clark kent x gn!reader ( cw: smut, slightly pervy!clark )
Clark gets flustered easily.
When you get him coffee (He drinks his coffee light compared to you. It is practically ninety percent milk.) to thank him for his help on your latest article, he blushes and says "Thank you." in his deep, warm tone. "You didn't have to bother." Seeing him get pink and jittery because of you always puts a wicked smile on your face. Clark always feels himself get more pink when he sees you smile at him. Your smile puts him on the edge, everytime.
He thinks of your smile at night when he touches himself in his bed, alone as he whimpers into the still air. You, smiling down at him sweetly.
When you compliment him on how he is a gentleman, how he is always good to everyone, good to you, he gets sweaty. "You are kindly exagerrating," he says, "I am just doing my job." His hands on the keyboard are shaking when he sees you walking closer to him as he types out nonsense.
You lean into his desk, as he is sitting in his chair, practically leaning over him to look at his computer. You squint to read as he watches your face behind his glasses, focused, inhaling the scent of your body spray on you, your hair nearly touching the side of his face. Your presence near him makes all of his senses go overdrive. "Good job, Clark." you say, and turn to smile at him, really close, your breath practically fanning over his face. "This is really good. "
It becomes a regular habit to imagine your voice telling him good job when he touches himself again as he thinks of you. You are doing good for me Clark, keep going. Would your voice be encouraging or slightly mocking as you laugh at his pathetic whines? He cums all over his hand, thinking of how your voice would sound for him.
When you tease him, putting your hand on his shoulder, feeling up his bicep or give him a pat on his back, he tenses up. His jaw clenches so hard that if he wasn't invincible, his teeth would shatter. You don't know the hell you put him through. Or maybe, you know and you are doing it on purpose to make his life miserable, he can't decide. "You are a big guy, Clark." you say, hand still on his shoulder, squeezing, "I don't get why everyone is not all over you."
He dreams of you, holding onto his shoulders while you are on his lap, going torturously slow as you ride him. You are a big boy, Clark, you can be good and don't cum until I say so, yeah? When he wakes up, feeling the maddeding flush on his body, his boxers are ruined.
When you finally kiss him in the storage closet of the office, his knees buckle. Every fantasy, every dream he had of you is nothing compared to feeling your warm body in his arms and your hot mouth on his lips. You kiss him playfully, biting his lip and smiling into the kiss as you play with his hair, petting him like a dog.
He finds out that night while being surrounded by your tantalizing warmth around his cock, that you love teasing him, and you sound mellowingly mocking when you tell him to be good. He can be good for you, he realizes. He will be good for you. He will do anything you want.
↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem reader (slight angst ? fluff) requested by @ilovematteoxx ♡
↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.2k
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you can’t find your boyfriend after an argument, and the castle is surrounded by dementors
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
the argument had started over something small. ridiculously small, actually. you couldn’t even remember the details anymore, but somehow, the two of you had managed to let it escalate and before you knew it, mattheo and you were throwing sharp words like hexes.
your boyfriend, as loving as he was, had a way of getting under your skin sometimes. he was all about teasing smirks and cocky grins that usually made you laugh, but tonight you weren’t laughing. tonight, you were tired and on edge from a long week of classes and when he joked about you taking things too seriously, something inside of you snapped.
“not everyone has the luxury of not giving a damn, mattheo.” you’d answered with your arms crossed. “not everyone has parents who don’t care.”
the moment the words left your lips, you swore you could’ve felt the air shift. it was like time froze, everything suddenly stood still and went way too quiet. mattheo’s expression shifted, the usual soft gaze he saved for you disappearing. you saw how the hurt flickered in his dark eyes, before he quickly covered it with cold indifference.
“forget it,” he said sharply before walking out, turning his heel and disappearing out of the common room before you could even get a word out.
you stood there, frozen, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. merlin, you hadn’t meant it like that. in fact, you hadn’t meant to hurt him at all. but you had and now he was gone, and you didn’t even know where.
you couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the evening and as wandered around the castle - silently hoping you’d bump into him around the corner - the hallways felt emptier than ever. dinner passed in a blur too. every time someone entered the great hall and sat down at the slytherin table, you quickly looked up, only to realise it wasn’t him.
you spent the rest of the night alone in your dorm, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to get any sleep. your last conversation kept replaying in your head, what if you’d really hurt him this time ? what if he didn’t come back ? sure, mattheo had his walls, but he never stayed mad at you for long… your mind spiralled. outside the window, everything was dark and still. inside your heart, everything was twisted in knots.
and then, just as you were finally drifting off, a loud noise jolted you awake. it wasn’t just you either, you heard frantic footsteps outside your dorm, and voices raising as well. you sat up, heart pounding and confused. it wasn’t long before a frantic knock echoed through the door, and your best friend pansy came in.
“you have to get up, everyone is being taken to the great hall. now !” she said quickly. “what’s happening ?” you asked in a panicky tone as you got out of bed. “dementors,” she muttered, pulling you outside and rushing you to join the many students making their way through the dark halls. “they’ve been spotted outside.”
your heart skipped a beat. dementors.
the crowd of students rushed to the great hall, tension filling the air, already thick with worry and whispers. you scanned the faces around, searching for any signs of mattheo. but he wasn’t there. he wasn’t anywhere.
“pansy,” you breathed, tugging on her sleeve as realisation dawned on you. “i don’t see mattheo. where is he ?”
she shrugged, concern flickering in her eyes “don’t know, i haven’t seen him since this afternoon”
you swallowed hard, your chest tightening. where was he ? the last time you saw him was when he’d left after the argument, angry and hurt. what if he was outside when the dementors had left ? what if… what if the last thing you said to him was the stupid comment about his father ?
your breathing picked up and theo noticed it from across the room, before making his way over. “what’s going on ?” he asked with furrowed brows.
“i can’t find mattheo,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “we had a fight earlier and now he’s probably out there, and-“
theo exchanged a knowing look with pansy before cutting you off by gently pulling you into a reassuring side hug “he’s fine, amore. probably just running late, you know him, always slipping off to do merlin knows what.”
but you weren’t reassured. not when the castle was in lockdown. it when dementors were around. not when mattheo was nowhere to be seen, and the last thing he heard from you was something you didn’t mean.
“i didn’t mean it,” you whispered with regret. pansy rubbed your back to comfort you but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you reached the great hall. the place was crowded with panicked students and teachers, but you still felt terribly alone in your world of fear.
“i shouldn’t have said it,” you choked out, wiping your eyes and ignoring the people running around and bumping into you. “i shouldn’t have-“
before you could finish, a heavy sound echoed through the hall. the giant wooden doors swung open with a gust of cold air, and every head turned toward the entrance.
mattheo stood in the doorway, along with some others students you didn’t even glance at. his curly hair was damp with the rain, and his robes slightly disheveled. he looked like he’d been through a storm, but he was there.
without thinking, you ran. you pushed through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. by the time you reached him, a tear had managed to roll down your cheek, but you didn’t care. you threw yourself into his arms, your hands fisting his robes as you breathed him in.
“mattheo,” you gasped, holding onto him like he might disappear. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean it, i swear i didn’t mean it.”
his arms came around you immediately, pulling you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. i’m not mad.”
you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your slightly red eyes searching his face. “you’re not?”
he shook his head, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “no. i just… needed some time. but i’m not mad. i promise.”
you bit your lip, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you again. “i thought—i thought something happened to you. i was so scared.”
mattheo’s gaze softened, and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “i’m sorry i scared you. i shouldn’t have just left like that.”
you shook your head quickly, you knew your boyfriend’s habit of walking out during arguments was just to help manage his anger. it was something he’d started doing when he realised you were the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t want to take his negative feelings out on you.
“no, it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have said what i did.” he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “i’m here. i’m not walking away this time.”
for the first time that night, you felt the tightness in your chest ease. the panic, the fear, it all melted away in his arms, replaced by the steady, grounding warmth of his presence. “nice pajamas by the way,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf
Here is the list for October this year. Write something short (or long) and tag it with #fictober25 in the first five tags. Let’s see your creativity!
"Just take my hand."
"This is new."
"I don't need a reason."
"Can you hold me?"
"But you promised!"
"This is annoying."
"You'll have to try harder than this."
"I know it sounds impossible."
"They didn't even touch it!"
"I'm here, am I not?"
"Stupider people than us have done this."
"Does this help you?"
"It's a balance."
"Do we have a plan?"
"It's rather complicated."
"I will never forget this."
"You're not alone."
"I think I see it."
"Yes, I missed this."
"Trust me, this will work."
"Just be honest."
"And how did that work out?"
"I believe in us."
"There's not enough time."
"We've done this before."
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Why would they do this?"
"I'm not lost!"
"Where did they go?"
"Do you trust me?"
"I still love you."
This event is open to fanfiction and original fiction.
Start the first of October. You do not have to do the prompts in order. Tag your posts with #fictober25.
Please state at the top if your entry is original fiction or fanfiction and what fandom. State common warnings and triggers at the top and tag accordingly.
No AI generated text or art.
I reserve the right to not reblog fics that I find inappropriate. I will reblog things here on @fictober-event, follow this blog to see all the entries.
Go forth and write!
Summary: When your clingy boyfriend Jake, professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, accidentally turns himself into a golden retriever for a week, chaos follows. Between castle gossip, jealous barking, and his endless need for your attention, you learn that Jake is impossible to resist… no matter what form he takes.
Warnings: None (just inserts of Jay-fluff/teasing)
A/n: My first Jake fic and as you can tell I love writing Jake and imagine him as a golden retriever ughhhhh I can’t i just want him. Please Like, Comment and Reblog. They make my day!
Taglist: @kristynaaah, @won1yoiz (LMK if you want to be added to the taglist!)
More from this Anthology: Phantoms & FairyTales
Rain had been worrying the roof since dusk—soft at first, then steadier, a patient tapping that threaded itself through the cabin’s old beams and your ribs alike. The place always felt larger when it rained. The rafters seemed to stretch, the shadows to soften, the windows to blur into panes of warm gray. You had lit only the brass lantern over your workbench and the hearth; everything else was outlines: books stacked two deep, bunches of dried herbs hanging from blue thread, a cloak draped over the back of a chair like someone who had tried to leave and changed their mind.
On the table: order. Mortar and pestle, cleaned and dry. Vials ranked by volatility, then hue, then the privately satisfying category you wrote on your personal inventory as “temper.” The cauldron sat low on a steady flame; tonight’s brew wasn’t showy, just a keystone stabilizer the sixth-years would need for countercharm lab. Measured, boring. Boring was the point.
The door creaked once and Jake shouldered in with the weather still on him—sleeves damp past the wrists, curls spattered, cheeks bright from the walk. He toed off his boots without looking, found you in the amber circle of light, and smiled like he’d arrived exactly where he’d been heading all day.
“Don’t touch that,” you said, because rituals are also stabilizers.
“I haven’t touched anything,” he said, pitching his voice into the long-suffering range as he set his boots by the hearth. “I walked in. That’s it.”
“You breathed near my vitrified measurer,” you said, checking the simmer and adjusting the flame half a tick down. “I could feel it.”
He came up behind you and did the most Jake thing he could: wrapped both arms around your waist and settled his chin carefully on your shoulder, like he’d practiced to find the angle that made you least likely to shrug him off. He smelled like wet wool and smoke from the Great Hall and something clean and citrus that was not a cologne so much as an inevitability.
“Missed you,” he said into your hair.
“You left me at the staff table forty minutes ago,” you said, moving your quill to the next line. “It’s hardly an epic separation.”
“That was me missing you while in your presence,” he said. “Very advanced feeling. They should offer a N.E.W.T.”
“You’d fail,” you said, because it was your line.
He squeezed you once, unapologetic. His palms were warm even through your robes. “I’m good at practicals.”
“You are,” you said before your good sense could shut it down. You forced your attention back to the ledger, to the tidy columns the rain kept time for. “Hands, Jake.”
He obeyed—mostly. The touch retreated from your waist to your hips, then to the edge of the worktable, fingers drumming silently. You could feel the drumming in your spine anyway. He watched you measure two drams of dried valerian and say the number under your breath. He watched you lift the mortar and tap its rim twice so the dust fell in a straight line. He watched you; that was his real hobby.
“New quill?” he asked, like a gentleman at a gallery.
“Graphorn feather,” you said, and regretted the softness in your voice. He pounced on softness the way he pounced on any open door.
