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Isgarren is an Idealist (and Mabon is a Cynic)
This was originally going to be part of a longer post I'm working on, but I decided it warranted being its own.
And yes I know the title sounds insane! But in the grand scheme of SotO's narrative, Isgarren is an idealist at heart wearing a cynic's armor, and Mabon is a cynic at heart wearing an idealist's mask.
And Isgarren is an idealist because you kind of have to be one to dedicate yourself to 10,000 years of protecting a world that doesn't even know you exist.
And one of the only things we know about him from before his ascension was that he tried to go help the mursaat fight Zhaitan anyway even after Sidony decided against helping them. Most of what he calls his mistakes were also born from his attempts to help others - taking in Eparch and ascending Waiting Sorrow being the biggest examples. And still he keeps helping others. Still, no matter how many times his attempts to better the world led to another "mistake", led to his own exile from his kin, led to the deaths of people he loved, Isgarren still kept doing it because he believed in doing good no matter what.
He figured out at some point that the Elder Dragons were vital to Tyria's magical ecosystem, so he turned his efforts to fight for the good of Tyria outward, especially once Eparch gave him reason to think all kryptis were threats. He wasn't going to step in with the Elder Dragon wars until it literally threatened the destruction of all Tyria not because he didn't care, but because he had faith in us.
Keep in mind that in the personal story, the Commander and Trahearne successfully united the world to fight Zhaitan. Isgarren had seen this before. He saw Sidony unite all the other elder races to fight Zhaitan, only for them to suddenly betray each other and leave the mursaat and Forgotten to die on their own. The Pact succeeded where the elder races failed. Why wouldn't he believe in the strength of mortals at that point?
Not to overuse and refer back to my favorite conversation in SotO too often, but Isgarren doesn't save farms not because he doesn't care, he doesn't save the farm because he knows the Commander will be there to have his back and do it while he takes care of the dragon minion.
Isgarren, for all his faults and his grumpy and bitter attitude, is an idealist.
Mabon called him naive for a reason. He even calls his own choices naive.
And speaking of Mabon...he's a cynic at heart.
This might seem contradictory to the way he is characterized as an optimistic and positive force among the Wizard's Court and for the Astral Ward (and he is), moreso than Isgarren being a hidden idealist under his sour armor, but consider that Mabon's entire character rides on his idea of atonement.
In his journal from shortly after his ascension, he doesn't remember what he was like before it. He just remembers that his own people are cruel and evil. He assumes Isgarren is avoiding him because he's afraid of him as a violent mursaat and never truly trusted him at all (when this could just as likely be because Isgarren is feeling guilty of the ascension wiping Mabon's memories, but that's just me speculating). He assumes that he must have been just like all other mursaat and he must have been a terrible person himself. So he must atone. And atone he does for 10,000 years.
Isgarren tells you, when you ask him about Mabon, that Mabon was not like other mursaat when they first met.
In SotO, Mabon's arc starts shortly before we meet him. Asthenes is attacking him mentally the whole time, but he puts on his outward mask of idealism and strength to save Dagda and Lyhr and to lead the Astral Ward while Isgarren is missing.
Knowing the Wizards, knowing the Commander, wouldn't we have found some way to save him too? If we knew? If we had realized? Isn't that what the Wizards and the Commander do? Wouldn't we have just made it possible to save Dagda, Lyhr, and Mabon?
Mabon didn't want to die, but he felt at that point "there is no other way this can end" and he outright asks us not to hesitate "when the hour arrives." He doesn't bother to ask for help with his own possession because he thinks he's beyond saving, and he needs to save the others first.
He also notably meddles with Tyrians more than Isgarren does. Many of the Astral Ward's recruits are his specifically. He travels to Tyria frequently to meet people and experience the world "on the ground", so to speak. Compare this to the historical mursaat modus of sitting back and manipulating an entire society unseen.
Even when it's someone Isgarren (and Uenno) recruits like Frode, it's not until Mabon involves himself that they heal and find their place in the Astral Ward.
That's not to say he didn't believe in mortals at all, just that as part of his trying to be a better person than he believed himself to be, he ended up taking it upon himself to help those he felt no one else would.
Finally, it's notable to me that both Isgarren and Mabon attempt to distance themselves from their races in some manner, and they both go about it in very different ways.
Isgarren made himself blue so he might be mistaken for a djinn at first glance but he still takes great pride in being a Seer. He wants to be seen as part of the rest of Tyria despite sitting above it, but will happily answer your questions about Seers.
Mabon hides his wings to be less threatening, but he's still very obviously a mursaat at first glance. He's still other from the rest of Tyria, but he distances himself from the other mursaat so much that he considers his own race extinct with Lazarus's death.
And somehow, it's so very fitting that these two found each other and created the Wizard's Court together.
#secrets of the obscure#isgarren#mabon#soto posting#soto spoilers#long post#idk how else to end this so here#wizard's court#my analysis#my writing#this is my 1100th post !
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Hey remember when Baghera adopted Dapper like 8 months ago or did I make that up ? ────────────────────────────────────────── Support all the admins that spoke out (& do your daily click) ──────────────────────────────────────────
#idk why on earth i gave baghera knuckles- when i say i turn my brain off when I draw i mean it#..... sooo looks like ive got a new wa-cats type of fandom on my hands#as in i am still very emotionally attached to the memories i have from this no matter what i do itll keep coming back#but i havent read the books in several years nor do i plan to anymore and looking back i am so angry and disgusted#but also im still blown away by the creativity and the passion the fandom builds on its own#i wanted to go ahead and finish any art that ive been working on for the past almost year and decided this one would be the most fitting#i learnt last week that only the first 20 tags on an original post will show up in tumblr searches#and I think im going to take advantage of that#because i dont want to hype the server anymore and i have decided i will no longer be adding my watermark on top of my work#and i was going to refrain from tagging it because i dont want my related posts to show up#before remembering that some of my mutuals who ive been chatting to for years now#have these fandoms blacklisted#so im going to test it and hope it works#im still going to tag the characters i love though because i wanna show support to the actors and i wish them nothing but the best#baghera fanart#pomme fanart#dapper fanart#dappleduo#my art#qsmp#mcyt#fandom neg#tag this however you want#yap yap yap yap tlddr
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Rowaelin Chapter 41 Kingdom of Ash:
She'd rebuild it—what she had been.
Perhaps one last time, perhaps only for a little while, but she'd do it. If only for Terrasen.
Rowan swooped from the mast, shifting as he reached her side at the rail. He surveyed the night-black sea beyond them. "You should rest." She slid him a glance. "I'm not tired." Not a lie, not in some regards. "Want to spar?" He frowned. "Training can start tomorrow."
"Or tonight." She held his piercing stare, matched his dominance with her own.
"It can wait a few hours, Aelin."
"Every day counts." Against Erawan, even a day of training would count.
Rowan's jaw tightened. "True," he said at last. "But it can still wait. There are ... there are things we need to discuss." The silent words rose in his animal-bright eyes. About you and me.
Her mouth went dry. But Aelin nodded In silence, they strode into their spacious quarters, its only decoration the wall of windows that overlooked the churning sea behind them. A far cry from a queen's chamber, or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin.
At least the bed built into the wall looked clean enough, the sheets crisp and stainless. But Aelin headed for the oak desk anchored to the floor, and leaned against it while Rowan shut the door.
In the dim lantern light, they stared at each other.
She'd endured Maeve and Cairn; she'd endured Endovier and countless other horrors and losses. She could have this conversation with him. The first step toward rebuilding herself.
Aelin knew Rowan could hear her thundering heart as the space between them went taut. She swallowed once. "Elide and Lorcan told you... told you everything that was said on that beach."
A curt nod, wariness flooding his eyes. "Everything that Maeve said." Another nod.
She braced herself. "That I'm-we're mates."
Understanding and something like relief replaced that wariness. "Yes."
"I'm your mate," she said, needing to voice it. "And you are mine."
Rowan crossed the room, but halted a few feet from the desk on which she leaned. "What of it, Aelin?" His question was low, rough.
"Don't you..." She scrubbed at her face. "You know what she did to you, to ..." She couldn't say her name. Lyria. "Because of it."
"I do know."
"And?"
"And what do you wish me to say?"
She pushed off the desk. "I wish you to tell me how you feel about it. If…"
"If what?"
"If you wish it wasn't so."
His brows narrowed. "Why would I ever wish that?"
She shook her head, unable to answer, and stared over her shoulder toward the sea.
It seemed like he would close the distance between them, but he remained where he was.
"Aelin." His voice turned hoarse. "Aelin."
She looked at him then, at the pain in his words.
"Do you know what I wish?" He exposed his palms, one tattooed, the other unmarked. "I wish that you had told me. When you realized it. I wish you had told me then."
She swallowed against the ache in her throat. "I didn't want to hurt you."
"Why would it ever hurt me to know the truth that was already in my heart? The truth I hoped for?"
"I didn't understand it. I didn't understand how it was possible. I thought maybe ... maybe you might be able to have two mates within a lifetime, but even then, I just ….." She blew out a breath. "I didn't want you to be distressed." His eyes softened. "Do I regret that Lyria was dragged into this, that the cost of Maeve's game was her life, and the life of the child we might have had? Yes. I regret that, and I wish it had never happened." He would bear the tattoo to remember it for the rest of his days. "But none of that was your fault. I will always carry some of the burden of it, always know I chose to leave her for war and glory, and that I played right into Maeve's hands."
"Maeve wanted to ensnare you to get to me, though."
"Then it is her choice, not yours."
Aelin ran a hand over the worn wood of the desk. "In those illusions she spun for me, she showed me variations on one more than all the others." The words were strained, but she forced them out. Forced herself to look at him. "She spun me one dreamscape that felt so real I could smell the wind off the Staghorns."
"What did she show you?" A breathless question.
Aelin had to swallow before she could answer. "She showed me what might have been—if there had been no Erawan, if Elena had dealt with him properly and banished him. If there had been no Lyria, none of that pain or despair you endured. She showed me Terrasen as it would have been today, with my father as king, and my childhood happy, and..." Her lips wobbled. "When I turned twenty, you came with a delegation of Fae to Terrasen, to make amends for the rift between my mother and Maeve. And you and I took one look at each other in my father's throne room, and we knew."
She didn't fight the stinging in her eyes. "I wanted to believe that was the true world. That this was the nightmare from which I'd awaken. I wanted to believe that there was a place where you and I had never known this suffering and loss, where we'd take one look at each other and know we were mates. Maeve told me she could make it so. If I gave her the keys, she'd make it all possible." She wiped at her cheek, at the tear that escaped down it. "She spun me realities where you were dead, where you'd been killed by Erawan and only in handing over the keys to her would I be able to avenge you. But those realities made me ... I stopped being useful to her when she told me you were gone. She couldn't get me to talk, to think. Yet in the ones where you and I met, where things were as they should have been ... that was when I came the closest."
His swallow was audible. "What stopped you?"
She wiped at her face again. "The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn't understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn't be you with me. And I'd never trade that, trade this. Not for anything." He extended his hand. An offer and invitation.
Aelin laid hers atop his, and his callused fingers squeezed gently. "I wanted it to be you," he breathed, closing his eyes. "For months and months, even in Wendlyn, I wondered why you weren't my mate instead. It tore me up, wondering it, but I still did." He opened his eyes, and they burned like green fire. "All this time, I wanted it to be you."
She lowered her gaze, but he hooked a thumb and forefinger around her chin and lifted her face.
"I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure." He took their joined hands and laid them on his heart. "But we'll face this together. Erawan, the Lock, all of it.
"We'll face it together. And when we are done, when you Settle, we will have a thousand years together. Longer."
A small sound came out of her. "Elena said the Lock requires—"
"We'll face it together," he swore again.
"And if the cost of it truly is you, then we'll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.
Her heart strained to the point of cleaving. "Terrasen needs a king."
"I have no intention of ruling Terrasen without you. Aedion can have the job."
She scanned his face. He meant every word He brushed the hair from her face, his other hand still clasping hers to his chest, where his heart pounded a steady, unfaltering rhythm.
"Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too."
She felt the truth of his words echo into the unbreakable thing that bound their very souls, and tilted her face up toward his. But he made no move beyond it.
She frowned. "Why aren't you kissing me?"
"I thought you might want to be asked first."
"That never stopped you before."
"This first time, I wanted to make sure you were ... ready." After Cairn and Maeve. After months of having no choices whatsoever.
She smiled despite that truth. "I'm ready to be kissed again, Prince."
He let out a dark chuckle and muttered, "Thank the gods," before he lowered his mouth to hers.
"You're my mate." Her words were a breathless rush. "And I am yours."
The world might have been burning around them for all she cared, all he cared, too.
"Together, Aelin," he promised, and she heard the rest of the words in every place their bodies joined. Together they would face this, together they would find a way.
Together we'll find a way, their mingling breaths, the crashing sea, seemed to echo.
Together.
#Chapter 41#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Aelin Galathynius#Rowan Whitethorn#Rowaelin#soulmates#mates#spoilers and notes in tags cause this chapter and also spoilers in post cause this chapter first read react with me read along#Rowaelin chapters scenes moments quotes#they want to make it possible bring that love to light#am I allowed to cry? — Again the word endured — finally the dream — the sand she still sees — he’s magic being steady — them talking time#again if Maeve could convince Rowan Lyria was his mate how bad was it when she convinced Aelin her actual mate was dead… this hurts me…#the fact Aelin stopped being useful because it destroyed her beyond belief but the dreams the dreams almost got her because its all she wan#again then both feeling sorry and the other not realizing and then consent and then comfort and love & I just wanted it2be U how could I no#I know you are tired Fireheart (ALL THE TROPES IN ONE LINE… UGH I MISSED THIS SHIP)#together. one soul in two bodies. their endgame like literally they are. I’d choose you too. even the apologies that were needed just heali#what it might have once been — together — not alone — not returning alone — the king and queen of Terrasen — I need u more — 2 whatever end#Aelin watched the boat until it disappeared trying not to stare too long at the clean unstained sand beneath her boots#always north — she didn’t care she just wanted far away — who knew — what she knew-the letters she sent-Valg-dark blood that had turned red#If it had been another dreamscape or some fragment that had blended into the very real memory of Connall's death. — always a plab&theory#all these things to deal with later-she’d rebuild all she had been-her match helper mirror-matched his piercing stare with her own-wait/res#A far cry from a queen's chamber or any she might have purchased as Adarlan's assassin. — how far we’ve come-she had ENDURED she can do it#I'm your mate she said needing to voice it. And you are mine. — Lyria. — I do know. and?&what do you wish me to say?-this was perfect#If what? If you wish it wasn't so. His brows narrowed. Why would I ever wish that? — Aelin. she looked at him at the pain in his words#the way it's changed since Mistward... and grown... even in names like Whitethorn Galathynius together — the brain thoughts are back —#The kiss was gentle-light. Letting her decide how to guide it. So she did. — he’d do it all night if that was what’s he wished#Together we'll find a way their mingling breaths the crashing sea seemed to echo. Together. — mountains and oceans#Might’ve been before-thought snapped-the bond- u r my mate&I am urs-the world might have been burning for all she cared all he cared too#Together they would face this together they would find a way. — claiming him as he claimed her — a scar a marker a tattoo
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I loove the android robin au it's really one of the most interesting au I have seen in a while.
I am always happy to see new post abt it
Also making my favourite characters go through hell and then receiving comfort from their people is like the best thing ever for me so every time I see a whump!Robin post I like automatically
People loving android!Robin makes me so happy anansnssndsnsns she's curious and excitable and full of wonder and the world keeps punishing her for simply being alive. Sometimes it's too painful even for me, big whump lover 😭😭 though seriously, there is not enough Robin whump, and while all the characters in the show are very whumpeable, hurting my little blorbo Robin feels special because... she's just so deeply lonely. She's lonely and she thinks she deserves to be because of something wrong with her (pulling this interpretation from Surviving Hawkins lore which is canon to me 😭). That was a big idea I had when I first came up with android!Robin... that there is something wrong with her. Broken. In this AU she's literally broken in a lot of way (battery and memory problems, weak joints in her lower half, etc), but that's all within the range of normal robot problems. The real issue with her is that she's sentient. It terrifies people because it really brings out the existencial horror of... well, existing. It terrifies Robin most of all. She is the problem. She is what's wrong with her. She shouldn't exist.
But at the same time, she loves being alive so much! She doesn't understand it and doesn't know how it happened, but it happened, and now she's real and wants to experience life and the world and know people like human beings do. So it's her constant battle to become human despite humans having hurt her so much in the past... only for Nancy to already see her as human. Just one made of metal and plastic, but human nonetheless. She's the first person to see her that way and maybe everyone else thinks she's crazy, but Nancy is used to that. She's so sure of this, though, of Robin's self-awareness. She trusts her so blindly. She doesn't even need proof. And not only does she believe her, but she defends her humanity in front of her friends and family so ardently, fighting so hard for Robin to be aknowledged by everyone else as human. Fighting so hard to give her a home and family for the first time in her life.
Nancy has it bad for Robin, really. She's just so in love, even if everyone else thinks she's crazy for falling in love with a machine (no one thinks she is, though, because they all know Robin, and once you know Robin, it's impossible not to love her).
