

"Pathetic." He blurted, shocking you.

"Everything okay? Did something happen at the venue?"

"Everything's not okay. Nothing is okay Sunny." Bob was looking right into your eyes as the words poured out of his mouth. Your heart was beating wildly, for a second you thought he might be able to hear you. You opened your mouth to ask him what happend, but he cut you off before you could even open you mouth.

"Nothing has been right for the past year Sunny. I used to be a normal guy before, I used to find people attractive, even went out on a couple dates but it all went out the window when I first saw you. You walked into the hard deck five minutes late with the biggest, brightest smile on your face and I swear, I haven't been the same from that moment. Form that night no one in the world could remotely come close to you. You're this wonderful, brilliant, beautiful, woman, the life of every party, everyone's favorite, everyone's best friend. You make anyone you meet feel like the center of the universe by the way you pay attention to them, you could talk up a tree if given the chance. And God it sacred the living shit out of me. I have never liked someone the way I have liked you, and once I saw you're this loud and exuberant, I started hiding from you, cause I never in my wildest dreams though you would go for someone like me. I hopeless and awkward and quiet and I'm so-"

"Shut up. Just shut up Bobby." Your legs moved on there own and crossed the room. You grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed hin right on the mouth. This time, he didn't hesitate. All the desperation, all the time you had missed pining over each other was poured into that one kiss. He had pulled you in so close, held you so tight, you didn't know where you ended and he started and you would have it any other way.

"I might not be good with words," You started, resting your head against his, gasping for air. "But I can kiss you dumb."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He whispered, pulling up back in, engulfing your mouth with his own. Both your bodies felt as if they were on fire, and it was the best feeling you had ever felt. You stayed like this for a few more moments, just kissing each other, making up for lost time. "Wait, so this means you like me back?"

"Yes you idiot." You giggled, giving him another soft kiss, as his shoulder relaxed.

"Thank God. But there's two things I want you to know Sunny."

"What is it?"

"Number one, I'm taking you out on a proper date tommrow. And I mean proper, fancy restaurant, flowers, the whole shebang." He counted, making your heart melt and your cheeks turn rosy.

"And number two?" You questioned.

"Now that I have you, there's no way I'm letting you go."

Taglist:

@4margaritasalex @futurecorps3 @thisisgracetrying @clairejpg @fangirlinc @igotmajordaddyissues @m3laniehearts @mayafatimakhan @starkleila @itscheybaby-blog @spookycupcakepirate @dcamelia @americaa @paulina1998 @lgg5989 @datingbtr @thatchickwiththecamera @luckyladycreator2 @kanevill @dempy @saramaple @hockeyboysarehot @redhoodedtoad @nobody7102 @alexwinchester23 @unstablecaffeinatedmind @teti-menchon0604 @my-name-is-baby @goth-detectives @ae-aeitch @articel1967 @fubbbubb @xoxabs88xox @msfirth @arriiieess @marispunk @papapappapapapa @daffodildelight @stars4birdie @lovinhim @kvmitchell @nana-love-bugzzz

@rianavi @samzjiyuu @flores-and-sunshine @greenivygarden @theonlyaphrodite @keira-kaz2y5 @jonnybernthalslover @one17

[vintagelilies]

Anybody know a good way to get cigarette smell out of car interior? I’ve had this car for almost a month now but nothing I’ve tried so far has worked :(

[sturnioz]

fratboy!chris joins shy!reader for breakfast.

you've always been someone who thrives on routines, even when you're not in the comfort of your own home, and it's no different at the frat house.

every morning, you wake up before chris, carefully peeling yourself out of bed to not disturb him—not that it matters much, he's a heavy sleeper, especially after a night spent drowning his system in alcohol and drugs.

slipping into his bathroom, you quietly shower, letting the hot water wash away any lingering grogginess and activities from last night. once you've freshened up, you change into your spare clothes—the ones you keep stashed at the bottom of his drawer for mornings like this before leaving his room.

the house is always eerily quiet at this hour, apart from the occasional snore from behind closed doors and any early bird frat brothers who workout in the mornings to make themselves feel better from the night before.

you pad downstairs into the kitchen, your stomach already grumbling at the thought of breakfast, but when you open the fridge and pantry, you're met with disappointment.

the fridge is almost empty—a few leftover takeout containers, a suspicious looking carton of eggs, tupperware filled with meal preps, and a half bottle of orange juice that looks like it contains more pulp than liquid.

the pantry isn't much better either, just a few random snacks and boxes of opened cereal with more air than food inside.

you sigh softly, the corners of your lips tugging into a pout as you slowly close the pantry door, accepting the fact that you'll have to venture elsewhere for a filling breakfast.

you make your way back upstairs to chris' room, your body moving on autopilot as your mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of where to go. once inside, you begin your search for your shoes, purse, and a hoodie, trying your best to move quietly—but failing miserably.

a misplaced step sends a creak through the floorboards, and the sound of your rifling through your things is apparently loud enough to stir chris from his sleep as a loud groan escapes from the tangled mess of sheets on the bed.

he shifts beneath the covers, his messy hair poking out first, followed by the heavy scowl that forms as he squints at your with barely open eyes.

"the fuck you doin'?" he grumbles tiredly, his voice rough with sleep and irritation.

you glance over briefly, your hands tugging the hoodie over your head. "i'm going to get breakfast," you tell him quietly as you sit on the edge of the bed to slip on your left shoe, tightening the laces and tying them neatly as if his glare isn't burning a hole into the side of your face.

chris pops himself up slightly on one elbow and grabs his phone off the nightstand, squinting at the screen before scoffing. "at 7am? go fuckin' eat toast or somethin', kid."

"there's nothing here, though..." you admit softly, turning your head to look at him, your lips frowning. "it's empty."

"empty," chris echoes you with another scoff, prodding his tongue against his cheek and running a hand through his messy hair as he sits up a little straighter. "where you gonna go then?"

you don't answer right away, standing from the bed as you mentally cycle through your favourite breakfast spots. after a moment, you tell him the place, grabbing your purse and phone from the desk to shove them into your hoodie's pockets.

"whats that?" chris asks bluntly, but you notice a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"it's a breakfast diner. they make really good food, i go there all the time," you explain to him with a grin, the thought of finally getting to eat at one of your favourite spots making you feel excited and hungrier. but your grin falters as you watch chris push himself out of bed, his movements sluggish. you tilt your head to the side, "what are you doing?"

"gettin' breakfast," he replies matter-of-factly, giving you a look as if the answer should've been obvious. he sees the way you're staring at him, wide-eyed and disbelieving. "what? said it yourself, kid. it's empty, 'n i'm hungry. what d'you expect me to do? just—just sit here 'n starve?"

"so.. you're coming with me?" you ask, still processing the idea of chris willingly tagging alone.

chris deadpans, his expression flat. "no. m'gonna go ask the first person i see outside if they'll invite me in for breakfast—what d'you think, kid? shit.."

you blink at him, watching as he heads to the bathroom, muttering something under his breath as he shakes his head and closes the door behind himself.

you sit back down on the bed, still a little stunned by the fact that chris is actually joining you. this wasn't typical of him... but you also don't want to possibly ruin this by questioning him so much.

your feet sway idly back and forth over the edge of the bed as you wait, and eventually, chris emerges from the bathroom, freshly showered and dressed, his damp hair sticking to his forehead. he doesn't say much, just grabs his own hoodie and phone before giving you a quick, expectant glance.

"well? you movin' or what?"

it doesn't take long for you to pull into the small parking lot of the breakfast diner, and when you step inside the building, you let out a quiet breath of relief. it's peaceful, exactly how you like it—only three or four tables are occupied, each with one or two people, their quiet conversations blending with the soft hum of the smoothie machines and coffee machines.

you lead the way toward a table near the window where the sunlight streams in and chris follows behind you, plopping himself down into the chair with a deep, tired exhale. he grabs a menu from the table and starts flipping through it, the paper pages crinkling loudly as his fingers move too quickly.

you take your time to sit down, adjusting your hoodie as you settle into your seat. a warm smile spreads across your face as you catch the eye of one of the workers standing by the smoothie machine, and she waves back, her expression bright and familiar—she's seen you here plenty of times before.

the moment of quiet is broken by chris' voice, unimpressed. "i don't like anythin'."

you blink, turning your attention to him with a furrowed brow. he's frowning at the menu, his lips curled in mild disgust as his finger taps against one of the items.

"the fuck is an açaí bowl?" the way he says it, exaggerated and clumsy, makes it clear he has absolutely no idea what is actually is.

"açaí," you correct him gently, pronouncing it properly with a shy smile.

his head darts up, his eyes narrowing into a glare as he catches the small, amused curve of your lips. "what?"

"nothing," you murmur, suppressing the urge to giggle as you glance back at your own menu, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward again when you hear him scoff under his breath, muttering something about 'fancy shit' and 'colourful shit'.

after a few more moments, a waitress approaches, pen and notepad in hand. she greets you both with a friendly smile, already scribbling your usual order down before you even mutter a word. then, her gaze shifts to chris, asking him for his order.

he orders pancakes and eggs with a polite smile for the worker, and she nods as she jots it down, promising it wont take long as she disappears. the second she does, chris' polite smile drops as he rubs at his eyes tiredly, slinking further down into his chair.

the food arrives minutes later, and the table fills with the smell of fresh pancakes, syrup and eggs. you both thank the waitress, and chris grabs his fork, ready to dig into his breakfast, but not before pausing to shoot your bowl a suspicious glance.

"what the fuck is that?" he asks, pointing his fork at your açaí bowl like it personally offended him.

"it's the açaí," you say, positioning it in front of you. the bowl is bright and colourful, topped with fresh blueberries, granola, and a drizzle of honey. "it's really yummy."

chris leans forward slightly to get a closer look. "that's not breakfast, kid. that's dessert in a fuckin' bowl."

you giggle softly, scooping up a bite with your spoon. "wanna try it?"

chris recoils. "no."

"it's just berries and granola.. i promise it's good." you try to coax him, holding your spoon out toward him.

"no." he refuses again, more firmly this time. to make his point, he shoves a forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, chewing pointedly as if to prove something. he's already moving on to cutting his pancakes into perfect little squares, each piece precisely the same size.

you smile to yourself, bringing the spoon to your mouth for a bite and humming softly in delight. chris doesn't say anything else to you, but the way he occasionally glances at your bowl while eating his own breakfast makes you wonder if he's just a little curious—but you know he'd never admit it.

you let the moment pass, focussing on your breakfast as chris devours his. he continues cutting his pancakes into perfect little squares, each one soaked in just the right amount of syrup—not too much, not too little. it's almost hypnotic to watch him, and before you can stop yourself, you speak up.

"do you always eat like that?" you ask quietly, your tone laced with curiosity.

chris glances up at you mid-chew, one eyebrow raised. "what?"

you gesture toward his plate with your spoon, "you're cutting your pancakes into little squares—perfect ones. they're so... neat."

chris chews slowly, staring at you as he debates whether to respond or not. finally, he swallows. "what? y'want me to just rip it apart like a fuckin' animal or somethin'?"

"no, it's just..." you hesitate, suddenly aware of how much harder it is to speak under his sharp gaze. "i didn't expect it from you."

he leans back in his chair at that, his fork now dangling lazily between his fingers as his expression shifts to something defensive. "what exactly did you expect?"

you freeze, his question putting you directly on the spot, "i... don't know."

chris doesn't say anything, and the silence feels heavier. you hate how his attention lingers on you, his eyes locked as if he's studying you. you focus on swirling your spoon around the bowl instead, refusing to look up again.

but when you finally risk a glance, you notice something unusual—he seems to be deep in thought, his eyebrows twitching slightly, his jaw shifting as if he's thinking something over.

and before you could even consider questioning him, he mutters. "a'ight," he drops his fork to his plate. "give me a bite."

you blink in surprise, "wait, really?" you point toward your bowl, looking at him incredulously. "of this?"

"yeah—whatever," he huffs, rubbing the back of his neck like he's already regretting his decision. "just.. give me it."

trying not to let your excitement show, you keep your face as neutral as possible as you scoop a generous bite onto the spoon. you hold it out toward him, but chris immediately shoots you a look, his expression twisting in offence as trying to feed him.

you let him take the spoon from your hand, and he eyes it warily before taking it. he chews slowly, leaning back in his chair as he processes the taste and texture. his expression is unreadable, his face giving away nothing as you watch him intently, waiting for some kind of reaction.

after what feels like forever, chris swallows, his tongue running over his teeth as he considers the flavour.

"s'fine." he says with a dismissive shrug, holding the spoon out for you to take it back.

"just fine?" you ask him quietly, trying not to let his reaction dampen your mood.

"yeah. fine," he picks up his fork, barely looking at you as he takes a bite of his pancake pieces. "s'not gonna change my fuckin' life or anythin', kid."

but as he reaches for another pancake piece, you catch it—the faintest twitch of his lips, a barely there smirk that he doesn't even realise he's showing. it's quick, gone before you can fully process it, but it's enough to make your chest feel warm.

you don't push it, though. you know better than to call him out.

instead, you quietly return to your own breakfast, silence settling between you both again, but a small idea pops into your head after a few more bites. you scoop a few blueberries from your bowl and lean forward slightly, carefully placing them on the clean, empty space of chris' plate.

you know he likes blueberries—you've seen him eat them before in the frat house multiple times. so, deep down, you really thought he would like your breakfast. maybe it was everything else in with it that he didn't like.

at first, chris doesn't seem to notice, but after a moment, his eyes flit to the blueberries, and his movements slow down.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, staying quiet as he stares at the fruit. there's a flicker of hesitation, a wrinkle of his brow, using his fork to push it around his plate mindlessly before he carefully pushes his fork into it and popping it into his mouth. you lean over again, adding a couple more blueberries to the same spot on his place, and this time, chris notices.

his eyes flick to you, narrowing slightly. "why are you doin' that?"

you don't respond, nor do you meet his gaze, and chris just stares at you. but eventually, he exhales slowly and looks back down at his plate. slowly, he begins eating the blueberries you've given him one by one.

you feel a small wave of satisfaction wash over you as you watch the fruit disappear. he doesn't complain again, and he doesn't make any snide comments or give you odd looks.

you know it's as close to a 'thank you' as you're ever going to get from chris.

divider credits. @issysh3ll

© STURNIOZ

[gyuuberryy]

trapped

pairing: hotel owner!heeseung x reader, slight sunoo x reader

genre: reincarnation au, supernatural themes, horror

synopsis: a road trip with your parents gone wrong lands you at a mysterious mansion in the middle of nowhere. after it turns out to be a hotel, your parents decide to stop over. everything about this place screams deja vu to you which is strange because you've never even heard about it. the hotel was not the only weird thing though, its handsome yet mysterious owner who looked like he stepped out of the 1920s is way too enthusiastic about your stay. every encounter with him leaves you feeling weirded out yet enamoured. but he is not who you think he seems to be. he will be the one to decide the duration of your stay here and it looks like it will not be ending anytime soon.

warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION! horror themes, suggestive content, slight yandere themes, manipulation, possessive!hee, murder, blood, lmk if i missed anything

note: i just came back from a party and my legs are killingg me so im half awake as i post this BUTTT it's finally out!! i love this plot so much omg. i think the ending could've been written better but eh. enjoyy and lemme know what you think of it!

word count: 24.3k

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

the endless bickering between your parents filled the car like white noise. you were used to it by now—too used to it—but today, it grated on your nerves more than usual. you pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, watching the dark trees rush by, a blurry mix of black and grey.

"well, if you hadn’t taken that ridiculous detour, we wouldn’t have wasted half the day!" your mom snapped, her voice rising with every syllable.

your dad clenched the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles turning white. "oh, right, because everything’s my fault! you’re the one who insisted we take this ‘bonding trip’ in the first place."

you sighed. there it was, that phrase again: bonding trip. a doomed effort to salvage what was left of your parents’ relationship before you left for your two-year exchange program. your mom had decided that spending time together, crammed in a car for hours on end, would somehow solve years of unresolved issues.

"maybe if you actually listened to me for once, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" your mom retorted, arms crossed, glaring at your dad from the passenger seat.

you resisted the urge to groan out loud and instead slumped back in your seat. what was the point? nothing ever changed between them. you glanced down at your phone; no service, of course. this road trip to the ‘resort’ was supposed to be a goodbye vacation before you headed overseas, but the way things were going, you were counting the hours until it was over.

the car began to slow down as your dad pulled into a shabby gas station. it wasn’t much—a couple of pumps under flickering neon lights and a small convenience store that looked like it hadn’t been updated since the early 2000s.

“we’re stopping here?” your mom said, exasperated. “this place looks like it’s one step away from falling apart.”

“we need gas and food. you can’t survive on passive-aggressive comments alone,” your dad muttered, turning the car off and stepping out.

you stifled a laugh but quickly hid it when your mom shot you a look. without a word, you pushed the door open, desperate for a break from their constant bickering. you could feel their voices rising behind you as you made your way towards the store, the bell over the door jingling weakly as you stepped inside.

the guy behind the counter looked about your age, his face illuminated by the dull glow of a hanging light. his disinterested gaze shifted from the magazine he was reading to you as you approached. the store smelled like stale chips and cheap air freshener, a layer of dust coating the shelves.

“hey,” you greeted, leaning against the counter, “do you know if there are any motels up ahead?”

the guy looked up, raising an eyebrow as if the question itself was a bother. he glanced at the darkening sky outside and then back at you. "motels? there’s a town maybe three or four hours ahead. not much else between here and there, though."

you frowned. “three or four hours?” your stomach twisted. that would mean driving into the night—and with your parents still at each other’s throats, the idea didn’t sit well with you.

“yeah,” he shrugged, “but it’s getting late. if i were you, i’d try to get there quick. you don’t wanna be out here after dark.”

his tone sent a shiver down your spine, but you nodded anyway, brushing it off. you grabbed a couple of snacks and paid quickly, eager to get out of the unsettling atmosphere of the store.

outside, the bickering had not only continued, but it had escalated. your mom was leaning against the car with her arms crossed, while your dad angrily fumbled with the gas pump.

“what do you mean it’s not taking the card?” your mom was saying, her voice sharp with irritation.

“i don’t know! maybe it’s your stupid card,” your dad shot back, slamming the pump back into its holder.

you rolled your eyes so hard it almost hurt. wordlessly, you tossed the snacks into the backseat and climbed in, shutting the door with a little more force than necessary. you didn’t want to deal with their drama anymore. after a few more minutes of back-and-forth arguing, they finally got the gas pump working, and soon, you were back on the road.

the silence in the car was thick, broken only by the occasional sigh or muttered insult from the front seat. you kept your gaze fixed on the road ahead, trying to tune it all out, when suddenly the car began to sputter.

your dad’s face tightened as the car jerked, the dashboard lights flickering. “what the—?”

with a final shudder, the car rolled to a stop, dead on the side of a long, deserted road. darkness had fully settled around you, swallowing the car in a sea of black. you could barely make out the outline of the trees surrounding you, their twisted branches reaching up like claws against the sky.

“great,” your mom groaned, massaging her temples. “just perfect.”

your dad cursed under his breath and got out to pop the hood, leaving you and your mom in the eerie silence of the car. you sighed, reluctantly stepping out to help. you had no idea what you were doing, but sitting in the car doing nothing felt worse.

as you peered under the hood with your dad, who was muttering to himself as he checked the engine, your mom’s voice suddenly cut through the night air.

“look!” she said, her voice urgent. “there—do you see those lights?”

you looked up, squinting into the distance. sure enough, faint lights were flickering between the trees far ahead, barely visible but unmistakable.

a chill ran down your spine. you’d been looking at the gps not too long ago, and there hadn’t been any signs of life for miles. no towns. no houses. nothing.

“something’s not right,” you muttered, turning toward your dad. “there was nothing out here when i checked earlier.”

your dad waved you off, closing the hood with a loud bang. “you’re just tired. we’ll check it out. maybe there’s a house or something up ahead.”

your mom was already back in the car, apparently unconcerned. you stood there for a moment, staring at the mysterious lights that flickered in the distance. something about them felt… off, but as usual, no one was listening to you. with a groan of frustration, you climbed back into the car, your nerves tingling with unease.

the engine sputtered weakly to life once again, and as your dad drove toward the lights, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was waiting for you up ahead wasn’t what you thought it was.

the car stuttered one last time before it gave up entirely, coming to a dead stop right in front of the lights. you blinked, heart racing as you took in the sight before you.

a mansion—no, the mansion—rose out of the darkness like something from an old gothic novel. the sprawling, ivy-clad structure stretched far beyond what you could make out in the dim light, its towers stabbing into the sky. faded stone gargoyles leered down from the corners of the building, their grim faces illuminated by the faint, flickering lamps that lined the driveway. the mansion seemed alive, ancient, its very presence looming over you like a dark shadow. it was eerily silent, save for the wind that whistled through the trees surrounding it.

for a second, you couldn’t breathe.

you swallowed hard. “this can’t be real.”

your dad got out of the car first, slamming the door shut with a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “we’ll figure out the car in the morning,” he grumbled. “we don’t have a choice. let’s see if they’ll let us stay.”

your mom, already out of the car and standing beside him, nodded in agreement. she didn’t even look fazed, just happy to be somewhere with lights and (hopefully) a bed. “come on, it’s late,” she said, like she hadn’t noticed the eerie silence hanging in the air or the fact that this place seemed plucked out of another century.