“Writes like you,” he said. “Clean. Tiny bit ruthless.”
“That’s a compliment?”
“It’s the nicest thing I know how to say.” He nuzzled, a quick press against your temple. “I can say it worse, if you want.”
“I do not.”
“Then accept the praise,” he said, and you could hear him smiling.
You flicked the burner down to a siesta of heat and reached for the vial of chrysopoeic lattice. His chin followed your shoulder, his breath close enough to fog the glass; you angled the vial away on principle. He huffed a laugh and stepped back, which you knew better than to celebrate. Two beats later, the scrape of wood across wood announced that he had dragged a kitchen stool over and plopped onto it right beside your bench.
You didn’t look up. “That’s not what I meant by backing away.”
“I am outside the splash zone for once in my life,” he said piously. The stool creaked as he propped an elbow on the table and settled his chin into his palm. “Perfect distance for observing greatness.”
“Shut up,” you said, too quick, and that was the problem with him: your mouth got ahead of your shields. He knew it; you heard his grin.
The cabin made its peaceful noises: rain deepened; the fire rearranged itself with a hollow pop; far off, the castle gave a contented sigh that might have been wind through stone or the sound of a hundred portraits gossiping at once. You measured, stirred, noted—the patient math of making something safe out of things that didn’t want to be—and Jake watched like he was learning a language he intended to speak fluently.
“You have two little lines here,” he said, his forefinger hovering near your brow, not quite touching. “When you’re concentrating.”
“Don’t map my face,” you said. “It’s not a star chart.”
“It is tonight,” he said. “We’ve got good seeing.”
You kept your eyes on the meniscus and did not give him the benefit of any reaction at all. Your focus had a cost; the price of getting to exist in a room full of volatile glass was refusing to perform for the boy you shared a bed with. That was the rule you pretended you were good at, the one he pretended he respected.
“Need me to do anything?” he asked after a while in a tamer voice. “Water? Firewood? Stand very still and make encouraging noises?”
“Firewood,” you said. “Since you’re already up.”
He wasn’t, but he stood anyway. “That was a trick,” he said, amused, as he crossed to the hearth. “You Ravenclaws make chores sound like honors.”
“It’s pedagogy,” you said, and his laugh came like someone opening a door at the end of a hall. You’d known it was coming; you still felt your stomach tilt as if the cabin had shifted on its foundation. He didn’t treat your laugh like a rare specimen; he treated it like something he had the right to keep hearing. Somehow that was worse.
He knelt and fed the fire two split logs, the new flame flattering his cheekbones. The stool complained with another creak when he came back and folded onto it, close again, knee bumping yours once. Not an accident. You ignored it, because ignoring Jake was a game you always lost by increments.
His energy had a vibration when he tried to be obedient. He could sit remarkably still under pressure—during duels, in faculty meetings, braced in a corridor with a seventh-year crying into his shoulder—but give him comfort and he moved. Sock heel on rung; fingers rolling an invisible coin; a hum that wasn’t a tune so much as a current he couldn’t let run unspent. Gryffindor jitters, you’d called it the first week you moved into the cabin together. He’d called it “happy.”
“You’re thinking very loudly,” you said, not looking up.
“I’m making a lesson plan in my head,” he said, tone pure innocence.
“For what? How to bother your girlfriend?”
“For recognizing subtle threats,” he said. “Some of my students insist evil always announces itself with a theme song. I try to teach them to watch for quieter things. The way a room goes tense.” He angled his head. “The way someone holds a vial like she could end the world with it.”
You looked up against your better judgment and found him watching you in a way that put a heat under your skin that had nothing to do with the lantern. He didn’t have the decency to look away. He never did. The desire in him wasn’t showy; it lived in the undramatic steadiness of his gaze, in the hand he rested near your knee but never quite on it, in the way he made space and then crept an inch into it, asking without asking.
You cleared your throat. “Your students will pass if they learn not to monologue,” you said. “Tell them to keep their wands up and their egos down.”
“Is that what I should do?”
“Both would be a first.”
He smiled like you’d petted him. You hated that you could feel a flush starting high on your cheekbones; you loved that he noticed and didn’t crow about it. He just tucked his chin into his palm again, stupidly content, like the best seat in the castle was a creaky stool beside a too-bright table while you pretended you were stone.
“Tea?” he asked, gentler.
“In a minute,” you said. “When this sets.”
He nodded. For nearly a full minute, he even managed stillness. You tipped in a final measure, stirred six clockwise, three counter, and cocked your head. The surface took the light properly; the scent—that faint burnt sugar you’d been chasing—lifted true. You noted the time and took the cauldron off heat to rest.
Jake exhaled like he’d been holding his breath with you, which you hated to like, but you did. “Good?” he asked.
“Good,” you said, and he wore that one-word like something you’d pinned to his chest.
He pushed up from the stool to fetch the kettle; you put a hand out without thinking. “Leave it. It’ll start singing.”
“It always sings off-key,” he said, but he sank back down, obedient. His heel found the rung and started its restless bounce again. That was the trouble with letting him close: he remembered he was allowed to be himself. You felt it like a draft every time.
“Stop fidgeting,” you said, softer than you meant to.
“I’m trying,” he said, honest. He let the bounce settle—then redirected the leftover energy into his hands, which found a slow rhythm drumming a nonsense pattern on his thigh. He caught himself and flattened his palms on the bench. “Better?”
“Marginally.”
“You love my marginal gains,” he said, but he kept his hands where they were. His knee brushed yours again—quick, almost an apology—and when you didn’t move away, he did it once more, testing. You kept your eyes on the ledger. You felt his smile without looking.
Outside, thunder rolled far enough away to count; the cabin took the sound and made it a purr. Inside, the vials at the foot of his stool waited—three you’d set on the floor for lack of space: a skinny mauve philter in a stoppered cone, a squat emerald tincture in thick glass, and a flask with a runic sticker that meant “harmless alone, fanged in company.”
“Don’t kick those,” you said, because if a thing was going to go wrong, the least you could do was say you told it not to.
“I won’t,” he said, and the thing about Jake was that he meant it utterly in the moment he said it.
You wrote another line. Jake breathed, which felt like a decision. He leaned on his elbow and studied the side of your face as if he were memorizing the angles lantern light discovered. You hated that you knew exactly what he saw—ink on your middle finger, the line that lived between your brows when you concentrated, hair refusing to stay in whatever order you put it in. You hated to want to be seen; you hated how good he was at it.
He tilted his head. “You get this look when you’re working,” he said, voice pitched careful, like he’d put down the jokes the way you’d put down a hot crucible. “Not the scary one. The one that says you can see the shape of the solution before it exists.”
“Everyone can if they read,” you said.
“Not like you,” he said, not pushing, not trying to make the words bigger than they were, just offering them like a cup of tea he knew you’d accept when you were ready. The flush deepened; you blamed the lantern.
“Stop flattering me,” you said, because the alternative was admitting how steadying it felt.
“Stop being flattering,” he said.
“Terrible sentence.”
“I’m a practical man,” he said. “I demonstrate.”
He did, which is to say he didn’t move closer, because he’d learned that sometimes the demonstration you’d accept was restraint. The silence warmed. You breathed together. The kettle finally took a breath and tried to remember a melody; it missed, as always. You flicked a finger and cut the sound.
Jake made a quiet sound that sat exactly between laugh and sigh. “I like our cabin when it’s like this,” he said. “Feels like it’s choosing us.”
“Don’t get sentimental,” you said, but you heard yourself tuck the sentence somewhere for later.
You were not unaware of his desire; you were only very good at pretending you were. He didn’t hide it—he didn’t know how—but he didn’t weaponize it either. It lived in the small things: the way his thumb brushed the edge of your bench and then stopped like he’d remembered he’d promised; the way his eyes flickered to your mouth when you chewed a measurement; the way his shoulders softened every time you addressed him by name, like a call-and-response for two.
He was also, tragically, Jake.
The stool rocked a fraction when he rebalanced his weight, still watching you. You caught the motion at the edge of your vision. “Heel,” you said without thinking, and he grinned at the command even as he stilled.
Then you did the thing he was a disaster for: you laughed. Not a performance—just a small, betrayed sound at the sheer seriousness with which he obeyed a joke. His head turned toward it like you’d called him; his expression went bright and unguarded, devotion without the usual spark of mischief.
It was such an ordinary human moment that you were unprepared for the ordinary human mistake that followed.
His sock heel slipped on the stool rung. He jolted to steady himself—elbow catching the bench, knee knocking the leg—and his foot, seeking purchase, slid exactly where you’d told him not to: into the neat rank of glass on the floor.
The first vial went with a fluting “tik.” The second answered, heavier. Your mind did the arithmetic faster than your body did the reach.
“Jake—”
He was already half-rising, sorry in every muscle. “I’ve got—” he started, and the rest drowned under the quick, chemical hiss of two colors finding each other.
Mauve met emerald in a shallow puddle that looked benign for the length of one breath. Then it fizzed. The fizz contracted to a malignant boil. The boil made a sound like someone inhaling to speak.
You had your wand out, the counter-sequence blooming in your wrist on reflex, but the magic had already decided what story it wanted to tell. The puddle exhaled.
Whoomp.
Gold. Not yellow, not smoke-colored lit by the lantern, but a ridiculous, saturated gold that rolled up from the flagstones in a single eager column and unfurled around him. It didn’t sting your eyes so much as try to pet them; the particles were fat and showy as if alchemy had insisted on becoming confetti for an event you had not planned.
The cloud swelled once and—Merlin’s honest truth—wagged.
Your brain, which could run analyses while stepping around exploding glass, had time to think that’s an unserious physical property for a vapor before the column collapsed with a soft pop and spilled glitter across the room like someone had shaken a sun out.
Where Jake had been—tall, warm, leaning too close—sat a golden retriever large enough to count as furniture. His coat was the same impossible color as the smoke; his ears were too handsome; his paws were a credible argument against calling anything else “big.” He blinked up at you with eyes you recognized with your whole stupid body.
“No,” you said into the clattering quiet. “Absolutely not.”
The dog’s tail thumped the stool leg, once, then again with gathering conviction. The stool scooted an inch. He glanced at the stool, at you, and then—because nothing fundamental had changed—he leaned forward and pressed his head into your stomach with the weight of a vow.
“Jake?” you asked, because the world still required names.
He made a sound that wasn’t quite a bark—more a yes, hello, it’s me, who else would it be—and, emboldened by your posture collapsing into your hands, tried to lick your wrist through your sleeve. You discovered two new facts at once: the translation of his clinginess into canine form was seamless, and golden retriever tongues were workaholic.
“Stop—stop—no,” you said, laughing in the shocked way that sounded like crying’s faster cousin. You pushed at his ruff and got a handful of impossible softness for your trouble. He leaned harder, installing himself where he wanted to be: under your attention.
You looked at the glittering smear on the stones, at the empty spot where a boy had been, at the dog, at your notes, which you suddenly hated, and did the thing you were trained to do when a class went sideways: you took inventory. Heart rate: high. Smell: burnt sugar and citrus (of course). Residue: chrysopoeic lattice, unmistakable. Mechanism: alchemical anthropomorphosis, transfiguration-adjacent, lunar decay. Duration: if your math wasn’t lying, seven days.
You crouched, took his ridiculous face between your hands, and found, absurdly, steadiness there. His ears flicked; his attention did not. “Listen to me,” you said, which was silly because he always did. “This is going to wear off. In a week.”
He leaned until your forehead touched his, breathing a dog’s frank breath, and you felt his tail whack the cabinet like punctuation. The cabinet rattled; a jar of nettles tiptoed to the edge and, somehow, did not fall. He froze, guilty to the core of whatever remained of his Gryffindor soul.
“Oh, now you’re careful,” you said, helpless.
He whined once—quiet, offended that reality had tricked him—and shifted closer so your hands couldn’t leave his face without choosing to leave. You didn’t. The rain kept at the roof. The kettle tried another bar of the tune and failed it again. Somewhere, very far off, the castle clock tolled the hour like a reminder that the world was continuing hilariously on schedule.
You scraped your composure together one inch at a time. “We’re telling McGonagall,” you said. “We’re telling Pomfrey. We’re not telling Hagrid until we have a plan.”