#ronance#android!Robin AU#robin buckley#😭😭 every day im emotional about her at 4 am#ok nice things now:#nancy takes her shopping for the first time! because robin never quite developed her own style#and being a girly girl to Nancy clothes are such a big part of your identity#robin finds these cool chains peoole wear as necklaces and bracelets and all these rings and she loves how they all look on her#and this jacket with different patches on it... she never thought she'd be the kind of girl to like shopping but she's so excited#because its the first time she's choosing what clothes to wear#Nancy introduces her to many different kinds of music alongside Steve#and then eventually the whole gang joins them. everyone gets to suggest one artist and soon Robin has this long asf playlist#to listen to so she can figure out what she likes#same with movies - they all now have weekly movie nights so they can show Robin different films#robin slowly discovering her passions... she reads a lot and finds out she loves languages and literature#and she decides she wants to get into college to study something related to it#she also decides she wants to travel through Europe and wants to bring Nancy with her#she decorates her room with movie and music posters#she decides she really likes cyndi lauper#she tries to learn how to dance with youtube tutorials#dragging Nancy into it#she gets to watch a lot of movies at her job at the movie theater#and she makes friends with her coworkers there#she's not fully and truly becoming a person#she has never been this happy#my posts#thank you for your ask i love talking about android!robin
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This isn’t Johnny discourse but it is kind of discourse about the discourse about him balding (which he isn’t).
What would it matter if he took off his hat and he was a shining beacon?? The dude canonically fucks (well not canon-canon but I feel like there’s implications of fucks-ing)!! At the most, he would be a Pitbull reference and that would be cool because good for Daisuke. Listen to Timber by Ke$ha (feat. Pitbull).
It kind of felt like they were making jokes at the expense of people loosing hair. It’s like that thing where you shouldn’t make fun of people for ‘X’ because then your friends who ‘X’ will know you think that about them.
John E is cool. I think he’s lame but he’s cool.
-A concerned Jellyfish Pirate
Idk anything about Pitbull, to be honest, but my GOD does he look like he's having the time of his life in the Timber video hahah Been a while since I heard that song...
Anyway, Johnny totally fucks. There's no way a man that toned, running around shirtless all of the time, with that slight yeehaw accent, couldn't find someone DTF with the tiniest bit of effort. He's absolutely gettin it rofl He could still get it if he was bald too, or receding.
I've complained about it on here a bit already, but yeah I don't think people making fun of Johnny because they think he's losing hair realize that a lot of people in real life are going to lose their hair as they age, and their jokes at Johnny are also jokes at these people. It's not even just an issue cis men can have either, everyone's hair thins with age, some just more (and sooner) than others. To make fun of someone, fictional or otherwise, for losing their hair is digging a trench to fill with future self loathing at one's own hair loss. And hair loss in >2023 isn't even that bad anymore!! There are so many ways to manage and style it now.
Johnny's a babe. Big fan of his "dad trying too hard to be cool but is actually somehow still really cool despite that" energy
#asks#Among the death threats I got on Twitter for the Brisket <3 meme 1 year anniversary post were a bunch of transphobic insults towards me too#And at least two of them were insults about how I was gonna go bald because I'm a trans man lol#I felt kind of bad for the cis guys that left those comments because all the (cis) men in my family were hairy bastards well into old age#T on its own doesn't just make all your hair fall out. It follows genetics just like naturally produced T does#Some trans men will lose their hair and some won't. I probably won't until I am VERY old#So them making fun of me for that told me that: 1. They're very afraid of losing their own hair#2. They think everyone else is afraid of losing their hair too (or that everyone thinks it looks ugly. Which is untrue)#3. They think that trans men are especially susceptible to hair loss#I've had a mohawk for about 7 years now. I am very familiar with the shape of my skull and wouldn't mind just going full bald#When it gets that thin and I decide to buzz it off I'll be sad about it for sure. But it absolutely will not be the end of the world#I'll go full Rob Halford haha Going bald is a non-issue#Unrelated but I love Johnny's EN dub accent in Strive so much because 'watered down yeehaw accent' is the only accent I can do well lmfao
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A cure I know that soothes the soul
started as a prompt fill for @queen-scribbles for the prompt “a kiss on the corner of the mouth, hoping for more but expecting nothing”, but it went completely off of the rails and onto the dining table so I decided to post it separately even though it technically fits the prompt. the new prompt fill is proving to be just as lengthy but not quite as smutty. also tagging @agentnatesewell since you asked me to 💖
Kira/Nate, almost 3400 words, sometime vaguely near the end or just after book 3, at the very least after they’ve both confessed how they feel. nsfw, due to explicit sexual situations and also due to improper use of antique furniture
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Kira awoke with a gasp, fear and adrenaline continuing to race through her even as the remnants of her dream fell away and she started to recognise her surroundings.
She was in her bedroom at the Warehouse.
Safe.
Alone.
It was still well before sunrise, no light creeping in around the edges of her thick, dark curtains.
The details of the dream were already fading by the time she sat up in bed, but the fear lingered, raking sharp claws down her spine. With it came the prickly feeling of being watched, no matter how many times she glanced at the room’s shadowed corners to assure herself no one was there.
The unease still didn’t fade as she untangled the blankets from around her legs. Or when she found her phone, knocked from the nightstand to the floor at some point in the night (it cheerfully announced the time to be 3:35AM). Or after slipping into the en suite to splash some water on her face at the sink.
Out of ideas, Kira crept out into the hall, moving as quietly as possible in the direction of the kitchen and, hopefully, a cup of tea to help calm her nerves.
She slowed her approach when she saw the light already on, hesitating in the hall.
Maybe the library would be a better choice. She was still too on edge to be good company right now, and she didn’t want to unload her baggage onto whichever unsuspecting vampire had beaten her here.
As if summoned by her decision to sneak away, Nate’s face appeared in the kitchen doorway.
“Kira?” He gave her a surprised but welcoming smile. “Is everything all right?”
Some of her anxiety faded at the sound of his voice, enough for her to manage a small smile in return. “I’m fine,” she said reflexively. She took a deep breath and tried again, the truth this time. “I had a bad dream, that’s all. Just trying to clear my head.”
His brow furrowed with a worried frown, and he took a step toward her before stopping, uncertainty overtaking his concern as he pulled back. “Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head, but closed some of the distance between them, a silent offer to meet him halfway. “I don’t actually remember it. I just remember… something watching me. Or chasing me?” She shook her head again, crossing her arms to stifle a shudder. “I can’t seem to shake it off.”
Nate moved closer, though he still stopped a little outside arm’s reach and held out a hand. Making it clear that he was leaving the decision up to her; proving that he’d been listening.
“Come here, ya rouhi,” he whispered, a request, almost a plea.
Kira didn’t need to be asked twice. She crossed what space still remained immediately, bypassing the extended hand to instead wrap her arms around him. With a chuckle tinged with relief, Nate returned the hug, and she melted into the warmth of his embrace.
“What can I do?” he asked, kissing the top of her head, her temple, her cheek. “What do you need?”
“Just you, love.”
They stood there like that for a long time, the hallway quiet and dark except for the light peeking through the kitchen doorway. Slowly, Kira’s heart rate returned to normal, the prickly uneasy feeling fading enough that she could ignore it.
Eventually, Nate pulled away, just enough to see her face. He brushed her hair out of her eyes before settling his hand against her cheek. “Feel better?”
“Much better.” She let her eyes drift closed as she leaned into his touch. “Thank you.”
“Trust me, it’s my pleasure.” He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “You should get some more sleep.”
It wasn’t a question, but it felt like one. He was leaving the choice in her hands whether she went back to bed or stayed there with him.
It was the easiest choice she’d had to make in months. “Can I stay here for a while? I don’t want to be alone right now.”
There was a brief, weighty pause. And then Nate’s body language changed, his touch shifting from comforting to purposeful, his hand sliding from her cheek down to her neck. His thumb slowly caressed the edge of her jaw, gentle, unhurried, maddening.
His voice changed too, dropping lower into something sultry and sinful. “Perhaps we just need to get your mind off of it.”
“Oh?” Kira tried to feign innocence, but the flush spreading over her face gave her away. “And how do you intend to do that?”
His lips brushed her cheek, just at the corner of her mouth, pulling back as she turned her head to try and kiss him properly. “I could make you some tea.”
“Tea. Of course. That sounds…” she licked her lips, fighting not to smile as his eyes darkened in response, “soothing.”
He repeated the motion on her other cheek, lips barely brushing her skin. “Or we could find you a book to read.”
She threaded her fingers into his hair and leaned up on tip-toe to close some of the height difference. “Sure. Reading can certainly be a… stimulating distraction.”
His arm tightened around her waist, helping her balance while also pressing their bodies flush together. “Or…”
Kira didn’t know if Nate intended to finish that sentence, but she didn’t wait to find out. “Nate,” she whispered against his lips. “Give me something else to think about.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before he was kissing her, slow and intense and already with an edge of urgency. Like he was starving for it, for her, like with each press and drag of his lips he was trying to make up for every minute he’d spent not kissing her--including the three hundred years before they’d met.
She opened for him eagerly, meeting his hunger with her own, swallowing his groan as the kiss deepened. They stumbled in the vague direction of the kitchen, both of them unwilling to untangle enough to watch where they’re going. They missed the doorway, but Nate’s back hit the wall next to it and that was good enough.
Kira dragged her mouth away from his to trail kisses down his neck instead. Her fingers were clumsy on the buttons of his shirt, too much need and not enough grace. “Maybe we should take this somewhere more private. In case the others wake up.”
In an unexpected display of impatience, he took over the task of unbuttoning his shirt, getting it undone and open in a flash of superhuman dexterity. He breathed out a gratified moan when her hands grazed his bare skin.
Task completed, one of his hands tangled in her hair, guiding her lips back to his, though he continued to try to speak between kisses. “They are all out on patrol. They won’t be back for hours.”
“Okay--” Kira started to reply, but her words were lost in a yelp as she was suddenly lifted from the ground. Her legs wrapped automatically around his waist without waiting for any input from her brain--which was good, because it appeared to have short-circuited entirely.
Nate looked up at her with a pleased grin that would’ve looked cocky on anyone else. “But perhaps it would be best to have a door between us and them. Just in case.”
She just nodded, not trusting her voice, clinging to his shoulders a little harder than necessary.
His grin sharpened to a sultry smirk. “Is something wrong, Kira?”
“Nope,” she answered, too quickly, blush darkening her face from the reminder that he could read her reaction so easily. “I knew you were strong, I just hadn’t considered what… other applications that could have.”
That wasn’t true, and they both knew it.
“And now?”
“Now, I’m considering. Intently.” Her hands found their way inside his open shirt again, exploring every inch of skin they could reach.
They didn’t do much better watching where they were going this time either, too wrapped up in each other, but somehow managed not to trip over anything. Nate carried her effortlessly, holding her with only one arm as he closed the kitchen door behind them with the other. It was still far from “private,” but Kira was having trouble caring about much beyond the lips on her skin and the arms around her and the hard length she could feel pressed between her thighs.
Eventually, they made it to Nate’s intended destination, and Kira let out a breathless laugh as he set her down carefully on the dining table. “You’ve been thinking about this since that comment I made at Tina’s, haven’t you?”
“Oh, my sweet Kira…” the way he said her name made her shiver; so did the look in his eyes, “I’ve been thinking about this since I bought the table.”
Her eyes slammed shut as that knowledge hit its target, along with all the implications that came with it. “Fuck.”
For once, Nate didn’t wince at her swearing. He just chuckled, low and smooth and clearly very pleased with himself.
Since his arms were now unoccupied, his hands instead found their way under her shirt, skimming purposefully up her sides and over her ribs, rucking the fabric up as he went. “Perhaps I should tell you the thoughts I’ve had about the sofas in the library as well.”
Tempting as it was, she shook that thought off--though she had no doubt she would remember this next time she had research to do. “I’d like that. Later.” She pressed her palm to the front of his jeans, dragging her hand over the hard swell of his cock. “Right now, I’d rather you just fuck me.”
Nate’s head fell back, eyes fluttering closed, jaw clenching around the low rumble of a growl that Kira could feel more than hear. He stayed that way, seemingly lost in sensation for the moment, barely moving beyond the restless stuttering of his hips as she mapped the shape of him through the thick denim.
“You are so bloody beautiful like this,” she murmured, releasing him just long enough to undo his belt and pull down his zipper so she could free him from his jeans. “I would almost think I’m still dreaming, but my dreams are never this lovely.”
He shushed her, pressing his thumb to her lips, the rest of his hand curling almost possessively around the curve of her jaw. “No more talk about dreams. We’re here to--” a sharp gasp escaped him as she took him in hand, “--to get your mind off of that.”
A smirk grew across her lips, widening as Nate traced the curve of it. “Oh, is that the only reason we’re doing this? How generous of you.”
“I would do anything for you,” he vowed without hesitation, followed by a groan as her tongue darted out to lick the tip of his thumb. He watched the motion with rapt attention. “But I won’t pretend my intentions were entirely altruistic.”
She turned her head to kiss his palm, then the inside of his wrist. “Good. You could stand to be a little selfish.”
There was something wild in his eyes when they met hers again. Untethered. But also fragile, like he could shatter if she touched him the right way.
Kira decided to risk it anyway. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down and licked a broad stripe along the underside of his cock.
He swore under his breath, the language not one she recognized but the sentiment behind it clear enough. It was such a lovely reaction that she did it again, slower, savoring the taste of him as well as the sounds he made.
The angle made it difficult to do much more than tease him, but Nate clearly didn’t mind, praise falling from his lips in a mix of languages as if it was a struggle to hold on to any of them for long. She could identify some of them, and heard her name interspersed throughout, muttered like a prayer between endearments, ya rouhi, cariad, zhizn moya, mon cœur, beloved.
It wasn’t long before he’s tugging at her with shaking hands, the words “Kira” and “wait” exhaled on a shuddering sigh. She stopped immediately, leaning back to give him room to catch his breath--but instead of doing so he just followed her, claiming her lips in a bruising kiss, pressing her down until she was laying on the table again.
“You are exquisite.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, followed by another at the edge of her jaw. “You make me feel…” He trailed off, as if none of the words he had were sufficient. She knew the feeling.
His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, a shaky sigh escaping him as she arched her neck to give him better access, baring her throat to him.
“One of these days,” he said in a voice like rolling thunder - deep, exhilarating, a promise of things to come, “I’m going to get you somewhere I can take my time with you.”
Before she could respond, he was moving down, nipping at her collarbone and the crook of her neck. His hands were as restless as his lips, grabbing and caressing and kneading but never staying in one place for long, as if he was trying to touch her everywhere at once.
“Somewhere I can spend hours exploring you.” His fangs just barely scraped against her skin, a slight sting before he soothed it with a sweep of his tongue. It sent electricity sparking through her, setting her alight. “I want to learn every way you like to be touched. Every sound you make.”
Long, elegant fingers traced up the inside of her thigh and past the hem of her sleep shorts - Kira had never been so grateful to the summer heat for convincing her not to wear long pants - pushing them aside along with her underwear to delve into her slick folds.
She whined, high and helpless and shaped vaguely like his name, and Nate echoed it with a broken groan. His lips found their way back to hers, kissing her with the same torturously slow rhythm of his fingers, licking into her mouth as he pressed into her.
“I wish I had the patience for it tonight,” he breathed between kisses, “but you are irresistible.” He pulled his hand away, swallowing her whimper of protest. “I will do my best to make it up to you next time.”
It was a struggle for Kira to find her voice. Desire simmered under her skin like a living thing, burning away all semblance of thought or language until all she had left was “Nate, please.”
Those were the only words she needed. As soon as they were out of her mouth, Nate was lining himself up and pushing into her, slow and relentless, until their hips were flush against each other.
She groaned at the delicious stretch as he filled her, a shiver coursing through her. The motion made his hips jerk forward, hands clutching hard at her thighs, which in turn made her clench around him. An echo chamber of sensation, bouncing endlessly between them.
“Kira,” Nate pleaded, completely undone and devastatingly beautiful, “I can’t--” He growled between clenched teeth, all his eloquence lost under desire.
Kira knew what he was trying to say. She pulled him down to kiss him, all open mouths and tangling tongues. “Don’t hold back,” and then, again, “Nate, please.”
There was nothing tender or gentle about the way they moved together, both of them too far gone, desperate and driven.
Nate only barely stayed within the bounds of human ability, thrusts just a touch faster than a mortal man could manage, grip a little too strong, leaving bruises on her hips and thighs that he’d feel guilty about in the morning. Kira didn’t mind them; she just wished her own marks didn’t fade so quickly, that she could leave some visible proof that she wasn’t still dreaming.
The pleasure built quickly, coiling in her belly, growing tighter and tighter with every movement, every thrust and kiss and broken sound. She could already see the end in sight, and she tried to hold herself back, to slow down just a little and savor it, but then he shifted, changing angles and sliding into her just so--
She careened over the edge with barely any warning, and he followed close behind her. They held each other together as they shattered and shook apart.
It could have been minutes or hours later when Kira became aware of her surroundings again. The kitchen was quiet except for their slowing breathing, the sky still dark through the window over the sink. Nate loomed warm and heavy above her, his forehead resting on her chest over the still-racing beat of her heart.
She combed her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face enough to plant a weak kiss on his temple. That took the last energy she had, and her head fell back on the table with a dull thunk. “You know, I have to say, Victorian carpenters really knew their shit.” She gave the table a fond pat. “Very sturdy construction.”
Nate’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. “I’m sure they’d be happy to know their work is still appreciated.” He lifted his head enough to meet her eyes, expression blissful and adoring. “Though perhaps not quite in the manner it was intended.”
“We’re getting pretty good at using furniture in ways it wasn’t intended.”
He hummed in agreement and appreciation. “More than ‘pretty good,’ I think.” With a groan, he pushed himself off of her and sluggishly got to his feet, offering a hand to help her clamber somewhat-gracefully off the table. “But perhaps we should give it a break and take this elsewhere.”
It wasn’t a question, but it felt like one, and Kira let herself consider it while they put their clothes back to rights and checked to make sure they hadn’t left the kitchen a mess. It wasn’t that she didn’t know the answer; it was that she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to ask it yet.
As if he could sense her hesitation, Nate stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned gratefully into his embrace, sighing contentedly when he kissed her cheek. “I should probably get some more sleep.”
“I agree,” he said neutrally, not giving her any insight into his own thoughts.
