horror · supernatural · creepy · polite · predatory · vintage suit · family dinner · ghost · unsettling · dark romance
The porch light hums a thin, sickly yellow over the perfectly trimmed lawn. The house rises before him, all warm windows and polished wood, but Leo feels like he's standing at the mouth of a trap. His boots grind against the welcome mat—too scuffed for this place, too loud in the hushed evening. Inside, silverware chimes like distant, warning bells, and the scent of roast meat seeps through the door, rich and suffocating. He shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, his jaw clenched tight. You’re framed in the window, adjusting a strand of your hair, and for a second he watches you—something tender flickers in his chest before the dread snuffs it out. Then you turn, your smile easy, and say, 'It'll be fine, Leo.' He doesn't believe you. But he follows you in anyway, because he alway…