You’re just a gameboy

—

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not staying there.”

You cross your arms tight across your chest, staring at your parents like they’ve lost their goddamn minds.

The three of you are standing in the middle of your tiny apartment kitchen, the one with the leaky faucet and the rent that’s two weeks late again. Your mom’s holding a thick yellow envelope with your grandparents’ names on it. Your dad just looks tired.

“Sweetheart, it’s not like we’re asking you to move to Antarctica,” your mom says, trying to sound reasonable. “The manor’s been in the family for generations. Your grandparents left it specifically to you.”

“Yeah, because they were creepy as hell,” you mutter under your breath.

Big mistake.

Your mom’s eyes go wide. “How dare you.”

Your dad sighs like he’s aged ten years in the last thirty seconds. “Watch your mouth. They raised me in that house. Show some respect.”

“Respect?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Grandpa used to talk to the walls at night. Grandma collected dead butterflies and told me they were ‘watching me sleep.’ I had nightmares for weeks every time we visited. That place is straight out of a horror movie.”

Your mom slams the envelope on the counter. “They’re dead, Y/n. Gone. And they left everything to you. The house, the land, all of it. Do you know how lucky you are?”

“Lucky?” Your voice cracks as you gesture wildly around your sad little apartment. “I’m broke, Mom. I know that. You don’t have to rub it in my face every five minutes. But I’d rather sleep in my car than live in that creepy ass mansion in the middle of nowhere.”

Your dad pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’re not helping you with rent anymore. We told you that. You’re twenty-three. It’s time to figure it out.”

“So your solution is to ship me off to a haunted house? Real supportive parenting, guys.”

“It’s not haunted,” your mom snaps. “It’s just old. It needs some cleaning, some love. You’ll be fine.”

You stare at them, heart pounding. Part of you wants to scream. Part of you wants to cry. But the worst part? They’re right.

You are broke.

Your job barely covers food, let alone rent, and your savings account is laughing at you. Moving back in with them isn’t an option — they made that crystal clear last month.

So here you are. Cornered.

“I hate you both right now,” you say quietly, voice shaking.

Your mom softens just a little, reaching out to touch your arm. You pull away. “You’ll thank us later. The manor’s paid off. No mortgage. You can finally breathe.”

“Yeah. Breathe in eighty years of dust and dead people vibes,” you mutter.

Your dad hands you the keys. They’re heavy and cold in your palm, old-fashioned iron ones that look like they belong in a museum. “The movers already took your stuff this morning. You just need to drive up there.”

“Today?” Your eyes widen. “You’re kicking me out today?”

“We’re not kicking you out,” your mom says, but she won’t meet your eyes. “We’re giving you an opportunity.”

You snatch the envelope and keys, shoving them into your backpack with more force than necessary. “Whatever. I hope the place is actually haunted and the ghosts eat me. At least then you’ll feel bad.”

Your mom looks genuinely hurt..

The drive is long and quiet. Hours of winding roads that get narrower and narrower until the trees start crowding in like they’re trying to swallow your car.

By the time you pull up the long gravel driveway, the sun is already setting, painting the sky in bruised purples and oranges.

The manor looms.

It’s bigger than you remembered. Three stories of dark wood and stone, ivy crawling up the walls like veins.

Some of the windows are cracked. The front porch sags a little. The air feels… heavier here.

You kill the engine and just sit there, gripping the steering wheel.

“This is insane,” you whisper to yourself. “Completely insane.”

You force yourself out of the car anyway. The gravel crunches under your shoes as you drag your suitcase toward the front door. The key sticks at first, like the house itself doesn’t want you inside. When it finally turns, the door creaks open with a sound straight out of every horror movie ever made.

Inside it smells like old wood, dust, and something faintly sweet. Like flowers that died years ago.

You flick on the lights. A few bulbs buzz and flicker before staying on. The foyer is massive, with a chandelier hanging way too low and a grand staircase that curves up into darkness.

“Home sweet home,” you mutter, kicking the door shut behind you.

The sound echoes.

You spend the next hour dragging your stuff inside and wandering room to room, flipping on every light you can find. The kitchen is ancient but huge. The living room has furniture covered in white sheets like ghosts. Upstairs there are way too many bedrooms, all of them cold and untouched.

By the time you collapse onto the dusty master bed (the one your grandparents used to sleep in), you’re exhausted. Mentally. Physically.

And spiritually.

You stare at the ceiling, the old wooden beams staring back.