She closed her eyes and forced the words out in a whisper he probably wouldn’t have heard if he were human, admitting for the second time that night, “I don’t want to be alone.”
It was harder to say than it had been the first time. ‘Alone’ was what she’d always done best; she wasn’t quite sure who she was without it. Part of her thought it would be safer to just face the nightmares again.
He spun her around so he could kiss her, in equal parts comfort and relief. And then kissed her again, just because he could. “Would you…” he swallowed hard, and it made her feel better to know he was nervous too, “would it be all right if I stayed with you awhile? At least until you fall asleep.”
Kira liked that he made it sound like his idea, asking if he could rather than if she wanted him to. It took some of the pressure off, made her feel a little less vulnerable when she confessed, “I’d like that.” She could feel his smile when he kissed her again. “My room or yours?”
“Mine.” There was a hint of a purr in Nate’s voice, despite what they’d just finished doing. “I’ve wanted to get you in my bed for some time now.”
She laughed, feeling a knot of tension that had been lingering finally begin to unravel. “Then take me to bed, love.”
No sooner than the words were out, he lifted her off the ground once again, chuckling as she yelped in surprise. He carried her down the hall at close-to-human speed.
The bedroom door closed behind them just before the rest of the team returned home.
#rhi writes#twc#the wayhaven chronicles#kira kingston#kira/nate#am I brave enough to put this on ao3? I haven't decided yet#it feels weird to say but writing this helped me figure out a lot about where their relationship stands post-book 3#but I'm not gonna rant about that in the tags it deserves its own post eventually#this also may be one of my favorite things I've ever written :3#I love them so much and I want them to be happy#and to have so much sex on so many surfaces that aren't their actual beds lmao#title is from hozier's song 'moment's silence' because it felt appropriate and also because of who I am as a person
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Yknow, I may be beating a dead horse here, but I really hate it when people think Helia was the one in the wrong in the Shaab Stone arc in the comics. And listen, I know what this sounds like - I'm not saying he did nothing wrong just because he's my special blorbo. I'm saying it because he genuinely wasn't in the wrong here.
I think a lot of people immediately assume Riven's right and Helia's wrong because Riven's heart was in the right place. He wasn't acting out to be a dick; everything he did was done with the intention of doing the right thing. Which, compared to the first season, is a huge leap for Riven, especially on missions. He used to goad Sky and the others a lot, and then there was the entire escapade with Darcy. So for Riven to be So Confident about doing the Right thing, it comes off as him genuinely being correct and Helia being completely wrong, especially when the mission goes south.
But like,,, the thing is,,, the mission literally only went south because of what Riven did. That's not to say that he was Morally Wrong because he wasn't. But he was stubborn and impulsive. He wasn't thinking about the consequences or how likely they actually would've succeeded against the bad guys, he was thinking about wanting to stop them and that's it. Helia was right about them being outnumbered and overpowered, and he was right about them needing backup (the thing that literally saved Riven and Timmy when they got caught). But Riven was so consumed with wanting to act Now that he didn't stop to think about how it actually would've played out.
And I think the most important thing in this discussion, is that Riven didn't hate Helia. He still disliked and didn't trust Sky and was using Helia as a scapegoat. Literally everything he says to and about Helia is just everything he's been thinking and saying about Sky. And that's not because Sky and Helia are the same, it's because they're in similar enough positions that Riven feels uneasy about it. Like of course he doesn't trust Helia at first! He's the grandson of the headmaster and that same headmaster made him the leader of a mission when he's never been the leader with them before. It's pretty natural that Riven wouldn't immediately be on board with that.
But again, Riven didn't hate Helia for any reason that Helia himself caused. It was all about hating nepotism and classism and thinking that Helia was going to be another Sky. And it really didn't help that besides Flora, Sky was the Only person actually defending Helia.
I think it's really important to take note of how Riven treats and thinks of Helia after they make up. Riven is able to put all of it behind him and starts to genuinely respect Helia's thoughts. That would not have happened if Helia was the one who made the mistake. And I think that's clear in how Riven thinks of Sky after they "make up". Sky never apologizes for his actions nor does he ever take the blame for anything that happened with Riven. And Riven knows this!! If Helia had made such a big mistake and then never apologized for it, Riven wouldn't be as chill with him as he is later on. This is also pretty evident in how Riven starts to really like Timmy and respect him as a specialist - Timmy never did anything to him.
Ik this is a pretty small thing but the Shaab Stone arc is such good material for Rivelia as friends and as individuals. It says a lot about both of them! Riven just wants to do the right thing but he can get really impulsive about doing it. Helia wants to do the right thing but hates conflict and refuses to communicate properly with his team. They're both able to understand why the other acted the way they did and start to actually like and respect each other afterward.
It's just... good intentions do not equal good actions. Riven himself is able to admit this and he gets a lot better about thinking of an actual plan and not just rushing head first into things later on in the series. Riven's growth as a specialist and teammate is super important as it directly ties into his growth as a person! Idk it just really bothers me when people look at Riven being a stubborn and impulsive specialist and think that's Good. Even in a fictional setting, a military soldier acting like that is not a Cool Thing. And in this fictional character analysis setting, it's a very literal example of Riven needing to grow as a person (ie needing to trust others, needing to slow down and think for a minute, needing to communicate properly Without acting like a dick about it).
(I didn't know how to fit this in but the only mistake Helia makes is how he communicates with the specialists. He's a good leader and he knew what to do, but he wasn't good at expressing it or trying to quell their valid concerns. But in terms of the actual mission itself, he did fine and it would've worked out if Riven hadn't acted too soon and on his own. This was 100% a moment of them learning how to be better teammates and how to trust one another more.)
#AND LISTEN y'all know i'm very up the Helia Makes A Lot Of Mistakes chimney#because he does and it bothers me even more when people think he never does anything wrong#but this? this was not on him!!#this was on riven not trusting them and acting on his own without thinking of a proper plan#like its literally said later on that riven realized what helia was doing and decided to help him!! and he had an actual plan this time!!#i think its also super important that helia never blames riven or gets mad at him for this#it would be easy for him too but he doesnt because he understands where riven is coming from and Why he didn't trust him#this is a big reason why i always point to this arc for them!!#but idk its just weird to me when people think helia made the mistake when it was riven's actions that got them in trouble#again riven's heart was in the right place and that's super important#but he was also being extremely impulsive !! he didn't have a plan and he didn't have the power to actually take them down!#literally the Only reason helia had them wait for backup is because they were outnumbered and overpowered#and riven made the decision to go in with Just him and timmy like bro 😭#i know y'all are in love with riven i am too but cmon man 😭#winx riven#winx helia#mine.metas#long post#also to clarify im not trying to shit on riven or bring him down but this issue wasnt him being in the Right#this was literally him needing to learn how to communicate properly and respectfully#and learning how to trust others even when he doesn't agree with them
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....
#love how i lost a follower because i called the pirate show a slave owner pirate show and they said i was being bad faith 😭😭#and then when i explained my reasons and dressed down why i dont want to watch two slave owners and traders fall in love#very patiently if i do say so myself they decided to unfollow rather than confront why they think its#in their own words ok to use slave owners as characters since there were lots of slave owners before the 1900s and there still are#so what we just arent allowed to use them as characters now#like yeah buddy i dont think we should be using slave owners and traders as characters in uwu gay fantasy shows#i think its a good rule of thumb that we dont turn slave owners and traders into white gay icons that parasocial tenderqueers go to#the graves of to do some cutesy little ceremonies to honor them as if theyre these peoples blorbos from history#dw babe i blocked you so youll never see anpther post from me 💋#like EXCUSE ME for thinking some kitchsy little comedy show shouldnt pinkwash two ACTUAL slave owners from history#like im so very sorry i told you that i want better representation for gay people than LITERAL SLAVE OWNERS#i guess im not a very good ally 🙄#the way they were like we should give them a pass because theyre a big show that is bringing marginalized people to the public in good ways#as if we dont live in an age where we have more rep than ever before and have to give a pass to a show that decided to make two slave owners#into two little uwu smol bean gays for the tumblr communitys consumption 🙄🙄🙄#i just know they unfollowed because i said id seen better rep and better writing elsewhere 😪#like no way that wasnt what offended them most 😂
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Ok I finally stopped being a wuss and read that last Moca banner story and fuck. Fuck.
#rat rambles#band posting#I was so scared to read it since I was so scared abt the direction theyd take it in#but it was so fucking good holy shit#moca was written very well I love how it both stays true to its base character while also showcasing how its changed overtime#and Im so glad that moca is standing up to ran abt this in an actually meaningful way#Im so glad that moca has made it clear that its not going to just stand around and watch this happen#because while I kind of get where ran is coming from this is not the sort of decision you make for a group of people#itd be one thing if it was just them wanting to quit personally but deciding that the whole of them need to disband?#especially while knowomg full well how passionate the others are about this#I love ran dearly and generally Im not one to call bndori characters shitty#but thats real fucking shitty. ran is doing a shitty thing here.#and its so important that moca especially challenges that#I especially like how moca thought of this as being another example of ran running away from their future#I hadnt thought of it that way before but that makes so much sense actually I really love it#to ran the future of the band is uncertain which in turn makes it scary to continue to put their all into#they dont want it to fizzle out and die without them being able to stop it so theyre trying to take matters into their own hands#but in turn theyre giving up on all of the things that made them so scared to fizzle out in the first place#they dont want to have to face figuring out their next step so its simply easier to just tear it all down#they arent doing the hard thing they think theyre doing#afterglow is going to end one day and thats ok. whats not ok is tearing it apart out of fear of losing it in a worse way#ran thinks that the others dont have solid goals. fine. thats smth to bring up with everyone as a concern not to use to justify ending it#the way theyre just making the executive decision sucks so bad and I need the rest of afterglow to stand up to them abt that#this is what all of them need.#Im still a bit worried abt how this arc will play out but Im becoming more open to it then before#Im just glad theyre not having everyone just sit down and take the beating#I hope himari uses the opportunity to actually express anger because its been too long fr#my faith in the bndori writers is slowly being restored just gimme a good himari standing up for afterglow moment and we're golden
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who wants a prism break?
So, the Theraprism! The Theraprism sucks, right?
This is like, a good day.
The Theraprism clearly sucks.
Have a one shot of Bill escaping Theraprism with the most desperate escape plan imaginable: reincarnation.
(Warning for, as you might expect, psychiatric hospital abuse.)
####
There are fates worse than death. Like boredom, for instance!
####
Everything was black and numb and silent and cold so so cold but no he could only call it cold if he felt cold and Bill didn't feel coldness there was just the absence of a feeling the absence of heat the absence of light the absence of sound the absence of touch the absence of air.
The absence of everything.
Bill had loved a void once—a micro black hole. Every time they touched it slowly killed him, spaghettified his limbs, drained his energy. His energy was so vast that she never claimed a drop of a drop of a drop of his reserves—but it still hurt like nothing else to be crushed and stretched and ripped and consumed by her event horizon. The pain was wonderful. Being shredded was ecstasy.
This void was the opposite of her.
He couldn't even feel anything when he tried to scream—without air, he couldn't feel his vocal plates vibrate. He couldn't feel his hands, his face, his eye; he tried to bite himself just to feel something and he couldn't feel his mouth, he tried to rip open his wounds and couldn't find them; why couldn't he see his own light, why couldn't he see his blood, where had he gone, was he gone—
Reality returned like a light bulb being switched on.
The first thing he registered was a shrill sound on the verge of inaudibility; and then the pain in his eye, his sides, his wounds; and then the dull gray light, the hard floor under his knees, the antiseptic stench in the air conditioning.
He stopped screaming. The shrill sound stopped.
"Energetic as always, are we?"
Bill blinked blearily at the Orb of Healing Light hovering before him. He croaked, "I'll regurgitate you."
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." A glowing translucent clipboard manifested in front of the Orb. "Well, you've gone through this enough times to know the drill! Do you need a moment to recover, or—?"
"No no, I'm fine, I'm fine." Bill slumped forward, trembling hands on the floor, waiting for the vertigo to pass. "I'm fine. Do your thing." He'd rather get the post-Solitary Wellness Void reorientation interview over with.
"Perfect. What's your name?"
"I'm ol' Vinegar Pete."
"No clowning, please."
He sighed loudly. "Bill Cipher."
"Good. Where are you?"
He considered saying hell, but decided he'd used up all the clowning he could risk for one day. He didn't want to go back in. "The Theraprism. Ward 333."
"Very good. When are you?"
"I was gonna ask you," Bill groaned. "How long was I in the hole this time? A million years? Ten million?"
The Orb checked its notes. "Eight minutes."
"Wh—no, no I know that time moves slower out in reality than in the prism. I'm not asking how much time passed in reality, I'm asking how much time passed here."
"Eight minutes," the Orb repeated. "Outside the Theraprism, one third of one second passed."
Bill groaned again and flopped flat on the floor.
"Do you know why you're here?"
"Why are any of us here?" Bill asked the gray linoleum tiles. "Usually because some dumb beast tripped into the booby trap that sets off its reproductive process. How's your species work, you pop outta nebulas, right—?"
"I meant, coming out of the Solitary Wellness Void."
"Oh." Bill tried to remember what his infraction had been this time. "Because I failed to escape."
"Because you tried to escape."
If he'd succeeded, they never could have punished him. "Sure."
"Good, you seem oriented to your surroundings. Let's get you to the nurse and then back to your cell." The nurse? What did he need a nurse for?
He only realized then that he must have succeeded in reopening his wounds in the SWV: the never-quite-healed crack across his exoskeleton was wider, the edges chipped and bent. It hurt. His eye socket hurt too; he tasted blood. With the way his whole body usually ached after leaving the void, he hadn't even noticed.
Through the crack in his exoskeleton, his edges had frayed into fine golden threads. The sight of silvery blood on his hands made him nauseous; he hastily looked away and reminded himself it was only his own.
####
As Bill wearily followed behind the Orb and two security guards followed behind him, he had to periodically turn to hover sideways to streamline himself. These days he was so weak that he could feel the air resistance pushing back against him when he floated; with his wound reopened, he felt like the air pressure could snap his exoskeleton along the crack and break him in half.
"You're not Emmy," Bill said. "You're, uh..."
"A-AOX4."
"Oxyyy," Bill said weakly. "Heyyy. S'been a while. Usually I get a personal welcome back from the void, why didn't Emmy show? Don't tell me it doesn't see me as a threat anymore!" He'd be offended if it didn't. D-SM5 was the closest thing he had to a nemesis these days. Even if he couldn't beat it, he wanted to think he still irritated the daylights out of it.
"Director SM5 couldn't make it. It's overseeing the preparations for Paingoreous's reincarnation."
"That's today? Good riddance." Paingoreous had started getting sanctimonious the past few hundred group therapy sessions—don't you have any compassion for your victims and it's possible to live a happy life without slaughtering all your enemies first and maybe I should ask for permission before I vivisect my friends' faces—passive, self-defeatist crap like that. Vivisecting your friends and seeing who complained was how you found out who your lame friends were! Now that the wet blanket was leaving, the rest of them could get back to spending their sessions reminiscing about the glory days and trying to set the donuts on fire when the therapist was distracted.
"Yes," A-AOX4 said pointedly, "it is good he gets to leave to go become a productive member of reality. We're all so happy that he's rehabilitated enough to earn a new chance at life." (Bill rolled his eye. A-AOX4 ignored it.) "Wouldn't you like a chance to rejoin reality, Bill?"
More than anything. He'd been in this crystallized brain's perpetual dreamscape for what felt like both a thousand years and a single day—time never passing, an eternal inescapable moment. He'd tried to break out, sneak out, or bargain his way out more times than he could count; sometimes he was locked in the SWV as punishment; and sometimes the staff gently stopped him, confiscated his supplies, and chastised him for the effort—and the reminder that he was as powerless as a child was worse than the void. He'd gone delirious from the boredom, hallucinating screams and burning faces as his mind struggled to stimulate itself (and he'd been medicated for it). He'd so despaired of escaping that he'd looked for a way to burn up the remains of his energy and vanish for good (and he'd been medicated for it). He ached with the need to see the stars again.
But not enough to sell his soul for it. If he took the staff's route—let them break him down, sandblast off his rough edges, erase everything that made him him, and finally physically transform him into some alien creature—then whatever left the Theraprism would no longer be Bill Cipher.
"What, and force you guys to find a new 'unique case'? I wouldn't do that to you! I know how much you love me," Bill said. "Besides, why would I go through all that just so I can reincarnate as a sentient snowflake, or Mi-Go antennae lice, or..."
"A butterfly," A-AOX4 cut in, an edge of impatience creeping into its tone. "Paingoreous has chosen to reincarnate as a butterfly. We all think that's a very productive way to channel his desire to digest his own skin."
"Unless it's one of those blood-drinking butterflies, lame." Bill scoffed. "Wait—hold on, you said butterfly? Like an Earth butterfly?"
They were, of course, not actually speaking an Earth language, but an interdimensional pidgin that borrowed words and grammar from dozens of worlds. When around the Orbs of Healing Light that held half the staff positions, Bill tended to speak a dialect of the pidgin that used flashes of light for 40% of its vocabulary. It was perfectly possible that the word Bill knew as "butterfly" was also used for some alien creature, but—
"Yes, an Earth butterfly. A Vanessa atalanta, to be precise."
Aw, boo. Not even a cool butterfly. "He's reincarnating on Earth?"
"Yes. Many of our patients reincarnate on Earth. As long as you're careful about which region and century you reincarnate into, it's at the top of our recommended list of Goldilocks zones."
There was another phrase that Bill recognized, but this time he was sure his definition was not A-AOX4's definition. "Whaaat do Goldilocks zones have to do with reincarnation."
"You didn't pay attention to the orientation session on our outpatient reincarnation program, did you."
"What! I didn't get an orientation session!" said Bill, who probably didn't remember any such session because he didn't pay attention to it.