“are you serious?” you muttered under your breath, standing frozen next to the car. “this place looks like a horror movie set.”

your dad gave you a weary look. “we’re not staying in the car, that’s for sure. stop being dramatic and come on. it’s just a mansion.”

just a mansion? you wanted to scream. there was no way this was a normal place—no way a mansion this large, this old, could have gone unnoticed on the gps. but the protests died in your throat when you realised neither of them cared. like always, they were too focused on practicalities to notice the screaming red flags around them.

with a sigh, you unwillingly followed them up the cracked stone steps that led to the massive, elaborately carved front doors. every footstep echoed, the wind seeming to still as you approached the entrance. you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, like a pair of invisible eyes followed your every movement.

your dad pressed the doorbell—a soft chime rang out, sounding way too delicate for a place like this. you couldn’t help but wince, your nerves on edge. the silence that followed stretched on, thick and suffocating. it felt as though the mansion itself was holding its breath, waiting.

then, slowly, the door creaked open.

a young man stood in the doorway, his face illuminated by the warm glow of a chandelier behind him. his expression was neutral, almost blank, as if he had opened the door purely out of obligation. he was dressed impeccably, a sharp black tuxedo that seemed far too formal for a place like this—or maybe it was just perfect for this kind of mansion. either way, it unnerved you.

his eyes swept over your parents first, taking in their travel-worn appearance with little interest. “hello?” your dad started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “we, uh… we had some car trouble just outside. we were hoping… maybe you could help us?”

for a moment, the man—sunoo, as you’d later learn—didn’t say anything. he simply stood there, watching your parents with a blank face, like he was waiting for them to say something more interesting. his eyes flicked up to yours, and the world seemed to tilt slightly as his gaze met yours.

it was only for a second—just a fleeting moment—but something shifted in his expression. his cold, neutral stare melted into something… darker, more intrigued. a spark of something flashed in his eyes before his face returned to its impassive mask. the brief change left you rattled, a chill creeping up your spine.

your mom jumped in to break the awkward silence, her voice bright despite the situation. “yes, we’ve been driving for hours, and when our car broke down, we were hoping to find a place to stay. is this…” she glanced up at the looming mansion, almost sheepishly. “is this a hotel?”

there was a brief pause, and then, without warning, sunoo’s face split into the widest, most overenthusiastic grin you’d ever seen. it was such a drastic change from his earlier demeanour that it made your skin crawl. “oh, of course! you’ve come to the right place. this is a hotel, and you’re more than welcome to stay.” he extended an arm, gesturing grandly to the vast, dimly lit entryway behind him. “we have plenty of rooms available!”

your dad exhaled in relief, completely missing the oddity of sunoo’s exaggerated reaction. “thank god. you’re a lifesaver.”

you couldn’t stop staring at sunoo, watching the way his smile stretched just a little too wide, the way his eyes gleamed with something that wasn’t quite right. “this is a hotel?” you asked, voice filled with scepticism. “i didn’t see anything about it on the gps.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked back to you, and the unsettling smile never left his face. “oh? how strange. we’ve been here for a long time… surely, you must have heard about it.”

“no,” you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. “i’m sure. there was nothing around here.”

just as you were about to explain further, he smoothly cut you off with a bright, “well, no matter! you’re here now, and that’s what counts. come, come! let’s not waste any more time standing out in the cold.”

he practically ushered your parents through the doorway, his sudden energy making you want to take a step back. your dad muttered a quick “thank you” and walked right inside, your mom following closely behind. neither of them seemed to notice the way sunoo’s cheerful demeanour seemed… off.

you, however, couldn’t ignore the gnawing discomfort twisting in your gut. every instinct screamed at you to leave, to drag your parents back to the car, but the reality of your situation left you with little choice. sighing in frustration, you reluctantly followed them into the mansion.

the door shut behind you with an ominous thud that echoed through the long hallway, and the heavy weight of the mansion seemed to settle around you. you felt trapped, as if stepping into this place had sealed your fate.

as sunoo led your parents through the dimly lit entry hall, you lagged behind, your skin prickling with unease. you leaned toward your mom, lowering your voice to a whisper. “this is creepy. something’s not right about this place.”

she barely spared you a glance. “you’re being paranoid. it’s just an old mansion.”

“an old mansion that no one’s ever heard of? that wasn’t on the map? you didn’t see the way that guy was acting. he’s way too happy about us being stranded here.”

your dad huffed, clearly having reached the end of his patience. “it’s a hotel. we need a place to stay, and we don’t have any other options. you can sleep in the car if you’re that worried.”

you rolled your eyes, biting back the rest of your protests. of course, they wouldn’t listen. they never did. they couldn’t see the danger right in front of them.

as you followed your parents deeper into the mansion, the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. the walls seemed to close in around you, and every footstep echoed like a warning.

something was wrong here. you knew it. you could feel it in your bones.

sunoo led your parents away, gesturing toward a desk where they could check in. you lingered behind, reluctant to follow them. the dimly lit hallway stretched before you, lined with dark wood panelling and framed with ornate carvings. despite the grandeur of the place, there was an eerie stillness that seemed to swallow every sound. no humming of guests, no distant chatter, no echoes of footsteps on marble floors—just a vast, consuming silence.

you slowly started walking, glancing around, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling crawling up your spine. for a hotel this size, it should have been bustling with activity. yet, there was no one. not a single person walking through the hallways, no staff except sunoo at the entrance. just the soft padding of your own footsteps, echoing like whispers through the still air.

as you turned a corner, your eyes landed on a giant painting mounted on the wall. you stopped in your tracks, something about it tugging at your mind. the painting depicted a dark, stormy landscape—a crumbling stone mansion, much like the one you stood in now, surrounded by leafless trees that seemed to reach out toward it like skeletal hands. the sky above was swirling with ominous clouds, and a full moon cast a pale, ghostly glow on the scene.

but it wasn’t just the image itself that made your skin crawl—it was the strange feeling of familiarity. you couldn’t shake the sensation that you’d seen this before, as though it was pulled from the corners of a forgotten memory. a knot formed in your chest as you stared, lost in thought. where have you seen this before?

suddenly, a voice, smooth as silk, broke through your thoughts.

“interesting, isn’t it?”

you jumped, your heart leaping into your throat as you spun around. standing behind you was a man, and not just any man—he was stunningly handsome. his dark hair was neatly styled, framing a face that could’ve been carved from marble. his suit, a luxurious black ensemble that fit him perfectly, was undeniably expensive. 

but what struck you most were his eyes—wide and dark, locked on yours with an intensity that sent a flush of heat creeping up your neck.

“i'm sorry,” he broke out into a soft laugh as he took a step back. “i didn’t mean to scare you.”

his voice was smooth, almost hypnotic, but he paused mid-sentence when his gaze landed squarely on your face. his eyes seemed to freeze there, widening slightly as if he were studying every detail. a look of surprise, or maybe recognition, flashed across his face for just a moment before he quickly composed himself. but the intensity in his stare remained, his eyes never leaving yours.

you felt a wave of flustered heat rise to your cheeks under his gaze. he wasn’t just looking at you—he was seeing you, like you were the only person in the world. the weight of his attention made you feel strangely vulnerable, your pulse quickening in response.

you cleared your throat, trying to shake off the sudden rush of nerves. “uh… it’s fine,” you mumbled. “you just startled me.”

he blinked, as if snapping out of whatever trance had held him. a slow, charming smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “i’m heeseung,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “the owner of this mansion.”

“the owner?” you echoed, taken aback. “wow. i… i wasn’t expecting to meet the owner so soon.”

he smiled again, a soft, enigmatic grin that sent another wave of unease down your spine. “i like to keep close to my guests. this place… it’s very special to me.”

you tried to return his smile but faltered slightly, still unsettled by how intently he was watching you. “i’m—” you began, but before you could introduce yourself, your parents’ voices echoed down the hall.

“there you are!” your dad called, striding over to where you stood with heeseung. your mom followed closely behind, oblivious to the awkward tension in the air. “we were just getting checked in.”

you barely had time to react before your dad turned to heeseung, giving him a polite nod. “this is the owner of the mansion,” you quickly explained, introducing him. “heeseung.”

your parents seemed relieved to meet someone in charge, especially after the ordeal with the car. “oh, thank you so much for accommodating us on such short notice,” your mom said with a grateful smile. “our car broke down just outside, and we didn’t know what else to do.”

you shot a glance at your parents, your eyes widening in warning. why are they telling him that? you thought in frustration. it wasn’t exactly the kind of information you wanted to share so freely—especially not in a place like this, with a stranger who gave off such unsettling vibes.

heeseung’s smile widened at your parents’ words, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far too pleased to hear about your vulnerability. “no need to worry,” he said smoothly, his gaze briefly flicking back to you before focusing on your parents. “i’ll make sure your car is taken care of. i’ll have it sent for repairs tonight.”

“really?” your dad sounded relieved. “that’s incredibly generous. thank you.”

heeseung waved a hand dismissively. “it’s no trouble at all. you’re my guests now.” he paused, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. “i’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

you swallowed hard, fighting back the gnawing sense of dread as you all started heading down the hallway. the mansion seemed to stretch on forever, with countless doors and long, winding corridors. despite the size, heeseung explained that most rooms were booked, which meant you would be in a room far from your parents.

your room was tucked away in one of the mansion’s oldest wings, a beautifully vintage suite with antique furniture and intricate wallpaper. the four-poster bed was draped in elegant, embroidered sheets, and the room was bathed in the warm, golden glow of a chandelier. it was charming, old-fashioned, and just a little too perfect. the type of room that might seem cosy under normal circumstances but felt unnervingly isolated in this mansion.

after settling in, you reached for your phone, hoping to check for updates on the car—or anything, really—but your frown deepened when you realised there were no charging ports in the room. none at all. you glanced around, frustrated, searching for a way to charge your phone, but there was nothing modern about this place. to make matters worse, your phone had no cell reception. it was like the mansion existed in its own bubble, cut off from the rest of the world.

letting out an exasperated sigh, you tossed your phone onto the nightstand. looks like you’d have to borrow your dad’s power bank later. you were exhausted, but the nagging feeling of unease wouldn’t let you relax. after changing into your nightwear, you slipped under the heavy, ornate blankets, hoping that sleep would take over soon.

but as you lay in bed, staring up at the dark canopy above, you couldn’t help but feel that something—someone—was watching you.

you lay in bed, the warmth of the heavy blankets doing little to ease the chill that seemed to settle deep in your bones. the eerie silence stretched on, the only sound the faint rustling of the curtains as a gentle breeze swept in from the cracked window. you hadn't noticed it was open before.

rolling onto your side, you glanced at your phone again. still no reception. it felt like you were completely cut off from the world, alone in this strange, sprawling mansion with no way to communicate with the outside. the feeling gnawed at you, a strange mix of frustration and unease swirling in your chest.

the longer you lay there, the more restless you became. every creak of the floorboards, every shift of the wind seemed to amplify the unsettling atmosphere around you. the chandelier overhead swayed gently, casting shifting shadows across the walls. you closed your eyes, trying to focus on your breathing, telling yourself it was just a normal hotel. nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary—just a quirky, old-fashioned place.

but the image of heeseung’s face kept creeping into your mind. the way his gaze lingered on you, intense and unreadable, like he was seeing something in you that no one else did. something about him felt off, not just unsettling but almost too perfect, too polished, as if he didn’t quite belong in a place like this.

eventually, the exhaustion started to pull you toward sleep. just as your mind began to blur at the edges, a soft sound reached your ears. a whisper. faint but unmistakable. you bolted upright in bed, eyes wide, heart hammering in your chest as you strained to hear.

at first, you thought it was the wind. but no, it wasn’t coming from outside—it was closer, much closer. the sound seemed to echo from just beyond your door, like soft voices carrying on a conversation, too low for you to make out the words. your skin prickled with unease.

you pushed back the blankets and slipped out of bed, your bare feet hitting the cold floor. the mansion felt even more imposing in the darkness, the once quaint vintage charm now taking on a more sinister tone. stepping cautiously, you moved toward the door, pressing your ear against it, listening.

nothing.

the whispering had stopped.

you hesitated for a moment, hand hovering over the doorknob, debating whether you should open it. it’s just your imagination, you told yourself. you’re tired. you're in a creepy place. it’s normal to feel a little on edge.

but your curiosity—and the nagging sense of something being very wrong—won out. slowly, you turned the knob, the door creaking as it swung open into the dark hallway. the air was colder out here, carrying a faint, almost imperceptible scent of something sweet—like roses that had been left too long in the vase, just starting to wilt.

the hallway stretched out in both directions, the same eerie silence blanketing the mansion. no voices, no footsteps. nothing. but your eyes caught on something—the flickering light at the far end of the hall. the soft glow of a single candle, perched on a small table near one of the old-fashioned sitting areas.

you frowned. that candle hadn’t been lit earlier.

carefully, you padded down the hallway toward the light. as you got closer, you noticed something strange—the candle’s flame wasn’t moving. it stayed perfectly still, not even flickering despite the faint breeze you felt coming from the windows. it was almost like it wasn’t real.

just as you were about to reach it, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

you gasped, taking a step back, but quickly realised who it was.

heeseung stood before you, his tall frame casting a long shadow across the hallway. his suit was immaculate as before, not a single wrinkle out of place, and his expression was calm—too calm. he smiled softly, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, though it sent a shiver down your spine.

you hesitated, your mind racing with questions. why was he here? why wasn’t there anyone else around? but instead, you forced a tight smile, trying to appear composed. “yeah, i guess… this place is just a little unsettling.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his gaze once again holding that unnerving intensity. “you’re not the first to say that. old places like this tend to… hold onto things. memories. feelings.” his words hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken meaning.

you swallowed, the unease bubbling up again. “it’s just… weird that there’s no one else around. for such a big hotel, it’s completely empty.”

heeseung’s smile widened, but there was something off about it. “most guests prefer the quiet. it allows them to reflect, to... feel things they’ve long forgotten.”

there it was again—that cryptic, almost too-perfect way of speaking. it made your skin crawl.

“well,” you said, your voice a little shakier than you intended, “i think i’ll head back to my room now. it’s late.”

as you turned to leave, heeseung reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. the contact sent a jolt through you, though his touch was oddly cold. you froze, glancing back at him.

“there’s no need to be afraid,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “you’re safe here. i’ll make sure of it.”

the way he said those words—like a promise—sent another shiver down your spine. you forced a nod, pulling your arm away gently and stepping back. “thanks,” you mumbled, backing away from him.

heeseung watched you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable before he finally stepped aside, allowing you to retreat to your room.

once you were safely inside, you shut the door firmly behind you, heart still pounding in your chest. the mansion was far too quiet again, but this time it felt suffocating. something wasn’t right here, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could ignore the sinking feeling in your gut.

you climbed back into bed, but sleep didn’t come easily. every sound, every shadow seemed to hold something sinister. and you couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere, in this sprawling, empty mansion, heeseung was watching. waiting.

the next morning, you were roused from sleep by a soft knock at your door. groggy and still heavy with sleep, you sat up, rubbing your eyes as the knocking continued, more insistent this time.

“coming,” you mumbled, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. you padded across the room, and when you opened the door, you found your mom standing there, a tired smile on her face.

“good morning, honey. they’ve called us for breakfast downstairs,” she said, her voice chipper despite the early hour. “you should hurry and get ready. we don’t want to be late.”

you nodded, stifling a yawn. “okay, i’ll be down in a minute.”

she gave you a small smile and headed back down the hallway. you shut the door and took a moment to shake off the lingering unease from the night before. the encounter with heeseung had left a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the mansion’s eerie stillness hadn’t done much to help. but this morning was different, right? it was daylight now, and everything felt less intimidating in the warm morning light streaming through the window.

you quickly got dressed, choosing something comfortable yet presentable. once you were ready, you stepped out into the hallway, glancing left and right. your mom hadn’t mentioned where the dining hall was, and you realised you had no idea how to find it. the mansion’s labyrinthine corridors all looked the same—long stretches of dark wood panelling and ornate furniture that seemed to belong to a different century.

with a sigh, you started walking, hoping you’d stumble upon it. as you rounded a corner, you nearly bumped into someone. you gasped, pulling back just in time, and looked up to find heeseung standing before you, a charming smile on his face.

“good morning,” he said, his voice smooth and soft. “i see you’re trying to find your way to breakfast?”

you nodded, trying to keep your tone neutral. “yeah, i’m not sure where the dining hall is.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly. “no problem. i’m heading there myself. we can go together.”

you hesitated for a moment but nodded, falling into step beside him as he led the way. the hallway felt even longer with him by your side, his presence both unsettling and magnetic. he walked with an easy grace, like he belonged in a place like this, and yet something about him still made your skin prickle with unease.

“so,” he began after a few moments of silence, “you mentioned last night that you’re on a family vacation? that sounds lovely.”

you nodded, keeping your answers short. “yeah, just a road trip before i leave for university.”

“ah, university. where are you headed?”

“exchange program. i’ll be gone for two years,” you answered curtly, trying not to give too much away.

heeseung hummed thoughtfully. “that’s quite a long time. your parents must be proud—and a bit sad, i imagine.”

you shrugged, glancing away. “i guess.”

he let the silence stretch for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, studying you in that same intense way he had the night before. it was like he was trying to figure you out, peel back layers you didn’t even know you had. you kept your gaze forward, determined not to let him get under your skin.

finally, you reached the dining hall. heeseung pushed open the large double doors, and you stepped inside, immediately taking in the scene. the room was vast, grand in an old-world kind of way, with high ceilings and walls lined with towering windows draped in heavy velvet curtains. a long dining table dominated the centre of the room, stretching almost the entire length of the hall. the table was covered with a pristine white cloth, and an array of silverware was laid out with meticulous precision.

but what struck you most was how empty it was.

apart from your parents, who sat at one end of the long table, there was no one else. the chairs were all perfectly arranged, as if waiting for guests who had yet to arrive. but the eerie thing was, it felt like no one would arrive. the silence in the room only amplified the emptiness.

you frowned, glancing over at heeseung as he escorted you to the table. “where is everyone?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “this place is huge, but... it’s like there’s no one else here.”

heeseung’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something behind his eyes—something almost too quick to catch. “most of our guests prefer to have breakfast very early,” he explained smoothly. “they’re probably already off enjoying the grounds or have checked out. i typically have my breakfast after the guests. but since you’re a bit late this morning, i thought it would be nice to join you.”

you stared at him for a moment, trying to read between the lines of his carefully chosen words. it didn’t quite add up. the mansion had felt empty from the moment you’d arrived, and now, seeing this massive dining hall with only your family in it, that feeling only intensified. still, you didn’t press further. instead, you forced a small smile and nodded, going along with his explanation for now.

your parents, seemingly unaware of the strange atmosphere, smiled as you took a seat next to them. “this place is incredible, isn’t it?” your mom said, her eyes sparkling as she looked around the room. “i can’t believe how lucky we were to find it.”

you tried to match her enthusiasm, but something about this whole situation still felt off. the room, the empty table, heeseung’s unsettling politeness—it all gnawed at the back of your mind, a whisper of warning you couldn’t quite shake.

breakfast was laid out in a lavish spread, far more than the three of you could possibly eat. there were plates of fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and other delicacies you couldn’t even name. everything was prepared with a level of care and detail that felt almost excessive. you glanced at heeseung, who sat at the head of the table, watching your family with that same, unreadable smile.

he gestured toward the food. “please, help yourselves. i had the chef prepare a little bit of everything.”

your dad wasted no time digging in, clearly impressed by the spread. your mom followed suit, smiling warmly at heeseung as she complimented the food. you, on the other hand, hesitated, your appetite dulled by the nagging sense of something not quite right.

as you picked at your plate, you caught heeseung’s eyes on you again, his gaze sharp, studying, as if waiting for something. the way he watched you—so intently—made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

you couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the empty chairs, the empty mansion, you weren’t alone.

as you carefully picked at your food, trying to ignore the unnerving atmosphere, your dad set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. he turned to heeseung with a casual smile, though you could see the underlying hint of concern in his eyes.

“so,” your dad began, “any idea how long it’ll take for the car to be repaired? we’d like to get back on the road as soon as possible.”

heeseung, ever the picture of politeness, gave a reassuring smile, leaning back in his chair with ease. “not to worry, sir. the mechanic i contacted is very efficient. the car should be ready by this afternoon, if not sooner. you’ll be on your way in no time.”

your dad seemed relieved, nodding. “that’s great to hear. we were worried we’d be stuck out here for too long.”

heeseung’s smile widened slightly, though there was a strange glint in his eyes as he said, “we’d never dream of keeping you longer than necessary. but please, take your time enjoying our hospitality.”

you glanced up at him, something about his choice of words sending a ripple of discomfort through you. there was something about the way he spoke, always so measured, so... calculated. it was as if every word was carefully chosen for some hidden purpose. you couldn’t help but wonder what he really meant by that.

your parents finished their meals before you and heeseung, having arrived earlier to start breakfast. as they wiped their hands and prepared to stand, sunoo appeared at the door. his arrival was quiet, almost too quiet, and you hadn’t noticed him until he stepped into the room. he was dressed just as impeccably as before, his tuxedo crisp and perfect, but there was something off about his overly cheerful demeanour.