“Ugh, I hate this,” you say out loud, just to hear a voice in the silence. “If any ghosts are listening… do me a favor and stay away.”

A floorboard creaks somewhere down the hall.

You freeze.

Probably just the house settling. Old houses do that.

Right?

You finally drifted off somewhere, too drained to even change out of your clothes.

Slow, heavy footsteps dragged across the dusty wooden floor, getting closer to the master bedroom. The door that you swore you closed was already halfway open.

Sophia stood in the doorway.

Tall and imposing, her skin carried a deep red undertone with small dark horns curling from her forehead. Her eyes glowed faintly, one completely black, the other a burning ember.

A long, thin tail swayed lazily behind her, the tip occasionally tapping against the floor. She wore an old, tattered black dress that clung to her frame, the fabric looking singed at the edges.

She stopped at the edge of the bed and just… stared at you for a long time. Head tilted. Breathing slow and low.

She leaned down, close enough that her warm breath brushed your neck. Her nose hovered near your collarbone, then your hair, taking you in carefully. Curious.

Her fingers — warmer than they should be — hovered over your arm but didn’t quite touch.

After a minute she straightened up again, satisfied, and turned to leave the room.

She didn’t get far.

Right outside the bedroom door stood a tall figure completely covered in a white sheet, two big black holes cut out for eyes.

Sophia startled, one hand jerking up. “Yoonchae… you scared me.”

The sheet ghost tilted her head, then two small hands reached up and lifted the bottom of the blanket just enough to reveal Yoonchae’s face — soft curious eyes, and messy dark hair sticking out everywhere.

“Sorry…” Yoonchae whispered, voice quiet and a little shy. “Who was that…?”

Sophia’s expression softened immediately, the faint glow in her eyes dimming. “Our new guest. She’s sleeping.“

Yoonchae peeked around Sophia’s side, trying to get another look into the bedroom without getting too close. Her eyes were wide with quiet wonder. “She looks tired.”

Sophia nodded slowly, glancing back toward you.

Yoonchae pulled the sheet a little higher around herself, almost hiding again. “Do you think she’ll be nice…?”

“I hope so,” Sophia murmured gently. She reached out and lightly adjusted the sheet on Yoonchae’s head, making sure it stayed in place. “We’ll watch over her for now. Let her rest. And don’t bother her yet. Lara will probably want to call dibs on the first prank anyway.”

Yoonchae gave a small nod, still looking toward the bed with quiet interest. She stayed half-hidden behind Sophia, the edge of the white sheet dragging softly along the floor as they both stood there for a little longer, watching you sleep.

You stirred slightly in the bed, mumbling something about the stupid manor before turning over and pulling the blanket higher.

The two of them stayed quiet, not wanting to wake you.

A few hours later, you jolted awake at exactly 3:07 AM, heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out.

The nightmare was already fading — something about shadows crawling up the walls and cold hands grabbing your ankles — but the fear stayed stuck in your chest.

“Fuck this place,” you muttered, rubbing your face. Your voice sounded too loud in the dead silence.

You grabbed your phone from your pocket, the screen lighting up and hurting your eyes. The battery was still decent.

You opened the browser, typed in the usual site with shaky fingers, and scrolled until you found something that looked decent. A girl getting railed hard, loud moans filling your headphones as you shoved one earbud in.

Your hand slipped under the waistband of your shorts. You were already half-hard from the dream adrenaline and the video. Fingers wrapped around your cock, stroking slowly at first, breath getting heavier as you tried to lose yourself in it.

Thud.

Something heavy fell somewhere down the hall.

You froze, hand still down your pants. The moan in your ear suddenly felt stupid. You yanked the earbud out and sat up, listening.

Nothing.

“Probably just the house settling,” you whispered. But your pulse was racing again. You waited another minute, then shook your head. “Wait… I’m not a pussy. This is my house now.”

You pulled your hand out, fixed your shorts, and stood up. Shirt rumpled, barefoot, you crept out of the bedroom and headed downstairs, phone flashlight on.

Every creak of the stairs made you wince. The living room looked the same — sheets over furniture, dust floating in the beam of light. You swept the flashlight around.

Nothing moved. No broken shit on the floor.

“See? Nothing,” you said, trying to sound brave. “Just old wood doing old wood things.”

Then you felt it.

A presence right behind you.

Before you could turn, a loud crash exploded to your left — a glass vase or ornament smashing against the wall, shards scattering across the floor.

You whipped around. “What the actual fuck?!”