"Well—we rank millions of planets and their dimensional parallels based on their potential to help patients reintegrate into reality. We do try to set our patients up for success," A-AOX4 said. "To qualify as a Goldilocks zone, a planet has to meet the Theraprism's rigorous list of criteria: its lifeforms, cultures, laws of physics, and position in interdimensional society must all be conducive to a patient's continued recovery. We want to ensure that our patients' new lives are neither so difficult as to retraumatize them, nor so easy as to let them coast by avoiding continued personal growth, but right in the middle, so that they're emotionally and spiritually challenged without being overwhelmed. The Goldilocks zone: a perfect compromise between two extremes."
"Yeah, sure, sounds great." Bill could feel his eye glazing over in disinterest. Fight it, Cipher.
"Do you miss Earth?"
Bill tilted to glance askance at A-AOX4, and was surprised to see it had turned to focus a spotlight on him. Oh—it thought it had finally found a carrot to dangle in front of him. That was a popular strategy here: they figured out what a patient wanted most, and then used it to coax them into good behavior and "rehabilitation"—better still if they could attach a sense of urgency to it. Don't you want to see your descendants again before the last of them dies out? Don't you want to see your homeworld before its sun swallows it? Don't you want to reconcile with your god before the heat death of your universe?
But Bill had no universe, no homeworld, no family; no lovers or friends or gods that hadn't betrayed him and left him to rot here; and he'd remained smugly steadfast in refusing to give D-SM5 and its minions anything else it could use to get under his chitin. He was proud that he was too broken for even the famed Theraprism to fix him.
A-AOX4 probably thought it had finally found an opening. It might be useful to let it keep thinking that.
"You kidding me? Earth? Pfff! I don't miss that overgrown asteroid one bit!" He waved off the suggestion, and winced when the gesture tugged wrong at his reopened wound. "But hey, you don't study a world for millions of years without finding a few things about it to like. The music's pretty good. And the movies and literature, though if you ask me, they peaked between the first two World Wars. I like trees, evolution did a great job with trees. And humans really went off with the architecture. The pyramids? 10 out of 10. And some of the locals aren't bad, I've got a few exes from Earth."
"Do you? How many exes?"
"Living? Just a hundred forty or fifty," Bill said dismissively. "Earthlings just have those pretty eyes, you know? I'm a sucker for a pretty eye! But outside of that, no, there's nothing on Earth for me."
"I see," A-AOX4 said lightly, and dropped the conversation.
Hook, line, and sinker.
####
The original definition of a "Goldilocks zone" came from astrobiology. The Goldilocks zone was the ring of space around a star in which an orbiting planet could support liquid water and thus water-based life: not too close to the star and too hot, not too far and too cold, but just right. Earth, for instance, orbited Sol in its Goldilocks zone.
It was from this definition that other, more metaphorical definitions of Goldilocks zones emerged. Such as the Theraprism's: a world that was neither too stressful nor too boring for a newly brainwashed—sorry, "cured"—patient. And apparently Earth was in that Goldilocks zone, too.
Which was very interesting to Bill—because in their search for a new home, the Henchmaniacs had come up with their own definition of a Goldilocks zone. For them, it was a dimension close enough to the Nightmare Realm with a thin enough barrier that they could easily punch through it, but not so close and so thin that puncturing the barrier would pop it like a balloon and cause the dimension to immediately prolapse into the Nightmare Realm—which was a problem they'd had before. More than once. They needed a dimension they could easily cut a hole into, but control it, so they could slowly pump the Nightmare Realm's contents in. A barrier neither too vulnerable nor too strong, but just right.
And wouldn't you know it—but Earth happened to be in that Goldilocks zone too. Right next to a point in the dimensional membrane so thin, the Nightmare Realm could almost stretch through and kiss it.
####
Since Bill Cipher was infamously known as the last survivor of a trillion-years-extinct species, and had until recently been capable of instantly repairing himself, there were no medical records on how his anatomy worked. It didn't help that at some point eons ago he'd somehow managed to graft a 3D exoskeleton to his 2D anatomy without breaking his own physics, meaning no one had seen his true body in recorded history. Bill knew how he worked, but refused to offer any hints. So the Theraprism staff had to guess at Bill's medical treatment.
But Bill was still made of energy, and even weakened he could eventually self-repair. So whenever his injury was exacerbated, the nurse tended to just patch up his exoskeleton to keep it stable enough to send him back to his room.
On top of his mysterious anatomy, the staff had no idea how to medicate his physiology. They knew he could be medicated—Bill's personal substance (ab)use experiments were notorious far outside the Nightmare Realm—but they had to treat him like a newly-discovered form of life in figuring out what affected him, how it affected him, and how much it took. He'd been on and off hundreds of drugs as they tried to chemically stabilize a mind for which they had no idea what baseline stability looked like. D-SM5 had told him that between the enormous doses needed to impact his energy-based physiology and the vast variety of drugs he'd been through, Bill's medication regimen was the most expensive in the Theraprism. He took some pride in that.
He had very few things to take pride in anymore. He clung to what meager victories he could.
If Bill got his way, he wouldn't be medicated at all. None of the substances they wanted him on were what he'd call recreational. (Although for a while he had gotten away with not telling the docs that one of his antipsychotics had given him a side-effect of kaleidoscopic hallucinations.) Plus there was the fact that he'd heard rumors that quite a few pharmaceutical execs were good pals with a certain director—not that Bill would name names, of course!—that's his motto, Don't Slander Maliciou5ly!
But when he resisted taking his meds, they could send in the guards to pin him down so a nurse could inject a sedative so strong he wouldn't remember anything that happened for the next few hours to months (hard to tell) until they started tapering it off... and although he'd rather die than admit it, after losing that fight five or six times, even he had to admit to himself it was a lot less scary to just take their rotten drugs. Better to go through his days with his mind dulled and hazy than blacked out altogether.
To retain what little pride he had left, he'd reached a compromise with his jailers.
When the nurse had finished attaching the reinforcing splints around Bill's injury, they grabbed a medication measurement cup, filled it halfway with syrupy eye drops, and double-checked Bill's chart as they dropped thirteen different pills (plus a fourteenth pill for a painkiller) in the cup.
As Bill redressed, he eyed the unappetizing cocktail of antidepressants, antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, and things he'd forgotten the purpose of but that probably weren't doing whatever the doctors hoped and definitely weren't doing anything Bill liked. "My straw?"
"Right, right." The nurse handed over one of the wide-diameter disposable white straws they kept on hand for patients who struggled to drink (or, in Bill's case, patients they struggled to get to drink).
Only a tiny fragment of Bill was actually locked up in the Theraprism—like pinching the glowing lure of an anglerfish in a trap while the rest of the fish thrashed outside—and because most of Bill's vast energy was elsewhere, he was nearly powerless. But he still had enough energy to heat up a finger, twist the straw around it, and hold it there until it had melted into a new shape.
The nurse sighed. "Do you have to do that every time? You ruin more straws than you get right."
Imperiously, Bill said, "Leave me to my whimsy." He tugged off the straw when it had cooled down to examine the corkscrew shape he'd made. The wall was a little flattened in one place, but he could pinch it back open. "See? It's perfect!" Cheerfully ignoring the nurse, he stuck the straw in his cup and slurped down his pills like tapioca balls. He tried not to remember what was in them.
A-AOX4 had left Bill with the nurse, but the two mall cops with medical kinks known as Bill's personal guards were still waiting nearby. The nurse's office was next door to the cafeteria—for ease of patients picking up their medications at meal times—in an anteroom that was connected to the rest of the ward by a set of locked double doors. A couple of guards were stationed near those doors at all times, and generally the guards assigned to Bill hung around with them while Bill was in the cafeteria or nurse's office. Bill floated up to them, regarding them with the disinterest of a king ignoring the servants he expected to open doors for him, and continued to ignore them as they escorted him back to his cell, one in front and one behind, while he sipped on his drugged cocktail.
The Dimensional Tyrant Ward was already one of the most heavily-guarded wards in the Theraprism; but to reach the maximum security cells, a patient had to pass several increasingly heavy security checkpoints with increasingly impenetrable security doors. The final door was warded against all magic, unhackable, unbreakable, and so airtight that even without his exoskeleton there was no gap Bill's 2D form could slide through. The doors to each cell—outfitted with tiny one-way mirror portholes, no latches or hinges on the inside—were a little less heavy duty, but packed with just as many failsafes. The Dimensional Tyrant Ward's max security hall had the most advanced security architecture of any psychiatric facility in the multiverse.
Bill had made a trillion year career of trying to break his way through a door nobody wanted him to go through. He could think of seven different ways to get through the doors. Sooner or later he'd find a way out of this place altogether.
A few of the doors had modifications: this one with a metal slab over the porthole to protect passersby from the occupant's petrifying gaze, that one with extra soundproofed padding coating the door. Bill was almost insulted his own door didn't warrant any special modifications.
His favorite door was The Beast's. A comfortingly yellow triangular sign on the door displayed a black symbol of a steak. Red signs above and below read "CAUTION! FEED UNSEASONED MEAT ONLY." "NO SUGAR ALLOWED." The Beast's heavy snuffing was audible through the door; his hot, sickly sweet breath seeped through the slot in the door that had been installed to deliver his food.
Bill's escorts automatically drifted to the far side of the hall to avoid The Beast. Bill, whose first medication was already starting to kick in, zigzagged lazily back and forth across the hall, heedless of how close he came to The Beast's cell.
Bill had never seen this door opened once in all his time incarcerated, and the dust settled on the additional chains and padlocks stretched across the door showed just how long it had been since the last incident. But some of the patients who'd been here longer than Bill still couldn't bring themselves to speak of the last time he'd escaped. Elder eldritch gods shuddered and gibbered nervously at the mention of his name.
Bill tilted over to try to peer through the food slot at The Beast. A quivering, sickly blue eye stared back at him. Honestly, Bill thought The Beast was adorable.
Outside Bill's door, the guards waited for Bill to finish his medicine, hand over his cup and straw, and open his mouth and lift his eye out of the way so they could check and make sure he'd swallowed them.
And then he was left in his cell.
####
A perfect cube of uniform dull grey tiles supernaturally lit by a uniform dull grey glow, no light source, no shadows; in a max security room in the Maximum Security Wellness Center, patients weren't even trusted around light fixtures. The staff had removed everything Bill had used thus far to commit violence or attempt escape, plus a few more things as punishments for various infractions: journal, paint, pens, books, magazines, puppets (he missed those the most), even the furniture. He'd never earned the privilege of a TV or radio. By now, all he was permitted were black, red, yellow, and blue dry erase markers to draw on his walls—and the red and blue had gone dry; the "Be a TRY-angle!" poster they'd replaced whenever Bill left the room until he gave up and stopped tearing it down; and the clothes on his back. He'd gradually gotten himself banned from every extracurricular and recreational activity the Dimensional Tyrant Ward offered. Whenever he was fresh out of the SWV, when his restrictions were highest, his schedule consisted of mandatory individual therapy, mandatory group therapy, med checks, and the cafeteria.
He spent the vast majority of his time in his cell, sitting curled up alone, day after night after day, barely moving, barely talking, barely eating, waiting for nothing at all.
####
The seamless door swung open and admitted an Orb of Healing Light.
Bill blinked blearily up at the Orb. It was hard to tell how slowly time passed here, but he was sure it couldn't have been more than a couple hours since he'd been returned to his cell: that was when his medications made his mind the foggiest. "Emmyyy. Where ya been? Didn't see you when I came out of the Solitary Dullness Void. Nice of you to, uh..." A second ago he'd had a clever quip about how D-SM5 had clearly dropped by because it missed Bill, but he'd forgotten how to word it.
"Well, I'm here now. I'm flattered you missed me, Mr. Cipher."
Bill blinked heavily. "You turned that around on me," he griped. "Not fair." Ugh, the room was spinning. He flopped on his back.
"A-AOX4 tells me you showed an interest earlier in our outpatient reincarnation program," D-SM5 said. "Since it looks like your schedule is light these days, I thought you might be interested in attending Paingoreous's reincarnation?"
It took him a moment to process the offer. "Really? That's something people can attend?" What was the catch?
"We usually only extend the offer to the departing patient's friends, and—exemplary patients. But... I thought you might benefit from watching the process for yourself. It may encourage you to take a little more interest in your future."
For it to push a possible lead so fast, it really was desperate to find some leverage they could use on Bill. It probably thought of this as a rare opportunity—a patient from Ward 333 wasn't ready for reincarnation every day.
"Wow. I sure am encouraged," Bill said. "You have no idea just how encouraged I am."
####
If an unambitious office building and a utilitarian hospital reluctantly got married out of a vague sense of heteronormative social obligation, had a depressed child, and the fae spirited it away to replace it with an even more depressed changeling child, the child's small intestines would look a lot like the Theraprism's interior hallways: it was windowless, it was labyrinthine, it was beige, and it was grey, and it didn't even care anymore. Monotonous commercial high-traffic carpet alternated with monotonous commercial high-traffic linoleum. The fluorescent lights buzzed just enough to be annoying, but not quite enough that you'd feel justified in snapping and screaming "I've had it!" as you swung a pleather-seated metal chair at the light fixture.
Even though Bill had been languishing in the Theraprism for hours and/or millennia (Bill couldn't tell; he couldn't feel the passage of time), he hardly knew his way around the Dimensional Tyrant Ward, much less the rest of the facility. As D-SM5 led Bill (and six guards) out of Ward 333 and into a lower security zone, he looked for any scant identifiable landmarks and tried to memorize which turns they took by coding the lefts and rights and ups and downs into a mnemonic word. The walk helped wake him from his medication stupor; but his mind never quite felt fully on.
Bill had only briefly glimpsed the Theraprism's reincarnation unit during intake, just one of many rooms he'd been whisked past as he was dragged to Ward 333 screaming and cursing the Axolotl's name. Entering the unit now, it looked like an occult sacrificial altar carved from marble that had been modeled after a 23rd century starship's teleportation platform, contained in a room that looked like a magic planetarium: glowing stars hovered around the dome of the ceiling. Against the back wall in pale pink marble was carved an impossibly long axolotl, swimming in a figure 8 so its vapid smile almost caught the tip of its ribbonlike tail. Bill glowered at it. Backstabber.
He, D-SM5, and the other observers who'd already arrived were in a connected observation room with an enormous, thick window and a sealed door. Next to the window was a large computer console encased in the same marble as the reincarnation altar. That probably controlled the process.
The audience consisted of three aliens who looked a little like Paingoreous might have with his face unpeeled, a few patients and staff Bill recognized, more he didn't, and Jessica with the shining spherical head and the thirteen fingers. Oh boy. If he'd known Jessica would be here he would have tried to polish. Bill straightened his bow tie and smoothed his rumpled orange jumpsuit.
Paingoreous himself was already in the next room, standing on the altar. At the sight of Bill, his exposed facial muscles twitched, as though trying to widen his eyes even though their eyelids were already long gone. "Bill? What are you doing here?"
D-SM5 answered before Bill could blurt out a witty retort. "I invited Mr. Cipher. I thought he would benefit from seeing what he can look forward to once he's improved. I hope you don't mind."
Paingoreous's face immediately smoothed out. "Yes—of course, director, if you say so. I remember how difficult it was in the early days. I'm happy to help my fellow patients in any way I can." Suck up. A dry note entered his voice, "Especially a more troubled patient."
Bill took one of the folding chairs lined up in front of the window and shot back, "I'm about to have one less trouble! Byyye!" (Did Jessica think that was funny? Sometimes she did. He snuck a sideways glance to see if she was laughing. Oh, right—she didn't have a face.)
Paingoreous didn't dignify him with a response. Too good for the likes of Bill, no doubt. Paingoreous wasn't obligated to answer anybody—except the staff, of course.
Bill had never met the real Paingoreous. By the time Bill was committed, the monotony, medication, and mandatory therapy were already well on their way to killing whoever Paing had once been. No way the offensively bland sap leaving now was the same one who'd come in with his face skinned and muscles pinned open.
A technician was already turning on the computer console, running through a whole list of checks as the machine booted up. A hum filled the room as the altar began to softly glow. To all appearances Bill was facing forward, slitted pupil aimed straight at Paingoreous; but his anatomy was built for watching things out of the corner of his eye and his real attention was focused on the reincarnation technician. "So how's reincarnation work in this dump?" Bill asked D-SM5. "I didn't get the orientation."
"Yes you did," D-SM5 said. "I was there."
"Oh yeah? Well, I don't remember seeing you."
D-SM5 sighed. "First, Paingoreous's memories of his current life must be erased, to give him the best fresh start possible and to comply with Earth's soul sanitization regulations."
"Seems like a big waste of time. His head's already empty enough."
One of the Paing-ish aliens a couple seats over shot Bill a dirty look. "That's my son in there."
"Not for much longer, he isn't."
"Be respectful," D-SM5 said warningly.
Bill ignored it. "So once you've scrubbed his brain clean, what then?"
"Then, we reincarnate him. We've already carefully selected his destination and species; except for special circumstances, we generally don't customize the patient's body further, as the program is already set up to divinely design the body most well-suited to the soul about to inhabit it."
"If these bodies are so perfect, why customize them at all?"
"We wouldn't want, say, a recovering pyromaniac to be reborn with pyrokinesis." (Bill felt unfairly targeted.) "Once his species and destination are entered into the program, off he'll go to start his new life as an egg."
"An egg?! Sheesh, wasn't going through childhood once bad enough? I assume his childhood was bad, anyway! Nobody with competent parents ends up like him."
The Paing-ish alien beside Bill bolted out of their seat and lurched aggressively toward Bill. (Ha. Too easy.) The next alien over tugged them back by the arm. Bill was sure he heard a whispered, "Careful, do you know who that..."
D-SM5 said, "One more crack like that and you're going back to your cell."