“if you’d like,” sunoo began, his eyes bright and a bit too wide, “i’d be happy to give you a tour of the gardens while you wait for the car. they’re lovely this time of year.”

your mom’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “oh, that sounds wonderful! what do you think, dear?” she asked your dad, who nodded in agreement.

“sure, why not? it’ll be nice to stretch our legs a bit.”

you watched as your parents exchanged smiles with sunoo, who beckoned them toward the door with a dramatic sweep of his arm. but your heart sank as you realised what this meant—your parents were leaving, and you were about to be left alone with heeseung.

before you could even offer to join them, sunoo ushered them out of the dining hall with a smile. “we’ll take our time, don’t worry! you two enjoy the rest of your breakfast.”

the door closed behind them with a soft click, leaving you sitting at the grand dining table, the echo of their footsteps fading into the distance.

and then it was just you.

and heeseung.

the silence stretched between you like a chasm, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. you tried to focus on your food, but the air felt thicker now, charged with an unsettling energy that made it hard to swallow. you could feel his eyes on you, studying you again with that same, intense scrutiny that had left you uneasy from the moment you arrived.

you kept your gaze fixed on your plate, hoping that if you didn’t look at him, he might just lose interest. but you could still sense his presence, feel the way his attention never wavered.

“you’re not eating much,” heeseung remarked, breaking the silence, his voice smooth and deceptively casual. “is the food not to your liking?”

his tone was polite, but there was a subtle edge to it that made you feel like the wrong answer could mean something more than just criticism. you forced a small smile, shaking your head.

“no, it’s fine. i’m just not that hungry.”

heeseung leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. “you seem... uncomfortable,” he said softly, his words hanging in the air. “is something bothering you?”

your pulse quickened. the way he asked the question, so calm and controlled, made you feel like he already knew the answer. like he was testing you, waiting to see how you’d respond. you didn’t want to give him any more reason to focus on you than he already had.

“no,” you replied, your voice a little too quick. “it’s just... a lot to take in. this place is... different.”

heeseung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but there was no warmth behind it. “different can be good,” he said, his eyes glittering with something you couldn’t quite place. “sometimes it’s the unexpected that makes an experience truly memorable.”

you shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the strange tension between you growing heavier by the second. there was something almost predatory in the way he watched you, like he was waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.

“i suppose,” you muttered, pushing your food around your plate. “i guess i’m just not used to places like this.”

heeseung chuckled softly, the sound low and almost dangerous. “not many people are.”

another silence fell between you, thick and uncomfortable. you could hear the faint ticking of a distant clock, the only sound breaking the stillness of the room. you glanced toward the door, half-hoping sunoo and your parents would return sooner rather than later, but there was no sign of them.

heeseung’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his tone soft but insistent. “you didn’t seem very interested in the history of the mansion last night,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on you. “but if you’d like, i could tell you a little more about it now. it has... quite the past.”

your throat tightened at his words. part of you wanted to refuse, to keep the conversation as shallow and short as possible, but another part of you couldn’t help but be curious. what kind of history could a place like this have? why did it feel like there was something dark lurking beneath the surface?

you hesitated, your fingers gripping your fork a little too tightly. “sure,” you said quietly, against your better judgement. “i’d like to hear about it.”

heeseung’s smile widened, a slow, almost sinister curl to his lips as he leaned forward again, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous kind of interest.

“good,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “because there’s so much for you to learn.”

heeseung’s words seemed to echo in the cavernous dining hall, each syllable hanging in the air like a weight pressing down on your chest. you shifted in your seat, suddenly aware of how isolated you were from everyone else. your parents were somewhere outside, wandering the sprawling gardens with sunoo, oblivious to the tension brewing in this room. and you were here—alone with heeseung, who was studying you like you were the most fascinating thing in the world.

he leaned back in his chair, a slow, deliberate movement, his eyes never leaving yours. “this mansion has a long history,” he began, his voice low and smooth, like velvet. “it’s been standing for centuries, long before this area became what it is now.”

you swallowed, trying to keep your unease from showing. “centuries? that’s... impressive.”

heeseung nodded, his fingers tracing the edge of his plate in a casual, almost absent-minded way. “impressive, yes. but also... haunted by its past.” his eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite place. “you see, many who come here find themselves drawn in by the allure of the unknown. they come seeking something different, something unique. and often, they find more than they bargained for.”

you felt a chill run down your spine. the way he spoke—so calm, so composed—made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. it was as if he was telling you a story he had told many times before, one with a punchline you wouldn’t like.

“what do you mean by that?” you asked, your voice quiet but firm. you didn’t want to seem rattled, even though you were starting to feel like the walls were closing in around you.

heeseung’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “let’s just say this mansion has a way of revealing things... about the people who stay here. things they may not even realise about themselves.”

your pulse quickened. “that sounds a little ominous.”

heeseung chuckled, the sound soft and unsettling. “it’s not meant to be. it’s just... the nature of this place. it has a way of bringing the truth to the surface. you’ll see, in time.”

you didn’t like the way he said that, as if you were going to be here long enough for the mansion to work its mysterious magic on you. you were only supposed to stay until the car was fixed, and then you and your family would be gone. the thought of staying here any longer than necessary made your stomach churn.

“i don’t think we’ll be here long enough for that,” you said, forcing a small smile.

heeseung’s eyes flashed with something—disappointment? amusement? it was hard to tell. “you never know,” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “sometimes, plans change.”

you glanced away, focusing on your barely touched plate. the food that had once looked so appealing now seemed like a burden, something you had no appetite for. you just wanted this conversation to end, to find your parents and get out of this place as soon as possible.

as if sensing your discomfort, heeseung leaned back again, his demeanour shifting ever so slightly. “i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, though there was a glint in his eyes that told you he knew exactly what he was doing. “it’s just that... guests here tend to stay longer than they anticipate. this place has a way of... captivating people.”

the word captivating sounded too much like trapping for your liking.

before you could respond, the door to the dining hall creaked open, and you breathed a silent sigh of relief as your parents entered, laughing and chatting with sunoo, who was still wearing his unsettlingly bright smile. their carefree demeanour was such a stark contrast to the tension you’d been feeling that it almost made you dizzy.

“sweetie, you should see the gardens!” your mom exclaimed as she approached the table, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease between you and heeseung. “they’re absolutely gorgeous. i’ve never seen anything like it.”

your dad nodded in agreement, beaming. “it’s like something out of a storybook.”

you forced a smile, trying to match their enthusiasm. “that’s great. i’m glad you had fun.”

sunoo’s eyes flicked to heeseung for a brief moment, something unspoken passing between them, and then he turned his bright gaze back to your family. “i’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to explore the rest of the estate before you leave.”

you stiffened at his words, catching the subtle implication. you weren’t leaving any time soon.

heeseung stood then, smoothing down the front of his suit, his gaze lingering on you for just a beat too long before he addressed your parents. “i’ve arranged for the mechanic to give me an update on the car shortly. in the meantime, please, make yourselves comfortable. feel free to explore the mansion further if you’d like.”

your parents seemed delighted by the prospect, but you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your chest. you couldn’t shake the feeling that this place was trying to keep you here, that every step you took deeper into the mansion only tangled you further in its web.

heeseung’s gaze slid back to you, his smile as charming and unsettling as ever. “i’ll make sure everything is taken care of. don’t worry.”

but worry was all you could feel as your family began to follow sunoo out of the dining hall, leaving you to trail behind, your thoughts spinning. as you exited the room, you couldn’t help but glance back at heeseung, who stood by the door, watching you with that same piercing gaze.

there was something about the way he looked at you—something that made you feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

and you weren’t sure if you could escape.

the afternoon dragged on in an unbearable haze of waiting. you, your parents, and heeseung sat in the grand living room, the heavy silence punctuated only by the occasional ticking of an old grandfather clock in the corner. outside, the sky had darkened, heavy clouds looming like a bad omen. the only thing on your mind was the car—where it was, how much longer it would take, and when you could finally leave this unsettling mansion behind.

your parents seemed more at ease, happily sipping tea that sunoo had prepared earlier, oblivious to the undercurrent of unease that rippled beneath the surface of every interaction with heeseung. you, on the other hand, were fidgeting, your leg bouncing nervously as you tried to avoid catching heeseung’s gaze. he had been watching you ever since you mentioned the car, his expression growing darker, his easy charm slipping.

“you seem quite eager to leave,” heeseung finally said, breaking the silence. his voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, something cold hidden beneath the surface.

you glanced up at him, forcing a tight smile. “well, we have to get to our resort, and we’ve already spent a lot of time here. i’d hate to miss out on more of the trip.”

heeseung’s lips twitched, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “you don’t like it here?”

there was something almost accusatory in his tone, and it made your skin prickle. you hesitated, not wanting to offend him but unable to shake the growing feeling of unease that seemed to cling to the walls of this place.

“it’s not that,” you said carefully, shifting in your seat. “it’s just that we had plans. you know, a family bonding trip. and... well, we’ve been here longer than we expected.”

heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression unreadable. “plans change,” he said softly, his eyes narrowing just the slightest bit. “sometimes, staying a little longer can be... beneficial.”

a cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. the way he said it felt off, as if there was something deeper he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want you to understand just yet. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway, and sunoo appeared, running into the room with a frantic expression.

“heeseung!” sunoo called out breathlessly, his usual cheery demeanour replaced with genuine concern. “there’s a storm! a really bad one. the roads are flooding, and the mechanic just called—he can’t bring the car back today.”

your heart sank at his words, and you shot a glance at your parents, who exchanged a look of resignation.

your father sighed, rubbing his temples. “well, i guess we’re not going anywhere today.”

your mother nodded in agreement, placing her teacup down with a little clink. “we’ll have to stay another night, then. there’s nothing we can do about it.”

you could hardly believe it. you were so close to leaving, so close to getting out of this place, and now a storm? it felt too convenient, too well-timed. you turned to heeseung, expecting some kind of reaction, and you weren’t disappointed. he was smiling again—but this time, it was different. it wasn’t the charming, polished smile he had worn before. this one was darker, more predatory. his eyes glinted with something that made your stomach twist.

“i suppose that settles it,” heeseung said smoothly, his voice like silk. “looks like you’ll be our guests for another night.”

his words sent a wave of discomfort rolling through you, and you felt your throat tighten. you looked away, staring out the window as the rain began to pour in heavy sheets, the dark sky flashing occasionally with streaks of lightning. the storm outside felt like a reflection of the storm brewing within you.

“i’m sure the car will be ready first thing tomorrow,” your father said, ever the optimist, though his voice carried a tinge of doubt.

sunoo nodded enthusiastically, stepping forward with his usual bright smile. “of course! we’ll make sure everything is perfect for you until then. don’t worry!”

you wanted to scream. how could no one else feel what you were feeling? how could your parents be so at ease when everything about this situation screamed danger? the mansion, the people, the timing of the storm—it all felt like a trap closing in around you.

heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you again, and you caught the smirk curling at the corner of his lips. he knew. he knew how unsettled you were, how desperately you wanted to leave, and he was relishing it.

“please, make yourselves comfortable,” heeseung said, his gaze locking onto you as he stood up from his seat. “we have plenty of time to enjoy the rest of your stay. after all, it’s not every day you get to experience a place like this.”

his words felt like a warning, a reminder that you were stuck here, and you had no choice but to play along with whatever game he was setting up. you forced a smile, feeling your pulse quicken.

“great,” you muttered under your breath, barely loud enough for anyone to hear. but heeseung did. his eyes flashed with amusement, and he gave you a slow, knowing smile that made your skin crawl.

“don’t worry,” he said in a voice so low only you could hear. “you’ll be safe here.”

the way he said it made you doubt every word.

that evening, the mansion’s eerie atmosphere feels heavier on your shoulders than ever. as the storm rages outside, you find yourself wandering through the darkened hallways, trying to shake off the strange feeling heeseung left you with earlier. something about his cryptic words keeps circling back in your mind, making it impossible to relax. you run your fingers along the old wooden bannister as you walk, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the too-quiet halls. but even that sound feels strange—the echoes don’t seem to bounce back to you the same way. it’s almost like they fade into the walls, swallowed by the house.

you pause as you notice a clock hanging on the wall ahead. the second hand ticks steadily, but when you glance at another clock just around the corner, you feel your skin prickle. the second hand on that clock is moving faster—much faster. you stand frozen, watching the two clocks run at different speeds, as if time itself is slipping out of sync.

the light overhead flickers, and you feel a chill run down your spine. the mansion is still as beautiful as it is unsettling, but tonight, it seems to be shifting in subtle ways. you walk further down the hallway, but something feels… wrong. the layout doesn’t seem quite right, as if the corridor you just passed should have been longer or led somewhere else entirely. you shake off the feeling, convincing yourself that it’s just your imagination playing tricks on you in this old, dimly lit place.

whispers. 

you swear you hear them. at first, you think it might just be the wind rattling through the old windows, but the sound is too human—too hushed, like voices speaking just outside the range of your hearing. you spin around, expecting to find someone behind you, but there’s nothing. just shadows dancing along the walls, moving ever so slightly as the flickering light fights to keep them at bay.

your pulse quickens as you walk on, drawn down a side corridor you’re sure you haven’t been down before. the walls here are different—more elaborate, with heavy drapery and intricate mouldings. at the end of the hallway, you come to a door. something about it makes you pause. you reach for the brass doorknob, your fingers brushing against the cold metal, and a shiver runs through you.

when you open it, a wave of familiarity washes over you, hitting you like a forgotten memory. inside, the room is dimly lit, filled with old-fashioned furniture that feels like it belongs to a different era—plush chairs, wooden tables with detailed carvings, and an antique music box sitting on a dresser. the air smells faintly of dust and something sweet, like old perfume that’s been lingering for years.

your eyes fall on the music box. it’s small, delicate, with intricate designs etched into its surface. without thinking, you step forward and reach out, fingers brushing lightly against it. before you can even wind the mechanism, it begins playing on its own, the soft, haunting melody filling the room.

your breath catches in your throat as that eerie sense of déjà vu tightens its grip on you. the tune is familiar—so familiar, but you can’t place where you’ve heard it before. it pulls at something deep within you, like a forgotten dream just out of reach. you’re transfixed, unable to pull away from the music, when suddenly, the door creaks behind you.

you whip around, and your heart skips a beat when you see heeseung standing in the doorway. his expression is unreadable, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that sends a shiver through you. he steps into the room, his presence filling the space, and the music stops abruptly, as if the mansion itself is responding to him.

“what are you doing here?” his voice is stern, not the smooth charm you’ve come to expect from him. there’s an edge to it that makes you take a step back.

“i—i was just looking around,” you stammer, feeling like a child caught snooping where they shouldn’t be. the weight of his gaze presses down on you as he moves closer.

“this is my study,” he says, his tone low and controlled, but you can hear the warning in his voice. “you’re not supposed to be in here.”

you feel a flush of embarrassment and unease wash over you. “i didn’t know… i just—”

“didn’t know?” heeseung cuts you off, raising an eyebrow as his eyes narrow. “or were you curious about what you’d find?”

the tension between you feels thick, almost suffocating. heeseung’s gaze is unwavering, as though he’s trying to read your every thought, his earlier charm replaced with something far more dangerous. you feel like you’ve crossed a line—one that you didn’t even know existed until now.

heeseung’s intense gaze softens slightly as he notices the way your face flushes with embarrassment. his lips part, as if he’s about to say something harsh, but then, as if catching himself, he lets out a sigh. the coldness in his eyes melts away, replaced by that familiar, smooth charm.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his voice lowering, smoothing over like silk. “why don’t i show you the library instead? i think you’ll find it... interesting.”

you hesitate, still rattled by the sharpness of his previous tone. something inside you whispers to be careful, to keep your distance. but the magnetic pull of heeseung’s presence is hard to resist, and despite your instincts, you find yourself nodding.

heeseung smiles faintly, though his expression remains unreadable. he gestures for you to follow him, and together, you walk down the dimly lit corridors of the mansion. the silence is unsettling, broken only by the soft shuffling of your footsteps against the creaky wooden floors. you can’t help but feel like the walls themselves are watching you, the weight of the mansion pressing in from all sides.

as you walk, you become aware of how time feels... off. the clocks you pass seem to tick irregularly, some faster, some slower, as though they belong to different realities entirely. the light filtering through the tall windows is dim, though it doesn’t seem like it’s evening yet. you glance back, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as if something—someone—is just out of sight.

you stumble over a loose tile, your thoughts breaking apart. with a yelp, you trip forward, bracing yourself for a fall. but before you hit the floor, strong hands catch you—heeseung, steadying you with effortless ease. his grip is firm but strangely gentle. you gasp, heart hammering in your chest as you realise how close he is.

“you should be more careful,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, a hint of amusement playing at the edges of his voice.

“thanks,” you mutter, flustered as you quickly pull away from his touch. your cheeks burn with embarrassment, and you avoid his gaze as he releases you, his soft chuckle following you down the hall.

the library is massive, far larger than you anticipated. the shelves seem to stretch endlessly, filled with books of every size and colour, their spines gleaming under the warm light of chandeliers. the space feels grand and intimate all at once, the kind of place that would normally make you feel at ease, but here... something feels different.

heeseung watches you carefully, his dark eyes studying your every move. you glance at him for permission before running your fingers along the spines of the books, your curiosity getting the better of you. with a nod, he gives you his approval, and you can’t help but dart forward, eager to explore the room further.

you lose yourself in the rows of shelves, marvelling at the collection of novels, old tomes, and handwritten manuscripts that line the walls. the air smells of dust and aged paper, steeped in centuries of history. you glance over your shoulder, half expecting to see heeseung watching you, but he remains a respectful distance away, his gaze soft and almost fond as he follows your movements.

but something feels... off. as you drift deeper into the library, a strange sensation pulls at your mind, as if something is guiding you, drawing you toward a particular section. without thinking, you find yourself moving toward the back, where the older, dustier books are kept.

your fingertips brush across the spines of these ancient tomes, and an eerie sense of déjà vu washes over you. there’s something about this place—this corner of the library—that feels unsettlingly familiar, like you’ve been here before in another time. the hairs on your arms stand on end, and you shiver involuntarily.

just as your fingers graze the spine of a particularly worn book, you feel it—the presence behind you. heeseung.

you turn slowly to find him standing there, his expression unreadable, but there’s a dark intensity in his eyes that makes your breath catch. he takes a step toward you, and without realising it, you step back, your shoulders hitting the bookshelf behind you.

his eyes remain locked on yours, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. there’s no anger in his gaze now, just that familiar magnetic pull—like he’s trying to draw you closer, to see through you.

“you’re curious, aren’t you?” his voice is barely above a whisper, but it sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow, trying to push back the fear creeping into your chest. “about what?”

“about this place. about me,” he replies, his tone smooth, almost teasing.

his eyes seem to darken as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between you. the heat of his body presses in on you, and you feel your pulse quicken as his fingers trail lightly along the bookshelf beside your head. heeseung’s smile sharpens, a predatory glint flashing in his gaze.