No one there.

Panic hit hard. You bolted, feet pounding on the dusty floor. Your foot caught on the edge of a rug and you went down hard, slamming into the ground with a grunt. Pain shot through your elbow and knee.

When you pushed yourself up, groaning, there she was.

Floating a few feet away was a girl in a long black nightgown, dark skin almost. Her dark hair floated slightly like she was underwater. Big, playful eyes looked down at you with fake sympathy.

“Aw, poor you…” Lara said softly, tilting her head. Her voice was light and teasing, like she was holding back a giggle.

Your brain short-circuited. You stared at her, mouth open, trying to process the floating girl in your grandparents’ manor at 3 AM. Then everything went black.

You passed out cold on the floor.

Lara drifted closer, lowering herself until her bare feet hovered just above the ground. She crouched down beside you, curious.

Your shirt had ridden up during the fall, exposing a strip of toned stomach and the waistband of your shorts. She blinked slowly, taking in the way your body looked — surprisingly fit under the baggy clothes you’d worn for the move.

Her fingers hovered over your stomach, not quite touching, feeling the warmth radiating off your skin. A small, interested smile tugged at her lips.

For a second you thought the whole thing was still part of the nightmare — until you tried to sit up and a sharp pain shot through your elbow.

Yeah. Real.

Your heart was still racing like crazy. The flashlight from your phone had rolled a few feet away, casting weird long shadows across the room.

You blinked hard, trying to shake off the dizziness, and that’s when you saw her again.

She wasn’t floating anymore.

Lara had shifted. The ghostly glow was gone. Now she looked… Human. And stupidly, unfairly gorgeous.

Her dark hair fell in loose waves down her back, a few strands framing her face. Warm brown skin that looked smooth under the moonlight, full lips, and big expressive eyes that watched you with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

She wore a simple black slip dress that hugged her body in a way that made it hard to look away — even though every instinct in you was screaming to run.

You scrambled backward on the floor until your back hit the wall, breathing fast. “What the fuck… who are you? What are you?”

Lara tilted her head, that playful little smile still on her lips. She stayed crouched for a moment longer before slowly standing up, moving with this light, graceful energy that didn’t quite match the heavy old house around her.

“You fell pretty hard,” she said softly, voice gentle but clearly entertained. “I didn’t mean for you to knock yourself out like that.”

Your brain was struggling to keep up. She looked real. She sounded real. But people didn’t just float. And normal girls didn’t appear in abandoned manors at 3 AM wearing nothing but a thin black dress.

You pushed yourself up a little more, wincing. Your shirt was still halfway ridden up from the fall, exposing your stomach, and your shorts… fuck.

You were still half-hard from earlier, the adrenaline and leftover arousal mixing together in the worst possible way. The bulge in your shorts was obvious if anyone was actually looking.

And she was looking.

Lara’s eyes flicked down for a second, lingering. Her eyebrows raised just a tiny bit, a spark of interest flashing across her face before she met your eyes again. She didn’t say anything about it, but the small smirk that tugged at her lips told you she definitely noticed.

You didn’t even register it yourself — too busy being terrified, blood pounding in your ears. All you could think was ghost, demon, monster, run.

“I—I’m losing my mind,” you muttered, pressing a hand to your forehead. “This isn’t happening. You’re not real. I’m going back to sleep and when I wake up—”

“You’re not crazy,” Lara cut in, stepping a little closer. She moved carefully, like she was approaching a scared animal. “And I’m very real. Well… real enough now.”

She glanced down at her own hands, turning them over like she was still getting used to the solid form. “It’s been a long time since we had someone living here who could actually see us. And touch us.”

Us.

The word made your stomach drop.

You tried to stand but your legs felt shaky. Lara watched you the whole time, that gorgeous face calm but clearly amused by how freaked out you were. Up close she was even prettier — sharp jawline, long lashes, the way her hair contrasted against the black dress.

She looked like she could’ve stepped out of a magazine if it wasn’t for the faint, unnatural shimmer around her edges when she moved.

“You threw that glass,” you said accusingly, voice hoarse. “I heard it. I saw it.”

Lara shrugged lightly, biting back a grin. “I got excited. Sorry. I’ve been waiting for someone fun to show up.” Her eyes drifted down again for half a second, taking in the way your body looked — the exposed skin, the obvious shape in your shorts — before flicking back up. “You’re… warmer than I expected. And stronger looking under all those baggy clothes.”