"Fiiine. Why can't he skip straight to being a butterfly, though?" What he really wanted to find out was how to skip straight to adulthood.
"For starters, because spontaneous generation has been heavily restricted on Earth since the 15th century, and banned completely outside of special circumstances since the 19th century."
Spontaneous generation. The creation of fully formed life from unliving matter: maggots that emerged from flesh, geese that emerged from barnacles, snakes and crocodiles that wriggled out of the mud of the Nile. He'd always planned to legalize it again when he took over. So if the only reason the Theraprism couldn't do it was because it was banned, then they must have the technology for it, right?
Bill tuned D-SM5 out as it prattled on about the mental health benefits of restarting life and beginner's mind and boring therapeutic psychobabble, and ignored the flashing lights and divine music as Paingoreous's memory, personality, and identity were all wiped clean. He was only interested in what the reincarnation technician was doing. (Although when Bill briefly glanced at Paingoreous, his shape seemed somehow uncertain, as though his molecules had only just walked into the room and promptly forgotten what they'd come in for or who they were supposed to be. Ready to be reshaped into something else.)
The technician opened up the primary reincarnation program, checked a box confirming that the patient's previous incarnation had been erased, and began setting up the specifications for his next incarnation. Choosing the reincarnation world was easy enough: under the drop down menu, the "Goldilocks zone" worlds were sorted first. Earth was sixth on the list. Choosing a dimension was just as easy.
However, choosing the location and time period looked more complicated; rather than searching through a handy list of continents or geological epochs, the technician checked Paingoreous's patient file and typed a couple of long strings of numbers into the blanks for the coordinates and time. They didn't look like any date system or coordinate system Bill was familiar with. How the heck would he work with that?
And selecting the species, to Bill's horror, meant scrolling down a menu ordered by how frequently a species had been selected for reincarnation at this facility. That was insane! The Theraprism always discharged patients as unambitious species where one member was nearly incapable of making a meaningful impact on the local biosphere—anything useful like an octopus or a goat would be buried amongst the literal billions of species that had received zero reincarnations. Couldn't you just start typing the species's name to jump down to—? But no, the Theraprism's keyboard didn't have characters to type human loan words. The technician seemed to be scrolling manually.
That was fine! That was fine. Whatever Bill left as, he wouldn't be it for very long. He wasn't shopping for a makeover; just for an escape pod.
The technician located Vanessa atalanta (147 prior reincarnations) and kept moving, tabbing past a dizzying array of options—sex, size, coloration, visual clarity, caterpillar spine distribution, a whole list of health conditions and mutations the technician skipped—and every box she tabbed past automatically filled in with the word "DEFAULT". How many boxes could be filled in with defaults?
Bill leaned toward D-SM5. "So do you chuck these suckers out anywhere random on the planet or what?"
"Of course not," it said promptly. "What a thought! We take a deep interest in our discharged patients' well-being. We never leave where they spend their next lives at the whim of the computer's randomized decision."
But they could leave it up to the computer. Still watching sideways as the technician scrolled past an "advanced settings" button without touching it (was that where the spontaneous generation option was hidden?), Bill asked, "Do youalways choose for the patient, or can the patient make requests?"
Dryly, D-SM5 said, "Unless you make some enormous progress, I doubt you'd get clearance to reincarnate anywhere near that town you terrorized, if that's what you're wondering."
"What! Who said I want to visit that crummy valley! All those mountains and trees? Ugh! No, do you know what kind of place I like? The Greater Cairo metropolitan area. Dry! Sandy! Flat!" said Bill, who detested flat landscapes with all his heart. "Covered in pyramids! Sometimes with my face on them! Plus there's the Nile! I love the Nile! I love being in the Nile! I'd spend all my time in the Nile if I could! I've had some loser ex-friends say that living your whole life in the Nile is an unhealthy coping mechanism to avoid addressing problems in your life, but if you ask me they're just jealous of how amazing my life is—"
"Ready for reincarnation," the technician said. "Proceed?"
D-SM5 left its seat, hovering closer to the glass to catch Paingoreous's attention. "Are you ready?"
"Sure," said Paingoreous, who clearly wasn't certain what he was claiming to be ready for.
"Proceed," D-SM5 said. Bill fell silent, paying close attention to how the technician began the reincarnation process.
She clicked a button that said "EXECUTE" (gruesome), clicked through a couple more confirmation screens, and then the faint background hum grew to a rumble and the magical stars glowed brighter. "Ten seconds," she said. "Nine... eight... seven..."
"Hey!" Bill shouted through the glass. "Friendly tip for Earth! Humans love when you fly into their eyeballs! You should do that!"
D-SM5 rounded on Bill, glowing furiously at him. (Maybe it was Bill's imagination, but he thought Jessica looked amused. Worth it.)
The soon-to-be caterpillar formerly known as Paingoreous stared in confusion at Bill. "Okay," he said—and then there was a bright flash of light.
He let out an awful wail of pure soul-rending agony.
When the light faded, he was gone.
The observation room had fallen perfectly silent.
"That's fine," D-SM5 said. "That's—that's normal."
####
Every once in a while, the Theraprism got something right. It was one of the few big government-sponsored "respectable" institutions that didn't make a fuss about how Bill ate. They just let him go to the cafeteria, strip down, unpeel his exoskeleton, and hang out with the photosynthesizers for half an hour or so in the corner under the grow lights. No gasps of horror or screams of outrage—not from the staff anyway; some of the patients took a bit to get used to it when they were new. It was a refreshing change.
On the other hand, even though they were willing to turn a couple lights high enough to melt most mortals' eyeballs when Bill was feeding, he never left feeling truly energized. The grow lights were designed for species with leaves and solar panels; they weren't designed to fuel up a god made of energy. A few bright lightbulbs didn't measure up to raw starlight.
He figured there wasn't any point in complaining. As much as he hated feeling like a gas tank trying to burn a dust mote for fuel, he knew that they knew that long before he even reached 1% of his usual power, he'd be strong enough to vaporize the Theraprism with the snap of a finger.
When he'd had his daily dose of light, he folded shut, redressed, and drifted over to the actual food for dessert. He grabbed a bottle of an allegedly "lemon" nigh-flavorless clear soda—this would do—and hovered toward the exit.
The cafeteria monitor stationed in the door elbowed her way in front of Bill. "Ahem."
"What?"
"You know the rules. No food outside the cafeteria."
"What! This isn't food, it's a soda. Beverages aren't food, everyone knows that." The monitor didn't budge. Bill tried whining. "C'mooon, I got injured in the void today. Look at this!" He gestured demonstratively at his splints. "Look how much pain I'm in!"
The Solitary Wellness Void made this cafeteria monitor uncomfortable. She'd never said so directly, but she tended to turn a blind eye when patients who'd just come out of the SWV were more aggressive than usual or tried to sneak extra desserts. One time when Bill had come out of a week in the SWV, she'd wordlessly slipped him a couple of packets of low-sodium fear sauce, a condiment usually distributed exclusively to the obligate phobophages in the ward. "Besides, it's my birthday! I'm a birthday triangle! You wouldn't deny a birthday triangle a soda, right?"
"Is it really your birthday?"
"Heck if I know. It could be. I don't know it isn't."
She was trying not to smile. "Fine. Just one time. Don't let anyone catch you with it and finish it before you're back in your cell."
"You got it, toots." Bill glided past her.
He slipped from the cafeteria into the nurse's office before his guards could catch sight of his illicit drink. "Hey, bartender! I'm here for my nightcap."
The nurse prepared Bill's evening battery of drugs. He bent his straw into a fun zigzag—honestly it was really more of a sad N shape—slurped down half the eyedrops, and opened his soda to refill his cup.
The nurse looked over at the hiss of the cap opening. "Hey! Hey—"
"It's just soda!" Bill protested. "The cafeteria monitor said it was fine! Besides, what's a little soda gonna do? Nullify all seven of my antipsychotics before I reach my cell?" (Bill had overheard the nurse grumbling to a colleague about the amount of antipsychotics he was on. They thought it was utterly excessive, considering that they'd had no evidence the drugs were doing anything but making him more erratic—which was something, because Bill had seen patients near drooling catatonia from their meds without any of the nurses questioning their current dosage. Conversely, the docs thought Bill's odd biology meant they needed to give him more if they wanted any hope of impacting him.) "Come on. It's not even caffeinated!"
The nurse took the soda bottle to check the ingredient list, then relented. "Fine. I suppose it won't do any harm."
"You're a peach." Bill topped off his cup, poured the rest of the soda over his eye, crushed the bottle, and consumed it too.
"The plastic probably isn't good for you, though."
"I like the way it melts in the back of my throat."
As he drank his medicated soda and got escorted back to his cell, he lazily drifted back and forth in the hall as far as the guards would let him go, dawdling more than usual—he knew they hated it when he dawdled, but they knew he hated spending one second more in his cell than necessary and grudgingly put up with a little lollygagging to keep the peace. But their tolerance ran out in the max security hall as Bill slowed down even further near The Beast's cell. The guard behind Bill pushed him. "Hurry up."
"Hey!" Bill wobbled off path and stumbled into the wall, spilling some of his drink. "What's your problem!"
"You stopped moving."
"I did not! I'm just taking my time! Enjoying the weather out here."
"Well, take less time."
"Ugh, fine. Didn't realize you had plans I'm keeping you from." Bill rolled his eye and kept moving.
"Hold it!"
Bill froze. He turned around. The guard was pointing at a streak of clear fluid that had spilled from Bill's cup and rolled down the door. His bones frosted over.
"You dropped a pill," the guard said.
Bill's gaze focused on the circular soap-green tablet on the floor. "Are you kidding?! Aren't the other twelve enough?"
"No exceptions, Cipher."
"You don't expect me to eat it off the floor!"
"Do you want to go all the way back to the nurse's office for another?"
Bill groaned in frustration. "Fine!" He snatched it up, wiped it off on the guard's sleeve, and popped it in his mouth. The guard raised a fist; Bill bared his fangs; and after a tense moment, the guard backed down first. The Theraprism had taken nearly every other power from Bill, but it couldn't take his teeth—and though he knew the guards would win any fight, Bill could make it hurt.
They returned him to his room; Bill handed over his cup; they checked to make sure his cup was empty, inspected his mouth, and locked him in.
He hoped they wouldn't notice that half his pills had stuck in the zig-zag bend of the opaque white straw.
He hoped they wouldn't notice The Beast's tongue thrusting through his food slot to lap up the spilled soda that was running down his door and over the bright red "NO SUGAR ALLOWED" sign.
His entire plan hinged on it.
####
Bill was drawing on the wall with his scant art supplies when he felt reality ripple around him, like the wave in a still pool when someone new quietly slides into the water. He looked up from his work. It was happening.
There were several thuds; then a crash; and then the peal of a prison alarm piercing the air. The alarm melted into shrill dolphin-like laughter, and then the frenetic staccato of a hyper speed dance song that threatened to fracture Bill's internal organs. He shuddered as the sound tore at his wound like freezing ice crystals expanding a crack in a boulder.
But he rose into the air and turned to face the door, ready.
Just in time for the door to vanish. The Theraprism melted away like mist in the sunlight—and oh, the sunlight was glorious. The wide open sky pulsed maddening colors so vivid that the faraway rainbows looked monotone in comparison; the land consisted of rolling hills of candy-coated tongues and stomachs and muscles, the paws of enormous buried corpses thrusting up into the sky, the crevasses between burial mounds running with artificially-flavored saliva. It was Bill's kind of place. He wished he had time to hang around.
Before him, orange fur matted with a fine dust of powdery sugar, wild eyes contracted to pinpricks, stood The Beast.
"You did it, you beautiful monster!" Bill shrieked with laughter. "I knew you'd come through!"
The Beast rumbled, "Em deerf evah uoy."
"You're welcome! You can return the favor later! Me, I have somewhere to be." While The Beast was asserting his personal reality on top of the Theraprism's idea of reality, none of the Theraprism's walls or doors existed. Bill wasn't sure exactly how far The Beast's radius of influence extended, except that it was at least far enough to get him out of the maximum security hall—but he had to move now, before the guards rallied to sedate The Beast. Bill slipped a finger into the band of his ankle bracelet and found that under the influence of The Beast's physics, the stiff plastic stretched like a warm rubber band. He tugged it off and tossed it aside. "Seeya, pal!"
But The Beast held up a paw, blocking Bill before he could zip off. "Noob ym tpecca," The Beast said. "Hself ym emusnoc."
"Oooh. Woww." Bill looked at The Beast's candy paw. "Oh, man. Generous offer! You have no idea how tempting it is to take a taste, but I've really gotta get somewhere, and I've gotta be at least sober enough to pull that off..."
"Emusnoc," The Beast insisted. "Hsur ragus eht fo ssendam gnilims citatsce eht ni em nioj. Rehtegot srorroh letsap dna serusaelp kcis hcus wonk lliw ew. Evarg lufituaeb ym ni em htiw tor."
Bill stared again at the paw. The tip of his tongue slipped out beneath his eye to lick hungrily at his waterline. When was the last time he'd been on something that felt good? "Oh, what the heck!" He took The Beast's paw. "I can do this buzzed! How much damage can one little lick do, anyway?"
####
The guard heaved open the maximum security hall's door. The floor was covered in tacky pools of neon candy and removed ankle monitors. "It's just like we feared," the guard shouted into a walkie-talkie, glancing quickly through each cell door's window. "Every single max security patient escaped under The Beast's reality-altering field."
The guard stopped at the sight of neon yellow and orange, peering through the window at the triangle flopped flat on the ground and surrounded by powdery pink sugar.
"Well," the guard said, "all of them except Cipher."
Through the walkie-talkie, D-SM5 tiredly said, "He licked the paw, didn't he."
"Looks like it, boss."
D-SM5 groaned. "All right! Positive thinking! That's the second biggest threat in the ward already accounted for! Silver lining to Mr. Cipher's substance use issues. Assist in securing the others."
####
The good news was that The Beast seemed happy to frolic randomly around the Theraprism rather than head toward the exit, forcing the other escapees to follow along to remain under his reality-altering protection rather than get stranded in small rooms and locked-down halls. The bad news was that his meandering route let him pick up more and more revelers. After an hour, only a third of the max security patients had been re-captured and dragged back to their cells, and twice as many medium security patients had joined the riot.
A-AOX4 was on hand in the maximum security hall to supervise as the guards brought in super-powered escapees. Most of them came back loopy on either The Beast's toxins or on the sedative that had been injected to keep them calm. A-AOX4 was checking them for awareness of their surroundings—name, where are you, when are you, why are you here—as each one was locked back in their cell.
And each time it passed by Bill's cell, it glanced in, concerned.
Bill had been almost pleasant when he'd come out of the Solitary Wellness Void—maybe after all those sessions in isolation he was finally ready to be more of a team player. And D-SM5 had said that he'd been unusually well-behaved and attentive during the reincarnation. A-AOX4 had hoped their most surly patient was finally opening up. It would be a shame if this incident with The Beast resulted in his new progress backsliding.
Plus, it took a heavy dose of anything to impact Bill at all, much less knock him out cold. He'd already had to go to the nurse earlier today; what if he needed medical attention?
So after locking up the latest subdued prisoner, A-AOX4 said to one of the guards, "Take over monitoring incoming patients. I'm checking on Cipher."
It unlocked the door and hovered into the room. "Cipher?"
No response. He was plastered flat to the floor.
"Bill?" It floated lower to check his condition.
He was paper.
Paper meticulously colored in with yellow marker and folded into a triangle; scraps of paper colored black, carefully torn into hand and feet shapes, and shoved in the sleeves and pants of his prison uniform.
A-AOX4 lifted up the paper. On the other side was Bill's "Be a TRY-angle!" poster. He'd written across it, "IS THIS TRYING HARD ENOUGH FOR YOU?"
It turned toward the door—and discovered Bill had filled the wall with a drawing of himself making an obscene gesture, with a word bubble that read, "GIVE MY REGARDS TO THE AX! And tell Jessica I said bye xoxo"
It zoomed out into the hallway and grabbed its walkie-talkie. "Director SM5! Cipher's escaped his cell! He left a decoy! He's not with The Beast, we don't know where he is!"
There was a moment of dead air. And then the director growled, "I think I have an idea."
####
Trying to keep his giggles as quiet as possible, Bill looped through the Theraprism's halls, drifting between The Beast's rolling fields of hard candy corpses and the Theraprism's rigid monotone halls. What had he been worried about! Getting hopped up on astralplanar sugar before escaping his cell had been a great idea! It gave him instant shortcuts through half the walls! And he could handle a little buzz like this! He was totally in control of his actions and knew exactly what he—
How long had he been flying the wrong direction? He turned around. Wow was he high, he could barely focus on anything but all the colors. He wondered if The Beast's toxins had any weird interactions with his meds.
He was lucky The Beast had decided to dawdle around the Dimensional Tyrants Ward: here at the far end of the Theraprism, there were no signs of crisis beyond the sealed doors indicating the facility was under lockdown—and once he was outside a high security ward, there were plenty of cracks, gaps, and vents that Bill was thin enough to slide through. He hadn't even seen a guard since he'd left his cell. By the time he reached the reincarnation room, The Beast's landscape was fading out and the sugar crash headache was fading in, but the facility was still on lockdown and no one seemed to be looking for Bill. He slipped beneath the locked door and powered up the console to the reincarnation machine.
He skipped straight to the reincarnation program and checked the box that said, yes, the patient's brain had been washed. He paused when a warning pop-up blocked the screen. The technician hadn't gotten a pop-up. He had to read over the two-sentence warning three times before he understood what he was looking at. The soul sanitization routine hadn't been run recently, was he sure the patient's memory was erased—ugh, yes. He irritably clicked the confirmation and hoped that would be the last of it.