“curiosity can be dangerous,” he murmurs, his voice low and intoxicating. “you never know what you might uncover if you start digging too deep.”

his words hang in the air, a challenge laced with something far more sinister. your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the urge to escape and the overwhelming draw of his presence. you can feel his breath against your skin, his closeness making it hard to think, to breathe.

for a moment, neither of you speak. his gaze flickers to your lips before meeting your eyes again, and you can sense the power he holds in this place—like he knows far more than he’s letting on. like he’s been waiting for you to find something... or for you to lose yourself completely.

you break the silence, your voice shaking slightly. “what do you want from me?”

heeseung smiles, though it’s a slow, dangerous curve of his lips. “maybe the question is... what do you want from me?”

the uneasy chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it. "you’re being ridiculous," you say, forcing more confidence into your voice than you actually feel. you try to shake off the tension hanging between you, hoping to laugh this off like it’s some strange dream.

but heeseung’s expression doesn’t change. he merely raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into the barest hint of a smirk. "very well then," he murmurs, his voice calm and unbothered, as though he knows something you don’t.

for a moment, you’re not sure whether you’ve defused the situation or walked deeper into it, but heeseung steps away, the heavy tension between you seeming to dissipate with each step he takes toward the door. he gestures with a small bow. "i’ll leave you to your evening, then."

you nod quickly, not trusting your voice to say anything that won’t betray the swirl of confusion and unease knotting in your chest. with that, heeseung disappears into the corridor, leaving you alone in the vast library. the silence is thick, almost oppressive, as if the mansion itself is holding its breath.

when you finally leave the library, your mind is buzzing. the conversation with heeseung, though cryptic, has left you more rattled than ever. his words, the way he watched you—there’s something deeper here, something you’re only starting to scratch the surface of. but, for now, you decide to push it aside. you need to clear your head.

by the time dinner rolls around, you’re feeling on edge. your parents are already seated at the dining table, chatting quietly as you join them. the room is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the grand, empty space. it feels strange—eerily quiet without the other guests.

you glance around, frowning. “where’s heeseung? and the other guests?”

sunoo, who’s been silently setting the table, looks up at you with his usual cheery smile. "ah, i’m afraid the other guests have already had their meal earlier. heeseung sends his apologies—he’s been caught up in some... urgent business.”

it’s the same excuse they keep giving you, and each time it feels less believable. you open your mouth to press further, but before you can say anything, your mother cuts in with a light laugh. “honestly, you’re always so curious, darling. just let it go.”

her words sound playful, but there’s an odd edge to them, as if she’s brushing off your concerns without really thinking about them. you glance at your father, hoping for some support, but he just nods in agreement, distracted as he stirs his soup.

you bite your lip, trying to push down the growing frustration. why aren’t they worried? can’t they sense that something’s off here?

dinner passes in a strange blur, the silence at the table broken only by the clinking of silverware. sunoo continues to move about the room like nothing is wrong, but the more you watch him, the more something about him feels... rehearsed, like he’s going through the motions of being normal without actually feeling any of it.

after the meal, you head back to your room, feeling more unsettled than ever. your parents’ strange behaviour, the missing guests, heeseung’s cryptic words—it’s all starting to feel like pieces of a puzzle you can’t quite put together.

that night, you toss and turn in bed, unable to fall asleep. every creak of the floorboards, every faint whisper of the wind outside sends your nerves into overdrive. the mansion seems to come alive in the darkness, its walls groaning, floors shifting, as though it’s trying to speak to you—trying to tell you something.

you sit up, your heart pounding in your chest. there’s no way you’re getting any sleep tonight, not with this strange energy crackling around you. something is wrong with this place, and you need to figure it out.

quietly, you slip out of bed, careful not to make any noise as you tiptoe toward the door. the hallways are dimly lit, the chandeliers casting long, ghostly shadows against the walls. you pause for a moment, listening to the silence, and then make your way through the mansion, your footsteps soft on the old, creaky floors.

as you wander, something strange begins to happen. the air feels colder, heavier, and the walls seem to shift subtly, as though the layout of the mansion itself is changing. you turn down a corridor you don’t remember seeing before and find yourself in front of a door, slightly ajar, that you swear wasn’t there earlier.

your hand trembles as you push the door open.

inside, the room is dimly lit by a single flickering candle. it smells of dust and time, as though no one’s been here for years. but what catches your attention immediately are the photographs lining the walls—old, faded photographs in ornate frames. you step closer, squinting at the faces in the pictures.

your breath catches in your throat.

the people in these photos… they look like you. some of them even resemble your parents. the clothes are different, much older—decades, maybe centuries old—but the faces… it’s impossible. how could they look so familiar?

you take a step back, your heart racing. something about this room feels wrong, like you’ve stumbled onto something you weren’t meant to see.

your eyes scan the rest of the room, and that’s when you notice the guestbook sitting on an old wooden desk in the corner. you approach it cautiously, your fingers brushing over the brittle pages as you open it.

the names written inside are faded, barely legible from age. but as you turn the pages, one name catches your eye—your father’s name, written in the same elegant script as the others.

your heart pounds in your chest. you flip through more pages, and there’s your mother’s name, too. and then… your own.

but the dates next to the names don’t make any sense. they’re from decades ago, long before you were even born.

you slam the book shut, a chill running down your spine. this can’t be real. it doesn’t make sense.

before you can gather your thoughts, a soft creak echoes through the room. you whip around, your heart in your throat, and see a shadow flicker in the doorway.

it’s sunoo, his expression unreadable in the dim light.

“what are you doing here?” he asks, his voice soft but carrying an unsettling edge.

you freeze, unable to find the words to respond. sunoo steps further into the room, his ever-present smile feeling more like a mask than ever before.

“you shouldn’t be snooping around,” he says, his tone calm, almost soothing. “some things are better left alone.”

before you can say anything, sunoo’s eyes shift toward the guestbook in your hands. his smile falters for just a split second—barely noticeable, but enough to send a fresh wave of unease through you.

"i’ll take you back to your room,” he says, his voice steady again. “come on, it’s late.”

you don’t argue. you just nod,and follow him out of the room, feeling the weight of the mansion pressing down on you with every step.

the next morning, you wake up to the sound of heavy rain beating against the windows. groaning, you pull the covers over your head, hoping that maybe the storm has let up by now, but from the relentless sound, it’s clear that isn’t the case.

you make your way downstairs, hoping for better news, but your parents are sitting at the breakfast table, both looking completely at ease, as though the weather outside is no big deal.

“good morning, sweetheart!” your mom chirps, her voice unnaturally bright.

"morning," you mumble, taking a seat as you glance toward the large windows in the dining room. the sky is a swirling mess of dark clouds, rain pouring down so hard you can barely see the surrounding grounds.

“storm’s not going anywhere for the next few days,” your dad says casually, stirring his coffee. “looks like we’re stuck here for a bit longer.”

you frown, a wave of frustration bubbling inside you. "what about the resort? the plans we made?"

your mom exchanges a glance with your dad, then she turns to you with a serene smile. “you know, maybe this is a sign. the resort will still be there later, and this mansion… well, it’s kind of charming in its own way, isn’t it? why not just enjoy it?”

you stare at her, incredulous. "you want to stay here?"

“it’s vintage, classy, and we’re already settled in. it feels… perfect, in a way,” your mother continues, her voice light but with an unsettling certainty. “it’s like we were meant to be here.”

something about the way she says it sends a shiver down your spine. you’ve been feeling like you weren’t supposed to be here at all—like you’ve stumbled into a trap you can’t escape. but looking at your parents’ relaxed faces, they clearly don’t share your unease.

you sigh, rubbing your temples. “fine. i guess we’re staying.”

it’s not like you have a choice anyway. the storm doesn’t seem like it’s stopping anytime soon, and the roads would be impossible to navigate in this weather.

you wander through the mansion’s winding hallways, the silence heavy and oppressive. no matter how grand or beautiful this place is, it feels like a cage—isolated, suffocating, filled with unseen eyes and secrets buried in every corner. the tension from this morning still clings to your thoughts like a dark cloud, refusing to let you find peace.

as you turn a corner, you nearly collide with sunoo, who’s balancing a tray of ingredients. his usual brightness doesn’t fade; instead, his eyes light up as he sees you. but there’s something in his smile—something mischievous, playful, and... unsettling.

"looking bored?" he asks with that trademark grin, though his eyes seem to flicker with something deeper. "want to bake something with me?"

you hesitate, feeling an odd sensation settle in your stomach. you haven’t exactly gotten close to sunoo since you arrived here. something about him always felt a little strange, as if he’s holding back, concealing his true self behind that playful mask. but the silence of the mansion is worse than the idea of baking with someone like him.

after a beat, you nod. "yeah, okay."

sunoo's grin widens, and he leads you into the mansion’s oversized kitchen, the high ceilings and gleaming countertops almost intimidating in their grandeur. you can’t help but feel like even this space is part of the house’s deception—too perfect, too polished.

“you’re in for a treat,” sunoo says, his voice slipping into a more casual tone as he sets the tray on the counter. “i make the best cookies you’ll ever taste.”

you don’t respond, already lost in your own thoughts, trying to distract yourself from everything that's happened. the tasks of measuring and mixing are a welcome escape. sunoo chatters on as he gathers ingredients, but you only half-listen, trying to ignore the prickle of unease creeping up your spine.

as you mix the batter, sunoo’s light-hearted teasing pulls you in despite yourself. his comments, although flippant, ease some of the tension you’ve been holding, and before you realise it, you’re laughing at one of his jokes. you sneak a bit of dough when he’s not looking, and it feels almost… normal.

but then sunoo catches you, playfully swatting your hand. "hey! no cheating!" he scolds with mock seriousness.

you let out a chuckle, taking the opportunity to swipe some flour onto his cheek. "oops."

sunoo gasps, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. "oh, you’re going to pay for that."

before you can react, he smears flour across your nose. the playful gesture sends you both into fits of laughter, the tension of the mansion temporarily lifting. for a brief moment, the world outside this kitchen—its darkness and mysteries—feels far away. the warmth of sunoo’s laughter fills the room, and you can’t help but feel yourself relax in his presence.

but then something changes.

the playfulness lingers, but when sunoo’s hand grazes your arm, wiping away some flour from your cheek, the touch lingers a little longer than it should. his fingers brush your skin lightly, and suddenly, the laughter fades into a different kind of tension. his eyes meet yours, and for the briefest second, there’s something there—something unspoken, something... charged.

you swallow hard, unsure how to respond. the lighthearted moment has turned into something else entirely, and the air between you grows thick. sunoo’s grin remains, but his gaze—intense and a little too intimate—holds you captive for a moment longer than feels safe. you’re aware of his closeness, of how different this interaction feels compared to everything else between you.

and then, just as quickly, the moment is broken.

the sensation of being watched crawls back over your skin, sending a cold shiver down your spine. you freeze, the weight of a gaze pressing heavily on you, suffocating the playful atmosphere. slowly, you turn toward the doorway.

heeseung is standing there, leaning against the doorframe with an expression that makes your blood run cold. his eyes are locked on you, darker and more intense than you’ve ever seen them. the tension in the room shifts, and it’s no longer playful—it’s dangerous.

sunoo’s posture stiffens, but his smirk doesn’t falter. if anything, he seems to relish the moment. “oh, hey heeseung,” he drawls, his voice dripping with mock innocence. “we were just having a little fun. you don’t mind, do you?”

heeseung doesn’t respond right away, his gaze flicking from you to sunoo, then back to you. his eyes are sharp, a dark possessiveness brewing behind them. when he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. “i’m sure you’re keeping her... entertained.”

sunoo’s smirk widens as he steps a little closer to you, just enough to make the tension unbearable. “oh, absolutely. we make quite the team in here,” he says, his hand grazing your shoulder briefly in a gesture that feels too familiar, too intimate.

your heart races as you stand between them, caught in their unspoken battle. heeseung’s eyes darken further, his jaw clenched tightly as sunoo continues to play his game, his fingers brushing more flour off your cheek. the touch sends a jolt through you—not of comfort, but of confusion. why does this feel wrong? and why can’t you pull away?

heeseung’s calm facade cracks. he steps forward, his movements deliberate, as if every step brings him closer to an edge you can’t see. his voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth but holds a razor-sharp edge. “i think you’ve had enough fun for today.”

heeseung’s hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a little too long, the touch possessive. sunoo’s playful demeanour falters slightly, but he steps back with a knowing look, eyes flicking between you and heeseung.

“i guess that’s my cue,” sunoo says with a sly wink, retreating from the kitchen. but before he leaves, his gaze lingers on you one last time, and in that moment, it feels like the game is far from over.

the moment sunoo is gone, the atmosphere shifts. heeseung’s hand lingers on your arm, his fingers ghosting over your skin as he pulls you closer, his gaze locking onto yours. his touch, once soft, now feels like a cage, holding you in place as his lips curl into a dark smile.

“you shouldn’t let him get so close to you,” heeseung says softly, his voice like velvet, wrapping around you with a dark intensity. “he doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

your pulse quickens, and you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens. his eyes are soft, but the look in them is anything but. he’s watching you like you belong to him, and the thought sends another wave of fear crashing over you.

“i…” you don’t know what to say. you’re caught between the two of them, between the strange camaraderie they share and the way heeseung’s mood shifts on a knife’s edge.

heeseung leans closer, his breath warm against your skin as he whispers, “you should only trust me. i’m the one who cares about you.”

the words send a chill through you, and yet… you can’t pull away.

heeseung’s hand remains on your arm, his touch gentle but firm as he leads you out of the kitchen. his earlier tension has shifted into something more deliberate, more focused, and you can’t shake the feeling that he’s leading you somewhere for a reason—one that you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to face.

“there’s a better way to pass the time,” he murmurs, his voice low as he glances at you from the corner of his eye. there’s something unreadable in his gaze, a dark glimmer of emotion that both unnerves and draws you in.

you don’t respond, your mind still spinning from the earlier interaction with sunoo, from the way heeseung had claimed your attention so completely. now, as he leads you down another unfamiliar hallway, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking deeper into something—into the very heart of the mansion’s secrets.

eventually, you reach a door at the end of the corridor, and heeseung pushes it open with a soft creak. the room beyond takes your breath away.

it’s elegant, grand in a way that feels both timeless and dreamlike. a grand piano sits in the centre, its polished surface gleaming under the light streaming in from a gigantic window. the window offers a perfect view of the garden outside, which—despite the ongoing storm—seems eerily peaceful, the flowers swaying gently as though untouched by the chaos in the sky.

you step inside, your feet moving almost of their own accord. the air in here feels different, thick with something unnameable. as you look around, that familiar feeling of déjà vu washes over you again, stronger this time. you’ve been here before—or at least, it feels like you have.

heeseung watches you closely, his dark eyes following your every movement. there’s something in his gaze—something that flickers between hunger and sorrow, desperation and longing. it’s as if he’s waiting for you to remember something important, something crucial.

without a word, he sits down at the piano. his fingers brush lightly over the keys, and after a brief moment of silence, he begins to play.

the melody is soft at first, gentle and haunting, and yet… you know it. somehow, impossibly, you recognize the tune even though you’ve never heard it before. the notes seem to pull at something deep inside you, stirring emotions you can’t explain.

as heeseung plays, his gaze never leaves you. his eyes are dark, intense, filled with a pain that tugs at your heart. but behind that pain, there’s something else—something dangerous, something that feels like it’s pulling you toward him, binding you to him in ways you can’t understand.

the music swells, filling the room with a haunting beauty that leaves you breathless. your chest tightens, and before you realise what’s happening, you feel tears streaming down your face. your body moves on its own, your feet carrying you across the room toward heeseung.

you stop in front of him, your vision blurred with tears. gently, almost instinctively, you reach out and place your hand on his cheek. his skin is warm under your touch, and for a moment, he closes his eyes, leaning into your hand as if savouring the contact.

the final note of the melody lingers in the air, and heeseung’s fingers are still on the keys. the silence that follows feels thick, heavy with unspoken words and unasked questions.

you gasp, suddenly realising what you’re doing. you pull your hand away from his face, stepping back as if you’ve crossed an invisible line. your heart pounds in your chest, your mind swirling with confusion.

“i—i’m sorry,” you stammer, wiping at your tears. “i don’t know what came over me.”

heeseung opens his eyes slowly, and when he looks at you, there’s a sadness there so profound it makes your heart ache. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, simply watching you as though waiting for you to understand something.

you take a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “what is this place, heeseung? why… why does it feel like i’ve been here before?”

his expression darkens, his gaze growing distant as if he’s wrestling with something inside himself. for a moment, you think he’s going to deflect your questions like he always does, but then, to your surprise, he speaks.

“this mansion,” he begins, his voice low and almost resigned, “is not what it seems.”

your blood runs cold at his words, and you feel a chill creep up your spine.

“what do you mean?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung rises from the piano bench, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. there’s something predatory in the way he moves, but there’s also a deep sadness in his eyes, as though he’s weighed down by centuries of pain.

“this place…” he says quietly, glancing around the room. “it has a way of trapping those who stay too long. the walls, the halls—they shift, they change, and time here doesn’t flow the way it should.”

your mind races as you process his words. “trapping? how?”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, his expression unreadable. “the mansion is alive in its own way. it feeds off the presence of those who come here, twisting their reality until they can no longer leave.”

you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest. “are you saying… we’re trapped?”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, and he looks away, his hands clenched at his sides. “yes,” he says softly. “but you… you’re different.”

“different?” you echo, confusion swirling in your mind. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his eyes filled with an emotion you can’t quite place. “the mansion brought you here for a reason. it’s not a coincidence that you ended up at this place—it’s because of who you are.”

you shake your head, backing away from him. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s gaze is piercing, and his next words make your blood run cold.

“you’ve been here before,” he says, his voice low. “a long time ago.”

your heart skips a beat, and you feel a wave of nausea wash over you. “that’s impossible.”

heeseung takes another step forward, his eyes filled with desperation now. “it’s not impossible. you were here, in another time, in another life. and you were with me.”

the room feels like it’s spinning. your thoughts race as you try to make sense of his words, but nothing adds up. “you’re lying,” you whisper, but even as you say it, a part of you knows that he’s telling the truth.

“i’m not lying,” heeseung says, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “we were together, bound to this place. and now… the mansion has brought you back to me.”

you shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “i don’t understand.”

heeseung’s expression softens, and for a moment, he looks almost vulnerable. “the mansion has a way of bringing people back, of trapping them in a cycle. i’m bound to this place, cursed to live here for eternity. and now that you’re here again…”

he doesn’t finish the sentence, but the implication hangs in the air.

you take a shaky breath, your mind reeling. “you think… you think i’m supposed to share your fate?”

heeseung looks at you with a mix of desperation and longing. “i don’t know. but i do know that this place… it won’t let you leave easily.”

the weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a chill run through you. the mansion—the strange feeling of familiarity, the way time seemed to warp—it all suddenly makes sense. you were meant to be here, drawn back into heeseung’s orbit, bound by forces far beyond your control.

but even as you grapple with the reality of it, one question burns in your mind: what are you willing to do to escape? and more importantly, are you even sure you want to?

the air between you and heeseung feels heavy after his haunting confession, a truth that lingers like a cloud over your thoughts. your heart is racing, torn between fear and an inexplicable pull towards him. his words replay in your mind, looping with eerie familiarity: you’ve been here before. with me.

it doesn’t make sense, and yet somehow, in the deep recesses of your memory, it does.

heeseung’s dark eyes soften as he steps closer to you, his previous intensity fading into something almost fragile. you expect him to push further, to lock you into his twisted truth, but instead, his posture slackens as if he’s letting go of something—some control he’s been gripping too tightly. there’s a new softness in his gaze, and it catches you off guard.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just… this place, this mansion—it does things to people. to me.”

he reaches out, hesitant, as if afraid you might flinch away. but you don’t. you stand frozen, your mind still reeling. when his fingers brush against your arm, there’s a strange warmth to his touch, and you feel that pull again, that magnetic force that both terrifies and draws you to him.

"i've been trapped here for so long," he continues, his voice trembling just slightly. he sits down on the sofa by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows on his face, highlighting the hollowness in his expression. “i don’t even know how much time has passed. decades? centuries? it all blurs together after a while.”

you remain standing, watching him closely. his earlier intensity—the predatory edge in his voice—seems to have dissolved, leaving behind someone who looks genuinely broken. his eyes drop to the floor, and for the first time since you arrived, he looks vulnerable, as though the weight of his endless existence is finally catching up to him.

“i didn’t ask for this,” heeseung says, his voice raw with emotion. “i didn’t ask to be bound here, to this place. i never wanted to be a prisoner.” he glances up at you, and in the dim light, you see something flickering in his gaze: pain, longing… regret.

your chest tightens. the mansion, the strange events, the unshakable feeling that you’ve been here before—it all swirls inside your head like a storm. but now, looking at him, sitting in front of you like this, you feel a pang of sympathy. maybe he isn’t the monster you thought he was. maybe he’s just as trapped as you are, desperate for a way out.

you find yourself stepping closer to him, your feet moving on their own. you sit down beside him, keeping a small distance, your body tense. for a long moment, neither of you speak. the only sound is the crackling of the fire, filling the room with warmth and an eerie sense of peace.

“i’m sorry,” heeseung whispers, his voice so soft it almost gets lost in the quiet. “for dragging you into this. you shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

your heart clenches at the raw emotion in his words, and against your better judgement, you find yourself reaching out, your hand resting on his. he looks down at the contact, his eyes wide as if he didn’t expect your touch, and for a fleeting moment, he closes his eyes, savouring the warmth.

“it’s not your fault,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “none of this is your fault.”

heeseung’s eyes snap open, and he looks at you, truly looks at you, with a mix of shock and something else—something deeper. for a long time, neither of you speaks, but the silence between you feels heavy with unspoken words.

then, without warning, he lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “i don’t know why i’m telling you all of this,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “maybe because you’re the first person i’ve seen in so long… maybe because i’ve been alone for too long.”

the sadness in his voice tugs at your heart. you can’t help but imagine what it must be like—to be stuck in this place for eternity, unable to leave, watching the world move on without you. the thought sends a chill down your spine.

“i don’t want you to be alone anymore,” you say, the words escaping your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung’s gaze snaps to yours, his eyes wide with surprise. for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the weight of your words hanging in the air. then, slowly, he shifts closer, his fingers brushing against your arm, the touch light and hesitant, as though he’s afraid of pushing you away.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “if you stay… you’ll be trapped, just like me.”

the reality of his words hits you like a wave of cold water, but even as you register the danger, you can’t seem to pull away from him. there’s something about heeseung that draws you in, something that makes you want to help him, even if it means risking yourself.

“i’m not afraid,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know why, but i feel like… like i know you. like we’ve been through this before.”

heeseung’s breath catches, and for a moment, he looks at you with such intensity that it takes your breath away. then, without a word, he reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as though he’s afraid you might slip away.

“i wish it could be different,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet desperation. “i wish i could let you go, but… i can’t.”

the next few days pass in a blur of quiet moments shared between you and heeseung. there’s an unspoken understanding that neither of you fully addresses—the haunting truth of the mansion and its curse—but in these days, heeseung’s vulnerability and warmth seem genuine. the dark edges of his earlier intensity have softened, leaving you with the version of him that feels...safe.

each evening, the two of you sit together by the grand fireplace in the main hall, the warmth of the flames casting a golden glow over heeseung’s features. the way he speaks to you during these moments is intimate, his voice low and soothing. he shares bits and pieces of his past—not the dark, twisted parts, but memories of beauty and light.

one night, you find yourselves sitting across from one another at a small, round table, a cosy dinner spread out between you. the fire crackles beside you, filling the room with warmth. heeseung had insisted on preparing the meal, and though you’d never seen him cook before, the food is surprisingly delicious. it’s simple, nothing extravagant, but there’s something deeply comforting about the whole scene.

heeseung pours you a glass of wine, the red liquid glistening in the candlelight. he smiles gently as he hands it to you, and for the first time since you arrived, the tension between you feels like it’s beginning to ease.