You tugged your shirt down quickly, face burning. “Stay back. I don’t know what you are but—”

Before you could finish, another set of footsteps echoed from upstairs.

Lara glanced toward the staircase and sighed, almost like she was annoyed at the interruption. “Sophia’s coming. She’s gonna be mad I scared you first. I think.” She looked back at you, eyes sparkling. “Don’t pass out again, okay? We’ve been lonely.”

You pressed harder against the wall, heart hammering, trying to process the fact that this beautiful girl in front of you had just thrown a vase with her mind and was now casually talking about “we” like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Lara’s smile softened a little, like she was trying to be friendly. “Y’know what? Let’s just chat. I promise I won’t throw anything else. You look like you have questions and—”

Nope.

You didn’t wait for the rest of the sentence. Pure panic took over. You bolted, feet slipping on the dusty floor as you sprinted toward the nearest hallway.

“Hey!” Lara called after you, voice losing its playful tone. “Don’t run!”

You didn’t listen. Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst. You rounded the corner, breathing ragged, and spotted the first door you could find. You shoved it open, practically falling inside what looked like an old study or library — tall shelves, covered furniture, one big window letting in moonlight.

You slammed the door shut and dragged a heavy wooden chair over, jamming it under the handle with shaking hands. Your back pressed against the door as you tried to catch your breath.

“Okay… okay, calm down,” you whispered to yourself. “This isn’t real. None of this is—”

A soft shimmer appeared right in front of you.

Lara stepped straight through the wall like it was nothing, that white slip dress flowing around her body. Her expression had changed — no more cute playful smile. Now she looked irritated, brows furrowed, full lips pressed into a thin line.

You stumbled backward. “What the hell—?!”

Before you could get another word out, Lara moved fast. She grabbed both of your wrists and slammed them against the wall above your head with surprising strength. The impact made you gasp. She had you pinned — her body pressing close enough that you could feel the cool-but-not-cold energy radiating off her.

“Stop. Running.” Her voice was low, annoyed, a little breathy. Those big dark eyes stared right into yours, inches away. “I’ve been stuck in this house for decades and the first living person who shows up decides to sprint away like I’m going to eat them? Rude.”

You were breathing hard, chest rising and falling fast. Your wrists ached a little where her hands held them firmly against the wall. She was taller than you expected in this form, and way stronger.

Her warm brown skin looked flawless up close, long dark hair falling over one shoulder. She really was stupidly gorgeous — the kind of pretty that made your brain short-circuit even while you were terrified.

Lara’s gaze dropped again, lingering lower. Your shorts were still tented, the outline of your half-hard cock even more obvious now that you were pinned and breathing heavily. She licked her lips slowly, deliberately.

“You’re scared…” she murmured, voice dropping an octave, “but your body isn’t.”

She leaned in closer. Her nose brushed along your jaw, then she dragged her tongue slowly up the side of your neck — hot, wet, and teasing. A shiver shot straight down your spine. Your cock twitched hard in your shorts, now fully hard and pressing uncomfortably against the fabric.

“Fuck—” you hissed, trying to pull your arms free, but she held you there easily.

Lara hummed against your skin, licking another slow stripe up your neck before gently sucking on the spot right under your ear. Her body pressed flush against yours now, soft breasts brushing your chest through that thin dress.

One of her thighs slid between your legs, pressing lightly against your bulge and making you groan despite yourself.

“You’re warm,” she whispered, lips brushing your skin with every word. “So warm… and hard already. Even though you’re shaking.” She rolled her hips once, grinding against your thigh while keeping your arms pinned. “I like that.”

Your head fell back against the wall with a soft thud. Part of you still wanted to scream and run, but the feeling of her tongue on your neck, her body against yours, and the way she was looking at you — like she wanted to devour every inch — was making it really fucking hard to think straight.

Lara pulled back just enough to look at your face again. Her cheeks were slightly flushed now, eyes darker. She looked less irritated and more hungry.

“Tell me your name,” she said, voice husky. She rolled her thigh against your cock again, firmer this time, drawing a shaky breath out of you. “Or I can keep guessing while I taste more of you…”

Her tongue flicked out again, tracing your collarbone this time, dipping lower toward the neckline of your shirt. She was taking her time, savoring the way your body reacted even when your mouth was still trying to protest.

You were trapped between fear and heat, cock throbbing against her thigh, wrists still pinned above your head by this gorgeous ghost girl who definitely wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she murmured, voice low and husky. “Not until I get a better taste.”