Bill quickly selected Earth and dimension 46'\; he tabbed past the coordinates and date, and they both automatically filled in "DEFAULT." D-SM5 had said the computer would make a "random" decision if you didn't plug in a time and place, but the staff didn't know Earth like Bill did. If he left the time and place up to the whims of fate, then something as weird as a trillion-year-old alien chaos god escaping a criminal insane asylum to spontaneously generate as a fully grown mortal would be sucked straight into the weirdest place and time on Earth. Gravity Falls: August, 2012. Weirdmageddon. He was willing to bet his life on it.
He was betting his life on it.
After that, with any luck, he'd be able to shed his new body like any other puppet and return to his castle in the sky. If for some reason he couldn't get out of it, he'd only need to pull a couple of magic tricks outside a normal mortal's capabilities to catch his past self's attention, find a way to prove his identity—heck, with any luck, they'd be seeing through each other's eyes and that would instantly confirm it—warn his past self about the Pines' treachery, prevent his own death, save Weirdmageddon, restructure the universe in his image, and rule his new party paradise as god-king for all eternity. Easy.
He scrolled down the list of available creatures, looking for something that would be easy to reach the Fearamid and prove his intelligence with—something with vocal cords that could speak eye-bat would be useful, it'd save him a lot of trouble if he could just shout at his sentinels in their own language and startle them into listening—but, to his surprise, the first useful species he found was humans, down amongst the species that had received a single-digit number of reincarnations from the Theraprism. Really, humans? They allowed that?
Over the blaring alarm, a voice made an announcement. He completely tuned it out—and only realized a moment after it ended that he'd heard his own name. They knew he'd escaped.
Bill didn't have time to search for anything better. He selected humanity.
He tabbed past dozens of features he could choose from for his body—default default default default—who cared what the body peed out of, he wasn't keeping the thing long enough to fill its bladder! He clicked open the advanced settings—there, spontaneous generation! He hoped this thing wouldn't drop him on the sidewalk as a baby, but usually when a human suddenly popped into existence, it was an adult sculpted from clay or something, right? He'd be fine! He checked the box for spontaneous generation.
He got another error message. He groaned. He wasn't sober enough for this.
Something about spontaneous generation being banned on Earth after 1859, is he willing to assume the liability if the patient generates after—yeah sure whatever, he clicked yes. Another pop-up prompted him for the digital signature of the person assuming liability. He typed in D-SM5's name.
As soon as he clicked enter, another error message popped up. "What!!"
He flinched at the sound of a muffled pneumatic hiss. Outside, somebody had unlocked the doors to this hallway. The alarm was still blaring; the Theraprism wasn't coming off lockdown. That meant whoever had unlocked the hall was coming for him.
"Focusss." He skimmed the new warning. Something about humans being on a list of species for which spontaneous generation was restricted—what loser had written a law about that! Who cared if a fully-formed, brand-new human popped out of thin air in the middle of town! What about Bill's wants?! He checked another box YES HE'S SURE HE WANTS TO SPONTANEOUSLY GENERATE A HUMAN YOU MONSTER and pounded enter.
Another pop-up. It wanted to know on which god's authority the spontaneous generation had been authorized.
Bill froze. Why did it need to know. Would it check? A machine that could reincarnate a soul was probably also a machine that could shoot off a prayer. Or was Bill supposed to have some kind of divine authorization code? Which gods were even allowed to authorize that kind of thing? He didn't know which stupid legislative body had made this stupid law or what their stupid definition of a god was! Gods weren't even real, they were just stupid, arrogant, stuck-up jerks who were powerful enough to trick people into thinking they were important! Like Bill! What name were they looking for?!
He heard voices in the hallway. He darted over to the door, slid his fingers through the seams around the doorframe to crush the latching mechanism so it couldn't be opened, and darted back. That wouldn't hold them long; he knew from experience that the guards could bust down the doors in these low security wings without much difficulty.
"Bill Cipher!" That was D-SM5. It had come personally? In any other circumstance, he'd be flattered. "Open up immediately!"
"Has that ever worked?" A god, a god, a god... his eye caught on the bas relief at the back of the next room. If there was any god this place would accept orders from... The guards were ramming the door; the bending metal groaned. He typed "THE AXOLOTL" and hit enter.
The button grayed out but the pop-up didn't go away. The screen froze. "What." Bill tried clicking again. The cursor turned into one of those little spinning balls that meant the computer was quietly having a stroke. "No no no no—"
D-SM5 hollered, "You know what the consequences will be if you don't—"
"I'm not listeniiing to yooou!"
"You're only going to hurt yourse—"
Dropping his voice to a demonic boom to drown out the director, Bill recited, "'I believe that on the first night I went to Gatsby's house I was one of the few guests who had actually been invited! People were not—" There was a shriek of tearing metal, and then a bright glow behind Bill as D-SM5 peered through the gap in the door. Bill started talking faster, "'Were not invited they went there they got into automobiles which bore them out to Long Island and somehow—'"
The pop-up disappeared. The cursor returned to normal. The box next to spontaneous generation was checked. Bill stared for a split second, then quickly closed out the advanced settings, scrolled to the bottom of the page, and hit "EXECUTE."
Someone blasted the door out of its frame; based on the blinding glow that accompanied the blast, Bill suspected that wasn't one of the guards, but D-SM5 itself. He frantically clicked through the next two confirmations, flung a couple of folding chairs toward D-SM5 and its thugs, and dove beneath the door to the next room. Ten seconds.
"Cancel the reincarnation!" D-SM5 snapped.
A guard ran to the console. (What if they saw where Bill had gone? They could probably guess the planet, but would the computer keep records of his destination, what his new body looked like—) "I don't see a cancel! I don't think—"
"Then get him off the altar!"
Five seconds. Please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please spawn as an adult and not a baby, please— Bill hadn't broken the door between the observation room and the altar; the guards easily unlocked it. "No no no—!"
"Don't let him esc—!"
Three seconds. An impossibly bright light shone down on Bill. He reflexively peeled open his exoskeleton to accept it. LIGHT—oh, he felt even more alive than the time he'd stolen a bottle of stimulants from the nurse station, ground them up, and snorted them off Mrs. Mirrorcube's back. His eye widened, taking in as much free energy as he could—and then he focused his gaze through the window on the console, focusing the infinite light into a laser powerful enough to instantly melt through the window and explode the computer. The guards fell back, trying to shield their tender mortal flesh from the fury of Bill's fire. Enjoy the blisters.
D-SM5 bellowed, "Bill Cipher, you mo—!"
"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SUCKA!" He could feel his body ripping apart, cracking open at the wound. It hurt, but not the hurt of dying; it was the euphoric hurt of spaghettification, of being infinitely sucked beyond a beautiful event horizon. Bill's triumphant cackle filled the air—
—and then the room was silent and dark, and Bill was gone.
####
(If you're new here: I posted this as a one shot because I think we could all use a little Bill escaping from Theraprism, yeah? However it's ALSO part of my ongoing Bill-stuck-in-a-human-body fic I'm currently editing for TBOB compatibility. So, if you enjoyed this and want to see where post-reincarnation Bill goes, check out the fic!! And if you DON'T want to read the rest of the fic, I hope you enjoyed the one shot and I'd love to hear your thoughts.
If you do check out the main fic be forewarned it's only 100% TBOB compatible up to chapter 6. After that it is, bizarrely, 98% TBOB compatible, because somehow I accidentally wrote a fic that lines up with the book so well that I'm legit worried people could use TBOB to work out fic spoilers. But I still need to edit the remaining 2%.
If you're NOT new here: hey gang this is the new chapter 6!!! I finished editing this chapter about fifteen minutes before post time so it's not as polished as my usual chapters, but I hope it didn't read that way. Anyway, I look forward to hearing what y'all think!)
#bill cipher#theraprism#the book of bill#the book of bill spoilers#gravity falls#gravity falls fic#gravity falls fanart#fanart#my art#my writing#bill goldilocks cipher#(posting this like a oneshot because it basically is and i want people to be able to read it like a one shot)#(however it's ALSO the new chapter six)
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celebrity energy⋆.ೃ࿔*:・💅🏽
so i got an ask about this a while ago and i wanted to make a post about it but i went on hiatus 😭 so im making the post now. thank you to the anonie who asked the question that inspired this post and i hope you see this cuz it answers ur ask...💬🎀
THE TRIPLE C'S ;
while making the notes for celebrity energy (the big C) and i was able to umbrella it to three main points. those points being confidence, cuntiness, and charisma.
confidence ; celebrities need to have undeniable confidence in themselves and their abilities. they're famous for a reason and they know that. work on ur self concept and watch ur confidence sky rocket.
cuntiness ; to be cunty is to be feminine and aware of urself. be cunty in the things that u do and the way that u handle urself. to be cunty is to find the perfect balance of inner strength and delicateness. cunt = refined.
charisma ; authenticity is the heart of charisma. be authentic and dont be afraid to take up space.
ALL ABOUT IMAGE ;
to have celebrity you need an image to put forward. this is where the power of social media comes in. your social media is like your brand. in this day and age social media is such a powerful tool not only for networking but also for getting u into places that u wanna get to.
in order to do that though u need to learn how to formulate ur own distinct image and advertise it expertly on social media.
PERSONAL BRAND AND REPUTATION ;
to further touch on those points ur social media IS your brand. this section kind of ties in with the next but im trying to distinguish between the two. so ur personal brand is what u do. so lets say ur rly SUPER smart and ur known for getting A's on like everything.
that is ur personal brand and that comes with a reputation that u may or may not feel obligated to uphold. but its important to uphold a reputation of some sort. with that being said be careful of what u post on ur social media because DIGITAL FOOTPRINT IS REAL. and when people look at ur social media they're seeing a representation of what ur putting out to the world so always be mindful.
WHATS UR SIGNATURE ;
you need something about yourself that’s gonna set you apart. the way that you walk the way that you dress the way that you do ur makeup etc. decide what kind of energy u wanna serve, and SERVE IT. i choose to serve princess energy and i could write a whole separate post on that but find someone who serves that same energy so that u can learn from them.
remember, dont introduce urself as a vibe that u cannot maintain
but back to what we were talking about what is your SIGNATURE. what makes u or people think "yea thats so (insert ur name)" is the way that u talk or the way that u carry yourself. make sure to refine urself and be ur own distinct individual.
and dont be afraid to play around with signatures, ur allowed to have a few or one singular one, dont limit urself and keep trying until u can create the perfect one for you…💬🎀
while on the topic of signatures i wanna touch on STAR QUALITY. learn how to market urself not only as a person but as ur own brand. star quality is the perfect blend of (talent + training + confidence)
POLISH YOURSELF ;
refinement refinement refinement. u need to be studying yourself and you need to be able to see urself from other point of views. seeing urself from other point of views can be so refreshing and useful and it rly helps when ur trying to polish urself.
take impeccable care for urself and constantly show urself that u love urself. polish the way that u talk and the way that u carry yourself so that u can be exuding so much you-energy. its basically taking ur signature and the energy that u exude -> and refining it.
you have to create the energy before fame comes. if u wanna have celebrity energy u have to start getting comfortable with putting urself out there which leads me to my next point...💬🎀
KILL CRINGE ;
when people call u cringe thats like them exposing their fear of being seen and analyzed by the world. they're upset because ur putting urself out there and they're insecure, but thats for them to fix within themselves. so dont take it personally when someone calls u cringe.
furthermore ur fear of being cringe is holding u back because ur always overthinking everything and u won't let urself do anything even if it'll help you because ur worried it might be cringe or ur worried what other people think so nip that in the bud and let urself live! u might have haters but dont let urself be ur own hater.
SOME MORE SOURCES ;
THE IMPORTANCE OF BRANDING
MIRROR WORK + AFFIRMATIONS
#honeytonedhottie⭐️#it girl#becoming that girl#self concept#advice#self care#self love#that girl#law of assumption#it girl energy#dream girl tips#dream girl#dream life#manifestation#manifestation tips#manifesting#celebrity energy#energy#hyper femininity#confidence#confidence tips#charisma#vibe#princess energy#princess#kill cringe#self awareness#self development
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MANIA
obsessive love; very possessive and often jealous.
mdni NSFW! +18 cw: possessiveness, size k!nk, fem!reader, obsessive König, dominant König.
summary: König doesn’t wants you to leave him, even for a second. he finds excuses and makes it your problem so he could fuck you until you’re too sore to leave again.
i will post part 2 <3 (english isn’t my first language sorry for the mistakes) edit: posted! here
art cr: @kinky-thirsty-reader
He doesn’t like when you try to leave him…
After a long night, you were exhausted, your body sore from head to toe. You tried to sit up and leave the bed, but suddenly König's arm snaked around your waist and held you down. "Where do you think you're going, Prinzessin?" he whispered. "I need to shower." you mumbled as you put your hands on his forearms and tried to push him away, but it was a pathetic attempt. You were so powerless compared to him.
“So klein~” he cooed.
He chuckled at your struggles. "I don't think so, Schatz. You're staying here, in my bed, where you belong…" he purred, kissing the back of your neck and pulling you even closer, pressing your back against his chest. "König, stop the nonsense. Let go of me, i really need to shower." you protested— you wish you didn’t. His arms tightened around your midsection, reminding you that he could snap your spine effortlessly. "Are you talking back, Prinzessin? Did you forget you’re mine?" he whispered, his tone now edged with discontent. His grip was far from loving anymore. “Do i need to remind you?” he hissed, he would fuck you dumb until you understand that you’re his. His to use for his own satisfaction, his to kiss whenever he decided to do, his to touch wherever he wants. You were simply his.
When you realized you were in trouble, chills ran down your spine. You quickly apologized. "No, I was just... I don't like being sweaty. I'm sorry." Your apology made him loosen his grip a little. He placed a tender kiss on your neck. He turned you around as if you weighed nothing and pressed you against his chest.
“Hmm... let's see," his voice teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard and had you straddle him. He lowered his hands from your waist to your thighs and gently caressed them. You let out a groan of relief and wrapped your arms around his neck, savoring the sensation of your lover's massage on your sore muscles. However, your relief was short-lived because he wasn't finished with you yet. "You tried to escape my bed. So you need to be punished, Hase." He squeezed your thighs until the pain in your sore muscles became almost unbearable.
You cried and whined but he shushed you softly, soothing you. “We’re not done, Liebling.” It was clear that his tone had changed again. The anger and firmness had given way to something more gentle, almost loving.
You slurred something for forgiveness and apologize nonstop. “Don't be sorry, Hase. I didn't like seeing you try to escape from me." he said with a hint of a pout. "But I think i can make a exception for you this time. What about you let me…" his rough hands slowly caressed your inner thighs making you shiver and gasp in anticipation. “use you as i please, then maybe i could let you rest.” he murmured as his hand found its way to your already wet panties. Your breath hitched and you squirmed on his lap as he teased your cunt through your panties until you’re soaked for him.
“You’re so easy to seduce, Schatz.” he chuckled lightly but his voice stained with pure lust. He lifted your chin up with his free hand to take a look at your lovely face. Your eyes red, your skin flush from all the crying and stimulation. It was all for him… right?
“Immer so empfindlich, wenn ich so mit dir spiele.” (Always so sensitive when I play with you like this.) he mumbled in German like he always did. You never understand what he said -mind foggy with lust and too focused to chase that sweet release.
He grinned with a proud expression and mumbled to himself. “Braves Mädchen.” he whispered before lifting his balaclava up just enough to capture your lips in a long passionate kiss.
a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked it <3
a/n: also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)
#könig mw2#konig x you#konig x reader#konig smut#konig x y/n#i know it’s könig#könig x y/n#könig smut#obsessed könig#könig x reader#könig x you#könig fanfiction#könig#silay
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One thing that I absolutely love about TFOne's writing is that it manages to avoid a lot of the heavier criticism I've seen regarding MegOp's hero/villain dynamic over the years (trust me, the mid-2010s TF discourse was crazy)
*Spoilers Below*
First of all, the narrative benefits so much from the main 4 cast members all being a part of the same exploited mining class. So many takes on MegOp have Orion being of a higher status (an archivist, a cop, etc) while Megatron is much lower down on the social latter (a miner, a gladiator, often in the context of being a slave).
I've seen many people be put off by this, because it feels as if Megs is being villianized for being rightfully angry at the system that deeply harmed and exploited him, while Orion/Optimus is praised for taking a more pacifistic stance despite him not suffering as much from or in some ways even benefiting from the system he claims to oppose. I don't find their dynamic to be as simple as that, and I do find these takes to be a bit reductive, but I do very much see where they are coming from.
I am definitely one of those people who's very frustrated with the way pacifism is hailed as the one true path of morality, and the inherent implication that taking any sort of revenge on the people who abused/exploited you makes you just as bad as them. Also, Marvel's particular brand of demonizing any form of radical political action, despite the system clearly being broken and corrupt, but being completely unwilling to offer any other alternatives to meaningfully change things for the better.
When looking at what I described above its pretty easy to see how a lot of versions of MegOp's hero/villain dynamic unfortunately fits into that trope. Bringing it back to TFOne, you can see how Op and Meg coming from the same political/social status subverts this. The existence of Elita and Bee only further illustrates that out of the 4 people of the mining class who were all deceived, exploited, and literally mutilated in the same way it is only D-16 that completely loses himself to his rage, even to the point where he loses compassion for his own companions and disregarding the safety of the other miners (when he decides to "tears everything down" and Elita exclaims he's going to "kill everyone").
What I think I love most about the characterization in TFOne is that Orion is the radical one. Not only that, but he is praised by Elita and by extension the narrative for it. He is constantly challenging authority, and is the first to have the suspicion that their society is structured in an unjust way.
Meanwhile D-16, to be frank, is kind of a bootlicker. He fully believed in the system and that Sentinal Prime, as someone with power, had the right to decided "what was best" for those who are weaker/lesser (I wish I had the specific quote from D-16 to support this, but the movie's still in theaters). It illustrate that D-16 already held certain fascistic ideals, and that he and Orion already have fundamentally opposing moral/political values, it simply hasn't been of any consequence yet. It shows that their eventual falling out was inevitable, even if they had decided to rebuild Cybertron together.