“it feels normal, doesn’t it?” he asks quietly, his voice tinged with something you can’t quite place—hope, maybe. “like we could be anyone, anywhere. like none of this…” he gestures vaguely to the mansion around you, “…exists.”

you take a sip of the wine, savouring its sweetness before you nod. “it does,” you agree softly. “for the first time since i got here, it feels… peaceful.”

heeseung’s gaze lingers on you, and when he speaks again, his voice is barely above a whisper. “that’s all i’ve ever wanted. a moment of peace.”

the words hang in the air between you, and you can’t help but feel the weight of them. heeseung’s life—if you can even call it that—has been one long stretch of isolation and pain. and now, here he is, seeking solace in the small moments he can share with you. your heart aches for him.

“you’ve been alone for so long,” you murmur, placing your hand on top of his. his skin is warm beneath your touch, and for a moment, heeseung’s eyes flicker with something deep, something raw.

“i’ve had to be,” he says, his voice heavy with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d become if i let myself feel anything. if i let myself believe that things could ever be different.”

he looks away, staring into the fire as if searching for answers in the flames. “but with you… it feels different. like there’s a chance for something better.”

your chest tightens at his words. there’s a sincerity in his voice that you can’t deny, a vulnerability that makes you want to believe him. you’ve seen the darkness in heeseung, felt the weight of his mysterious past, but now… now you see the man beneath it all. the man who’s been trapped, longing for freedom, for connection.

“i want to help you, heeseung,” you say, your voice trembling slightly. “i don’t know how, but… i want to try.”

heeseung turns back to you, his eyes shining with something akin to hope. he lifts your hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against your knuckles. the gesture is tender, intimate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“you’ve already done more for me than you know,” he whispers. his gaze locks with yours, and in that moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away. there’s only you and him, caught in this strange, timeless place.

the next morning, heeseung takes you on a walk through the mansion’s garden. the day is overcast, the sky a soft blanket of grey, but the air is warm, filled with the scent of the blooming flowers that line the winding paths. it’s quiet out here, save for the occasional rustle of leaves or the chirp of a bird hidden somewhere in the overgrown hedges.

heeseung leads you toward the edge of the garden, where a large, ancient tree stands tall and proud, its branches stretching out like arms welcoming you. the bark is weathered, covered in thick moss, and there’s a certain energy that emanates from it, something both powerful and deeply familiar.

“this tree,” heeseung begins softly, running his hand over the rough bark, “has been here longer than the mansion itself. some say it’s the heart of this place, that it holds the memories of all those who’ve lived here.”

you step closer, staring up at the gnarled branches twisting above you. there’s something haunting about the tree, something that feels almost… alive.

“it’s strange,” you murmur, “but i feel like i know this tree. like i’ve stood here before.”

heeseung turns to you, his gaze filled with a deep intensity. “that’s because you have.”

your breath catches at his words, and you glance up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “what do you mean?”

heeseung steps closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm. “there are pieces of you that remember this place,” he says quietly. “just like there are pieces of me that have never forgotten you.”

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a strange pull toward him once again, a sense that the two of you are bound together by something far greater than just this moment.

“do you ever wonder,” heeseung asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why this place feels like home?”

your mind races, trying to process the weight of his question. you don’t know how to answer, because the truth is, you’ve been wondering that since the moment you arrived. and now, with heeseung standing beside you, the mansion looming behind you, and the ancient tree towering above you, the feeling is stronger than ever.

“maybe,” you whisper, “it’s because it is.”

heeseung’s gaze locks with yours, and for a moment, it feels like time itself stops. there’s a deep, unspoken understanding between you—a sense that, no matter how much you try to fight it, your fates are intertwined.

but as the days pass, those sweet moments with heeseung—the cosy dinners by the fire, the walks through the garden, the soft, lingering touches—begin to feel like something more. they feel like a promise. like he’s slowly binding you to this place, to him.

and you can’t shake the feeling that maybe that’s exactly what he wants.

the following morning is quieter than usual, with heeseung nowhere to be found. you drift through the halls of the mansion, feeling a strange mix of restlessness and curiosity, until you find yourself in the kitchen. the smell of something sweet wafts through the air, and when you step inside, you see sunoo standing by the counter, mixing a bowl of dough with effortless grace.

he looks up as you enter, a bright smile spreading across his face. “good morning!” he chirps, his voice as light and cheerful as always. “i thought we could bake something today. you seemed to enjoy the cookies i made last time.”

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure why your chest tightens a little at his easy demeanour. sunoo has always been polite and warm, a calming presence in the otherwise eerie mansion, but lately, something about him has started to feel... off. his constant cheerfulness, his perfect hospitality—it all seems too deliberate, too practised.

still, you find yourself drawn to the idea of something normal, something grounded in the here and now. so you nod, stepping into the kitchen to join him.

“what are we making?” you ask, moving to stand beside him at the counter.

sunoo beams. “heeseung loves cinnamon rolls,” he says with a knowing glint in his eye. “i thought we’d make a batch for him.”

you feel a flutter in your chest at the mention of heeseung. you’ve spent so much time with him lately that it’s hard not to think about him constantly. 

“how long have you been here, sunoo?” you ask after a moment, trying to sound casual. you’ve never really asked before—never thought to, really—but now that you’ve started thinking about it, the question gnaws at you.

sunoo’s smile tightens just a fraction, his hands stilling for a moment before he continues kneading. “longer than i can remember,” he says with a light laugh. “time is strange here. you lose track after a while.”

his words send a shiver down your spine. you’ve heard heeseung talk about the mansion warping time, but to hear sunoo echo the same sentiment makes it feel even more real. and the way he brushes off the question only adds to the growing sense of unease.

you try to shake the feeling, focusing instead on helping him roll out the dough. the kitchen feels warm and cosy, a stark contrast to the unsettling thoughts swirling in your mind. sunoo hums softly as he works, his movements fluid and graceful.

but then, just as you’re starting to relax again, sunoo speaks, his voice soft but laced with something... knowing.

“cinnamon rolls were always your favourite, too.”

you freeze, your hand hovering over the tray of dough. his words sink in slowly, like a cold drop of water trickling down your spine.

“what did you just say?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

sunoo looks up at you, blinking in confusion as if he doesn’t quite understand the gravity of what he’s just said. “i said cinnamon rolls were always your favourite,” he repeats, his tone casual but his eyes flickering with something deeper.

you stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. “how would you know that?”

for the first time since you’ve met him, sunoo seems caught off guard. his usually calm, cheerful demeanour falters, and he fumbles with his words. “i-i mean, heeseung mentioned it once,” he says quickly, his smile strained. “you must’ve said something about it, right?”

but you know you didn’t. you’ve never mentioned cinnamon rolls or anything about your preferences to either of them. you would remember if you had. and the way sunoo’s face pales slightly, the way his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes—none of it feels right.

“sunoo,” you say, your voice sharper than you intended. “how do you really know that?”

he straightens up, the playful light in his eyes dimming. for a brief moment, you see something else in him—something darker, something far more calculated than the friendly host you’ve come to know. he looks at you as though measuring his next move, deciding how much to say.

“i—” sunoo stammers, then forces a bright smile again, though it no longer seems genuine. “you know how heeseung and i have lived here for so long. it just... slipped out. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

he’s deflecting. you can see it in the way he avoids your gaze, in the way his hands fidget nervously at his sides. the confidence that usually defines him is gone, replaced by something much more guarded.

you narrow your eyes, stepping closer to him. “that’s not it, sunoo. you know more than you’re telling me.”

for a moment, sunoo’s cheerful facade cracks completely. his eyes meet yours, and the playfulness drains from his expression. what’s left behind is cold, calculating, and far too knowing for comfort.

“you don’t want to ask questions you aren’t ready to hear the answers to,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a strange weight that sends another shiver down your spine.

before you can respond, he turns away, resuming his work on the cinnamon rolls as though the conversation never happened. the air between you feels thick with unspoken truths, and your mind races with questions you don’t know how to voice.

how does sunoo know things about you that you’ve never shared? and why does it feel like he’s hiding something—something big, something dangerous?

as the silence stretches on, your unease only grows. the cosy warmth of the kitchen now feels suffocating, and every glance sunoo throws your way feels like a veiled warning. you try to focus on the task at hand, but your thoughts keep spiralling, circling back to the same unsettling conclusion:

there’s something very wrong here.

later that evening, as you sit with heeseung by the fire once again, you can’t stop thinking about what sunoo said. you want to ask heeseung, to get some kind of explanation, but you don’t know how to bring it up without sounding paranoid. every time you try to voice your thoughts, the words get caught in your throat.

heeseung notices your distraction, of course. he always does. his dark eyes flicker with concern as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face.

“are you alright?” he asks softly, his voice filled with that familiar warmth that always seems to melt your defences.

you force a smile, though it feels brittle. “i’m fine,” you lie, your heart racing.

but as heeseung leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can’t shake the feeling that everything is slipping out of your control. the mansion, sunoo, heeseung—it’s all starting to unravel, and you’re not sure if you’re prepared for what you’ll find once the proper truth comes to light.

the storm that had raged outside the mansion for what felt like days finally breaks, leaving the air heavy with the scent of damp earth and the last drops of rain dripping off the eaves. the sky is clear now, a pale blue that feels far too serene after the eerie chaos of the past few days. you should be relieved, ready to leave this strange place and return to the life you know, but there’s a tension clinging to you that refuses to dissipate.

your parents, already packing up in their room, seem eager to get back on the road. they’ve been talking about the upcoming week—about how you need to prepare for your university exchange program and the final stretch of family time before you go. you should feel the same urgency, the same excitement to return to normalcy, but something keeps you rooted in place, lingering in the mansion’s dim corridors.

and then there’s heeseung.

he’s been quieter than usual since the storm ended, his smiles fewer and his demeanour darker, but every time you try to bring it up, he brushes it off. it’s like he’s biding his time, waiting for the right moment to say whatever’s been brewing behind his careful mask.

that moment comes after dinner, when your parents step outside to check on the car. you find yourself alone with heeseung in his room, the fire casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. the atmosphere is heavy, thick with unspoken words. you glance at him, and something in his expression—a tightness around his eyes, a tension in his jaw—makes your pulse quicken.

“heeseung…” you begin, your voice tentative. “we’re leaving soon. i have to get back in time for the program.”

at your words, something shifts in him, subtle but palpable. his dark eyes lock onto yours, and the pleasant facade he’s been wearing all this time cracks, just slightly. the smile that curls his lips doesn’t reach his eyes.

“you’re really going to leave me?” his voice is soft, almost too soft, and yet there’s an edge to it that makes your stomach churn.

you take a step towards him, trying to explain. “i have to go. the program—it’s important, and i can’t just stay here.”

heeseung’s expression darkens, and he takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you. “what’s more important? some exchange program or me?”

the question catches you off guard. his voice is low, laced with something that sounds like hurt, but there’s a simmering anger beneath it that makes you nervous.

“i… it’s not like that,” you stammer, trying to find the right words. “i’ve worked so hard for this, heeseung. it’s a big opportunity. you understand, don’t you?”

but he’s not listening. heeseung’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow as he steps closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “no, i don’t understand,” he snaps, his voice rising with barely contained fury. “you can’t just leave! after everything we’ve been through—after everything i’ve done for you—you’re just going to walk away?”

your heart pounds in your chest as his words hit you like a physical blow. there’s something wild in his gaze now, something unhinged. heeseung reaches out, grabbing your arm, and his grip is too tight, his fingers digging into your skin.

“you’re not going,” he says, his voice low and dangerous, the fury in his tone barely masked. “you can’t.”

the room feels like it’s closing in on you, the fire’s warmth suddenly stifling. you try to pull away, but heeseung’s grip tightens, his fingers digging deeper into your arm. his face contorts with an emotion you can’t fully name—something between rage and desperation.

“heeseung, you’re hurting me,” you manage to say, your voice shaky as you try to free yourself from his grasp.

at your words, his expression shifts again—this time to something that almost looks like regret, but it’s fleeting, quickly replaced by that same desperate intensity. he loosens his grip, but he doesn’t let go. instead, he pulls you closer, his other hand coming up to cup the side of your face.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, but there’s still an unsettling edge to it. “i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just… i can’t lose you.”

his face is inches from yours, and there’s something predatory in the way he looks at you now. before you can react, he leans in, his lips crashing against yours with a force that makes you stumble back. the kiss is rough, possessive, not at all like the tender moments you’ve shared before. it’s as if he’s trying to claim you, to make you stay through sheer force of will.

you try to push him away, but he’s too strong, his hands holding you in place. panic flares in your chest, but just as quickly as the kiss began, he pulls back, his face contorted with a mixture of fury and something akin to pleading.

“don’t go,” he whispers, his voice trembling now, and you can see tears welling up in his eyes. “please… don’t leave me.”

the sudden shift is dizzying. one moment, he was angry—furious, even—and now he’s begging, his voice raw with emotion. heeseung’s hands slide from your face to your shoulders, his fingers trembling as he holds onto you as if you’re his only lifeline.

“i’ve been trapped here for so long,” he says, his voice breaking. “you’re the only good thing that’s happened to me in… i don’t even know how long. i can’t bear the thought of being alone again. not after everything we’ve shared.”

you feel a pang of guilt at the sight of him like this—vulnerable, broken. his eyes are filled with so much pain, so much longing, that it tugs at something deep inside you. despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, a part of you feels drawn to him, feels the weight of his desperation, his need for you.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “but i can’t let you leave. i can’t let you forget about me.”

his words send a chill through you, but they also stir something else—something darker, something that makes you question your own resolve. can you really leave him here, alone, after everything?

“heeseung,” you begin, your voice shaky, “i don’t want to hurt you either, but i have to go back. my life… i can’t just abandon it.”

his expression hardens for a moment, and for a terrifying second, you think his anger will return, but instead, he collapses against you, resting his forehead on your shoulder. his body trembles, and you feel the wetness of his tears soaking into your shirt.

“stay with me,” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “please… i need you.”

the weight of his words crashes down on you, and you feel your resolve slipping. heeseung’s vulnerability, his desperation—it’s overwhelming. you can’t deny the pull you feel toward him, the way your heart aches at the thought of leaving him behind.

maybe it’s the mansion, with its strange, unearthly hold on you, or maybe it’s heeseung himself—the way he’s embedded himself into your heart, into your very being. either way, the thought of leaving him feels unbearable.

slowly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him as he clings to you. “i’ll stay… for now,” you whisper, the words slipping from your lips before you can stop them.

heeseung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mix of hope and relief. “you will?”

you nod, even as your heart twists with doubt. “just for a little longer.”

the smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost tender, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes—something darker, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

but for now, you push it aside. you’ll deal with the consequences of your decision later. right now, you just want to believe that you’re doing the right thing, that staying with heeseung is what’s best.

even if, deep down, you know it might be the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

the room is bathed in the soft, flickering light of candles, their flames casting shadows that dance along the walls. the air is thick with the scent of something floral, a heady mix of desire and tension swirling around you as heeseung’s lips trail down your neck, sending shivers through your body. his touch is gentle, worshipping, as if he’s afraid you might disappear at any moment.

it feels almost too perfect—like a dream you’re not quite sure you want to wake up from. his hands are on your skin, warm and possessive, and despite everything, despite the lingering doubts in your mind, you feel yourself giving in. his breath is hot against your collarbone, and your body responds to him, melting into his every touch.

heeseung presses you down onto the soft bed, his movements slow and deliberate. there's an intensity in his gaze, a hunger that’s been simmering under the surface ever since you arrived. his eyes never leave yours, and in the flickering light, there’s something primal in the way he looks at you—something that makes your pulse quicken with both anticipation and a strange sense of foreboding.

“i’ve waited so long for this,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion as his fingers trace the curve of your waist, his lips hovering just above yours. “you have no idea how long…”

his words make your heart stutter, but you push the uneasy feeling aside. this moment feels too intimate, too charged to ruin with questions. you close your eyes as he leans in, kissing you deeply, and for a moment, all your doubts dissolve in the heat of the moment.

heeseung’s hands move with purpose, his touch both tender and possessive, and soon you find yourself swept away by the passion between you. it feels like time has stopped, like the mansion itself has paused its strange, shifting nature to let you have this moment together. his body presses against yours, and the world outside the room seems to blur into nothingness.

as the intensity builds, heeseung’s breath grows heavier, and so does the atmosphere around you. his whispered words become more erratic, laced with a strange urgency. he murmurs your name like a prayer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in low, fervent tones. you try to hold on to the heat between you, to the passion, but there’s something unsettling underneath it all. something you can’t quite put your finger on. the way he touches you—so familiar, like he’s done this before. like you’ve done this before.

as the moment deepens, you’re both lost in each other, but then, somewhere between the whispers and the heat of his skin against yours, heeseung says something that makes your heart stutter.

“you know he was never good enough for you.”

his words are laced with a bitterness that cuts through the intimacy like a knife. your body tenses beneath him, but you don’t fully register the meaning of his words right away. who is he talking about? the thought flashes through your mind, but it’s quickly drowned out by the sensation of his hands on your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours.

still, the words echo, growing louder with each passing second. he? who is he talking about?

your mind begins to wander, to places you’ve been trying to avoid. somewhere deep inside, there’s a flicker of recognition. the inkling of a past lover, a shadowy figure whose face you can’t quite remember but whose presence lingers in your mind. it’s as though there’s something—or someone—you’ve forgotten, buried beneath layers of a life you no longer recall.

heeseung’s lips press against your skin again, pulling you back into the moment, but the unease has already taken root. you can’t shake the feeling that something is off. his words—he was never good enough for you—ring in your ears. but who? who could he mean?

you try to push it away, to focus on the present, but there’s a strange shift in the atmosphere now. the way heeseung touches you, the way his voice wraps around your name—it feels less like adoration and more like possession. and the way he said he—the bitterness, the jealousy—it felt too personal, too pointed.

you close your eyes, trying to lose yourself in the heat of his body, but the unease grows, knotting in your chest. you can’t stop thinking about what he said, about who he might be referring to. you don’t remember anyone else—at least, not fully. yet there’s this nagging feeling, like you’re forgetting something important. or someone.

heeseung seems oblivious to your growing discomfort. his hands roam over you with a kind of desperation now, his grip tightening as if he’s afraid to let go. there’s a possessive edge to the way he holds you, a subtle shift in the dynamic that makes your heart race for reasons that have nothing to do with passion.

“you’ve always been mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear. “from the beginning.”

the words send a chill through you. from the beginning. it’s a simple phrase, but something about the way he says it—like he’s claiming you, like he’s rewriting your past—makes you uneasy. you don’t know why, but those words feel loaded, like they mean more than he’s letting on.

and then, as he kisses you again, his voice drops to a whisper, soft but chilling: “even before… before him.”

your body goes rigid. there it is again—him. the mystery lover you can’t remember. the one who, according to heeseung, wasn’t good enough for you. the one who existed before heeseung.

your heart pounds in your chest as your mind races, trying to piece together the fragments of memories you don’t have. who is he? and why does heeseung sound so bitter, so possessive, when he talks about him?

you don’t ask the questions that are burning inside you. not yet. you’re not sure you’re ready to hear the answers. instead, you let heeseung pull you closer, let him kiss you with that same intensity, but the warmth between you has shifted. there’s something darker in the air now, something unsettling, and no matter how much you try to ignore it, the words before him continue to echo in your mind.

later, when the passion has faded and the room has fallen into silence, you lie beside heeseung, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. heeseung’s arm is draped over your waist, his breathing slow and even as if he’s already drifted off into a peaceful sleep. but you can’t rest. not with the weight of his words hanging over you.

he was never good enough for you.

as you lie there, wrapped in heeseung’s arms, the reality of your situation starts to sink in. the mansion, the strange familiarity, the way heeseung acts as though he’s known you forever—it all feels too real, too deliberate. you want to believe that what you have with him is real, but there’s a part of you, buried deep inside, that knows something isn’t right.

something is missing. something from your past, something—or someone—that heeseung isn’t telling you about.

and the scariest part? you’re not sure if you want to remember.

the air feels heavy, pressing down on you as you toss and turn in the unfamiliar bed, your mind restless even in sleep. the warmth of heeseung’s presence lingers, but something inside you feels unsettled—his words still echoing in your mind, he was never good enough for you. a cold shiver runs down your spine as you drift deeper into unconsciousness, slipping into the kind of dream that feels far too real.

the room is dark, but something’s wrong—everything feels… different. you sit up slowly, eyes scanning the space. the door that led to the hallway earlier now opens to somewhere else entirely, revealing a long corridor that seems to stretch into nothingness. the walls seem to shift, pulsating like they’re alive, and the low hum of eerie whispers fills the air.

your heart pounds as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. the floor beneath your feet feels colder than it should, like ice seeping through the soles of your skin. your instincts scream at you to stay where you are, but something compels you to move, to explore. you walk toward the mirror on the wall, drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

but when you look into it, the reflection staring back at you isn’t your own—or at least, not how you recognize yourself. the figure in the mirror is wearing clothes from another time—a long, flowing dress, intricate lace details that seem ancient, out of place in this modern world. you can’t breathe. the woman in the reflection is you, but not you. she looks like you… but she belongs to another life.

a flicker of movement in the mirror catches your attention, and you turn to see heeseung standing in the doorway, his figure bathed in shadows. but this isn’t the heeseung you’ve come to know. the softness in his expression is gone, replaced with something darker, more sinister. his face is cold, almost expressionless, but his eyes—his eyes gleam with something sharp, dangerous.