At the name Hagrid, Jake’s ears perked in a way that said friend with snacks, and you pinched the bridge of your nose because you could see your next week unspooling like a ribbon: fur on your rugs, a translation charm, students pretending not to coo, Peeves inventing a song about Professor Fetch, and you, doing what you had always done, which was making chaos hold still long enough to learn from it.
“Do not wag inside the glass zone,” you said, standing carefully.
He wagged outside the glass zone, exquisitely literal. Then he pressed to your leg as if magnetized, looking up with Jake’s uncomplicated devotion.
“Fine,” you said, and hated how quickly your voice softened. “Stay close.”
He did, obviously. He always did.
By the time the knock came, you had scrubbed most of the golden residue off the floor, gathered the remaining intact vials back into proper rows, and warded the workbench against further “Jake-related accidents.” The cabin smelled faintly like singed sugar, wet fur, and regret.
You opened the door to find Madam Pomfrey standing primly with her healer’s satchel and an expression that suggested she expected to see a feverish student on your sofa.
“You said it was urgent,” she said, eyeing you. “Where is the patient?”
You stepped aside. “Inside.”
Pomfrey walked in—and stopped dead.
Because there, sitting obediently on the rug, was Jake. A very large, very fluffy golden retriever version of Jake. His tail gave a hopeful thump, then another.
Pomfrey blinked. “…When,” she said finally, “did you acquire a dog?”
“I didn’t,” you said. “That’s Jake.”
Her eyes flicked to you, sharp. “Pardon?”
“Jake Sim. Defense Against the Dark Arts.” You gestured helplessly. “He touched something he shouldn’t, and now he's—” You waved a hand at the dog. “—this.”
Pomfrey pressed her lips together in a way that usually preceded the words you’re wasting my time. She looked back at the retriever. “That’s a dog.”
“Yes.”
“A very healthy dog.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “It’s Jake.”
The retriever barked once as if to confirm, then leaned his entire weight against your legs. His head pressed into your hip, eyes looking up with all the tragic dignity of a man wrongly accused.
Pomfrey blinked again. “…Good heavens.” She crouched slowly, peering into his eyes. “Well, I’ll be.” She tapped her chin. “He does have that same unfortunate Gryffindor twinkle.”
Jake whined in agreement, tail sweeping the rug.
Pomfrey straightened, adjusting her spectacles. “Explain.”
You gave the short version. The potions, the spill, the smoke that had wagged. Jake’s inability to keep his limbs to himself. You left out the bit where his heel had knocked the vial over while he was starstruck by your laugh. You had to draw the line somewhere.
Pomfrey nodded gravely through it all, until she finally said, “Well. I’ve treated transfigured limbs, cursed stomachs, one Head Boy who spent a week as a ferret—but never a full anthropomorphosis. Fascinating.”
“Fascinating for you,” you muttered. “I’m the one who has to live with him like this.”
Jake huffed loudly, ears flattening.
You reached down and patted his head. “Don’t pout. You did this to yourself.”
Pomfrey was already digging in her satchel. “We’ll need to try a counteractive draft. Might not reverse it entirely, but it should shorten the duration.”
She produced several phials and a roll of parchment, spreading them across your table. She began listing ingredients, most of which you already had on hand. You started assembling them with a resigned efficiency.
Meanwhile, Jake climbed onto the sofa and sprawled across it dramatically, chin on the armrest, giving the best impression of a sulking schoolboy you had ever seen on four legs. His eyes tracked you as you moved about, as if to remind you that he was still the victim here.
Pomfrey glanced at him and sniffed. “At least he’s quiet like this.”
You smirked. “You say that now. Wait until he realizes he can’t kiss me every five seconds.”
Jake’s head shot up. He barked once, offended, then let out a long, theatrical huff that fogged the glass of the window beside him.
You grinned. “See? Pouting. Even with fur.”
Pomfrey’s mouth twitched, but she forced it into a frown. “Unprofessional.” She pointed at the retriever. “Sit still, Professor Sim.”
To everyone’s surprise, Jake obeyed immediately. He sat, ears perked, tail swishing once.
You folded your arms. “Oh, so now you listen when she tells you to behave?”
Another bark—short, sharp, unmistakably cheeky.
Pomfrey muttered something about “men, no matter the form,” and began mixing the draft with the precision of decades. You assisted, fetching the stabilizers and grinding what needed grinding.
Jake tried to climb off the sofa twice—once to nose at your hand, once to investigate the mortar—and each time you steered him back with a stern look. His tail thumped anyway, betraying his joy at being close.
At last, Pomfrey set a small phial of shimmering silver liquid on the table. “This should temper the transfiguration matrix,” she said. “May bring him back sooner. Or, at worst, do nothing.”
Jake bounded over, tail wagging furiously.
“Not so fast.” Pomfrey knelt, holding the phial just out of reach. “You’ll need to drink the whole thing. Slowly.”
Jake opened his mouth eagerly.
You bit back a laugh. “Careful, Pomfrey. He’ll try to charm you into giving him a belly rub next.”
Jake froze mid-slurp, turning his head to glare at you. The most human glare a dog had ever managed. Then he huffed again, slurping the potion indignantly, as though he could make a point by the volume of his gulps.
You leaned back in your chair, smirking. “Merlin help me, it’s like living with the world’s neediest dog and the clingiest boyfriend rolled into one.”
Jake set down the empty phial with a proud clink, then deliberately flopped onto your feet, tail covering your boots like a blanket.
Pomfrey sighed, gathering her things. “Well. If this works, he should be back to normal in two to three days. If it doesn’t, you’ll have to ride out the week.”
You nodded, scratching behind Jake’s ear despite yourself. “Either way, I’m investing in stronger locks for my potion shelves.”
Jake leaned harder against you, tongue lolling, eyes shining as if to say good luck trying to keep me away.
Pomfrey snapped her satchel shut. “Good night, Professors.”
“Good night,” you said.
Jake barked once, proudly.
When the door closed, you looked down at him. “You heard her. Two days. Three, tops. You can survive that.”
Jake groaned, head dropping dramatically onto your lap.
You sighed, stroking his soft fur. “Alright, fine. Maybe I’ll survive it too.”
His tail wagged, smug as ever.
By morning, you had decided on two things:
Jake was not allowed within six feet of your potion shelves ever again.
You were going to have to face the castle sooner or later, and later only made things worse.
So you left the cabin with a stack of parchment tucked under your arm, and a golden retriever glued to your side like a shadow with fur.
Jake padded along the muddy path with all the solemn dignity of a head boy escorting you to class—if head boys wagged their tails with every third step and insisted on brushing against your leg every chance they got. His ears perked at every sound, nose twitching at every breeze, and every so often he’d glance up at you like, Still here? Still mine?
“Yes, I’m still here,” you muttered when he nudged your hand for the third time. “And yes, you’re still ridiculous.”
He wagged harder, pleased.
By the time you reached the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, a gaggle of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw fifth-years were already waiting. The moment you walked in, parchment in hand, their chatter died down—not because of you, but because of the enormous golden retriever trotting proudly at your heels.
“Professor?” one girl asked, wide-eyed. “Whose dog is that?”
Jake sat on your feet, chest puffed out, tail thumping against the flagstones like he was personally answering the roll call.
You cleared your throat. “He’s… mine.”
There was a collective gasp. “You have a dog?”
“I do now,” you said shortly, hoping that would be enough. “As for Professor Sim—” You held up the stack of parchment like a shield. “Classes are suspended until further notice. Fortunately, he prepared assignments for the week, so you won’t fall behind.”
A collective groan rolled through the room.
Jake wagged anyway, delighted by the noise, and leaned his weight against your leg. You tried to shuffle forward, only for him to scoot with you, glued as if some invisible leash tied you together.
“Where is Professor Sim?” another student asked, suspicious. “Is he ill?”
“He’s… traveling,” you said quickly. “Important business. Very heroic. Very private. That’s all you need to know.”
Jake turned his head up at you and gave you the most judgmental canine look possible, ears twitching flat as if to say, That’s the best lie you’ve got?
“Anyway,” you pressed on, slapping the assignments onto the nearest desk. “Essays on counter-hex sequencing. Due by Friday. Enjoy.”
There were groans, muttering, a few curses under breath. Jake barked once—sharp enough that the muttering ceased immediately. The students stared, startled.
“Good boy,” you muttered, patting his head. He wagged smugly, tongue lolling.
By the time you left the classroom, word had already spread. By the second corridor, you were trailed by whispers: Professor got a dog! Why is it following her everywhere? Do you think we can pet it?
Jake didn’t mind the attention. In fact, he preened, strutting with tail high, brushing so close against you that you nearly tripped over his bulk twice. He was clingier than ever—probably the new senses, probably his unshakable need to be under your hand at all times. You swore you could feel his smugness radiating every time you gave in and scratched behind his ears.
Of course, that was when Professor Jay appeared at the end of the corridor.
Jay, the Astronomy professor. All dark robes, polished shoes, and a smile that lingered too long whenever it was directed at you. He had the audacity to lean casually against the banister as you approached, like he’d been waiting.
“Good morning,” Jay said smoothly, his gaze flicking from you to the dog. “New companion?”
Before you could reply, Jake froze. His ears went flat, his tail stiffened, and then—very deliberately—he planted himself in front of you like a four-legged wall. His eyes narrowed (you didn’t know dogs could narrow their eyes, but somehow he managed it).
Jay raised a brow. “Protective, isn’t he?”
“Something like that,” you said tightly.
Jake gave a single, sharp bark. Then another, louder. He didn’t move from his spot, his whole body bristling with disapproval.
Jay blinked, taking half a step back. “…Does he not like me?”
You forced a laugh, patting Jake’s head a little harder than necessary, your smile stretched taut. “Oh, he’s just… chatty.”
Jake huffed, offended, and barked again, lower this time, clearly directed at Jay’s face.
Jay frowned. “Strange dog.”
“Strange but harmless,” you said quickly, smoothing Jake’s ruff like you could iron out his temper. “Sorry. He’s still… adjusting.”
Jake turned his head, shooting you a betrayed glare. Then he flopped down at your feet with a heavy thud, chin on his paws, emitting a long, put-upon sigh.
Jay coughed, tugging at his sleeve. “Well. I’d best be off—someone’s waiting for me in the tower.”
“Of course,” you said, all polite smiles.
He gave a short nod, then swept away, his shoes clicking against the stone.
The moment he was gone, Jake raised his head, staring up at you with a look that could only be described as See? I told you he was shady.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You are impossible.”
Jake snorted, tail giving one satisfied wag.
And for all your exasperation, you couldn’t hide the laugh that slipped out. He preened at the sound, bumping his nose into your hand until you scratched his ears again.
“Merlin help me,” you muttered. “Golden retriever or not, you’re still the clingiest man alive.”
Jake’s tail wagged harder, smug and radiant, because he knew it was true.
Breakfast in the Great Hall was supposed to be a quiet affair for you—just tea, toast, and parchment. Instead, you entered with a golden retriever stuck so close to your side he may as well have been enchanted there.
The entire hall went silent as Jake trotted proudly in, tail wagging like he was the guest of honor. Students dropped spoons. One Hufflepuff shrieked, “DOG!” and half the table dissolved into squeals.
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Please ignore him. He’s… auditing Defense classes.”
Jake sat at your feet, chest puffed out, ears perked like he’d just been knighted. When you reached for the teapot, he leaned against your leg, eyes fixed on your hand until you sighed and poured an extra saucer of milk for him.
Of course, Professor Jay had to pipe up. “Odd,” he said smoothly from two seats down. “I could’ve sworn you weren’t a dog person.”
Before you could reply, Jake barked—sharp, deliberate. Then he leaned across your lap and licked your teacup just to make his point.
“Jake!” you hissed quietly, shoving his face back, cheeks burning. The hall erupted in laughter. Jay muttered something about being late for Astronomy and left, clearly unnerved by the canine death stare boring into him.
Jake huffed smugly, tail thumping.
“Menace,” you muttered, scratching his ear anyway.
He wagged harder.
McGonagall had insisted you bring “the situation” to the weekly check up with you.
The moment you walked in, Jake at your side, Flitwick lit up like Christmas. “Oh, magnificent! May I? Just one pat?”
“Filius,” McGonagall warned, though her own mouth twitched.
Jake trotted over and promptly leaned all sixty pounds of golden fluff against Flitwick’s legs, nearly toppling the man off his chair. Flitwick squeaked in delight and scratched his ears. Jake’s tail wagged so wildly it knocked over two stacks of parchment.