It should also be noted that D-16's feelings of anger and betrayal do not necessarily have anything to do with the unjust system itself, but that said unjust system was predicated on a lie. Hence his fixation on deception in the post-credits scene and him naming his faction the Decepticons. Meanwhile, when Orion learns the truth he's just sort of like "yeah, I always kinda knew something was up" because again, he understood on some level that their system was predicated on injustice.
Even D-16's obsession with Megatronus Prime, while initially an endearing aspect of his character, is also an indicator of the questionably large amount of value he puts on one's strength. It foreshadows the "might makes right" ideology that the decepticons follow, and is a key part of their ideological characterization across continuities.
Instead of the narrative we often see in Transformers media were Optimus is idolized by the narrative for being more moderate and Megatron is villiainized for being radical (or so people often claim), it is instead Optimus who is rewarded and praised by the narrative for being radical, and Megatron who is villainized and punished by the narrative for holding potentially fascistic values.
I do agree with some criticism I've seen that the whole thing with killing Sentinel and D-16's final turn into villainy felt a bit rushed and more than a little cliche, but I also understand it both had a limited runtime and that it is ultimately a family film meant to be accessible to children. More importantly though, I think the movie set the groundwork early on that, no matter how this final act played out, D-16 was always going to turn to darkness, and Orion would not have been able to stop him.
Its perfectly tragic, the way all MegOp should be, while also feeling really well thought out from a thematic standpoint. I love it.
#transformers#tf#tfone#transformers one#orion pax#megatron#d-16#optimus prime#maccadam#megop#megatron x optimus prime#kaysposts
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Cute moments with your bllk bf
featuring: isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, bachira meguru, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, kaiser michael
author’s note: first post, kind of nervous eheh. I hope y’all like it, and feel free to leave ideas to write.
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Y. ISAGI
"thanks for taking a break from training to hang out, yoichi," you said, smiling at your boyfriend.
it was rare you two got to go on real dates since the blue lock program kept him busy.
"of course. I wanna spend time with you," he said shyly, scratching his head.
isagi was always determined on the field, like a compltetely different person, but got embarrassed or flustered easily in normal life or just around you.
both of you wandered the shopping district, window shopping and chatting. a moment later, you spotted a cute sundress on display.
“ooh, i wanna try that on!” you requested, already pulling him by the arm.
oh, but isagi never complained, he found you adorable.
in the fitting room, you slipped on the floaty yellow dress. it had tiny white flowers and felt so summery. taking a breath, you pushed back the curtain.
“well? what do you think?”
isagi’s eyes went wide as saucers, cheeks flushed crimson. he stared at you with his mouth gaping open like a fish.
“yoichi? you ok?” you asked, giggling, doing a little twirl.
he shook his head vigorously.
“y-you look beautiful. like the prettiest girl i’ve ever seen.”
he really was the sweetest, and you swore you could melt under his affectionate gaze. posing playfully, you questioned him again.
“you sure? i don’t look weird?”
“not at all, you look..perfect,” he insisted.
isagi might've been an egoist on the field, but was reduced to a lovesick mess around you.
grinning, you turned around to watch him in the mirror. “i’ll take it then, thanks for your input.”
and when you went to pay, isagi grabbed the dress from your hands. “i’ll buy it, don't worry.”
you kissed his cheek, thanking him. “my hero. now come on, let's get ice cream.”
your football star sure was a softie at heart.
S. NAGI
it was a nice sunny day, so you and nagi decided to hang out walking around downtown.
but your boyfriend was way taller, so even with his lazy stride, you were struggling to keep up with his long legs.
you two wandered in a peaceful silence, just enjoying each other's company. but after awhile, you were getting out of breath from jogging every few steps. and nagi never seemed to notice you kept falling behind.
rounding a corner, he suddenly turned with a puzzled look.
"why you breathing so heavy? we didn't run or nothing."
you chuckled, panting a little. "it’s fine, it’s just you have longer legs, so i'm working hard just to walk beside you."
he tilted his head thoughtfully, like he never considered your height difference before. "huh. sorry ‘bout that."
you grinned, catching your breath.
"don’t worry about it, i don't mind the exercise."
he simply shrugged, hesitantly reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. then to your surprise, nagi noticeably slowed down so you could match his pace with ease.
it was really a sweet gesture, even if he'd never admit he was being considerate.
you smiled and slipped your arm through his as you continued on together, no longer feeling out of breath. your lazy boyfriend might act like he doesn't care, but little things like this proved he pays attention in his own quiet way.
M. BACHIRA
you and bachira were lounging on his bed after school, relaxing together in his room.
you knew your boyfriend loved telling dumb jokes, even when no one understood them.
"hey hey, i got a good one!" he said with a mischievous glint, always that bright smile on his face.
you braced myself, used to his nonsensical humor by now.
"okay, okay. why can't a bicycle stand on its own? because it's two tired!" bachira bursted into contagious giggles at his own joke.
normally, his silliness went straight over your head. but the way his eyes shined with pure joy, you couldn't help but laugh along too.
his happiness was so infectious.
"i don't get it, but you're cute so i give you that." you chuckled.
bachira's face lit up at the sound of you laughter. before you knew it, he launched himself at you with a flying tackle.
"gotcha!" he shouted, peppering your cheeks with messy kisses between giggles. you tried to fend him off halfheartedly as his attacks tickled.
"meguru stop ! that tickles!" but he was relentless in smothering you with affection.
having bachira as a boyfriend was sometimes hard to keep up with, but it was just his way of saying i love you.
finally he paused to beam down at you, out of breath. "i love making you laugh! you have the best laugh ever."
you smiled, pecking his silly nose. this boy brought you so much joy, even if he didn't always make sense. And you loved him for it.
R. KUNIGAMI
the sun was low in the sky when you saw kunigami exit the gym, his training session finally over. leaning against a lamp post, you gave him a little wave when he spotted you.
his serious face broke into a soft smile, eyes lighting up at the sight. in a few long strides, kunigami reached you and wrapped his muscular arms around your smaller frame.
"hi baby." you giggled.
he brushed gentle kisses across your cheeks and nose, his stubble tickling your skin.
"what are you doing waiting out here? it’s freezing."his husky voice was laced with concern.
you smiled up at him, glad to see his reddened cheeks meant he worked hard.
"i figured my big strong boyfriend might appreciate some company walking home. did i guess right?"
Rensuke didn't deny it, simply pulling you into his side where you fit perfectly.
your fingers laced together as you two started down the empty sidewalk in comfortable silence. he gave your hand a squeeze, letting out a sigh.
he then smiled serenely, the stress of the day washing away as you enjoyed each other's company.
sometimes it was the little things that said everything, like this football boy letting you care for his tired heart after pushing his body to the limits.
H. CHIGIRI
sundays were always hair care days for you and chigiri since you both liked keeping your hair soft and shiny. after washing and conditioning, you two snuggled up in his cozy bed.
you leaned back against the fluffy pillows as chigiri rested his head on your lap.
your hands slowly stroked through his damp hair, detangling the silky strands. he made cute content hums, barely audible but enough to show he liked it.
"you know, i've never told anyone this before," he murmured, eyes closed in bliss.
you knew chigiri didn't share personal things easily so your ears perked up.
"but i think you might be the only one who would understand...i use an extra leave-in conditioner after washing. keeps the frizzies away," he confessed playfully.
you couldn’t help but chuckle.
“don’t worry babe, your secret's safe with me." you teased, kissing his head.
you loved that he felt comfortable enough to share even silly little details.
his pink locks really were like silk between your fingers. chigiri grinned up at you, a rare true smile on his lips.
"only you get to do this, you know. touching my precious hair."
you smiled back, heart swelling to be trusted so fully by this boy. you both stayed cuddling as the daylight faded, bonded by more than just great hair care but the closeness you found in each other.
M. KAISER
it was getting chilly in the apartment as evening fell. kaiser and you were curled up on the couch, him intently watching an old soccer game on his ipad while I read quietly beside him, your legs resting on his lap.
you could feel his azure eyes staring at you rather than the screen but pretended not to notice at first.
finally glancing over, sure enough kaiser was gazing at you with an unreadable expression.
"what?" you questioned with a playful smirk.
as usual, michael's eyes seemed to pierce right through you, assessing and calculating.
you let him look his fill, used to his analytical nature by now. you two understood each other without many words.
after a long moment, he just shrugged and returned to his match like nothing happened. but i'd seen a flash of uncertainty in his ocean-deep gaze, almost like worry.
your smile softened as you understood what was bothering him, sitting correctly and wrapping an arm around his, pulling you two closer on the couch.
you knew kaiser's childhood made him paranoid anyone who claimed to love him would disappear.
he just wanted to be loved, after all.
leaning your head on his shoulder contentedly, you peered at his face to see the subtle tension leave his features as your eyes met once more. in your steady gaze, he found reassurance that you will always be right here.
michael's answering smile was tiny but genuine as he relaxed into your embrace. some things could never be put into words for someone like him, like the emperor.
luckily, your silent understanding ran deeper than that.
#tsukius made it!#bllk x reader#bllk x you#bllk x y/n#bllk x female reader#bllk headcanons#bllk kaiser#isagi x reader#isagi x you#isagi x y/n#nagi x reader#nagi x you#bllk fluff#nagi seishiro x reader#bachira x reader#bachira x you#kunigami rensuke x reader#kunigami x reader#kunigami x you#chigiri x reader#chigiri x you#kaiser x reader#kaiser x you#kaiser x y/n#michael kaiser x reader#michael kaiser x you#michael kaiser x y/n#blue lock x reader#blue lock x you#blue lock x y/n
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atonement
masterlist
camp counselor!wanda x reader
word count: 6k
warnings: homophobia and homophobic slurs, conversion therapy, manipulation, gaslighting, references to drug use, unhealthy power dynamics (so rape), noncon to dubcon, cunnilingus, degrading, fingering, nipple play, size kink, general mean Wanda
a/n: me? posting blasphemous content on Easter Sunday? I would never
It looked harmless enough. You weren’t sure what you had been anticipating, mostly because you had been trying to keep your mind off of the unavoidable destination, but it certainly wasn’t the depressing place you had expected. No, they were smart enough to keep that reality away from the parents that dropped their ‘troubled’ children off. If anything, it looked like the kind of summer camp that a lot of your friends would be enjoying about that time.
There wasn’t a church for one thing. In its place was what appeared to be a ranch style house that had kept its traditional family features such as the pair of rocking chairs on the porch and the maintained flowerbed around the borders. On either side of the building, closing in the driveway, were several other intimate buildings that created the impression of a community style living. They were all decorated with various posters about god’s love and acceptance that you guessed you were going to be hearing a lot about during your stay.
Your mother got out of the car first as a man who looked like he was still being dressed by his own mum jogged over from the main house to greet you both. You clenched your grip on your bag strap before deciding to face the music and follow her lead, still examining the area sceptically as your mother and the man introduced themselves. Your mother failed to deliver the same excitement the blonde did, but she attempted to force it nonetheless while your hosts laughed easily at something she had said.
You weren’t listening to either of them as you retrieved your other bag from the boot of the car, not expecting the man to walk around the other side to greet you. “Y/n!” He said like you were an old friend. “I’m Reverend Vision but you can call me Rev Vis.” You most certainly weren’t going to be doing that. “We’re so happy to have you here, let me give you the grand tour of our home,” he beckoned. You trailed behind them.
“Do you live on site?” Your mother asked.
“Oh yes, me and the Mrs. We love our work,” he drowned on and began guiding you through the various rooms of the two buildings either side of his house. The more you learnt about the place, the more you began to dread your stay. There were ‘entertainment’ rooms that were filled with musical instruments and religious books and music. A canteen area fueled by the kitchen in which all of the students were to prepare every meal. A prayer room that was deserted at that time. Finally, the dorms.
Vision wasted no time in searching through your bags for anything that could “interfere with your journey” and came up empty handed, much to his well hidden disappointment. Your mother didn’t seem to notice it, too focused on the contents that came out of your bag, but you saw the flicker of his brow when he declared you were all good and began explaining the long lists of rules that you had no intention of memorising.
“And we do not allow any kind of sexual acts, with yourself or others,” he said lightly. Your mother shifted uncomfortably and you nodded. You had no intention of being caught by him with your hands down your pants when he did his checks during the night. You didn’t anticipate being there long because you were fully prepared to fake your conversion to heterosexuality. How hard could it be? Besides, you dreaded to think how much your parents were paying the capm under the illusion that they could somehow change you. You had to find it humorous, otherwise it would really fucking hurt.
It still did when you watched your family car disappear past the camp gates and into the dense tree line. You sighed, resting your head gently against the cool glass of your window and took in the camp in its entirety. It was a waste of beautiful land, you concluded as you examined where the large field met the changing trees. There were a couple guys in the camp uniform playing football on the grass while a cluster of girls sat to the side cheering them on. Apparently you had caught the end of the game, because Vision appeared on the edge of the grass and called them back inside, most likely to prepare for dinner.
“Y/n,” a voice behind you called. You spun around at the unexpected caller just as she opened her arms and enveloped you in a tight hug that took you wholly by surprise.
“Hi?” You greeted as a question, making the older woman chuckle as she held you before pulling away and keeping her soft hands on your arms as she took you in and allowed you to do the same. Holy fuck she was beautiful. Her striking emerald eyes bore straight through your own and somehow had the ability to make you feel entirely exposed, as though it would be futile to ever conceal anything from her, including your undeniable attraction to her. In contrast, her smile was soft and polite as she gazed at you in a friendly fondness you would with someone you haven't seen in a long time. There was something noticeably comforting in it and the way she carried an entirely put together personar that you wanted a peek beneath. Metaphorically of course… but also literally.
“I’m Wanda, Vision’s wife.” Rev Vis was punching way above his weight. This woman’s voice was even hot. Maybe pretending to be straight would be harder than you thought.
“Nice to meet you,” you smiled and glanced away awkwardly, finding her impossible to maintain eye contact with. She didn’t seem to care as she hooked her finger under your chin and turned your head to keep your attention on her.
“I have every faith you’re going to do so well here, sweetheart,” she told you fondly then dropped her hand and took a respectful step back. Right, gotta leave room for jesus. “Your roommate will be back soon then you too should head down for supper,” she instructed as she headed for the door.
“Okay,” you nodded and pretended to unpack your bags.
“See you later, honey,” she said before disappearing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding and collapsed onto your bed.
*
Your first day dragged by painstakingly slowly. Between meals, you attended bible study taught by Vision who gave you his extra attention as it was your first time there. He asked you to compare your own relationship with god to that which he was teaching, expecting an answer in front of all the other students who had been through the same ordeal and spotted your lies as well as Vision did. Apparently everyone did the same when they started at the camp.
You had kitchen duty in the morning and garden duty in the afternoon (which was probably the least crap one) before you had to sit down for what felt like hours to listen to Vision sing about god on a guitar he didn’t know how to tune properly. During every interaction you had with him, all you could think about was how he had ended up with a woman like Wanda. Had they been high school sweethearts? Had their parents pushed them together? Did he have some kind of twisted blackmail over her? They were the only three explanations that made any sense to you but you weren’t about to ask any of the other students for their input.
As it turned out, your daily routine was also going to include a one on one session with the older woman which should have been something to act as a silver lining in your stay, but it was the most challenging aspect of all.
“When did your desire for women begin?” She asked after some small talk.
“I’m not sure,” you lied in an effort to buy yourself some time to think of a good response. She smiled at you softly.
“You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to god,” she informed lightly.
“A couple years ago,” you replied honestly. This seemed to please her.
“And how did it manifest?” She sounded genuinely curious to know, lulling you into being unexpectedly open with her. It wasn’t as though you had anyone else to talk about that stuff with.
“There was a girl in my class that I thought was pretty,” you told her as you recalled your first real crush. “I felt more when she smiled at me than I did when I kissed a boy.” Wanda smiled as though she could see the purity of your memory as well as you could. Except to her, it wasn’t so innocent.
“The devil likes to work his way into places we could never expect,” she told you and your smile dropped. “Especially when we’re naive,” she added. It sounded as though she didn’t hold anything against you and she wholly believed you had been seduced by the devil himself and that it was impossible for there to be any other explanation.
“I was seventeen,” you reasoned. “I wasn’t naive.” Wanda liked the challenge you gave her. That whisper of a promised defiance gave her a thrill she knew to keep a cap unless she was required to use it. She would do anything for her beloved students to guide them back on the right path, especially one that wore the face of morality so well.
“And what do you mean by that?” Wanda enquired.
“I knew- I know what desire and attraction feel like,” you told her without looking her in those expectant eyes that unknowingly glimmered at your revelation.
“Lust,” Wanda said simply. “One of the hardest sins to resist when it affects one so physically.”
“Surely it can’t be bad if it’s natural,” you pointed out. That was not the response the brunette wanted to hear.
“It is not natural,” Wanda said so quickly that she had to take a moment to recollect herself as you looked at her with shock as you took in that momentary crack in her exterior. It was interesting to watch and you wondered why it had hit a nerve. Surely you weren’t the only one to come into her office and state the fact.
“Y/n,” she called slowly. “If lust comes to you while you are here, you must come and tell me,” she told you seriously. Yeah, you definitely wouldn’t be doing that. You agreed obediently anyway.
“Good,” she smiled again. “Now, is there anyone you currently feel ungodly towards?”
“The same girl,” you admitted sheepishly. Yes, you had had a variety of other minor crushes in the past couple years, but she always managed to fill you with that teasing anxiety that never fully manifested when she said hi to you.
Wanda raised her brows indiscreetly. “I hope you will soon be able to give that same loyalty to god,” she said. You didn’t give her a response, unsure of what to say when you had no intention of doing such a thing. “In time,” she added when she saw your hesitation.