She leaned in again, not a kiss but her hot tongue dragging slowly up the side of your neck. A long, deliberate lick that made your whole body tense. Your cock throbbed painfully hard in your shorts, the bulge pressed against her thigh as she kept you trapped there.

With her free hand, Lara tugged at the collar of your shirt, yanking it aside and tucking the fabric over your shoulder so more of your neck and collarbone were exposed.

She hummed in approval, then gave you another long, wet lick from the base of your neck all the way up to just below your ear, savoring the way you shivered.

“Mm… salty,” she whispered against your skin before latching on, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey. She did it again, then again, marking a trail down your neck.

Your breathing was ragged, hips twitching involuntarily into her leg.

Lara pulled back slightly, eyes scanning lower. Without warning she used her free hand to tug down the thin strap of her own black dress, letting it slip off one shoulder.

Her full brown breast spilled out, nipple already hard in the cool air of the room. The sight made your mouth go dry.

She smirked at your reaction.

“Look at you… staring even while you’re scared.” She grabbed the back of your head with her free hand and pushed your face forward, pressing your mouth right against her bare breast. “Suck.”

You hesitated for half a second, but the way she rolled her hips against you again made you give in. Your lips wrapped around her nipple, sucking gently at first, then harder when she let out a soft pleased sound. Your tongue swirled around it as she held you there, guiding your head.

“Good…” Lara breathed, her head tilting back a little. She kept your wrists pinned with one hand while the other stayed tangled in your hair, encouraging you to keep suckling. “Keep going. Use your tongue more.”

While you worked on her breast, she returned to your neck — licking long stripes across your skin, sucking more hickeys into the freshly exposed areas. Every time her tongue dragged over you, your cock jumped against her thigh, leaking a little into your shorts.

Lara shifted, pressing her bare breast firmer against your mouth, smothering you slightly as she ground down harder on your bulge. The friction was driving you crazy. You moaned into her skin, the sound muffled.

She laughed softly, low and breathy. “You’re so hard...” Her hand finally left your wrists, but only so she could slide it down your body, palm dragging over your chest and stomach before cupping your bulge through your shorts.

She squeezed once, firm, making you groan louder around her nipple.

“Fuck, you’re big,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her fingers traced the outline of your cock teasingly before squeezing again. “I want to feel it properly soon…”

She tugged her dress lower on the other side too, letting her second breast spill free. Then she pulled your head over to the other one, pushing your face in. “Don’t stop. Suckle.”

Your hands were finally free, but you didn’t try to run this time. Instead they landed on her waist, gripping the black fabric of her dress as you obeyed, sucking and licking at her other nipple while she continued marking up your neck and shoulder with her tongue and teeth.

The room was filled with the wet sounds of your mouth on her breasts and both of your heavy breathing. Lara’s hips kept rolling against you, grinding on your thigh while her hand stroked your cock over your shorts, slow and teasing.

She was clearly enjoying how overwhelmed you were — flushed, marked up, desperately sucking on her tits while your cock strained for more attention.

Lara leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear as she whispered, “You’re not scared anymore, are you? Not really… You like this.”

Her hand squeezed your cock again, thumb rubbing over the head through the fabric, spreading the wetness that had soaked through.

Her hand stayed tangled in your hair, guiding you, while her other hand kept slowly palming your cock through your shorts. The fabric was already damp from how much you were leaking.

After a minute she gently pulled your head back, her breast slipping from your mouth with a wet pop. Her eyes were darker now, breathing a little heavier.

She looked at you for a second — flushed face, hickeys already blooming on your neck, obvious bulge straining in your shorts.

Without saying anything, she slowly sank down to her knees in front of you, the black slip dress shifting around her thighs. Her hands slid up your legs, then hooked into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down just enough to free your cock.

It sprang out, heavy and fully hard, the tip glistening. Lara’s eyes widened slightly, a small genuine smile tugging at her lips as she wrapped her fingers around the base.

“Wow…” she murmured, almost under her breath. “You really are big.”

She leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly from the base all the way up to the tip in one long, wet stripe. Then she did it again, slower this time, tasting you properly. Your hips jerked forward on instinct and she pressed one hand against your stomach to keep you still against the wall.

Lara glanced up at you through her lashes. “Relax… I’ve got you.”

She circled her tongue around the head, licking away the precum before wrapping her lips around just the tip and sucking gently.