“Professor Sim,” McGonagall said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “you are not to disrupt faculty business.”
Jake looked at her with perfect solemnity, then turned and licked Flitwick’s entire cheek.
You buried your face in your hands. “I am so sorry.”
“He’s delightful,” Flitwick insisted, hair sticking up from static.
When the meeting ended, Sprout slipped Jake a biscuit from her pocket. He barked happily, crumbs all over the floor.
“Don’t encourage him,” you groaned, tugging him toward the door.
McGonagall muttered something under her breath about “dogs with tenure.”
By the third day, you had accepted the truth: Pomfrey’s potion hadn’t worked. Jake was still very much a dog.
But oddly enough… you didn’t mind.
For once, he wasn’t able to hover over your shoulder, stealing kisses while you measured out delicate powders. Instead, he lay sprawled across the rug while you worked, occasionally padding over to nose at your knee until you scratched behind his ears. You could actually finish three full drafts of your lecture notes without interruption.
Well. Almost without interruption.
Because every so often, Jake would leap up, bound over, and plant a slobbery kiss across your hand, your arm, sometimes your cheek if you leaned down too far.
“Jake!” you yelped one evening as he caught you square on the jaw with his tongue. “That is not romantic.”
He wagged furiously, tongue lolling, entirely unrepentant.
“You’re disgusting,” you muttered, scrubbing your face with your sleeve.
Jake just dropped his chin onto your lap, eyes shining with such devoted fondness that you melted despite yourself. “Fine,” you sighed, stroking his fur. “I’ll allow it. But only because you’re quiet enough to let me get things done.”
His tail thumped the floor in triumph.
That night, as you curled into bed, Jake hopped up too, circling once before flopping beside you like he owned the pillow. He pressed his nose against your arm and let out a long, contented sigh.
You turned your head to look at him, still in awe of the ridiculous situation. “Four more days,” you whispered.
His ears twitched. He leaned closer, tongue flicking once against your wrist.
You laughed softly despite yourself. “Alright. Maybe I like you this way, too.”
Jake huffed, smug as ever, and drifted off with his head pillowed on your chest.
The castle always felt half-asleep in the late afternoon. The torches hadn’t been relit yet, the sun slid low enough to turn the windows into sheets of honey, and the corridors echoed with the last scatterings of footsteps as students drifted off to supper. For once, you walked alone—essays stacked in your arms, the silence pressing around you like a comforter.
Jake was supposed to be outside. You’d left him with strict instructions to burn off some of that bounding golden retriever energy before following you back in. Just an hour, you’d told yourself. An hour without a wagging tail against your calf or a wet nose shoved into your hand while you tried to write.
That’s when you heard him.
“Funny,” Jay’s voice drawled, smooth as always, “how I only ever catch you when he isn’t here.”
You stopped, forcing your features into polite neutrality before you turned. “Jay.”
He leaned against the stone archway at the Astronomy Tower stairwell, robes neat, silver trim gleaming faintly in the dying light. His smile was soft enough to pass for friendly, but his eyes carried that familiar gleam—persistent, sly, patient. Always waiting for a gap.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he said, straightening as you approached. “The halls are quieter these days. Almost like they’re conspiring to bring us together.”
You shifted the essays higher in your arms. “Or maybe it’s just the schedule.”
He chuckled at that, unbothered. “Still sharp. Just like sixth year. You were always in the library, head bent over parchment, lips pursed when you concentrated.” His gaze dipped briefly, uninvited. “I used to sit two tables away, hoping you’d look up.”
“And get glared at when you didn’t finish your star charts,” you reminded him, dry.
Jay grinned, unashamed. “Worth it. A glare from you felt like attention. I’d take that over any praise.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said something like that. He always tried when Jake wasn’t around, as if he thought the absence meant a door cracked open. And you always responded the same way: firm, polite, but never cruel.
“You know I’m with Jake,” you said, voice even. “I’ve been with him for years.”
His smile twitched. “And yet… I never stopped wondering. Maybe time would change something. Maybe not. But wonder has a way of sticking.”
He stepped closer, closing the space just slightly too much. You held your ground, spine straight, essays clutched tighter.
“You don’t have to—”
A low, rumbling growl sliced through the air.
Jay froze.
You turned instinctively, and your stomach dropped.
The double doors at the far end of the corridor had just swung open, courtesy of a gawking second-year. Through them padded Jake—massive, golden, radiant in the dim light. His paws clicked against the flagstones, each step deliberate, eyes locked on Jay.
His hackles rose. The growl deepened, vibrating through the stone itself.
“Jake,” you breathed, relief and dread tangled in your chest. Then, realizing, you fumbled, “—Jakey. I mean, Jakey.”
Jay’s head whipped toward you, suspicion flashing in his eyes. “…Jake?”
Your mouth went dry. “That’s—what I named him. Jake named him, actually. Said the dog looked like him.” You forced a laugh that came out thin. “Bit of a joke between us.”
Jay studied you for a long moment, the smile gone sharp around the edges. “Hm. Fitting.”
Meanwhile, Jake had reached your side, planting himself firmly between you and Jay. His tail was stiff, ears flat, the sound in his throat closer to thunder than bark.
Jay raised his hands slowly, palms out. “Easy, Jakey. I didn’t mean any harm.”
Jake barked once, deafening in the echoing corridor. Portraits gasped; one witch ducked clear out of her frame.
“Jake—Jakey!” you corrected yourself hastily, dropping the essays onto the nearest bench so you could grab his ruff. Your fingers sank into warm fur, muscles quivering beneath. “It’s fine. We were just talking.”
Jake didn’t believe you. He didn’t take his eyes off Jay, not for a heartbeat.
Jay shifted back half a step, the confidence bleeding just a little from his posture. “Strange creature. Looks at me like he understands every word.”
Your smile stretched too wide, brittle at the edges. “Dogs are perceptive. Especially about… tone.” You patted Jake’s head, maybe a little too firmly. “Right, Jakey?”
Jake huffed, insulted by the nickname, but didn’t break his glare.
Jay adjusted his sleeve, buying time. “Well. I should… get going.”
“Of course,” you said, sweet as poisoned tea.
He gave one last look—sharp, considering—then swept away down the hall, footsteps quicker than usual.
The silence left behind was thick, broken only by Jake’s steady growl tapering into a huff. Finally, he sat, tail thumping once like a gavel. His eyes turned up to you, smug, as if to say You’re welcome.
You groaned, scrubbing your face. “I cannot believe I just called you Jake in front of him.”
Jake’s ears perked. He leaned against your leg, tail wagging now, pleased with himself.
“Don’t look so proud,” you muttered, scratching his head anyway. “You nearly gave us away.”
He licked your wrist in triumph, smugness radiating off him.
You sighed. “Fine. Good work, knight in golden fur. But you’re still impossible.”
Jake barked softly, leaning closer, eyes gleaming with victory.
The cabin was quiet, the fire in the hearth burned low, and you were finally ready to collapse into bed. You’d changed into your nightclothes, folded the day’s robes over a chair, and were halfway through smoothing the covers when you heard the soft thump-thump of a tail against the floorboards.
“Don’t start,” you warned, not even turning around. “I’ve had enough of your antics for one day.”
Jake ignored you, of course.
By the time you faced him, he was already nosing through the small pile of laundry you’d set aside. His golden coat glowed in the lantern light, ears perked, eyes mischievous.
“Jake,” you said sharply. “Drop it.”
Instead, he tugged. Hard.
You gasped. “Jake! Those are my favorite—”
Rip.
The delicate hem of your panties dangled from his mouth like a trophy. His tail wagged furiously, eyes dancing as if he’d just caught the Golden Snitch.
You groaned, throwing your head back. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. Do you know how hard it is to find ones like those? You’re buying me a new pair the second you’re human again.”
Jake huffed through his nose, ears twitching, but refused to let go. When you lunged, he dodged left, then right, tail wagging harder. He pranced around the room with the ruined fabric flapping from his mouth like a victory flag.
“Stop playing keep-away!” you snapped, though your lips twitched despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”
Finally, after two laps around the cabin and one near-collision with the armchair, he padded over and dropped the ripped and wet fabric into your hands, tail thumping against your leg. Then, as if to seal the deal, he nudged his head under your palm, forcing you to scratch behind his ears.
You glared down at him. “Don’t think I’m letting this slide. You owe me.”
He licked your wrist, smug as ever.
“Fine,” you sighed, tossing the ruined piece onto the chair. “But only because you’re impossible to stay mad at.”
Jake immediately hopped onto the bed, sprawling across your half of it with a satisfied groan. You shoved at his side, but he only rolled closer, laying his heavy head on your stomach with a triumphant sigh.
“Menace,” you muttered, scratching his ears anyway.
His tail wagged lazily against the blankets. Victory, once again, was his.
You woke to the weight first. A heavy, insistent pressure on your chest, followed by the tickle of fur against your cheek. You cracked one eye open to find Jake perched half-on, half-off the bed, dragging his paws over your face with exaggerated determination.
“Jake,” you groaned, muffled by a paw. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”
He didn’t. His tail wagged in slow, sleepy arcs, and he pressed another paw to your forehead, nails clicking softly against your skin.
You tried pushing him away, shoving at the wall of golden fur looming above you. “Honestly, you’re worse than an alarm clock.”
That’s when he switched tactics.
He dropped off the bed, circled once, and then shoved his snout right under the blankets. Before you could stop him, he gave a mischievous nibble right where you were most ticklish—your backside.
You yelped, twisting around, laughter spilling out before you could choke it back. “Jake! Stop—oh my god, you menace!”
He huffed, entirely too pleased with himself, then bounded back onto the mattress and plopped down beside you with smug satisfaction written all over his furry face.
You flopped onto your back, out of breath from laughing, hair a mess. “Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable. You’ve lost all sense of boundaries.”
Jake ignored your glare, head tilting toward the window. He let out a sharp whine, then another, ears pricked toward the pale morning light streaming through the glass.
You blinked, then sighed. “Oh, don’t tell me—”
Another whine, this one paired with a pointed look at the door.
You dragged a hand over your face. “Of course. You have to pee.”
Jake barked once in confirmation, tail thumping against the bedframe.
You groaned dramatically, rolling upright. “You couldn’t have picked literally anyone else to live with, could you? No, it had to be me.”
Jake bounded to the door, nails clicking against the floor, looking back every other step to make sure you were following.
“Fine, fine, I know I made the decision for us to live together” you muttered, shoving your feet into slippers. “Let’s go before you prove to me that golden retrievers really are hopeless.”
He wagged furiously, tongue lolling, already victorious.
The air outside was crisp, the sky washed pale with the kind of dawn light that made the castle look softer, quieter. You rubbed your eyes, cinching your blue fluffy robe tighter as you trudged across the grass. Jake padded happily ahead, tail wagging like a banner, sniffing at everything as though he’d never seen the grounds before in his life.
“Do your business,” you muttered, stifling a yawn. “And then straight back inside.”
Jake looked over his shoulder, tongue lolling, ears perked as if he’d just heard free playtime forever. You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t you dare.”
Too late.
In one swift, mischievous motion, he doubled back, nosed at your ankle, and tugged your slipper clean off your foot. Before you could even register the cold grass under your toes, he had it clenched between his teeth and was bounding across the lawn like he’d just stolen treasure.
“Jake!” you hissed, half-giggle, half-growl. “That is not a toy!”
He barked once—sharp, gleeful—and darted in a wide circle, tail high, ears flapping as he pranced.
“Bring it back right now!” you demanded, jogging after him, essays and dignity both left behind in the cabin.
He did not bring it back. Instead, he stopped just far enough away to make you think you could grab it, then darted off again the moment you lunged.
You chased him once. Twice. By the third loop, you were laughing despite yourself, breath puffing in the chill morning. “I swear, you’re impossible! You owe me new slippers, new panties and new patience when you’re human again!”
And that was, of course, when a group of bleary-eyed seventh-years crossed the courtyard on their way to breakfast. They froze, watching as their normally composed Potions professor tore across the grass in pajamas and one bare foot, lunging at a golden retriever who carried her house shoe like a victory flag.
“…Is that—” one whispered.
“Professor’s dog,” another hissed.
“Why’s she—”
“Don’t question it.”
Jake slowed just enough to let you almost grab him again, then swerved, slipper flapping triumphantly from his jaws. His bark rang out, loud and happy, echoing across the courtyard. The students broke into muffled laughter.