“Maybe,” you muttered, meeting her half way. “Won’t he love me regardless?” You painted the question with an air of innocence that anyone else would have fallen for. But Wanda saw beyond that and knew you used the faux front purely to challenge her again. She was impressed.
“Of course,” she told you gently. “Always.”
*
You thought you were being subtle with the way you kept glancing over at the couple. It was breakfast time so there was a general murmur of conversation that you didn’t feel particularly pressed to join in with. All it did was teach you to avoid sitting with the group you had found yourself with again because they seemed to be the only students there who were actively participating in the conversion with the belief it would ‘fix them’. You pitied them in a way, but not enough to interfere with their ramblings about their opposite sex celebrity crushes.
Wanda caught your eye on one of the many times you had peered over. Vision was talking to her but apparently she was as distracted from her company as you were, more fixed on returning your gaze. The corner of her lip twitched when you realised you’d been caught and you swiftly looked away to stare down at your cereal, actively keeping your wandering gaze on the other side of the room for the rest of the meal.
*
“So what did you do to end up here?” A curly haired boy asked as he strolled into the kitchen you occupied alone. He was swinging a tea towel in his hands as he joined you and started on drying the washing up you had started.
“Got caught making out with the pastor’s daughter,” you said stoically.
“You’re fucking with me,” he grinned and your composure cracked.
“Yeah, but it’s much cooler than the truth,” you told him honestly as he jumped up onto the counter.
“I’m sure it’s not that bad. My grandma walked in on me with my dick down my best friend’s ass,” he told you and you couldn’t stop the laugh that rose promptly. You grinned at the boy next to you in disbelief, thankful that your own luck wasn’t that bad. “Your turn,” he prompted.
“I told my best friend that I like girls. She told my parents,” you said humorously, as though it didn’t hurt like a bitch just to remember.
“I think I have better mates than you,” he concluded. You didn’t argue with that. “I’m James.”
“Y/n,” you replied. “How long have you been here?”
“Four months.”
“What?” You splashed some water over the floor when your hand slipped in shock and James yelped when some drops hit him then started chuckling at the look you were giving him.
“What? Did you think it was only going to last a couple weeks?”
“Kinda, yeah,” you muttered as you returned your attention to your chore. “Do you think you’ll be out soon?”
“Nah, they know I’m bullshitting them. We all are, of course, but some of them can trick themselves into believing it, which is good enough for Vision.”
“Yeah, I know Wanda sees right through me,” you told him. “Which by the way, that makes no sense right?”
“I reckon he’s holding her family captive,” James stated simply. You laughed with him easily, glad you had found someone like minded to you. “Hey, do you wanna get high?”
*
The nimble threads at the bottom of your uniformed cardigan were multiplying as your stay at the camp went by. Your fingers frequently found their way to them when you were uncomfortable, which was more often than not, and pulled at the finer threads until you unintentionally collected a small bundle in the palm of your hands that you had to hide. Vision never commented on it, but Wanda did, telling you that it represented your impulse to repress your femininity or some bullshit like that.
You left the threads alone and laced your hands together in your lap when she gave you a pointed look from her office chair and you muttered an apology.
“I’ve noticed you and James have become quite close,” she commented. “I must admit I was hoping you would find better company in some of the other students here. James doesn’t provide the best example to follow,” she told you.
“We’re just friends,” you shrugged, slightly irked that the older woman had a problem with the one refuge you had been able to find in the camp.
“Are you friends with anyone else here?” She questioned, not yet providing you the warm smile she offered every time you stepped into her office or saw her in general. She didn’t look happy that day. She looked troubled but you didn’t believe that was solely down to your decision to spend time with James.
“Not yet,” you told her even though you weren’t planning on expanding your social circle. Though if it was only two people it must be more of a line. Still, adding that unfulfilled optimism was meant to appease Wanda. You should have expected her to see it for what it really was.
“What do you and James talk about?” She wasn’t going to let it go.
“Our lives, I guess,” you shrugged.
“Your experiences,” Wanda said for you. You knew there was no point in denying that when your glance towards her told her all she needed to know.
“Sometimes.”
“You should only discuss those topics with myself or Vision, otherwise you may end up having those experiences affirmed and encouraged,” she explained pointedly. You nodded uncomfortably as your fingers found their ways to your threads again only to snap back in place when you felt Wanda’s eyes momentarily burn into you. Something was very different with her. “So tell me what you discussed,” she pushed.
“I told him how much I dislike kissing boys,” you told her matter of factly as you tried to suppress your rising irritation. Maybe it was her job, but you hated her need to know everything you and James did.
“And you want to kiss girls instead?”
“I want to do a lot of things with them,” you laid on the innocence thick, playing your role as the good christian who was simply admitting to how she had been led astray and just wanted to atone for her sins. As always, Wanda saw through your facade though that time it made her tick. You knew exactly what you were doing, you just had no idea the effect it was having on the older woman. You had no idea that your insistence on pretending to be good while knowing you were bad stirred something in her that she wasn’t supposed to feel. You were pushing those sinful desires that had infiltrated your mind right into her own and she wouldn’t allow it.
“That’s all for today,” she declared without giving a response to your statement. It hadn’t even been your full session time, maybe more like half of it.
“Okay,” you said slowly as you stood up.
“I suggest you spend the rest of your evening with your roommate today,” she told you as you lingered in the doorway.
“Right, bye,” you bid awkwardly, frowning to yourself as you walked away.
The moment the door closed Wanda sighed heavily and leant back in her chair, catching sight of the framed photo of herself and Vision when they went on a hiking holiday in Colorado. The both beamed at the camera as they held each other close, though Wanda’s love for her husband had been as dim as it was in the present. But it was what god wanted. What god certainly didn’t want was for Wanda to allow her mind to wander to you in the way it had during that session when you had been taunting her with that faux naivety that everyone else seemed to fall for.
She had such hope for you when she first met you. But the images you had put in her head of her hand disappearing beneath your skirt as her lips clashed with yours, pinning you down to that very couch you perched on, that was something that could not be allowed to flourish, no matter how it made her throb between her legs. Wanda forced herself to stare at her husband’s image and remember when he used to make her feel that way, but those memories of his breathless features beneath her were replaced with your own and suddenly she couldn’t help but ponder what your sweet moans would sound like next to her ear as her fingers dipped inside-
“Lord help me,” Wanda called, but he never came.
*
You and Wanda both faced your own new challenges as the weeks went by. For you, your only refuge was gone. James had been sent back home randomly one night after an incident that no one would discuss with you. You had written your numbers on pieces of paper before that night, but it had disappeared as mysteriously as James had and gave you an equally chilling feeling. You had no idea what was going to happen to him when he arrived home without the results he had been sent away to achieve. Would they send him somewhere else? Somewhere worse? The only thing you could do was try not to end up like him.
Unfortunately, Wanda knew that nothing had changed within you. You continued to try and fool her with your illusion of innocence, reciting what Vision had taught you, socialising with the committed students and answering her questions in the way she wanted to hear rather than the truth. Little did you know that your efforts to quicken your release from the camp were futile, because Wanda simply didn’t want you gone yet. You were fighting a losing battle, just as she was.
As much as she despised to acknowledge it, the brunette fought her own desires as much as you did. It made her hate how much she was drawn to you. It made her ashamed of the acts she envisaged herself performing with you and how she just knew in her heart that you would so willingly part your legs for her. She wasn’t blind to your attraction to her, she had encountered it enough in her career to see it a mile away, no matter how discreet you thought you were being.
“I think I’m getting better,” you lied as you peered at Wanda cautiously.
“And what makes you say that?” The older woman inquired, humouring your plain fib.
“I don’t think about girls,” you said as you willed yourself not to look at Wanda’s long legs that were crossed eloquently.
“What do you think about?” You hadn’t been prepared for that.
“God?” Wrong. Obviously wrong. Wanda hummed and you knew that meant she didn’t buy it.
“Y/n, I want you to start being more honest with me.” You froze and didn’t dare look her in the eye. “I’m aware that you’re not progressing, so I think we should try something new. Just you and me.” You frowned and risked looking up to the confident woman, not having a clue of the excitement that manifested so secretly. “Are you familiar with penance?” You were, yet you had no idea where Wanda was going with it.
“There are many different forms. Some fast, some pray, some confess, but as we practise most of that here anyway, I want to try something else,” Wanda explained as she stood up from her chair and sauntered over to the desk in the corner of her office. You heard her rummaging around in the draws as a feeling of unease began to emerge in your chest. Rightfully so, because when Wanda turned back around, she held a riding crop firmly in her grasp.
“Stand up,” she instructed and you quickly did so as you eyed the tool in her hands. “Usually you would do this yourself, but I don’t believe you’re capable,” she explained lightly. “Hold out your hand.”
“Wanda,” you said as you kept your hand glued to your side. “I don’t want to.” Her features were deceivingly gentle as she listened to you.
“I don’t want to do this to you either, sweetheart. It’s just the only solution. So hold out your hand,” she repeated, gripping the crop so tight you could hear the leather stretch in her grasp. It unsettled you greatly.
“But it will hurt,” you objected, eyes wide. Wanda could have laughed at how oblivious you were to her intentions.
“It’s meant to,” she said simply and grabbed your wrist with a force that completely paralleled the softness of her tone.
“Wanda-” you tried to yank your hand back but you weren’t as strong as the brunette who only had to hold you with one hand while the other brought the crop down hard.
You cried out but Wanda used her grip on you to pull you flush against her chest, her features having turned ice cold. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced through your own with a sharpness that was usually dulled. The next words she uttered were void of that nurturing faith she used with everyone else and were replaced with something much darker. “If you keep struggling I’ll bend you over that desk and whip your ass instead.” You trembled against her, trying to decipher what your best bet was. When you took too long to decide, Wanda reached around and groped your ass, digging the crop in as she did so as though to make sure you knew she was serious. Your breath hitched as you found yourself completely trapped against the woman that squeezed you through your skirt. You whimpered, riling her up more until you nodded.
“Good,” Wanda exhaled, calming the heat she was struck with at the sight of your fearful eyes. “With every strike, you’re going to confess something you’ve lied about to me.” There were so many lies to choose from that when the first strike came, you struggled to pick one out. “Confess,” Wanda demanded, all of her patience suddenly absent.
“I don’t like boys, I like girls,” you admitted in a rush, refusing to look at Wanda or your burning hand that she struck again. “I’m not doing the work,” you continued. Wanda remained dissatisfied, striking your raw palm again and again as you admitted to your lies, none of which being what Wanda wanted to hear.
“I touch myself!” That was what she was looking for.
“Look at me,” Wanda instructed, examining the tear streaks down your cheeks as you whimpered. It was clear you were trying to appear strong and indifferent, but it was quickly becoming too much. The older woman cooed at you as dropped the crop to the couch behind you and took a hold of your inflamed hand, rubbing the abused hand with a tenderness that only made it burn more.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Her smile had grown sinister and you realised you were nowhere near done. “What thoughts do you touch yourself to?” Wanda questioned further, rubbing the most tender areas of your palm.
“Lying with a woman,” you hiccuped, hoping the harmless phrasing could somehow ease your next punishment.
“Who?” She pushed, gripping your chin roughly and forcing you to look straight ahead at her as you confessed what she already knew.
“You,” you whispered. Arousal rushed to the forefront of Wanda’s mind, and with it came anger. You weren't allowed to make her feel the way you did. She had a husband and she was a faithful Christian wife until you showed up and infected her mind with your own illness. You had to be put in your place.
In a blur, you were laying flat on the sofa you had lied continuously to Wanda on. You were barely given the chance to react before Wanda hiked her leg over your chest and straddled you with a purely feral look upon her face. You felt a strike of fear hit you, however you also weren’t blind to how attractive Wanda looked in her state of desperation. It may have been a desperation to reclaim control and to punish you for her own feelings, but it was hot nonetheless.
“You’ve been tempting me ever since you got here,” she hissed, feeling under her conservative skirt for a moment before she lifted it up around her waist. “This is your fault,” Wanda told you as you soaked in the view of her exposed pussy just inches from your face. You could smell her arousal and when she moved to lower herself onto your awaiting mouth, you eagerly grabbed at the back of her thighs until she slapped you away. “You don’t get to touch me with those filthy fingers, just let me use you.” Although you knew it was terribly wrong, you felt your own cunt heat up at her instructions. You knew that it was fucked up that the married woman wanted to get off on riding your mouth, but you wanted it so bad.
“Just like that,” Wanda sighed as you ran your tongue through her wet folds and sucked on them lightly, aiming to savour every drop and inch of her. “Put your tongue out,” she continued to demand. As soon as you did, Wanda began to vigorously grind her clit against your muscle, allowing your tastebuds to become ablaze with her as she cursed above you. You had never heard her swear before and knew she would scold anyone who muttered anything close, so knowing you could elicit such a reaction from her made your insides twist with pride.
She didn’t argue when you switched to sucking on her pulsing clit and felt it throb in your mouth. You moaned against her as her movements continued and her thighs locked around her head. It felt as though she really was using you for her own pleasure, not caring about your own or any comfort. You were the shameful bliss she was forbidden to engage with, but it felt incredible to ignore her god and use you as she wished. But she was really disobeying him, she was just teaching you a lesson. It wasn’t really sinning.
“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t you dare stop, you slut!” Wanda cried out as she became engulfed with the sensations you gave her. You had no intention of stopping as you shifted to pushing your tongue inside her. You were met by the tight squeeze of her walls and felt your own clench at the discovery she hadn’t had sex in a while. That explained why she was so sensitive too. Besides yourself, you smirked into the older woman and doubled your efforts.
It didn’t take long for Wanda to get close to the bliss she had become stranger to and you weren’t about to let her lose that. She knew her body, even after some time of depriving herself, and told you exactly what to do to get her there. “That’s it, that’s it,” she panted, head swimming as she erratically thrust herself onto her mouth and came with a sharp cry. You moaned against her, adamant on tasting your reward as Wanda trembled on top of you and eventually forced herself off when you didn’t stop. She wasn’t about to let greed overcome her.
You looked up at her with a hesitant smile that was apparently the last thing Wanda wanted to see. She glared at you and immediately lifted you up and spun you around so that you were leaning over the armrest on the sofa, not allowing you a second to object. “What-” you tried but she didn’t want to hear it.
“We’re not done,” she said without care as she lifted your own skirt over your back and yanked down your soaked underwear. She bit her lip at the sight of the wetness that stained them and threw them over to her desk for safe keeping, definitely not to sniff and use to get off later.
“Desperate whore,” she muttered to herself as she ran two fingers through your drenched lips. “You want to get fucked so bad? I’ll show you what it’s like to get fucked.” She let the threat loom over you as dipped her digits into you lightly, barely enough to stimulate you but enough for her to decipher how tight you were. Wanda groaned when she felt you clench in anticipation, desperate for any touch you would give her. At that, she let the remains of her self control slip away and thrust her fingers in at once. “So tight,” she commented as you clung onto the sofa, moaning at the feeling of her filling you up in the way you had dreamed ever since you first met the older woman.
“Wanda,” you whined when she spread her fingers out within you to push your walls.
“Shut up,” she hissed, refusing to listen to your pathetic pleas on the tip of your tongue. “Take it.” And you did. You bit into the couch to mute yourself as Wanda curled and thrust her fingers inside your wet cunt, mapping out every inch of you and pushing your body’s limits. She added a third finger without any consideration to your stifled whines.
Wanda, as she told herself, was only doing it to hurt you and punish you. You deserved it for sinning so openly in her home and for attempting to corrupt her. It wouldn’t work, she convinced herself, she wouldn’t succumb to your lust but she had to show you the right path. She had to make you ache. With that in mind, she added a fourth finger and pumped her fingers in wildly.
You cried out into the material you sunk your teeth into, feeling your pussy sting at the stretch Wanda was causing. Still, you continued to soak down to her palm. It just hurt so good. Too good for Wanda to allow, so she snuck her hand under your shirt and bra to take your nipples between her fingers and twist them cruelly. You whimpered at the unnecessary act, making Wanda grin triumphantly.
Despite the pain, it did little to distract you from the heat between your legs that was quickly growing out of control. Having stretched you out as much as she pleased, Wanda was able to thrust her fingers inside you without mercy, attacking every sensitive nerve until you became a mess on the sofa she was meant to therapise you on. “You going to cum for me, whore?” Wanda asked when she felt you twitch around her. You mumbled a yes you were lucky she heard. “You’re so pathetic like this, so weak to temptation,” she scolded you with a wicked smile you couldn’t see. “Cum for me.” That was all it took for your muscles to clench tightly around her and let go. You moaned like the whore she saw you as as you came, gripping onto the sofa for dear life as Wanda continued to ruthlessly pump her digits into your cunt.
“Too much,” you whined when she failed to stop. She didn’t listen. You came down from one orgasm and soon went tumbling into another when Wadna kept up her actions, making sure to drive her point home. You squirmed under her as your body became overstimulated but there was no room or strength for you to move away. “Please!” You begged as you bucked into her palm, unable to stop the contradicting action that served to amuse Wanda.
“So sensitive,” Wanda mused, coaxing you through another orgasm until she deemed that the message had gone through enough. You collapsed in a defeated heap as she stood up from the sofa and corrected her uniform as though you weren’t even there. You missed her taking her tainted digits into her mouth to appease her curiosity. Lord, she thought as she tasted your sweetness. She swiftly pushed away the impulse to keep you down and taste your sweetness directly from the source. She had to keep things professional after all.
“See me first thing in the morning,” she instructed, features still flushed with lingering lust. She had given into temptation and whether she liked it or not, she would indulge in you again. You weren’t going home anytime soon.
#marvel#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x reader#dark!wanda maximoff#dark!marvel#scarlet witch
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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.
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