The wet heat of her mouth made your knees feel weak. She took her time, bobbing her head little by little, taking more of you with each slow movement while her tongue pressed flat against the underside.

One of her hands stroked what she couldn’t fit yet, twisting lightly at the base. The other hand rested on your thigh, squeezing every time she sucked a little harder.

You groaned, head falling back against the wall with a dull thud. Your hand instinctively moved to her hair, not pushing, just holding on. Lara made a soft approving sound around your cock and took you deeper, her cheeks hollowing as she worked you.

She pulled off for a second, breathing warm air over your wet length as she stroked you steadily with her hand. “You’re shaking,” she said quietly, almost teasing. “Still scared? Or just really sensitive?”

Before you could answer she dipped back down, taking you into her mouth again, deeper this time. The wet, filthy sounds of her sucking filled the quiet old study. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight through your cock and making your thighs tense.

Lara’s head moved faster now, smooth and confident, her dark hair swaying with the motion. Every so often she’d pull back to lick long stripes along the sides or swirl her tongue around the head before sliding back down.

She was clearly enjoying herself — the way she kept looking up at your face, watching every reaction you gave her.

Your breathing was getting messier, hips twitching whenever she sucked particularly hard. Lara noticed and pressed you firmer against the wall with her free hand, keeping control. She took you even deeper, until you could feel the back of her throat, then swallowed around you.

“Fuck—” you choked out, fingers tightening in her hair.

She pulled back with a wet gasp, a thin string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. Her hand kept stroking you, fast and slick.

“You taste good,” she whispered, voice a little rough. She licked her lips and went right back to it, sucking you with renewed focus, hollowing her cheeks and working her tongue along every sensitive spot she could find.

The pleasure was building fast. Between the fear from earlier, the adrenaline, and how insanely good her mouth felt, you knew you weren’t going to last much longer. Lara seemed to sense it too.

She moaned softly around your cock, the vibration making your toes curl, and doubled her efforts — head bobbing quicker, hand stroking in perfect rhythm with her mouth.

She pulled off just long enough to murmur against your slick tip, “Go ahead… I want it.”

Then she sank back down, taking you as deep as she could, eyes locked on yours as she waited for you to fall apart.

You came hard with a broken groan, hips jerking against her face as thick spurts filled her mouth. Lara didn’t pull away. She swallowed around you, taking everything you gave her with soft, wet sounds, her throat working as she milked you through every pulse.

Even after you finished she didn’t stop right away — she kept sucking gently, tongue swirling to clean every inch, licking up the mess that had dripped down your shaft. When she finally pulled off, she gave one last long, slow lick from base to tip, making sure she got it all.

A small satisfied hum left her as she wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb and licked that clean too.

You slumped back against the wall, chest heaving, legs shaky as hell. Your head was spinning — fear, pleasure, confusion all crashing together. You tried to catch your breath, eyes half-lidded, barely able to focus.

Lara stood up slowly, graceful as ever, her black slip dress still hanging off one shoulder, breasts exposed. She looked at you with a soft little smile, brushing her hair back like nothing crazy had just happened.

For a second everything felt almost… calm.

Then her face changed.

Her eyes went completely black — no whites, just endless dark voids. Her smile stretched too wide, unnatural, showing teeth that looked sharper than before.

The temperature in the room dropped instantly.

Her head tilted at a wrong angle, hair floating slightly like she was underwater again. The beautiful girl from moments ago was gone.

This was something else.

Something so fucking terrifying.

You froze, heart slamming against your ribs.

“What the—”

Your words died in your throat. Pure primal fear hit you like a truck. Your vision blurred at the edges, knees buckling.

You passed out cold for the second time that night, sliding down the wall until you hit the floor in a pathetic heap.

Lara’s scary expression dropped immediately. Her eyes returned to normal, the sharp teeth disappeared, and she blinked a couple times like she just realized what she’d done.

“Woopsie daisy…” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand.

Then she started giggling. Quiet at first, then a little louder, the sound light and genuinely amused as she looked down at your unconscious body slumped on the dusty floor, shorts still pulled down, neck covered in her hickeys.

She crouched beside you again, tilting her head curiously. Her fingers hovered over your cheek for a second before she gently poked it.

“You’re really dramatic,” she muttered fondly, still giggling under her breath. “It’s cute though.”

Lara stayed there for a moment, watching you breathe, the playful ghost energy back in full force now that the scare was over. She fixed the strap of her black dress, covering herself again, and glanced toward the door like she was wondering if the noise had woken anyone else up.