“you’re here,” he says, his voice deeper than usual, lacking the warmth you’ve grown used to. he steps into the room, and the air seems to thicken around you. “i was hoping you’d remember sooner.”

“remember?” you whisper, confusion and fear swirling in your chest. “what are you talking about?”

heeseung’s lips curl into a bitter smile. “this place, us… none of it is a coincidence. you think you were just passing through? that the mansion drew you in by some strange force?” he laughs, a low, humourless sound that sends chills down your spine. “i brought you here.”

you take a step back, your mind reeling. “what… what do you mean?”

heeseung tilts his head, studying you like you’re a puzzle he’s waiting for you to solve. “this mansion, this cursed place—it’s ours. we built it together. we ran this hotel together. don’t you remember? you and i… we were supposed to live here, forever. but you chose him.”

a cold weight settles in your stomach. flashes of images invade your mind—distant memories you don’t understand, flickering in and out of focus. heeseung standing beside you, both of you smiling. the mansion was alive back then too, bustling with guests, full of life. but something feels wrong, distorted.

you suddenly feel like you’re suffocating, trapped under the weight of something you’re not sure you want to remember. the walls seem to shift again, the whispers growing louder, more insistent. bloodstains appear on the floor beneath you, as though seeping up from the wood itself.

heeseung’s voice pulls you back. “i loved you,” he says softly, stepping closer. his words should feel comforting, but they don’t. there’s a hunger in them, a possessive edge that makes your skin crawl. “but you were going to marry him… sim jake. you never gave me a chance.”

your heart skips a beat. jake. the name pulls at something deep within you, something you’ve been trying to ignore. memories you can’t quite grasp swirl at the edges of your consciousness, threatening to break free. you shake your head, unable to speak, your throat tight.

“i watched you with him,” heeseung continues, his eyes never leaving yours. “watched as you planned a future that didn’t include me. but i couldn’t let it happen. i couldn’t let him take you away.”

the bloodstains grow darker, spreading across the floor. you take another step back, your breath quickening.

and then it hits you—a flash of memory, so vivid it nearly knocks the air out of your lungs. you’re standing in the grand foyer of the mansion, dressed in that same lace gown from the mirror. jake is beside you, holding your hand, and you’re smiling up at him, heart full of love and excitement for the life you’re about to start together.

but then heeseung appears, his expression twisted in anger, betrayal simmering beneath the surface. and beside him is sunoo, his usually cheerful face cold and calculating. you see the way they look at jake, the silent exchange between them. before you can even process what’s happening, sunoo moves like lightning—his hand coming down in a flash of steel.

blood.

you gasp, your body trembling as you relive the moment. jake’s body crumpling to the ground, lifeless. your scream echoing through the halls, terror and grief crashing into you like a tidal wave.

in the dream—or is it a memory?—you turn, locking eyes with heeseung. you see it in his face, the mix of guilt and satisfaction. he’s done it. he’s made sure jake will never have you. but you… you’re not supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to see it.

heeseung’s lips part as if to speak, but before he can, sunoo moves again. you don’t feel the blade; you just see your own blood spilling onto the floor, mixing with jake’s. heeseung’s yell is heard in the background and then… darkness.

the memory snaps you back to the present with a force that makes you stumble, your hands clutching the edge of the bed as you struggle to breathe. your heart is pounding in your ears, and your vision blurs with tears as the reality of it all sinks in.

you stare at him, your mind reeling. “sunoo killed me…” the words barely escape your lips, your voice trembling. “you… you both… killed us.”

heeseung’s expression hardens. “it was never supposed to end like that. but sunoo—he was afraid. afraid you’d ruin everything. so he—”

“he killed me,” you repeat, the weight of the revelation crashing down on you. “because of you.”

“because i loved you,” heeseung snaps, his voice sharp, eyes blazing with fury. “because i couldn’t stand the thought of you being with him. you were supposed to be mine!”

the room begins to shift, the walls closing in around you, the whispers rising to a deafening roar. you see it all now—how the mansion is tied to you, how it’s always been tied to you. it’s not just a place; it’s a prison. a prison where heeseung, sunoo, and you have been trapped for eternity, bound by the violence and betrayal that happened within its walls.

and heeseung… he’s not the victim he claimed to be. he’s the one who set all of this into motion, the mastermind behind the lies, the manipulation. he brought you back here, trapped you in this cycle, because he refuses to let go. he refuses to let you go.

“you can’t leave,” he whispers, stepping closer, his voice soft but laced with something sinister. “not now. not ever.”

your body trembles, fear twisting in your gut. the mansion—the distorted laughter, the bloodstains that won’t fade, the sensation of being watched—it’s all his doing. all part of his twisted game to keep you here, with him, forever.

but now, you remember. and you know the truth.

you wake up suddenly, your breath catching in your throat. the room is filled with the steady sound of heeseung’s breathing, soft and rhythmic as he sleeps beside you, his arms still wrapped around you protectively. but there’s no peace in it for you. your heart races, your mind tangled in a web of fear and confusion after what you just experienced. the images of the dream—or was it a memory?—flash through your mind. heeseung and sunoo killing jake. your own death. the truth about the mansion. it all feels too real, too vivid.

you glance at heeseung's sleeping form. his face is peaceful, innocent even, as if none of the horrors you've just seen could possibly be tied to him. but you know better now. his charm, his warmth, it’s all a mask—a cruel lie.

carefully, you slide out of bed, every movement deliberate, trying not to make a sound. you hold your breath as you tiptoe across the floor, your hands trembling. you don’t dare look back at him, too terrified that he might wake up and catch you. you know that if you stay here any longer, you’ll be trapped forever, just like in your dream. or worse—your nightmare.

you slip out of the room, heart pounding in your ears as you make your way down the dark hallway toward your parents' room. the walls seem to loom larger in the dim light, shadows flickering at the edges of your vision. the mansion feels like it’s alive, watching your every step, waiting for you to fail.

when you reach their door, you knock softly, trying not to panic. “mom, dad,” you whisper urgently. “we need to leave. please, wake up.”

after a moment, your mother opens the door, her face groggy with sleep. "what's going on?" she asks, rubbing her eyes.

"we need to leave," you repeat, your voice shaking. "something's wrong with this place. please, trust me. we have to go now."

your father stirs awake as well, frowning. "leave? in the middle of the night? what's gotten into you?"

"please," you beg, "i can't explain it right now, but we have to go. meet me outside, okay? just pack your things and meet me at the gates."

they exchange concerned glances but for once, sensing the urgency in your voice, they nod and begin to gather their things. relief washes over you for a brief moment as you make your way down the stairs, moving swiftly toward the mansion’s grand entrance. you're almost there, just a few more steps.

but as you reach the towering iron gates, you’re suddenly pulled back and pinned against the wall. you’re not surprised to see heeseung looming above you, with the most furious look you’ve ever seen on him.

“where do you think you’re going, my love?”, he spits out venomously.

you try to push him away, but to no avail he just grabs both your wrists, pinning them to your chest.

“you lied to me about all of this”, you look at him with betrayal, “you’re nothing but a manipulative liar. you killed us!”

heeseung seems to freeze at that, a look of realisation crossing over his face. he lets out a chuckle in disbelief, staring at you with a dark look.

“you found out then huh. but, you don’t know the full truth, do you?”

you furrow your brows in confusion at that. what was he talking about now?

he smirks at that, letting go of your hands now. “you’ve left me no choice y/n. you did this to yourself.”

with that ominous declaration, he brings his hand up to your forehead. a series of images rapidly flash in front of your eyes, and you immediately blackout.

you’re back in the dream again, but this time it’s different. you see yourself—your past self—walking through the halls of the mansion. the air is warm, the sunlight streaming through the large windows, and everything feels… peaceful. you look younger, happier, laughing at something heeseung said. he’s beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both walk through the corridors like you belong there. like this place is yours.

heeseung is smiling at you, but not in the charming, calculated way you’ve come to expect. it’s a genuine smile, filled with warmth and affection. your heart flutters as he leans closer, his voice soft as he speaks. “you always make everything feel right,” he says, eyes shining with something you can’t quite place.

you smile back, a soft blush colouring your cheeks, and it hits you—he loved you then too. but you were too caught up in your engagement to jake to see it.

the scene shifts. you’re sitting together, laughing over something, your hand resting on his arm as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. there’s an intimacy between you that makes your stomach twist with unease. this version of you looks so in love with him. you’re touching him like you belong to him.

but that can’t be right. jake was your fiancé. you were going to marry him.

the memory shifts again, this time darker. heeseung leans in, his hand resting on yours for just a moment too long. “if only things were different,” he murmurs, his gaze heavy with unspoken longing.

your past self looks away, guilt flashing in your eyes. “i can’t leave him,” you whisper, barely audible. “it wouldn’t be good for my family or us. for the business.”

heeseung’s jaw tightens, his fingers brushing over yours with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “but you want to,” he says softly, the words hanging in the air between you like a dangerous secret.

and you… you don’t deny it.

you wake up with a gasp, your heart racing as you bolt upright. your head throbs where as if you were hit, and the confusion of the dream still lingers like a fog in your mind. you’re back in heeseung’s room. alone. sunlight spills in through the curtains which means..

panic floods your veins. you scramble out of bed, your feet hitting the cold floor as you rush to the door. you can’t stay here. you have to find your parents and leave before it’s too late.

when you reach the foyer, your breath catches in your throat. your parents are there, bags packed, ready to leave. relief crashes over you like a wave, and you run toward them. “mom! dad! let’s go, we have to—”

but then they turn to you, confusion etched on their faces. your mother tilts her head slightly, her brow furrowing. “who… are you?”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut. “what do you mean? i’m your daughter! we need to leave, now!”

your father frowns, glancing at your mother, then back at you. “i think you’re mistaken. we don’t have a daughter.”

your laughter bubbles up, but it’s panicked, forced. “what? no, stop. this isn’t funny. we need to go, we need to leave right now!”

suddenly, you feel an arm snake around your waist, pulling you into a strong hold. you freeze, knowing exactly who it is before you even turn to look. heeseung. his smile is charming, but the coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine.

“ah, sweetheart,” he says smoothly, turning to your parents with an amused chuckle. “she likes to play these little pranks sometimes. always such a joker, my wife.”

your parents—no, these strangers—laugh awkwardly, nodding along like everything makes sense. “oh, we see,” your mother—no, not your mother—says with a forced smile. 

your blood runs cold. you twist in heeseung’s grip, looking at him with wide, horrified eyes. “what have you done?”

heeseung’s smile falters slightly, but he feigns hurt, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. “what have i done? darling, i think you’re a little confused.”

you struggle against him, but his grip tightens. "mom! dad! please, it's me! it's your daughter! you have to believe me!"

but they just stare at you, their expressions growing more uncomfortable by the second. your father clears his throat, glancing at heeseung. “i think it’s time for us to go.”

heeseung nods, his smile never wavering. “of course. i’m sorry about all this. she’s been under a lot of stress lately. sunoo,” he calls over his shoulder.

sunoo appears from the shadows, his ever-cheerful grin now twisted into something darker, more malicious. he moves toward you, grabbing your arm with surprising strength. “come on now, let’s not make a scene.”

“no!” you scream, thrashing in sunoo’s hold. “please, you have to remember me! i’m your daughter!”

but your parents—these strangers—just exchange awkward glances before turning away. you all watch them leave, sunoo’s arm still securely around your waist, holding you in place.

you break free from his grip, bolting toward the door screaming for your parents, desperate to escape. but as soon as you reach the threshold, you slam into an invisible barrier. the impact knocks the air from your lungs, and you stumble back, disoriented.

heeseung is behind you in an instant, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his breath hot against your ear. “i told you, didn’t i?” his voice is low, cold. “you’re mine. you’ve always been mine.”

tears stream down your face as you push against the barrier, your hands shaking. “what have you done to me? why are you doing this?”

heeseung’s grip tightens, and he spins you around to face him, his eyes dark with a possessive intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “you think you’re innocent in all of this?” his voice is soft, but there’s a dangerous edge to it. “you think you didn’t know what was happening? you chose me. you were mine long before jake was ever in the picture.”

you shake your head in disbelief. “no, i didn’t… i didn’t—”

sunoo steps closer, a mocking pout on his lips. “oh, sweetheart, you did. you just didn’t want to admit it.” his finger traces the line of your cheek, and you flinch away from him. “you knew about heeseung’s feelings. you used him. and when jake became a problem, you turned a blind eye to it all. you knew we would kill him.” he sighs, “unfortunately, miscommunication led to your demise and we were eventually hanged. and now our souls are cursed to be bound to this mansion for eternity.”

heeseung’s voice lowers, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “you’re just as guilty as i am. and now… you’ll suffer with me. for eternity.”

you stand frozen, your mind reeling from heeseung’s words. the weight of the truth, the accusations, presses down on you like a boulder. memories you didn’t even know you had flicker behind your eyes—of stolen glances, secret touches, a forbidden affair. the you from before, so desperate to keep everything intact—your reputation, your future—had made a choice. a terrible, selfish choice.

“no…” you whisper, backing away from heeseung, shaking your head in denial. “that’s not true. i didn’t—”

“didn’t what?” heeseung cuts you off, his voice sharp and cruel now, all traces of tenderness gone. “didn’t love me? didn’t lead me on while you paraded around with him?” he spits the last word like it’s poison. “you knew exactly what you were doing. you wanted to have it both ways, and when i couldn’t stand it any longer, you let me kill jake because it was easier for you.”

the room spins as his words hit you like a tidal wave. you feel sick, your stomach twisting in knots. but even as the guilt rises in your throat, something inside you resists. “i didn’t… i didn’t want that…” you stammer, but your voice is weak, and the look in heeseung’s eyes tells you that he doesn’t believe you. maybe you don’t even believe yourself.

he steps closer, his eyes dark and filled with anger and betrayal. “you were mine, always mine. but you just had to keep playing your little games, didn’t you? you thought you could control everything. but look where it’s gotten us.”

you stumble backward, hitting the invisible barrier once again. this time it feels like it’s closing in on you, trapping you not just physically but mentally, emotionally. “i didn’t want anyone to die!” you shout, your voice cracking as the tears blur your vision. “i didn’t want this!”

sunoo chuckles softly from the corner, leaning casually against the wall, his expression unreadable. “well, that’s a nice story,” he says, voice light and mocking. “but none of us are getting out of here. not you, not me, not heeseung.” he crosses the room, his eyes gleaming with malice as he moves toward you. “you see, you set all of this in motion. you thought you could control us, control your fate, but now you’ll be trapped here just like us.”

heeseung’s grip on your arm tightens painfully, and you can feel his desperation, his anger, boiling over. “you’re not leaving, no matter how hard you try. this mansion, this curse, it’s our prison. and now it’s yours, too. we’re all in this together, for eternity.”

the word “eternity” sends a fresh wave of panic through your veins. “no!” you scream, thrashing in his grip, desperate to break free. “i won’t stay here! i won’t!”

but heeseung only tightens his hold on you, his face twisted in a mixture of rage and possessiveness. “you will stay,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous. “you belong to me. you always have.”

sunoo steps beside heeseung, his gaze cold and detached as he watches your struggle. his mocking smile only deepens the pit of dread in your stomach. “it’s only fair, don’t you think?” sunoo says, his voice filled with cruel amusement. “after all, you did help put us in this mess. you turned a blind eye to what heeseung did. and now…” he trails his fingers along your cheek, his touch sending a shiver of fear down your spine. “you’ll pay for that mistake.”

you shake your head wildly, trying to back away, but the barrier prevents any escape. “please, no!” you beg, your voice breaking as you sob. “i didn’t know… i didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

but heeseung’s grip is unrelenting. he pulls you closer, his eyes gleaming with twisted satisfaction as he watches you unravel. “it doesn’t matter now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. “your parents don’t remember you anymore and we’re bound together, all of us. the mansion, the curse, it’s our fate. and now it’s yours, too.”

as his words sink in, you feel the weight of your past bearing down on you. the memories, the guilt, the betrayal—it’s all too much. you collapse against the invisible barrier, tears streaming down your face as you realise the full extent of what’s happened. you’re trapped. trapped with heeseung and sunoo in this mansion, cursed to live out eternity in this twisted nightmare.

heeseung kneels down beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a cruel tenderness. “it’s better this way,” he whispers. “now you can’t leave me. you’ll never leave me again.”

you choke back a sob, shaking your head. “i never wanted this… i never wanted to hurt anyone…”

heeseung’s lips curl into a dark smile. “but you did,” he says softly. “and now, you’ll live with that guilt forever.”

sunoo crouches beside heeseung, his gaze filled with mock pity as he watches you break down. “look on the bright side,” he says with a smirk. “at least you won’t be lonely. you’ll have us… forever.”

the finality of their words crashes over you like a wave, and as you look into heeseung’s cold, possessive eyes, you realise there’s no escape. you’re trapped in this mansion, bound to heeseung and sunoo for all eternity, forced to relive the mistakes of your past life in an endless cycle of torment.

with a sinking heart, you realise that heeseung was right all along. you’ve always been his. and now, you’ll never be free.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱 taglist: @kxppachu @reign-reads @riribelle @firstclassjaylee

@hoshieee @simbabyj @yourlicenseismissing @evilangel404

@nora12379 @selleprotection @yoongisbaguetteshoes

@bejewelledgirl @hoonieyun @oreoqueen @jiiyen

@bywons @ckwnsgh @ashrocker123 @jiryunie

[p1astr81]

Hey!! Can write something where the reader it's an youtuber, and she invaited Oscar to make a video with him, but he's shy.

Oh and the video it's this type where they are just sittin in the car in an parkinlot of somewhere. 🥰😊

(It's like 'Stuniolos Triplets' type of video)

thank Tara Yummy for her “stuck in a car” videos otherwise I’d have zero clue on how to execute this😀

“Hey guys it’s y/n y/l/n and on todays installment of hot seat I’m here with…” you gestured your hands over to him.

He gave an awkward wave. “Hi I’m Oscar Piastri.”

Your smile spread. “Do you want to tell them what you do?”

“I am a formula one driver for McLaren, and… yeah.”

You tried not to laugh at his awkwardness, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped. “Okay, yes.” You nodded. “Seven wins to his name. Five this season. A 55% win rate this season, that’s pretty impressive.” You tapped his arm with the back of your hand.

He just shrugged.

“Humble as ever.” You laughed. “Okay, wait I need to show you something.” You popped open the glove box, and pulled out an air freshener, printed with his face.

His lips split in a smile, his hand coming up to cover his mouth in shock.

“I hid it because I didn’t want to seem like a creep but I need to show my credentials.”

“So you’re a fan?” He quirked a brow.

“I am a fan, yes.” You paused, then let out a small scream. “Oh my god this is embarrassing.” Hid your face, straightening out your expression before resurfacing. “I’m chill.”

He laughed.

“Okay, but I bought you a gift.” You changed the topic, reaching behind you to grab the wrapped gift.

He took it from your hands and shook it. “Are these Tim tams?”

You hit the dash. “Damnnit! How’d you know?”

He shrugged again and tore the wrapping paper. “This is good because I haven’t been home in a while and I keep forgetting to ask my mom to send me some.” He opened the package. “Can I have one?”

“Yes, they’re yours.” You laughed. “Just don’t tell artturi.”

He looked at you in suspicion. “So you’re like a fan fan?”

“Why would you… oh.” Your face burned in embarrassment. “Is it weird?”

Oscar laughed and shook his head.

As the video progressed, and Oscar got more comfortable, he became more talkative.

“Do you like driving? Like off the track.”

His face scrunched up as he thought about it. “Sometimes. It depends on the day, I think. If it’s right after a triple header I’m really just, uh, sick of it. Any other time I don’t really mind. I do get road rage though.” He confessed.

Your jaw dropped. “Really? You just seem so like—you’re going to hate me for saying this—but you seem so level headed and calm. I’d never expect that from you.”

“I wouldn’t say it comes naturally for me to be calm, I think it definitely takes some conscious effort, but yeah. Everyone is always shocked to hear me say that.”

You glanced at the time. “Oh! We’ve been here over an hour now!” Then you turned to him. “Before we leave, what was your hot seat experience? Rate it from 1 to 10.” You clasped your hands together.

“I’d give it a nine.” He shrugged.

“Really? When did lose points?”

“When you knew my trainer’s name.”