You finally stopped, bent double with your hands on your knees, hair a mess, one slipper on, one foot freezing. “You win,” you panted. “You absolute menace. You win.”
Jake trotted back proudly, dropped the soggy slipper at your feet, and sat down with his chest puffed out like he’d just defeated Voldemort himself.
The students scattered toward the large doors before you could glare them into silence, their laughter echoing faintly behind them.
You groaned, jamming your damp slipper back on. “Congratulations,” you muttered, scratching his ears despite yourself. “Now the whole castle thinks I’ve lost my mind.”
Jake wagged, smug as ever, tail sweeping the grass in triumph.
The castle might have grown used to the sight of you with a golden retriever shadow at your side, but inside your cabin, the reality of living with Jake in dog form was something else entirely. You had thought, perhaps, that his transformation would make him easier to manage. Surely without hands, without that cheeky grin, without the ability to sneak kisses every two minutes, you’d finally get some peace.
You were wrong.
If anything, he had found new, canine ways to be just as clingy, just as distracting, and just as infuriatingly lovable as ever.
It started innocently enough. You’d set up your notes at the workbench, parchment spread in neat rows, inkpot full, quill sharpened. The cabin was quiet except for the steady pop of the fire and the occasional sigh of wind against the window. Perfect. A rare chance to make progress on your lesson plans.
And then a weight settled on your thigh.
“Jake,” you said without looking down.
A soft whine answered you, followed by the steady rhythm of a tail thumping against the floor.
You pinched the bridge of your nose, determined not to fall into the trap. “No. I’m working.”
The weight shifted, chin pressing harder into your leg. Another whine. Longer this time, pitiful.
“Absolutely not.” You dipped your quill, carefully ignoring the warmth seeping through the fabric of your robes where his muzzle rested.
When you didn’t cave, he upped the stakes. A paw landed squarely on your knee, claws clicking against the wood of your chair. You glanced down, finally, and nearly cursed yourself.
His eyes. Brown, soft, enormous in the lantern light, staring up at you with the tragic devotion of someone abandoned in the cold.
“Oh, don’t you dare,” you muttered.
He tilted his head, ears flopping slightly. The picture of heartbreak.
You lasted all of ten seconds. Groaning, you dropped the quill and pushed your notes aside. “Fine. Come here, you menace.”
That was all the invitation he needed. In one bound he was clambering onto your lap, far too big for it, sending your parchment sliding to the floor in a flutter.
“Jake!” you yelped as your chair rocked dangerously. “You’re not a lap dog!”
He didn’t care. He sprawled across you with the full weight of his body, tail wagging furiously, tongue lolling in triumph. He slathered a kiss against your chin, another against your cheek, while you sputtered and shoved half-heartedly at his shoulders.
“You’re impossible,” you laughed breathlessly, hands giving up and scratching behind his ears. His eyes fluttered closed in bliss, head heavy against your chest. “Absolutely impossible.”
He sighed deeply, content, as if to say This is where I belong.
Your lesson plans lay forgotten on the floor.
The next battle came at bedtime.
“Jake, move over,” you grumbled, shoving at the golden wall of fur that had claimed your pillow. “That’s my side.”
He flopped dramatically onto his back, paws in the air, head still squarely on the pillow. His tail thumped once, deliberately slow, like he was mocking you.
“You have your own blanket on the rug,” you reminded him, tugging at the covers. “Go lie down.”
He rolled onto his side with exaggerated effort, then turned his face toward you.
Doggy eyes. Full force.
“Oh, no. No, no, no. That’s not working on me.” You crossed your arms, glaring down at him.
He whined softly, paw stretching out until it landed gently against your arm. His ears drooped.
You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Merlin’s beard, you’re insufferable.”
When you peeked again, he hadn’t moved—still staring up at you with that same pitiful devotion, paw resting like a knight begging mercy.
“Fine!” you snapped, collapsing onto the mattress beside him. “But you’re not taking all the covers.”
By morning, of course, you were clinging to the very edge of the bed, shivering under a scrap of blanket. Jake lay sprawled across the center, snoring softly, head pillowed perfectly on your shoulder, his golden fur radiant in the early light.
You stared at him, exasperated and fond all at once. “I hate you.”
His tail wagged in his sleep.
Even during the day, he found ways to derail your composure.
You were pacing the cabin, muttering through your lecture notes, hands moving as you recited the finer points of counter-hexes. Jake sprawled lazily across the rug, chin on his paws. For a while, he seemed content to watch you work.
Then, without warning, he bounded up and shoved himself against your legs.
You staggered, clutching your notes. “Jake!”
He barked once, bright, then pressed harder, practically herding you toward the sofa. His tail wagged like a metronome, beating out a rhythm of relentless cheer.
“I just scratched your ears!” you protested, trying to shuffle sideways.
He nudged harder, warm weight against your thigh.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He whined, soft and wounded, tilting his head back to fix you with those eyes again.
You groaned, lowering your notes. “Fine. You win.”
The moment you crouched, he pounced, knocking you onto the cushions. His tongue was everywhere—your cheek, your jaw, your hand—sloppy kisses that had you laughing helplessly even as you shoved at his shoulders.
“Jake! That’s disgusting!”
He didn’t stop. His tail wagged like mad, the picture of triumph.
You gave in, burying your hands in his fur, laughing too hard to fight him off. “You’re disgusting,” you gasped. “But you’re mine.”
He sighed, settling heavily against you, as if to say Exactly.
Not every moment was chaos. Sometimes, when he was finally worn out from his antics, Jake would curl up at your feet, head resting on your slipper, eyes fluttering shut. Those were the moments you let yourself soften, stroking his fur gently, whispering words you’d never dare say aloud when he was human.
“You’re a menace,” you murmured into the quiet. “But I love you. Every version of you.”
His tail thumped once in his sleep, and you smiled, heart full despite yourself.
Jake was still Jake, no matter the shape. Clingy, needy, impossible to ignore. And you? You were still you. Pretending to resist. Pretending you didn’t melt every time.
But you always caved. You always had.
You knew you’d keep caving. Again and again.
Because if Jake Sim wanted your attention, you were powerless to deny him—paws, fur, slobbery kisses and all.
You stirred slowly, blinking against the pale spill of morning light seeping through the curtains. Your body registered warmth, weight, and the faint scent of cedarwood and parchment before your mind caught up.
And then it hit you.
The chest pressed against your side was not covered in fur. The hair tickling your chin was not golden fluff, but a familiar dark brown mess, soft and curling at the ends. The arm looped tightly around your waist had long, lean fingers instead of paws.
Jake.
Not Jake the dog. Not Jake the menace with four legs and a tail that knocked vials off shelves. But Jake — your Jake — curled around you like he’d been waiting years to hold you again.
You froze, drinking him in. The rise and fall of his chest, the faint stubble along his jaw, the little crease between his brows that always deepened when he dreamed. Your heart thudded unevenly, relief crashing through you so fast you felt dizzy.
After a week of paws and growls and slobbery kisses, you had him back. Whole. Warm. Human.
And yet… you surprised yourself with the soft tug in your chest. You almost missed the golden retriever who had sprawled across your lap, stolen your slippers, and stared you down with those ridiculous doggy eyes until you caved. Almost.
You lifted a hand and threaded your fingers through his hair, brushing the tangles gently away from his forehead. He sighed, nuzzling into your touch without waking, his lips brushing your collarbone with each breath.
“Menace,” you whispered, smiling despite yourself.
At last, his lashes fluttered. His eyes opened slowly, still hazy with sleep. He blinked once. Twice. His gaze traveled down his own arms, his hands, his chest. His breath caught.
Then his head snapped up, wide awake.
“Thank Merlin!”
The shout was so loud you nearly toppled out of bed. Before you could laugh, he surged up, pinning you back against the pillow and peppering kisses across every inch of your face.
“Jake—” You gasped, giggling as he kissed your cheeks, your forehead, the tip of your nose.
“I missed you,” he mumbled between kisses, frantic and messy. “I missed you so much. Do you know how hard it is not being able to say anything? Just wagging and barking like an idiot?” Kiss. “Do you know how much I wanted to kiss you properly?” Kiss, kiss. “I thought I’d go mad.”
Your laughter spilled out helplessly, hands trying to shove his face away. “You were mad! You chewed one of my favorite pairs of—”
He cut you off with a kiss to your lips.
This one wasn’t frantic. It was soft. Sweet. Slow. Like he’d finally remembered what it meant to take his time. You melted instantly, the last of your complaints dissolving as his thumb brushed tenderly against your jaw.
When you broke apart, he rested his forehead against yours, breathing hard. “Seven days,” he whispered. “Never again. I can’t— I don’t want to ever—”
You cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the faint flush there. “You’re back. That’s all that matters.”
He shut his eyes, sighing. “You’re all that matters.”
You smiled, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Though I’ll admit… a tiny part of me might miss the dog version of you.”
He groaned, dropping his face into your neck. “Don’t. Don’t even joke about that.”
You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “Relax. I like this version better.”
He kissed your shoulder, soft and reverent. “Good. Because I’m never letting go again.”
And judging by the way he held you tighter, you believed him.
Life in the castle slipped back into its rhythm quickly after that. Students gossiped, of course — stories about “Professor’s strange dog” became instant lore — but now Jake was back at the front of his classroom, wand flashing as he disarmed half a dozen cocky seventh-years in a row. You, meanwhile, had peace enough to catch up on grading, though Jake still insisted on hovering, sneaking into your classroom between periods just to tug you into the corner for quick kisses.
The corridors between classes always hummed with chatter, robes swishing and laughter echoing off the stone. You kept your stack of parchments balanced carefully in your arms as you cut across toward the Great Hall, already imagining a cup of tea and five minutes of peace.
“Heading to lunch?”
You glanced sideways. Jay had fallen into step with you, his hands folded behind his back like he’d just happened upon you by chance. His smile was easy, practiced.
“Yes,” you said simply.
He nodded, eyes flicking ahead, then back to you. “It’s a clear day. Brisk, but not too cold. Perfect for a walk, don’t you think?”
You shifted the papers in your arms. “Perhaps.” You stop walking to face him.
His lips quirked. “I was thinking of stretching my legs myself. Around the grounds. The view from the cliffs is… something, this time of year.” He paused, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “Maybe you’d like to—”
Warm hands slipped around your waist before he could finish, drawing you back against a chest you knew better than your own.
You startled, essays nearly slipping from your grasp.
Jake’s curls brushed your cheek as he leaned down, voice low and amused. “There you are.”
You turned your head just enough to see his grin — wide, a little smug — before he bent to kiss you. It wasn’t rushed or rough; it was deliberate, slow enough to make your breath catch, sweet enough to leave your knees weak.
When he drew back, his eyes flicked sideways, locking on Jay with a look that was polite on the surface, but sharp underneath. A quiet warning, clear as day.
Jay’s mouth pressed into a thin line. He cleared his throat. “Ah. Of course. You’ll want to… get to lunch.”
“Yes,” you said quickly, forcing your composure back into place.
He dipped his head, the faintest tightness in his smile, before stepping neatly aside and disappearing into the current of students.
The moment he was gone, you turned in Jake’s arms, shoving lightly at his chest. “Did you have to do that right here?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his grin boyish and unrepentant. “Absolutely.”
“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, though your face was burning too hot for the words to land.
“Ridiculous about you,” he corrected, leaning down to kiss your temple this time. Then he reached down, plucked the stack of parchments from your arms with ease, and laced his free hand with yours.
“Come on,” he said softly. “Lunch tastes better when you’re with me.”
You groaned but didn’t pull your hand away as he led you toward the Great Hall. His thumb brushed circles against your skin the whole way, as if to remind you — and anyone else who looked — that you were his and always had been. Dog or not.
Happy Fictober! Hope you enjoyed it! Like, Comment, and Reblog.
Hello my little lovebugs and happy fictober! I’m so excited for what we have in store, but particularly this story. This is cult leader Harry, and he’s insane and will continue to get more insane as the parts go on. This is a dark story, and I wanted to make sure you guys know that going into it, but it will have some fluffy moments. pleeeeaaase, I’d love some feedback on what you think of them!
Check out our Patreon for early access (part two is up now!) and 300+ Exclusive writings and series
WC- 2.5k
Warnings- literal cult leader, manipulation, gaslighting, abuse of power, Misogyny, outdated ‘traditional’ values, heavy brainwashing, mention of Heaven and God in pretty much every blasphemous way, Harry’s crazy and controlling and this is light for him
He was watching her.
It happened a lot these days. The Teacher, the leader, had been around more publicly, and everyone had taken notice. He hadn’t been locked in his office, taking the usual appointments, or working on the weekly newspaper delivered to the front porches of everyone in the compound, or even in his meditation chamber where he often disappeared for days at a time.
No, the man was taking more time to oversee.
Coincidentally, overseeing the unit Y/N worked.
She had always loved children. Their sweet innocence, their brash boldness, being able to teach them right from wrong and see how their little minds worked, all of that and more made her extremely happy. A natural nurturer, she’d been overjoyed with The Teacher approved her request when she had come of age and made it happen. It was a rarity, because he always put people where he thought was best- and it was best, because he knew how the world worked.
He got the messages directly from Heaven, and he knew the fate of them all.
At least, she thought so. Sometimes, in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep she wondered, especially in the last prediction he’d made about them being called back Home being changed, but she didn’t speak about it to anyone.
She couldn’t and she wouldn’t speak ill of their leader. The Teacher was a wonderful man with their best interests in mind.
“Miss Y/N, why is The Teacher here?” Little Zara mumbled around her thumb as Y/N fixed her hair back into the braids regulated for their age.
He was staring directly at them. Y/N’s heart fluttered and her stomach twisted with nerves as she gave the girl what she hoped was a soothing smile. “The Teacher looks after his people. He’s here to make sure we’re happy.”
That seemed to please him. A tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips, Y/N felt little bubble of warmth settle over her that she had gotten that sort of reaction from him. He was a kind man, but his attention in a positive way was all the more flattering.
“He is staring at you a lot. Sometimes Tommy stares at me.” Zara rambled. “My momma says it’s because I’m pretty. You’re really pretty, Miss Y/N. I hope The Teacher lets me and Tommy get married one day. That would be so nice.”
The insinuation that The Teacher would be staring at her because she was pretty was laughable- not necessarily because she didn’t think she was, but because their leader had said he wasn’t taking a wife- it was in his direct messages from Heaven. It wouldn’t make much sense at all for his true admiration to be anything other than happiness that she was doing her job and showing the children care.
“I’m sure he’s just overseeing my skills, Zara. Helping you all learn what is right is such an important job. One of the most important I could have! You are the next generation of The Unity, you know.” She tapped the little one’s nose lightly with the tip of her index finger.
Zara giggled and went back to sucking her thumb, satisfied with Y/N's answer. The Teacher, however, did not look away. His gaze remained fixed on Y/N, intense and unwavering in a way that made her want to squirm. It sent a shiver down her spine, a feeling she couldn't quite place- unease mixed with something else she didn't want to acknowledge.
The truth was, it was unusual. Their Teacher, the chosen one himself, didn’t usually pay much mind to women in the way he had been popping up lately. Having his attention was something many, many a woman have sought after but always ended with rejection and firm redirection. Y/N didn’t know why he was always around all of a sudden, but she knew better than to verbally question it out loud.
Standing at the tree line, he had his assistant next to him taking notes. She couldn’t hear what was being said but she could make out the low timber of his voice, speaking while she went around the circle of the children making flower crowns and fixing their braids. Her own went down her back, a few strands loose in her face as she tried to focus- but it was hard when she felt his eyes on her. His gaze was heavy, something that made her feel slightly
on edge- like he was dissecting her from his spot, standing in his pressed suit.
Smoothing her hands over her skirts, she stood up and clapped her hands three times, getting the children’s attention. “Alright, Little Learners. It’s time to go inside for snack. Single file, please.”
As Y/N led the children inside, she could feel his gaze following her every step. It was like a physical touch, a weight pressing against her back, making the hairs on her neck stand up. She tried to focus on the brood she was leading in, their chatter filling her ears as they filed into the building, but all she could truly think about was him- and why he was still there along the tree line.
As she reached the door, she paused, then slowly turned to face him. Her eyes met his briefly before she lowered them to be the most respectful, her long lashes casting shadows on her cheeks in the afternoon sun. She curtsied deeply, her skirts sweeping the floor. "Teacher." she murmured respectfully, her voice as soft and honeyed as she could make it before she righted herself and slipped inside the door.
Y/N had no idea what was happening, but she knew she couldn’t stop it.
———
The Unity had very strict rules, all given directly from Heaven through their Teacher. The most important ones were drilled in from as soon as one could remember.
Do not question the Teacher's word or actions.
Absolute loyalty and obedience to him and the Unity’s beliefs was expected and necessary.
- No sexual relations outside of marriage arranged by the Teacher.
Women and men alike were to be modest in dress and behavior at all times.
Public displays of affection when not in a Blessed relationship was absolutely forbidden.
Not as iron clad but unspoken and expected, women were expected to bear children as soon as they were married, with the Teacher himself deciding when a couple was ready for such a blessing. The education of children was solely under the control of the organization, teaching them only The Unity’s aligned beliefs. This was explained as a measure to avoid confusion for such little, precious minds of course.
Members were not allowed any form of media or outside influence- it was from Hell, a temptation based trick to poison to the mind and body. It made their minds sick, The Teacher had said, and as such, he chose what was allowed to be absorbed. He wasn’t susceptible to the Sickness the outside world could get, given his relationship with Heaven, so he screened it all.
It was simple. To be in The Unity you didn’t question, you didn’t challenge, and you didn’t leave, and The Teacher would provide your guaranteed and easy path to Heaven.
So one could imagine that Y/N's mind was a battlefield as she laid in her bed the night after the third day the Teacher had been overseeing the school. Way more thoughts about the organization and her leader had cropped up in the last few days than ever before, and she had tried to ask Heaven to grant her peace of mind but it seemed they hadn’t gotten to her request quite yet.
She had questions, doubts that crept in like shadows at night.
Why did Heaven change its mind sometimes? Why were they suddenly not being called Home this year, after The Teacher had told them? And most terrifyingly, what if her sinful questions could be overheard?
That scared her more than anything. What if they were making her unworthy of Heaven? She would burn in Hell forever if she wasn’t careful. She caught herself questioning almost every night before bed in the last month of his close proximity, praying for forgiveness for her wandering thoughts.
Was The Teacher aware of her thoughts? Was that why he was suddenly around, after perhaps knowing of a fleeting doubt she had after he had announced they would not be going to Heaven this year after all?
That had her nerves on overdrive every single time she caught a glimpse of him. Y/N's fear grew with each passing day, each time he was in her peripheral vision- which was a lot more often than she had ever thought.
Was it truly a coincidence? It seemed hard to believe. It felt intentional, like he was observing her, but for what reason? Y/N wasn’t doing anything unlawful, really. Her thoughts were hard to control but she did everything she could to, because she really didn’t want to be punished.
It seemed like the teachings she had gotten when they first joined The Unity were trying to take effect. She’d been in a room for countless hours watching videos The Teacher had made, along with his father, telling them about how they’d been saved- and what they’d been saved from.
The idea of what waited for her without Him was what kept her in line. Nightmares, visions of burning pits and gnarled horned demons dragging her down to Hell for her impure thoughts. During the day, she would shake off any question that dared to form in her mind, immediately replacing it with a prayer or a verse from The Book, and it seemed to work for a whole- but with The Teacher everywhere, it was hard not to be reminded of what was at stake.
Y/N did everything she could to be good. She worked diligently, over the hours she was asked to make sure the children had good education. She prayed many times a day, keeping her copy of The Book by her side at almost all times. It was memorized, inside and out, and she could recite it out loud if asked- but thankfully it had only happened once.
A few weeks back, when The Teacher had called her out at the weekly feast to ask what page 321, paragraph 4 said.
‘Honor your Leader, as he takes the burdens off of your shoulders. He is the link between you and Heaven, the barrier between you and Hell. He has your best interest at heart, and nothing is said without cause. Understand your Teacher holds you near and dear to his heart, and every rule is for The Greater Good.’
She remembered keeping her voice as steady as she could, and the pleased look on his face- though his eyes had been sharp, amused, like he was testing her for some reason. Y/N had assumed it was because he had likely heard about how often she studied The Book, as people did ask her on tips for memorization, but in that moment it had felt like more.
There was something else happening, but she tried not to question it.
It was for The Greater Good.
——————
"She's perfect.” He murmured as he watched Y/N help a little boy tie his shoe, her patient smile never faltering. "Recites The Book like an angel, no silly questions, no defiance, believes in our mission… She's the model member."
His assistant nodded in agreement. "Sir, she's almost too good. It's truly remarkable."
"Precisely." The Teacher mused, taking a sip of his water. "No dark thoughts, no voicing doubts. She's very dedicated." That was an understatement. Not many got to full memorization of The Book, and not many could handle their composure in the way she was. He’d been following her for a while, albeit more visually in the last few weeks, and yet there was no questioning as to why.
Y/N simply took his observation without another word and let him do as he pleased.
Which was exactly what he was looking for.
The woman was beautiful. There was no question about that. He’d noticed it the first real time she had shown Of Age, but he hadn’t truly noticed her until last year. Her dedication, her kindness, her hard work… her beautiful submission to The Unity, and in turn, Him.
He liked what he saw, and he liked it at a lot. More than what was ever anticipated.
His assistant cleared his throat softly, breaking The Teacher's train of thought. "Sir, if I may speak freely?" The Teacher nodded curtly, though his assistant knew that free didn’t really mean free. He’d tread lightly. "You keep staring at her openly… and while you’re free to do whatever you wish, people are beginning to talk." He paused. His assistant’s confusion as to why they’d stayed along the tree line the last few days days, along with trailing her other places hadn’t been lost on the leader, but there had been no real questioning of it all- which was exactly how he liked it. " I don’t know what your intentions are, but based off of your prior declarations, she might get the wrong idea."
The Teacher's jaw clenched slightly. The other man wasn't wrong. He was giving her a lot of attention. Too many looks, too many smiles when she wasn't looking- and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to stop it any time soon.
“I have been speaking with Heaven.” He said evenly. “About her. She is something special. Something they have only revealed to me now, because it was all based on Divine Timing.” There was a paused as he watched the door to the school shut, taking his view of her away. Irritation sparked over his spine but he soothed it when he continued. “I think the original prophecy of keeping me alone has been revised.”
He heard his assistant drop his pen, but he didn’t dare look away from him as he turned his attention towards the clipboard in hand. “S-Shall I schedule a meeting for you to meet with her?”
“Yes.” Running his thumb over his bottom lip, he slowly nodded his head as the wheels turned faster. “But keep this between us. I want this a secret until I reveal it.” His eyes turned dark as he met the other man’s eyes. “Do take measures to make sure no one else finds out before I have a chance to speak with her. Heaven will not be happy if this doesn’t go according to plan.”
bucky barnes | jason todd | clark kent | matt murdock
disclaimer: most of these are dark, horror, include blood, and are alooot freakier than what i usually post.
“wanna play a game?” — ghostface!bucky
formerly; road trip
— on a trip with your boyfriend bucky, and friends nat, steve and sam, you book an airbnb. by the end of the night, you’re all drunk and to your own devices, when weird things start happening and people start disappearing. when you recieve a phone call asking to play a game, you realize you're alone in the house. or are you? horror themes. blood.
“keep it on” — jason todd
— mask kink. jason is insatiable when he sees how much you like him with his mask on.
— angst. hatefucking. crying during sex. reader is kinda cruel. bucky is hopelessly in love.
“program requirements” — winter soldier
— sex pollen. gloomy. praise. on a mission with soldat, the tension building for years finally boils over.
“red kryptonite” — clark kent
— dacryphilia. worship & praise. clark comes crashing into your apartment with his eyes burning red with desire. you’re scared of this side of your sweet clark, but also turned on?
“hell’s kitchen” — matt murdock ;)
— angst. reader is kidnapped. identity reveal. dacryphilia. matt is freaky nasty.
“hurts so good” — bucky & vampire!reader
— blood letting. bucky is desperate for her. need i say more? ;)
join the taglist
a/n: other short fics may come up too (ahem, roy harper dick grayson bruce wayne steve rogers. requests are always greatly appreciated) but i’m also unsure if i’ll get all of these out because i am a full time student, though i have started these. i’ll definitely get out whatever ppl are more interested in though :p these are all subjected to change. imma be changing a lot of things around probably.
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.