You hid your face in embarrassment. “Right. No, yeah that makes sense.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

half return.

synopsis : katsuki’s decides to go home for the weekend, he invites you to come with him.

an. I'M BACK ! yall it’s been a while since ive written a full lil fic and this has been itw for a lil bit so i hope yall enjoy ! requests are still otw ! but i figured I’d write a little something to celebrate mha ending :(( tysm mha you will forever be my most beloved animanga in the whole world..BUT ANYWAY SAD STUFF ASIDE yall know i had to bring back my childhood friends to lovers on em,,cmon NOWW ITS JUST MY FAV TROPE YALL 🤧🤧🤧🤧 Anyways, i hope yall enjoy, much luv xxx

cw. SUPER childhood friends to lovers (MY BIG ONE), MHA MANGA SPOILERS (post war and katsuki in rehab !), kissing and being in lubbb bleurghh, soft suki, sleeping in the same bed, mitsuki and katsuki lol, masaru being a sweetie, cooking, lemme know if i missed sum else <33 !!

“i’m goin’ back home for the weekend.”

these are the first words spoken in a couple of minutes. you were content with sitting in katsuki’s dorm room back at the height alliance, simply sitting in the same space doing your own thing. things slowly taking back their normal course despite you all still having a lot of work to do.

you look up from your phone to look at katsuki who’s eyes have not drifted from his. “oh yeah ? that sounds nice.” you smile, you’re sure his parents must want nothing more than to spend time with their son who saved the world. and you think secretly, he wants to go home too.

he grunts in response, continuing to scroll through his feed. and after a pause he adds “hag asked if you wanted to come with.”

you blink at him, it has been a while since you’ve properly spent time with katsuki’s parents. the last times you did it was when they came to visit you in the hospital to wish you well and offer you some sweets, not exactly the most joyous of occasions, but you loved seeing them either way.

you blink up at him, “are you sure that’d be okay ? i mean, it’s a family thing, no ?”

katsuki shrugs in response “‘s not up to me, she wants to see you so bad.” he glances at you “you gonna say no to her ?” you snicker at his teasing. mitsuki was a sweetheart, but she still intimidated you a little bit since she was a rather..intense woman.

“well i’d hate to disappoint her.” you jest, katsuki snorts, soft smirk pulling at his face as he rolls his eyes. he finally turns to look at you “you don’t have to, i could just tell her you’re busy.” your heart shakes at his subtle reassurance, but you shake your head.

“that’s fine, it’s been a while since i’ve been to your house anyway.” you scooch closer to your boyfriend, laying your head against his chest as he wraps his arm around you immediately. you want to get as close to his heart as possible, wanting to hear even the faintest of sound. to make sure he’s really there with you at times.

katsuki’s hand is warm as he softly rubs up and down your arm, “yeah it has, hasn’t it..” he sighs, and you think he was talking for both of you.

katsuki's house feels no different from when you were a kid.

the house still smells the same, mitsuki always told you that she liked the soft fresh scent she sprayed through the house. she always liked to leave at least one window open because she said it felt too stuffy, a habit that you recognised in your boyfriend, but that was also probably because he ran hotter than most people.

it calmed her, she said, and with how rowdy katsuki was lord knew she needed it. katsuki always complained when his mother would try out new air fresheners, and you remember his distain for a particular strong lavender one. (although you didn't like it much, either.)

the couches are still the same, all the pictures hanging around the house are unchanged as well. pictures of mitsuki and masaru at their wedding, of katsuki getting a big all might figure for christmas, and of you both at your elementary school entrance ceremony. you giggle every time you see it because katsuki's face hasn't changed much aside from it's pudginess. his expression fierce and you could even see how tight he was gripping your hand in the picture. (katsuki doesn't find it as funny as you do.)

katsuki's mom has always been very youthful, her face hasn't changed much from the years you've known her aside from some wrinkles appearing with age, she still looked as gorgeous as ever. you've always thought she was stunning. she greets you just as excitedly as she did when you were six and came over to play. although she can't scoop you up in her arms anymore she still embraces you so tightly, she stills comments on how big you've gotten and how you manage to look prettier every time she sees you, you feel just as warm.

as usual, katsuki is quick to try and drag you to his room as soon as he gets the chance, not before getting an earful from his mother for not responding to her texts and not telling him how he was doing. they quickly get to arguing, like usual. and masaru quickly comes to your aid so you don't have to sit in the middle of the two loud blondes.

his voice is as gentle as you've always known it to be as he asks you if you're okay, if you're starting up school well. his soft tone and the care he has for you makes you feel warm too.

katsuki manages to swiftly get you two out of the living room, stomping up the stairs and mumbling to himself about his damn old hag. you giggle and he turns to glare at you, squeezing your hand hard and scoffing.

you see katsuki visibly slow down the closer you get to his room, his expression visibly more calm than a few moments ago. serene, like he's taking it all in. you squeeze his hand tighter and he squeezes back, you don't think he realises it.

it takes you back too, the sound of your footsteps in your ears reminds you of your socked feet running around the hallway chasing each other, padding softly against the floor when you would try to sneak a cookie late at night 'cus katsuki told you you were too chicken to go. you can almost hear your loud laughter and soft giggles in your ears. you're griping katsuki's hand.

katsuki sighs before opening the door to his room, the window is already open, his mom most definitely did this to greet him back in her own way, he stays quiet about it. you see how he scans around his room like he hadn't been there in years, a lot of stuff he had in here before was sitting in his dorm room now, but it's still his room. black sheets replace his previous one's, the one's that were used to replace his even older all might themed one's. you'd really seen it all, it makes you even more nostalgic.

"hasn't changed much." you hear him mumble, he looks around at the posters on his wall. the look in his eyes is a foreign one, it's a sort of peace you don't see often in him.

"did you expect it to ?" you tease, taking slow steps like you're exploring a museum. his room is no different, it shouldn't be. but you think maybe it's because you're both a bit more different than the last time you've been in here, maybe you've both grown up a bit more. katsuki plops down onto the floor, leaning against his bed, you follow suit.

"guess not," he scoffs, running a hand through his hair. you both sit in silence, your eyes fixed on a poster on his door. it's crinkly and it's a bit torn up around the edges. you lean your head onto katsuki shoulders and inhale, breathing the room in and close your eyes. you feel him wrap his arm around you after a moment. after the experiences you've both had, being able to relax like this with him is more than you could ever ask for. he squeezes your shoulder and you snuggle against him more when he presses his nose to your hairline, pressing a kiss to it shortly after. you feel warm all over again.

you've sat on this floor more times than you could count. laying on you're back as you laughed with your best friend, on your stomach as you read comics together. you'd eat snacks too, but katsuki never liked eating on his bed because he'd get bothered by crumbs, so you were on the floor most often. laying on it too much made your stomach hurt, and you knew your butt would be sore. but you'd go through any pain to be with katsuki, and with everything you'd been through a sore butt was absolutely nothing.

you sit there for longer than you should in a room that hasn't changed, that wasn't left untouched for long. you have memories with every thing inside this room, katsuki still the all might bobble head you'd gotten him as a joke in your room. you see the fake golden first place medal he'd gotten when your elementary school had track races. so much that you've shared with him, so much more you want to share.

right now in his room frozen in time, you feel like you have all the time in the world. it's foolish, but it's nostalgic, and it fills you with hope that everything will be like usual again.

"you're peeling those all wrong."

the sound of slicing stills as you look over at your boyfriend. you tilt your head "i'm not."

"you are, unless you actually want to cut your fingers off." he fights, rolling his eyes. you turn your nose up at him, frowning down at the potato in your hands. it looked good, you knew you were doing good.

"asshole." you grunt, you hear katsuki grunt next to you, the clattering of his own knife cutting carrots (you’re surprised he’s still that good at it despite only having one arm) catches your attention before you feel him press behind you. you stiffen, you try not to let him see the effect he has on you because you know he gets annoying about it.

when you were kids, katsuki always thought it was funny to say you needed him, joking that he was your knight in shining armor because you kept clinging to him, his words not yours. despite it seeming like he was clingier than you.

he places his hand over yours, it’s warm as it cover yours and guides you. you feel your heart pick up when he speaks closer to your ear. "you shouldn't cut towards yourself. and you slice too damn fast," he leans into your shoulder "ease up a bit."

you swallow, your heart beats in your ears "okay. thanks, mr. know it all." you mutter bitterly. katsuki continues to move your hand for you, you don't stop him.

"you should be glad i am, otherwise i would’a let you keep hacking at shit like a maniac." he chuckles.

your throw your head back and groan "ugh, you're so annoying."

you've known it for years. katsuki has been your best friend since you were in diapers and despite how much you love him, you will be the first one to complain about how fucking annoying he is.

even when you were babies. your mom told you that katsuki would take your pacifier and shove it in his own mouth while you wailed helplessly. he'd tug at your hair and poke you in class. you're sure you've called him every name in the book ; a meanie, a big bully, annoying, a jerk, an asshole, a dick head, every mean word you'd learned over the years. it makes you a bit nostalgic, but he's just so irritating.

he huffs, shoving his head into your shoulder. his hand still over yours, and he slowly lowers it into the counter. you drop the knife to turn to blink at him with wide eyes. he keeps his eyes on yours and returns to his earlier position so you don't see this embarrassment covering his cheeks. he wraps his arm around your waist tightly, pressing against you harder making up for the one that can’t. you snort at his antics.

you're sure katsuki will be an irritating know it all for the rest of his life, he's been for as long as you've known him after all. but one thing he always hated was making you upset. he always claimed it irritated him when he went too far and you'd ignore him, but in the few times he made you cry, you always saw how apologetic he looked. how his eyes were just a bit a glossy when he'd tuck his head into your shoulder in shame. he never said sorry often unless his mom forced him too when she caught you two arguing, but you always knew he was with the way he insisted on sharing his snacks with you, how he let you play with the better controller, how if he was feeling really sweet he'd kiss your cheek and look away with a bright red face.

as irritating as he is, you do hope he never changes.

you wish you could stay here for longer, just a bit longer, but you worry one of his parents (most likely his mom) would walk in and see you both. you pat at his arm squeezing it softly "i think i got the hang of it, katsu." you utter softly. he grunts, staying against you for a moment longer before moving away, squeezing your side, to which you squeal in surprise, you see him smirk and he goes back to his own cutting board.

so irritating, you think. yet you bite your lip to hide the smile growing on your face.

“hey, bathroom’s free if you want it.”

katsuki’s still drying his hair with his towel when he pads into the room, his room.

you tear your eyes away from one of his many all might figures, running your fingers across it’s details “oh okay, thanks.” you stretch, arms and all might rising along with you. you hear katsuki scoff and he stomps over, ripping the figure out of your hand.

“be careful with that.” he growls, you giggle apologetically “sorry, sorry..” he rolls his eyes, placing it back neatly on his shelf, posing the arms exactly as he likes them.

what a nerd, you think. you giggle to yourself.

katsuki’s bathroom reminds you of sleepovers. of being sent up to brush your teeth before bed and racing to see which one of you could do it the fastest and get their teeth the cleanest, you both could never agree on it. it reminds you of how much katsuki hated the flavor of the toothpaste and would make such an ugly face when he’d taste it you’d fall over laughing. it reminds you of gargling mouthwash and competing on who could do it the loudest.

katsuki was always the one who started those ridiculous contests and was always the sorest of losers, but you never backed down from his challenges. it made things more fun, he made things more fun.

you’d known this bathroom for your entire life, if the picture book filled with pictures of you and katsuki in the bath together didn’t prove that fact. (though katsuki likes to pretend they don’t exist.)

the kid’s scented shampoo is gone now, the one you’re using doesn’t make as many bubbles as the other one did, and it doesn’t smell as fruity sweet. things change, just like you.

you feel cozy in your pyjama’s. katsuki had insisted you sleep in his room, looking at you like you grew another head when you told him you’d sleep in the guest bedroom. “don’t piss me off, you’re sleeping here.” is all he’d offered you.

and sure, you always have. katsuki hated being separated from you and you from him, so you sleeping in his room was mandatory. but besides on a few occasions, you still haven’t slept with him alone since you were a kid. it’s stupid, but it makes you a bit nervous. it’s stupid, but you hope you don’t look weird while you sleep and you hope to every god you don’t drool.

katsuki looks up at you when you walk through the bedroom door. you smile at him and he jerks his neck to signal you to come in, scooting over to make more space for you. you close the door softly behind you, not wanting to disturb katsuki’s parents you’d already wished goodnight to, you softly pad over to him and he snorts.

“why’re you creepin’ like that ?” he smirks, clearly amused.

“i don’t want to disturb others by stomping around like a behemoth, unlike you.” you sass. katsuki scoffs, glaring at you.

“fuck off,” he snarls “you look stupid. lookin’ like you’re about to steal christmas.”

you gasp, walking over to his bed, and smacking his arm, he barks out a loud laugh and you shove him, he shoves you back with his good arm and you continue to scuffle and poke at the other’s stomach and sides until you push his arms away and scoot back. he huffs proudly, always the arrogant bastard. the sorest of losers.

you make your way to lay down next to him, there’s a bit of a distance though. because you feel petty, but also because it’s strange thinking you’ll fall asleep with him like this willingly. it won’t be accidentally like it happened a few times in his dorm room and you’d begrudgingly go back to your own room. you nervously rub at your legs.

“the fuck’re are you doin’ ?”

“what ?” you huff, trying to mask your embarrassment with annoyance. katsuki only raises a brow.

“yer actin’ fucking weird.” he scowls, you scowl back.

“am not !”

“are too.”

“i’m not doing this with you.” you sigh petulantly, crossing your arms. “i’m just fine.” you hear katsuki scoff next to you.

“sure, weirdo.” your side eye makes him laugh, he leans his shoulder against his headboard “come over here.”

you roll your eyes, but you’re shuffling to his side embarrassingly fast. katsuki leans his head into your neck, pressing a peck there and two to your cheek. which he proceeds to bite once, then leans even more in your space to bite your nose to make you laugh. he grunts at something blocking him from pulling you closer, which ends up being his own arm.

“move that for me, yeah ?” he grumbles, looking down towards his arm. you blink at him before slowly reaching for it. you can tell it wants to flinch with the way the muscles between his thumb and pointer finger tighten and how his breath hitches. he doesn’t stop you when you grab a hold of it. it hangs limply as you draw shapes across it.

“how are you doing here ?” you whisper, he’s close enough to hear you like this. his eyes don’t look away from yours fixed on his hand.

“‘m startin’ to feel it better..an' i can move my arm some, can't move my hand at all though.” he mutters lowly, lidded eyes on you “doc says it’s good progress.”

“that’s good.” you smile, relieved. you’d been a bit worried about katsuki denying a prosthetic but you immediately hated yourself for doubting him. he had his own reasons for refusing it and if he thought he could handle therapy, then that meant he could.

"that's really good."

you trust him, you always have. you trust him with your life, and you’ll trust him when he tells you he’ll always come back to you, even if he scares the shit out of you. you trusted him for trust fall when he promised he would catch you and he did, even if he did scare you. you trusted him on your first day of school when he said he’d keep holding your hand the whole day and when he said he would be your best friend forever.

you’ll trust he’ll be okay, as usual.

“yeah, sure.” he spits, glaring at his arm.

“katsuki..” you sigh, you place a hand against his cheek to get him to look at you. he huffs, face turning to you but his eyes won’t. “it is great progress. especially with what you went through. shit, the doctors thought they’d have to cut it off at first !”

“it still sucks.” he utters bitterly, closing his eyes he inhales, eyes darting towards the end of the room. “it’s—i don’t know—weird, i guess. feels weird as shit knowing you just can’t use your arm anymore when you could your entire life.” the fist he manages to squeeze shut clenches and so does your heart.

you know he’s probably most angry at himself for putting himself in that situation, in his eyes. but he’s a hero in yours. you can’t help but feel for him. his hand that gripped your tightly to ground you, that squeezed your nose for saying dumb shit, even the one that’d pull at your clothes to drag you away.

you’d been with it your whole life, so you can’t even start to imagine how he felt.

“i know,” you start sweetly, he sighs against your hand, eyes still downcast “i mean—i don’t think i’ll ever understand how you feel. but i want you to understand that this is just all part of the process..” his eyes flit up to you as you speak.

“you’re a hero, katsuki.” and you don’t say it like it’s the job he wants. not like it was written on his provisional hero license. you say it like when you were both 5 years old watching tv and katsuki proclaimed loud and proud he wanted to be just like all might, and at ten when he said he’d be even better than him. like when izuku would come over to play and you’d all sing the theme song together.

you say it like it is, his dream.

“and nobody can ever take that away from you, but now your body needs rest. a lot of it.” you continue, nodding to yourself. katsuki softly huffs in amusement in your hand. it’s soft but it’s there and it makes you smile. he looks up at you now.

“and it’s frustrating right now, i’m sure. but you’ll get it. you’ll get there, just give it—give yourself time.” you let go of his hand and press both of your hands against his cheeks now, because you need him to listen. he’s always had this horrible habit of going to the extreme for what he stands for. and though you looked up to him for it, sometimes it was extremely self destructive, and you want him to know he has the time. that he has to give himself time.

he heaves a long sigh, nodding against your skin. he grunts, pressing his mouth to your hand. “mhm,” he responds, and that’s more than enough for you. he grabs your wrist with his good hand, leans in, and kisses you. you meet him halfway like you did when he first kissed you goodnight on your front porch when you were 15. back then, he’d gone beet red and swiftly walked away, hands in his pockets muttering a quick ‘see you’ but he’s gotten more comfortable throughout, way more comfortable. he kisses you easily now, and his cheek still shine pink, but he doesn’t look away, rubbing his thumb against your cheek.

“thanks,” he utters softly. it comes out easily when he used to have a harder time forcing it out before. “i, uh—i’ll get better, wanna hold you properly.” he mumbles, a small pout on his face. you giggle, sure he’s more comfortable now, but he still gets just as easily embarrassed when he has to speak his mind. and that was okay, you’d wait for him, you’ll give him the time he has yet to give himself fully.

“then do your best, yeah ?” you encourage. you kiss his nose and he scrunches it up, but a smile twitches onto his face. “dummy,” he mutters affectionately, leaning in to bite your nose. you laugh, pushing at his chest, and he silences you with a flurry of kisses to your mouth.

he uses his good arm to press you to him and pull you down onto his bed, he grunts when you squeal in surprise, he makes himself comfortable and pulls the covers over you both.

“so damn loud, thought you said you didn’t wanna bother my parents.” he teases, you roll your eyes. your smile is still so ultimately fond of him as years ago, despite how irritating he was, he was still your best friend.

“shush.” is all you offer him, getting more comfortable against him, getting more comfortable with the idea of falling asleep with him like this.

katsuki remains quiet for a few minutes. “hey,” you look up at him and you can see how hard he wills himself not to look away from you.

“love you.”

your eyes widen, you blink. and it’s quiet. katsuki looks around the room “c’mon. say it back, will ya ?” he utters grumpily, tucking his head into your shoulder and his voice bordering on whiny.

“right sorry,” you chuckle “not used to it yet.” you say sweetly.

this was something new, something he told you just recently. that he loved you, that he was too pussy to tell you before because he’d loved you all these years, is what he told you. the thought makes your heart feel warm all over. everything he’s ever done over the years had i love you poured all over it all along, it makes you unbearably giddy.

you love him so much.

so you tell him, “i love you, too. so much.” he shoves his nose harder into your shoulder at your last words and you giggle.

“i’ll keep sayin’ it ‘till you get to used to it. do it forever if i have to.” he mumbles out and you’re giddy, impossibly so, because you can’t wait for forever.

“okay..” you hum.

you think maybe things will never truly go back to how they usually were. the world has changed and so have you, so have you both. and there’s still so much to do, but you want this new normal to come with katsuki, you want your forever with him. you want him to stay your best friend forever like he’d pinky promised you, even though he thought those were girly and stupid, he still promised and katsuki was somebody who never went back on his word.

so you’ll trust him, you’ll trust that he’ll always be yours and that you’ll be together forever. that he’ll tell you he loves you forever, and that you’ll get used to it.