Dark & monstrous, with a little filth thrown in for good measure
TW: Spooky stories, slight mention of blood, monsterfucking & smut.
A/N: Monsterfuckers, I guess this is for you?
Not totally proofread, so apologies for any typos!
Credit to @lindenhe for one of the header images!
From a young age, you were told horror stories about the monsters that lurked in the shadows. Vivid tales and rumours of an evil that preyed on innocence and moved like the wind. There were never any details, never any description of what form this corruption took, yet the fantastical tales had you hooked, your wild imagination running rampant with images of foul creatures and beasts devouring little children as they explored.
Your aunt lived on the edge of town, surrounded by giant oak trees, and a forest so deep that it swallowed the sun. But it was drilled into you from an early age that the woods concealed a deep, dark secret, an evil of epic proportions.
Many disappeared amongst those trees, many wandered in, never to be seen again. And of course, those who had encountered the evil within didn't return to tell their tale. They didn't return to tell what this depraved being looked like, how it walked through the world…so you had no idea what to look out for, or just how terrifying it would be.
Naturally, as a child you heeded such warnings, took your aunt's stern advice as gospel and infallible. But as an adult, as a woman with her own mind, your morbid curiosity and sense of adventure finally took over, sending your feet tumbling at a rather rapid rate past the forbidden treeline, all prior warnings going ignored. Your eyes were bright with mischief, sparkling with possibility as you ventured past that threshold, past the boundary line of your aunt’s property, into the forest beyond. This excitement was quickly tempered, quickly dampened by a sinking anxiety. One intended to warn you, your body's natural defence system against all the bad lurking in this world.
As you marched past the sun-spotted treeline, your steps certain despite not knowing what awaited you behind the thicket of trees, the atmosphere around you inexplicably changed. It was as if the forest was plunged into sudden darkness, as if night had fallen in the blink of an eye, each step dragging the moon further into the sky. Even though in the outside world the sun was only just beginning to set, you had stepped into a realm all of its own, where time seemed to move quicker, pulling the approaching night with it. Each tentative step brought the dark to the fore, an eerie green hue staining the light of dusk. As the sun dropped beyond the horizon, replaced by the light of the pale moon, the night choked out what little light was left.
Your eyes panned across the sprawling landscape before you, straining to see the path ahead in the diminishing light. Every miniscule movement startled you, every distant sound capturing your undivided attention.
Every crackle and crunch of decaying foliage, every snap of dry twigs and bowing of branches in the wind made your heart leap in your chest, a fear settling in the pit of your stomach. You hadn't realised just how nervous you'd be in such an isolated place, away from the safety of society. Especially with creatures of legend wandering through these trees, haunting the natural inhabitants of the land.
The further you pushed onwards, the more you unwittingly plunged yourself into danger. Unbeknownst to you, from the moment you entered, you had eyes trained on your every move. Surveying you as a predator would its prey. From a distance, under the cover of night. And like many predators in the natural world, this creature liked to play with its food.
There was nothing immediately remarkable about the forest itself, it was a patch of trees like any other, lined with sphagnum moss and teaming with life. As your eyes acclimatised to the dark, you could find your way through sprawling systems of ancient roots and plant life. You admired the resilience of such wildlife, they grew and thrived in unusually dark and stifling conditions, sprouting and flourishing where most plants would have perished. But this forest was home to more than plants. And as you strolled deeper into unknown territory, as you walked yourself right into this mysterious creature's path, you felt a sense of foreboding descend over you. There was a faint path worn into the ground, but no life had trod on it in a long time.
It was like a veil, a curtain of uncertainty and unease. An unusual feeling that didn't sit right in your gut, yet you pushed forward anyway. With each step, that sense of impending danger increased, your body seemingly noticing this danger before your mind caught up.
It wasn't until your ear prickled at distant whispers calling your name, that you truly realised how much peril you had so confidently strolled into. It wasn't just a whisper, it was a beckoning, a tantalising beacon in the night designed to peak your curiosity, designed solely to draw you further in. It was as smooth as the wind, yet made the hairs on your body stand to attention. It seemed far away and simultaneously right beside you.
Each hair on the back of your neck stood on end, your body truly on alert at this unnerving occurrence. Glowing lights flickered between the trees - moving in tandem, as if they were following you on your journey. You rationalised your fear, pushing the worst case scenario to the back of your mind. Perhaps they were fireflies, illuminating your way through the trees. Perhaps you simply imagined the voice calling your name, the imagination can run wild when fear abounds.
Still, each step echoed just a touch too loudly - the snap of twigs sounded into the night and the crunch of dead leaves underfoot rang through the disconcerting silence. Paranoia took root all too quickly, gripping its hooks firmly into your mind. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched, studied by some unknown entity. You couldn't describe it, but there was a presence all around, lingering in the air like the wind and yet simultaneously heavy, a tangible presence in the empty space around you. You felt it in the shadows, in the spaces between spaces, forcing you to constantly check over your shoulder as you plodded forward through the trees. Your lamp only illuminated a small path before you, the dim bulb casting a soft warm glow.
The dark felt oppressive, as if it was closing in around you, stopping you from delving too deeply into those damned woods.
It didn't take long before you felt him lurking from the dark. That thing the children told campfire stories about, the subject of nightmares and whispers. You felt its eyes upon you - a burning, intrusive stare, hot and direct and deeply unfamiliar, yet you were utterly alone.There was a tickle at the base of your spine, an invisible force tracing the valleys of your exposed flesh. Something lingered around you, though you could’ve never imagined what actually lay in wait.
There was something walking through these woods beside you, yet it hadn’t showed itself in corporeal form, it hadn’t yet revealed itself to your eyes. A devil dressed in skin, a predator hunting for its next meal.You'd long heard tales of the evil presence that haunted these woods, but now you truly felt it. Like moisture on a balmy day, it hung all around you, directionless and ever present. The scent of a man wafted through the air, cutting through the thick haze of pine and damp earth. Hints of smoke and sweat, faint traces of Irish whiskey. Peaty and earthen, yet tinged with the sharpness of alcohol. It filled your nostrils, though it seemed so far away. You’d smelled similar scents a thousand times before, yet now it seemed to follow you through the night air. You didn't understand how something could be all around, yet feel so claustrophobic. How it could pervade the air while being right beside you. Yet you felt him beside you, every sense was on edge with his presence.
And suddenly he was right there, the stocky frame of a rather handsome man filling the trailing path before you, and somehow appearing right behind you, blocking any hope of escape.
He flitted through the air in a blink, as if the air gave no friction, as if it parted before him, allowing him to move with inhuman speed through the dense night sky. His steps were floaty, yet flightless. He resembled no more than a man, yet already you could tell this was no mere person of flesh and bone. This was something altogether different.
And there he stood, those lights that followed you through the dark now stood in place of eyes - great glowing globes drenched in crimson, surveying their prey. The dim light of the moon highlighted sharp claws extended beyond the length of his fingertips, glinting dangerously, a threat in themselves. It traced a glowing line around his body, cutting his form from the blackened thatch of trees.
He appeared ready to strike, his muscles tensed, tightly wound under pale skin and coiled ready to pounce. Yet he stood still, taking stock of the intruder before him. You tried to not move a muscle, to evade his gaze by standing perfectly still, as if the dark would protect you, shroud your existence from the eyes of a killer, yet you felt your body trembling, every fibre, every cell vibrating in fear. You refused to even draw breath, refused to inhale deeply with its eyes trained on you, should it give him cause to strike. Your lungs screamed under the force, and eventually had to release that trapped breath.
He could hear every breath, every skip and beat of your feeble mortal heart. Every breath taken and held between fragile ribs. He could smell your fear, smell the pheromones hanging on your skin, clinging to the surface and calling to him in the night.. He expected you to run, to scuttle through the knotted root systems, your voice hollering through the void. But you simply stood, watching him, surveying the evil being standing before you. Even through the fog of fear, you stayed perfectly still, your bones petrified in place.
There was something about your brazen defiance, you’d strolled boldly into his domain, and now stood before him, an insolent human chasing devils in the dark, even as your body rebelled against the very sight of him and shook with fear. He'd seen many mortals venture into these woods, many humans walking into their demise. Most screamed, pleaded for their lives or reckoned with their god before facing their own mortality. Most died with indignity, lost in fear and bargaining with the devil with their last breath. But not you. You stood still, facing him, facing the evil you'd heard about as a child without so much as flinching. It wouldn't be enough to save your life alone, but it did earn a measure of respect.
Your defiance gave the beast pause, and for a moment he simply stood, mirroring your stance, drinking in the vision of beauty before him.
He’d seen beauty of all kinds spanning hundreds of years. He'd seen examples of some of the finest and some of the lowliest in equal measure, in the many years he'd walked this earth. No matter where he roamed, timeless beauty remained the one constant. It was rare, but before him stood one of the finest examples he'd seen in many years.
Even with your face cloaked in fear, panic and dread settling in every crease, and terror furrowing your brow, your timeless elegance radiated from within. He let his crimson eyes soak up your charming form, before he inevitably marred that pretty face with blood.
Time seemed to stand still. You didn't know how long you'd been cemented to that spot, frozen in place by blind panic and dread. Yet he made no move, made no advance towards you.
He simply stared, his crimson eyes scanning the length and breadth of your body, shamelessly tracing each curve, each dip, each swell of flesh and muscle under your clothing.
Though the darkness shrouded your form, he stared and stared, as if light itself was no obstacle. As if the night ceded to his glare. You didn't quite know what to do, if you objected to his obvious leering, would you fall victim to this stranger in the dark? Would it be the last time you protested to shameless ogling, or would it give him pause..It seemed like forever in the silence, you thought perhaps your words would rouse him from his trance, though you weren't anticipating a positive end either way. Perhaps it was worth a try, rather than laying in wait, a willing victim. Mustering up every drop of courage you possessed, you forced your lungs to expand, to push sound from your lips.
“W..what do you want from me?”
He smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. It was an empty expression, devoid of any true emotion. The edges of his lips curled upwards, painting a menacing. mask across his face. He never answered your question directly, somehow increasing the panic in your chest.
And though unsettled, and deathly afraid of what might come next, you couldn’t help but notice how handsome this creature truly was, even as he glowered in your direction.
Your eyes quickly scanned his face, picking out his plump lips and high carved cheekbones with smooth skin stretched across them. Features you’d envy in any other man. His eyes, though glinting with danger and glimmering with flecks of gold, drew you in. You’d never seen such eyes in nature, crimson and full, with swirling patterns throughout. Even from your position a few metres away, they shone clearly, as if producing their own light. Perhaps that was how he trapped his prey. Perhaps you’d fallen right into his trap.
The world around you fell silent, as if nature itself bowed to this wickedness, allowing space for his words to fall into the void. An unnatural stillness descended upon the forest floor, lulling even the most miniscule of creatures into pure submission. This unholy demon quieted nature itself, and stilled the air in your lungs in the same breath. Before even uttering a word, this creature had shown the understated power he possessed, the true potential of his unearthly capabilities.
“It ain’t polite to stare, didn’t yer mama teach you nothin?’” His voice boomed in a place with no sound, dripping with contempt, but also tinged with something cheekier, something akin to teasing, though his eyes sparkled dangerously. You were hesitant to answer, hesitant to move at all, should he take it as a challenge..
“There’s no use runnin’ little dove, you’ll only wear yourself out. Though I do like a chase…”
It was as if he could hear the thoughts echoing between your ears. You hadn’t verbalised your desire to run, but somehow he knew. Maybe it was the fear in your eyes, maybe your skin smelled like fear and the desire to escape.
The creature moved closer, so close that he could hear your heart hammering behind your ribs. He circled your trembling form, as you tried to still your fear ridden bones. He knew you wouldn’t move a muscle, should it provoke him.
Perhaps you’d heard the fairytales, the rumours and fabrications interwoven with the truth. It was true, he was a monster. It was true, he took what he wanted from the wanderers who entered these woods. But he was not an indiscriminate animal, who’d attack anything that crossed his path. And this human was simply too good to feed on, but simply too pretty to let go. No, he’d have an altogether more intimate experience with this one…
He wanted to hear pretty little sounds fall from your lips, he wanted to be the cause of your pleasure, and spur you towards a mind altering release. Oh, to be the cause of your delight, that would satisfy him for decades. He wanted those delicious moans to stain the silence, to imprint themselves in his mind - they’d feed the part of him that yearned for something other than blood.
But to achieve that he needed to replace fear with pleasure, anticipation with pure unadulterated ecstasy.
He could smell the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the very source of your fear keeping your body standing upright, rather than fainting into the mud.
“Already buzzin’ for me..and I haven’t even touched ya yet…Don’cha worry pet, I can be gentle when I wanna be….yeah, I can be real gentle.” he hummed against the soft skin of your cheek, while you shivered under his startling attentions. He moved around you as swiftly as the breeze, his body riding on the wind, leaving no trace in the soil underfoot. This being moved weightlessly through the air, with one clear objective in mind. It was undeniably clear now what he wanted, it wasn’t to kill, or to feed…no, this thing, this unholy creation wanted to devour you, To consume you in every way possible. It both disgusted and excited you in equal measure. The thought of being worshiped by a being that could so easily kill you, to have it tucked between your legs or nestled inside your body, was truly titillating. Yet you couldn’t yet give yourself over to it, you couldn’t yet succumb to such a force.
First, you needed to know its name.
To know the name of a demon gave you dominion over it, a certain power in a situation where you felt utterly helpless. This was the one anchor you could have to the world in a very quickly spiraling reality. With a deep breath, you pushed your plan forward. “That’s all well and good, but a gentleman would tell me his name first..”
Perhaps charming the demon would coax its name from its lips, perhaps he was more foolhardy than he seemed.
“Tut, tut, tut….whoever said I’m a gentleman darlin’....there’s no word for what I am…” he said, his strange southern drawl almost dripping with every word.
The creature was almost mocking you now, each syllable painted with derision, as if the very notion that you’d have the upperhand was laughable.
He didn’t waste any time in taking what he wanted, in closing the physical gap between you. In one smooth motion, the creature encircled you, one hand holding you close, the other running its fingers up and down the length of your side. His thick digits traced a torturous path across your clothes, not quite breaching the barrier between you, yet, though you felt as if he was carving a trench through you. You felt the intensity of his stare even as you looked into the distance, it was heavy and determined. Your body didn’t quite know how to react. The air was warm, yet you were plagued by chills, goosebumps lining the surface of your skin. His touch felt like fire against your flesh, as if he was searing his brand into you with every caress, even though the protection of your cotton shirt.
The dim light of the moon glinted off of the sweat clinging to your skin. Beads gathered along the ridge of your collarbone, the dip of your hips. Whether from nerves or the anticipation of what was to come, your body expelled moisture which stuck to the surface of your skin, clinging to it as this monstrous creature now did.
“My mama would always say that it’s stupid to get in between a woman who knows what she wants….do you know what you want, pet?” he whispered, though no breath fanned your ear, no air brushed against your flushed skin. Though that wasn’t the thing drawing your attention, no, the thing pulling your focus was the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against your thigh. So even monsters had needs, you thought. And as soon as that thought flashed in your conscious mind, so too did other, more veracious sentiments. You wondered what a creature such as this looked like, beneath the layers of fabric that masked its unholy nature. What would the body of something so profane truly resemble? Would it mirror that of a man, carved of flesh and bone, with appendages that worked just the same….or would it be truly gruesome? Somehow you knew you’d find out this night. You’d not leave this place unscathed, without this beast's body pressed against yours in a rather unceremonious joining of flesh. Though compared to the alternative, compared to the fate that befell so many others, that would be the preferable outcome. There was no escape from a beast as swift as the wind, so you would have to confront your fate head on.
Your body shook with an unholy mixture of fear and anticipation, trembles of trepidation and undiluted excitement, as the very antithesis of godliness surrounded you, his hardened and chilled flesh pressed against your own. He didn’t take what he wanted with any haste, in fact it was the opposite. This being of legend circled you, made sure you felt each and every inch of his immortal vessel, each chiseled muscle, badly hidden beneath ill fitting clothing. Before enticing you into a sacrilegious matrimony of flesh, this devil without a name did everything it could to arouse, to excite, to utterly destroy any apprehension left within your weak human frame.
You weren't a prude by any stretch of the imagination, you'd had boyfriends before, as well as the odd regrettable one night stands. Yet you couldn't help the giddy excitement that set in at the thought of being intimate with something so evidently inhuman, something of myth and the subject of all your campfire stories as a child. It felt surreal, but altogether riveting and somewhat taboo. Would you be the first human to behold the beast in all its glory? Would you be the first human to survive such an encounter? You'd hoped he'd just let you go, but truthfully you had no idea what this things intentions were with you, other than to extract his pleasure from your flesh.
In truth, you never thought you'd make it this long. The moment you laid eyes upon the creature haunting those woods, you were sure you'd be torn to shreds, like the other poor misfortunes who'd crossed its path. But this devil in human flesh seemed to take a particular liking to you, he seemed inexplicably drawn to you, and thus far, had seen fit to keep you in the realm of the living. You truly never expected his affections to stretch to physical intimacy. The prospect hung heavy in the air, thrilling and new.
As he encased you with his body, toying with your fragile human emotions, you couldn't help but have a rather unexpected physical response. Every brush of his hands brought a shiver to your skin, the closer he got, the more he stoked the fire within. God help you, he roused something long buried, a desire you’d long forgotten. The dark hid the depth of your depravity, masked the automatic movement of your hand to the bulge, your fingertips deftly exploring the wanton arousal that pressed against your thigh. He was hard already, though you never expected the size. You could only allow your mind to conjure a picture of what lay beneath those filthy cotton trousers. You could only imagine what his bulge looked like in the flesh.
In this state, there was no mistaking him as a man. Not with his eyes, the color of dried blood, consuming you as you stood stock still, trapped under his heavy gaze.
No, in this form, he was very much every inch a monster, though somehow you didn’t stray from his affections. There was still so much you hadn’t seen, still so much to be revealed that would shock you to your core.
You didn’t even notice the fabric fall from his shoulders, exposing his body, which took the form of a human man, but appeared as if it was carved from marble - hard, cold, the surface undisturbed by the pulse of blood through veins. It was both familiar and eerily alien to behold.
Your eyes traced a path down the rippling muscle standing proudly by your side, landing on a rather shocking sight, hanging between two thick, sculpted thighs. His member hung thick and flushed, dangling heavily between two strong legs, awaiting its sheath.
You could already tell that this would hurt, but somehow you looked forward to the pain. You looked forward to accommodating him within your entirely mortal flesh, your body wrapped around this perfect specimen like it was designed specifically for him. You knew it wouldn’t last, that delicious stretch would only linger for a moment, before devolving into a deep burning pleasure. One look at that thing swinging between his legs, and you were certain it’d ruin you for any other man. Any remaining fear transformed itself, changed form entirely into pure unadulterated want, rumbling deep within. It sat below your gut, taking root as the beast approached. He still hadn’t told you his name, still hadn't given you the thing you needed to hold sway over him.
He didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to make a sound.
One look and you had thrown yourself into the mud below your feet, finding a home amongst the decaying foliage and soft moss that lined the forest floor.
Those carmine eyes seemed to hold sway over your feeble mortal body, you seemed to fall victim to his influence, despite the strongest of wills.
“Spread em wide for me darlin’, let me in…just like that…” he gasped, overwhelmed by the softness of your flesh, the undeniable warmth emanating from the plush lips between your plump thighs.
You obeyed without hesitation, never once considering fleeing, not when every inch of your body trembled for him.
He didn't even bother to undress you, instead opting to simply push the folds of fabric around him, your skirt rucking over your knees, your intimates callously torn to one side. He was impatient, a flaw in his thus far measured countenance.
Though impatient to feel your needy flesh wrapped around him, he couldn't help but spread your swollen lips with his claws, the sharp tips causing your body to flinch with each motion. He teased, running those pointed claws along your slick folds, making sure the path was ready for the ravaging. You never expected such a beast to behave in such a way - taking pleasure simply from your body's reactions to his intrusion. When he'd thoroughly riled you up, he removed those clawed hands and drew them to his lips. He licked your essence from the digits, his eyes never leaving yours.
He lined himself up, dragging the head of his flushed cock against your soaked entrance, letting it slip through your folds, lubricating his way forward with your own juices. It was filthy, yet seemed the most natural thing in the world. He cupped your jaw, his large palm encasing most of your face within it. He felt soft, almost too soft for a man. You expected hard, calloused skin, but instead he stroked you with feather light touches, with gentility and surprising reserve.
“Gonna go slow love, gonna enjoy this...” he smirked. Without much preparation, he pushed in, sheathed himself within you in one smooth motion. He sank into your waiting body with an unrelenting hunger, something draining you dry would simply never achieve. Your mind went blank, the searing heat of his cock stretching you filling every spare space in your mind.. It burned, and delighted all at once.
You felt his mouth press hot against your throat, the slick coating of saliva form against your delicate skin. But you couldn't react much. All you could do was lose yourself in his eyes; red and burning in the half light. You couldn’t even form words, couldn’t protest against the pain. All you could do was draw breath, gasp for air that just wouldn’t come quick enough. All you could taste was the moment, your nostrils filled with a mixture of his scent and the damp earth underneath your head.
Sharp claws extended from the tips of his fingers, moving across the surface of your skin and tracing faint patterns across your chest. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to draw blood, to mark you.
A few droplets of blood beaded from the broken skin, but didn’t remain there for long. They were swiftly lapped up by a pointed tongue.
Every inch of your body was drawn to his like a tide to the moon, your hips matching his devastating pace, your hands finding their way into the messy thatch of hair at the nape of his neck.
“Feel me in there, do ya?” he teased, never once relenting in his faultless assault on your aching body. “That ache in your belly? That's me settlin’ in love, no gettin’ rid of me now…not when I've tasted such sweetness, not when such a pretty cunt takes me so well”
Even through his insatiable teasing, panted and groaned against the shell of your ear, his hips never faltered in their relentless rhythm. The beast rutted into you as if he was chasing something. You were sure to feel that familiar soreness for days. His weight pressed your hips into the soft soil, clumps of mud gathering under your nails as you clawed at it for something to ground you, something to anchor you to the real world. He rutted into you like an animal, a truly possessed being. Like he was searching for an answer, and only your body could provide it.
He claimed your flesh, faint red marks littering the surface of your skin from his merciless clawing, as if he was branding you, leaving his mark for all to see and ruin you for any future lover. Even still, the beast hadn’t told you his name - you knew not who defiled you, only the stories of his craven past. Even still, you gave yourself to him willingly.
“You’ll know my name before I go…in fact I’d bet I’ll have you crying it out…”
It was a growl; a low, guttural promise. You knew this monster would claim you in every way a person could be claimed, body, soul, flesh and blood. Perhaps it was like a man, and it’d plant its seed inside you, to spawn a new kind of monster. To bring its evil into the world anew. Or perhaps it’d simply leak onto your thigh, unwilling to stick to its destination, leaving you spent and empty, longing desperately for more.
You knew for certain the beast was close, and like a man he would soon expel himself inside you, leaving that delicious sting behind, along with an unsatisfying desire for fullness. You remembered how it felt with old boyfriends, you’d never want them to pull out after, though they always shrivelled up and slinked out like a slug. You’d hold this creature close, and feel him do the same. But you never expected it to drive you towards your own peak simultaneously. As soon as the thought entered your mind, you felt the familiar sting of a sharp claw toying with your engorged bundle of nerves. It knew how to make you scream, how to make your toes curl into the dirt beneath your feet, how to make you lose yourself in the moment - away from your disappointing thoughts.
The trees echoes with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the unholy moans that inevitably fell from your lips only spurring the beast on further towards its goal. He barely made a sound, save for the occasional groan and a satisfied grin thrown in your direction. But he didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to communicate verbally. His cock drove so deeply into your body, it was as if he was speaking through it. As if he was claiming you with his cold flesh. With each unruly thrust, each devastating blow to the sensitive muscle of your cervix, each probing prod further into your body, you felt him, you heard him. It was the strangest sensation, but he had taken you, completely. But it was only when you felt the hot ropes of spend paint your insides that you truly knew what possession felt like. You knew then that this beast had carved its name inside you, far from prying eyes, in the one place you could not read it, but you knew it was there.
You knew, as soon as he pulled his spent cock from your body, and disappeared into the wind, that the stories your aunt told you as a child were all true. Evil roamed these trees wearing the skin of a man, but it was something far, far darker. For not even a man would leave you cold and disappointed in the dirt, not even a man would leave without telling you his name.