[shoeistars]

no photos ! pt 2

incl. reo, barou, rin, sae, shidou

ʚଓ outline. where the boys keep their slutty polas of you <3

ʚଓ w. pro!players, 18+ content, minors dni, photos/polas, fem!reader, read at your own discretion as I don’t do individual tagging for element of surprise <3

ʚଓ pt 1 (isagi, bachira, chigiri, kunigami, nagi)

reo : car dash

When Reo got his hands on his first hypercar, his main priority was keeping the thing clean. No trash, no eating inside of the vehicle, you weren’t even allowed to do your makeup when you’re playing your role of passenger princess. He just wanted to keep the interior spotless, despite the fact that he could buy as many overpriced vehicles as he fucking desired

So, when you hopped into the car one day and noticed the pola of you that he had resting against the dash of his brand new Bugatti, you were stunned. He hadn’t even put a goddamn air freshener on the rearview yet

Whenever you got around to questioning him, all he did was shrug, a smug grin on his face as he drove you to your nail appointment. After all, he got bored when he was sitting in traffic. The picture of you, perched on his California king with the prettiest bra and panty set hugging your body juuust right was worth bending a few rules over

barou : wallet

The polaroid itself was your idea in the first place. He didn’t really understand what the hell the hype was about, but he’d bend over backwards to see that pretty smile you’d give him when you got your way. Whenever he saw the photo, however, his perspective was changed immediately

You’d been hiked up onto a bathroom sink, always getting way too horny for your own good at events where attendance mattered. He’d sneak you away when you’d start touching on him and whispering dirty shit in his ear, never able to say no to his queen

Thus the birth of the pola nestled in his wallet, right beside his bank card. The view of his thick dick stretching your tightness out was too good to pass up, milky ring of cream wrapped around his base and spilling out of your hole. He just had to have it with him at all times

rin : under his pillow

Pushing the pussy whipped loser boy agenda for Rin because you’re most definitely his first love, the first girl he’s ever touched, fingered, fucked. Having popped his cherry, he can’t help but be completely enamored by you. The mere thought of you gets him hard and he hates that factor to his core

Which plays into why exactly he has a nasty polaroid of you tucked under his navy-clad pillow, right where he rests his head to sleep for the night. It’s safe there, it’s within easy reach for him to fuck his fist to when you’re too far away, which is too often for his own liking thanks to away games

The photo itself is his treasure, a simple one where you’re on your bruised knees, showing him what exactly a facial is. Although he loves you most barefaced, he can’t even lie and deny that your face dripping wet and sticky with his seed isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever laid his eyes on

sae : checkbook

Weird place, sure, but there is nothing normal about Sae as a whole. In his eyes, there are three prizes in the world: wins, money, and you. The polaroid fits perfectly right where he has it

There’s nothing more rewarding to him than whipping out his checkbook to buy something big, just to be greeted with your cunt on full display, the photo clipped front and center onto the leather book cover

It’s a real looker of a photo too, his thumb spreading your glossy folds to show off the stream of his cum dripping out of your hole, coating your asshole in thick nut. All he can ever think about is how you whimpered when he licked it up after snapping the shot

shidou : pola wall

The consequences of dating a shameless, unhinged individual consists of your nudes being shown off any and every possible chance presented to him. He’s sick, sometimes unreasonable, but you’re too goddamn pretty for him to just hide away

Hence why he’s got a nice slab of white wall in his bedroom, fully dedicated to you. He calls it romantic, of course. All sorts of polas are taped up as decoration, different positions and scenarios

Maybe it’s awkward for guests that just so happen to step into his bedroom for whatever reason, but you like being shown off, don’t you? He figured a slut like you would wanna be put on display, considering you’re just like him

[rika-mmendmethings]

Belly Dance | Sylus

Summary: Sylus unearths a college-era belly dancing outfit during your move-in to his house. After you reluctantly agree to perform, his awe and love help you rediscover the fun, confident person you were. The night ends in passion and sensuality as Sylus shows you just how beautiful you have always been.

Tag(s): belly dancer! Reader x bf! Sylus, written with a female reader in mind, fluff, sensuality, mildly suggestive, fade to black, insecurities, kinda au idk???

Word count: 3.3k

Now playing: Beautiful Liar by Beyoncé and Shakira

Notes: Got suggested a few reels of absolutely gorgeous women belly dancing on this song, and the rest was history. Writing this was less of a pain since I'm quite adapted to writing for Sylus. Hopefully you enjoy reading this as well ♥

The apartment was filled with the soft rustling of cardboard as the task of moving into Sylus’s place stretched into its third hour. The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds, casting long, lazy shadows across the wooden floors. You stood among a sea of cardboard boxes, surrounded by the mismatched chaos of your things — clothes, books, framed photos, knick-knacks from various places you'd lived, and little trinkets that each carried a memory. Today was the day you were officially moving in with Sylus, and as you carefully unpacked your things, you felt a wave of excitement mixed with a touch of nervousness. The air smelled faintly of lavender from the air fresheners Sylus had placed.

Sylus was behind you, moving about with an easy grace, methodically folding your clothes and putting them in drawers. You glanced around. The place was mostly empty, save for a few scattered boxes and the odd piece of furniture — most of the bigger pieces had already been moved in. You were mentally running through the checklist in your head that you didn’t even notice Sylus calling out to you at first, his voice cutting through the quiet atmosphere.

“Sweetie, what’s this?” he asked, the words laced with surprise and curiosity.

His voice was tinged with amusement, and you could tell he was holding something up, clearly intrigued by whatever he'd just unearthed. You didn’t turn to look right away. Instead, you lifted a box of your own, checking the contents as you sorted them into piles. You were so engrossed in organizing everything just so that you didn’t quite register the change in his tone until he continued.

“It’s... beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding almost reverent now.

At that, you turned around fully, a frown already forming on your face, only to freeze in your tracks when you saw what he was holding. In his hands, Sylus was gently lifting a belly dancing outfit — a stunning set of rich, maroon fabric adorned with delicate gold beads and sequins that glittered faintly in the light. It was the outfit you had bought years ago for a silly bet you’d lost with your friends back in college, and one you hadn’t thought about in months. The top, a halter-style design, was made to hug the contours of the body, while the skirt was sheer and flowing, the kind that danced with every twist of the hips.

You didn’t even realize you’d already taken a step toward him until you were dashing across the room, a gasp escaping you. “Sylus, no!” you half-laughed, half-scolded as you stretched out your arms to grab the shimmering material. But of course, he was much taller than you, and the outfit was far out of your reach, held high above his head. His smile spread even further, amused by your quick reaction, and he stepped back just enough to keep you from grabbing it.

He laughed, the sound deep and rich, and with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, he danced out of your reach once more. “I don’t know... this is really pretty,” he taunted, inspecting the outfit more closely. “I’m just surprised I’ve never seen it before. Do you belly dance?”

You froze mid-step, eyes widening, and your body tensed instinctively as you registered his words. His Cheshire smile was widening, and there was something undeniably playful in his gaze. You blinked twice, unable to form words for a moment, before you quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him, hands on your hips in an exaggerated motion of mock annoyance.

“Give that back!” you demanded, your voice thick with embarrassment. The red in your cheeks gave away how flustered you were, and you reached up again, trying to snatch it away, but to no avail.

He tilted his head, watching you with an utterly delighted expression, clearly enjoying this moment far more than he had any right to. “What’s the story behind this?” he asked, his voice dropping just enough to give it a soft, teasing lilt. “You never told me you belly danced.”

You exhaled in frustration, biting the inside of your cheek, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You stood there for a long moment, your hands still raised in a half-attempted grab. There was no escaping this now. You might as well come clean.

“Fine,” you said, rolling your eyes as you put your hands down, your expression melting into something more sheepish. “You really want to know?”

Sylus nodded eagerly, a smirk still dancing on his lips as he waited. His face was playful, but there was an underlying sincerity in his gaze, as though he genuinely wanted to understand.

You let out a sigh, feeling both embarrassed and strangely warm from the look in his eyes. “Okay, okay,” you began, your voice a little quieter now, “In my final year of college, my friends and I were part of a small group — a little clique. We were always making silly bets and pranks on each other. Anyway, we were having this trivia contest one weekend, and I lost too. So, the bet was that I, along with the other girls who lost, had to join this belly dancing club at the local community center.”

Sylus mused. “Belly dancing?”

“Yep.” You grinned sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “It was a two-month program. We had to go to lessons every week. I won’t lie, at first, we were all ridiculously self-conscious and awful, but after a while... It was actually kinda fun. There was this one friend of mine who was so into it, and she got us all hyped up.”

You paused, lost in the memory. It had been such an unexpectedly fun experience. “Anyway, after the program ended, one of the girls threw this huge sleepover at her house. We all decided to bring our glittery outfits — because, why not? We were all completely drunk on the fun of the whole thing, and we danced around like idiots, trying to outdo each other. It wasn’t... it wasn’t a great performance or anything, but it was hilarious and a good souvenir from my final year.”

You trailed off, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at Sylus, who had been listening intently, his face unreadable for a few moments as he mulled over your words. The silence in the room felt different now, charged, full of something unspoken. His gaze was thoughtful as he met yours, fingers gently toying with the fabric of the outfit in his hands.

Finally, Sylus spoke again, his voice quiet but filled with something that caught your attention. He spoke with a slight request, a softness that seemed hesitant. “So, um...” His voice trailed off as his gaze softened. “Could you... show me?”

You blinked, stunned. “Show you?” The words left your mouth before you even processed them. You rubbed your arm, heat flaring up in your cheeks. The thought of dancing in front of Sylus, of him watching you — in the way that made you all hot and bothered — was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

You hesitated, biting your lip, but then you saw it — the pleading look in his eyes, the way his lips curved into a small pout. The effect was immediate. It was so uncharacteristically adorable that you found yourself melting, despite the nervous flutter in your nerves. You never stood a chance.

“You really want me to?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, though your voice betrayed you.

“I’m not going to... be good. It’s been years since I last danced,” you muttered, crossing your arms defensively.

“You don’t have to be perfect,” Sylus said, his voice so soft now, almost coaxing, “Besides, I personally think that you’d be my Shakira.”

You let out a laugh at that but inwardly melted at his sincerity. “Okay, fine.”

As you stepped into the bathroom to change, the soft click of the door closing behind you did little to block out the swirl of critical thoughts rushing through your mind.

You stared at yourself in the mirror for a long moment before slipping into the outfit. As you pulled the top over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but notice how the fabric felt tighter across your chest, how the waistband of the skirt sat differently on your hips. You tugged at the fabric, trying to adjust it as though that might make it fit just like it did in those carefree days. But it didn’t. The outfit was a little snugger now, and that familiar feeling of unease began to creep in.

You bit your lip, studying yourself more intently. Your reflection seemed foreign, as though it didn’t belong in the same outfit you’d worn just a few years ago. This isn’t how it used to look. You felt the uncomfortable weight of your own self-doubt creeping in, clouding the excitement that had originally made you agree to Sylus’s request.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open startled you, and you turned quickly. Sylus was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The moment his gaze landed on you, your stomach twisted. You were still caught in your spiral of self-doubt, suddenly feeling too exposed in front of him. His eyes moved over you slowly, taking in the fabric of the outfit, the shimmer of the beads catching the light.

"You look stunning," he said, his voice quiet, but steady.

You crossed your arms over your chest, awkwardly, almost like you were trying to hide yourself. You couldn’t help it; the words still felt distant, not quite convincing enough. "It... doesn’t fit like it used to," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, like the words themselves might shatter the fragile confidence you were trying to hold onto. "I— I don’t know... I don’t look the same anymore."

He took a slow step toward you, his movements easy, as if he were already certain of what he wanted to say — and for a moment, it calmed the frantic chatter in your mind. You felt your breath catch when his hands reached out, gently pushing your arms away from your body. He gently lifted your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

“You know," he said softly, "it doesn’t matter how it used to fit. You look beautiful. You always look beautiful.”

His eyes, warm and steady, never wavered from yours as he continued, “The outfit doesn’t define you. You define it. You always have.”

You swallowed, trying to steady your breathing, the lingering doubts still tugging at you. “But I—” you began, but Sylus cut you off with a gentle shake of his head, his thumb softly brushing against your chin.

“You’re perfect the way you are,” he said, the words carrying an undeniable sincerity that stopped you in your tracks. “Nothing has changed about how amazing you are. The body you have now? It’s the one I fell in love with. And I’m telling you, the way you move your curves in that outfit...” He let out a soft chuckle, eyes twinkling with affection. “It’s gonna be ten times better than before, I promise.”

His words were so simple, but there was such undeniable truth to them. The self-consciousness that had taken root in your chest slowly started to loosen, replaced by a warm sense of reassurance. Sylus wasn’t looking at you with the same judgmental gaze you feared; he was seeing you beyond the nerves and self-doubt, straight to the person you were, right there, in front of him.

With a deep breath, you let your arms fall to your sides, as the last traces of doubt melted away. His words had broken through that negative cloud hanging over you, and you realized he wasn’t seeing what you saw when you looked at yourself. He wasn’t comparing you to anyone or anything, least of all some distant, youthful version of yourself.

You took a steadying breath and finally gave him a smile, one that was small but full of gratitude. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do it.”

Sylus’s grin broke wide across his face, the warmth in his eyes making your heart skip a beat. “That’s my girl,” he said, stepping back to give you some space. “I’m going to wait for the show.”

When you emerged a few minutes after him, Sylus was waiting on the bed, looking up at you with such anticipation that you couldn’t help but feel your heart stuttering. His eyes traced the delicate beads that shimmered along the top of the outfit, the way the skirt swayed as you moved. His gaze was so full of admiration that it made you feel almost weightless.

The first few seconds of music you had set filled the room, and you closed your eyes, letting the sound settle into your bones. You took a breath and rolled your shoulders, letting your hips follow the flow.

And then — you began.

Your arms rose slowly, your wrists circling with delicate precision as you stepped lightly into the center of the room. The maroon fabric swayed around your legs as your body moved in time with the music. Your hips rolled with practiced, fluid ease — slow at first, teasingly graceful — before picking up the rhythm in waves, each movement melting into the next like silk.

You could feel his eyes on you, heavy and electric, and the weight of his attention made your skin tingle with awareness. Every time you dared to sneak a glance at him, your heart jumped.

He looked completely, utterly undone.

Sylus was frozen where he sat, his hands now curled slightly on his thighs, his lips parted as if he’d meant to say something but had forgotten how. A faint flush had risen high on his cheeks and spilled down his neck, staining his skin a soft rose. His jaw flexed once, but still — no words. Just him, utterly transfixed.

His gaze followed the sway of your torso, the flick of your fingers, the arch of your back as you turned. You dipped your chin coyly, catching him again in a quick glance — and that time, you saw the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow, his breath coming more shallow now. One of his hands had gripped the edge of the bed, knuckles white.

He was mesmerized.

The confidence he’d planted in you just minutes earlier was blooming now, unfurling with every step, every isolated roll of your stomach, every beat that your body translated into movement. You weren’t just dancing to entertain him. You were dancing because it felt good to be seen again. To be desired exactly as you were. To feel alive inside your own skin.

The music faded into a soft echo, and you stood in your final pose, chest rising and falling delicately with your breath, the air thick between you and Sylus. You let the silence linger for just a heartbeat longer before taking a slow step forward.

Then another.

His gaze tracked every inch of you like a man possessed.

You walked with a purposeful sway, letting your hips roll just a little more exaggeratedly than necessary, enjoying the soft jingle of the beads at your waist. You stopped just in front of him, his knees between yours, your fingertips trailing lightly up the side of his jaw, testing him.

Sylus tilted his face into your touch, but he still didn’t speak. His pupils were fully dilated, and the way he licked his lips made heat bloom low in your nether regions. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to worship you or pull you into him and never let go.

You leaned in close, your lips barely brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered, voice soft, “You’re staring.”

His breath hitched. “Can you blame me?”

A slow smile curled across your lips. You didn’t say anything. Instead, you leaned back just enough to let him see the glint in your eyes before you took a half-step closer and eased onto his lap.

Sylus went completely still beneath you, his hands hovering instinctively at your sides like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you yet. You sat sideways, one leg hooked over his, the skirt of your costume falling open just enough to show the stretch of your thighs. Your fingertips toyed with the fabric at your own hip, the corner of your mouth lifting playfully.

You tilted your head, your voice lowering to a purr. “Did I drive you crazy, huh?”

Sylus leaned in, his nose brushing the line of your jaw, lips ghosting your ear as he whispered, “Absolutely.”

His hands found their place now, sliding around your waist with a reverent kind of slowness, thumbs brushing your bare skin where the top met the curve of your belly. You laughed softly, letting your fingers slide through the hair at the nape of his neck.

You let out a startled sound — a breathy half-gasp, half-laugh — as Sylus suddenly flips you onto your back with such fluidity it leaves your head spinning, causing the maroon fabric of your skirt to fan out around you like a pool of molten silk, catching the soft light, shimmering with the motion. He’s above you now, propped up on his forearms, his body warm and solid over yours, his eyes shining with a mix of lust and unmistakable tenderness.

Your laughter dies down into a soft hum as you meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You feel the weight of his stare, not possessive, but present, grounding you in the moment like nothing else ever had.

Then, his hands slowly begin to move, skimming along the maroon fabric that clings to your body, fingers light and reverent. “What a pretty dress,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with awe before his sanguine eyes flicker up to you. You smile at the compliment, but it’s what he says next that truly knocks the breath from your lungs.

“And what a prettier you.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches again, how you instinctively roll your eyes, embarrassed but secretly delighted. A blush surges hot up your neck, and you bite your lower lip in a bashful attempt to temper your reaction, but it’s useless — he sees right through you. And judging by the soft, crooked grin on his face, he likes that he can still surprise you.

Before you can even gather a response, Sylus moves — shifts lower, slower, with deliberate care — and plants the softest kiss on your ankle. Your breath hitches again. Then another kiss, just above it. He works his way upward, mouth brushing along your calf, your knee, your inner thigh — lingering longer, his stubble grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp softly and squirm beneath him.

He continues with an almost worshipful focus, trailing higher still, the kisses dotting your soft belly now. He works his way up to your ribs, your shoulders, then along the delicate curve of your collarbone. You’re giggling now, high and breathy, unable to stop yourself, both from the ticklish trail of his mouth and the sheer overwhelming affection of it all. His kisses turn playful along your jaw, your cheeks, the tip of your nose — until finally, finally — his lips brush yours.

It starts as the softest kiss — just a whisper of contact. Then another. And then a deeper one, as though he’s trying to pour everything he feels into that single moment. His hand cradles the side of your face, thumb stroking gently against your cheekbone. When he pulls back — just enough to breathe — you're a kind of giddy that comes from being loved so thoroughly it leaves no room for doubt. You blink up at him, trying to gather yourself, but all that spills out is a shaky laugh as you cover your face with your hands.

You peek at him from behind your hands after a while, unable to stop smiling. “You’re ridiculous.”

Sylus grins down at you, before wrapping your legs around his waist. You instantly pick up on his intentions and tease, “We were supposed to unpack.”

“Later, sweetie.” He murmurs, nudging your nose with his, “Let me have you for now.”

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[whateveriwant]

Annoying Things the 141 Do

Price

Never cleans the sink well after he shaves. Every time you go in the bathroom after he’s trimmed his beard, it’s like walking into a crime scene of a hamster massacre

Always manages to load the dishwasher wrong (because, yes, there is a right way and a wrong way to do it, John)

Asks you to wait for him to get home so you can watch your shows together, but then as soon as you start the first episode, he falls asleep beside you

Smokes his cigars inside sometimes. I don’t care that you sprayed air freshener afterwards, sir. Now the whole house smells like spring meadow and shit!

Is incapable of closing the door behind himself?? At least, that appears to be the case since he’s always leaving your door wide open even though you ask him to shut it when he goes

Doesn’t like throwing things out because he’ll “find a use for it one day”. Even if that day ever does come, I think he has a better chance of finding Atlantis than finding that scrap piece of wood he saved four years ago

Ghost

Turns the TV on and then just… walks away??? And if you try to change it to something else, he grumbles “I was watchin’ tha’” when he comes back

Drinks milk/juice/etc. straight out of the carton. Mr Simon “Patient Zero” Riley might not see the problem with this, but I think the rest of us would agree that is diabolical behavior

Leaves his wet towel on the floor after he showers even though the towel rack is right? there?

Hates asking for help even when he has no clue what he’s doing. Like, sure, I get wanting to fix things yourself. However, I’d rather spend $100 on a simple repair than $1000 on a full replacement after he breaks the thing even more

Puts his phone calls on speaker whenever possible. While this can have its merits sometimes (you get firsthand news of Gaz’s engagement!), most of the time it feels like a nuisance (do you really need to hear Soap talk about his hemorrhoids?)

MANSPREADERRRR! This man cannot sit like a civilized being to save his life. He claims he sits like that because his balls need to breathe, and to that I say good luck trying to breathe after I karate chop you in the throat :))))

Soap

Cuts his toenails in bed, which wouldn’t necessarily be an issue if he didn’t accidentally leave one or two rogue clippings that stab you in the side later when you’re trying to get comfortable

Forgets to put the toilet seat down when he gets up in the middle of the night to pee – that or he pisses all over the seat in the dark. Either way, prepare to have wet cheeks the next time you sit on the toilet

Whenever he doesn’t feel like doing the laundry, he just buys a new set of whatever’s dirty (that’s how he ended up with 100 pairs of socks and 200 pairs of underwear)

Talks nonstop through every show/movie you try to watch. Good luck getting more than five minutes of uninterrupted runtime next to this yapper

Apparently, doesn’t understand what “one bite” means? Whenever he asks you for a bite of your food, he always ends up taking five or six

Also, apparently doesn’t know how to chew with his mouth closed? Like, I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal, Johnny, but can you enjoy it without speckling it all over the table and my face?

Gaz

Two words: bathroom hog. I hope you don’t like taking hot showers or having more than a 6x6 inch square of counter space for your stuff, because after Kyle’s done with his 30-step beauty routine, there’s little of either left

Never knows what he wants to eat for dinner, and no matter what you suggest, he never thinks it sounds good

Has the gall to chastise you for your screen time even though he’s just as bad as you, if not worse (because you being on your phone before bed is so much worse than him playing video games for nine hours straight, right?)

Rests his feet on the couch/bed/coffee table while wearing shoes. It doesn’t matter if they’re brand new or beaten up; take your damn shoes off the furniture, sir!

Never writes down the shopping list because he’ll “remember everything”. (Newsflash: he does not remember everything, which means cue taking a second trip to the store)

Watches one documentary and thinks he’s an expert on the subject. You can have studied a thing for years, can present him with a bunch of rock solid facts and reputable sources, and he’ll hit you with a “Well, actually ☝️🤓” and then proceed to give the most nonsensical take ever