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#i could have gone so differently with this but i just want some FRIENDS BEING FRIENDS

maxwellatoms · 2 days

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In one of your last answers, you said “series reboots are usually pretty gross and sad”, and I was wondering if you could expand on that? Assuming “reboot” covers any kind of continuation of a currently cancelled or finished show (and maybe that’s the wrong assumption!), from the outside looking in it feels like a pretty mixed bag. On one hand, if I love XYZ Show, it’s cool that I get more stories with these characters and another chance to support XYZ Show and its creators. On the other, it definitely feels like a lot of ideas can only get funding if they’re tied to something already, meaning creatives are having to now tie whatever cool idea they have to some reboot/relaunch/retread, which can feel pretty disheartening if you don’t want to do a reboot/relaunch/retread. Is that a similar feeling from your side of the industry?

Thank you so much for all your answers and insight!

Usually reboots and spin-offs are just cash grabs. It happens a lot in animation. In fact, I would argue that the entire industry is just one big cash grab now. In the 80s, everyone complained that cartoons were just half-hour commercials for toys. And they were right. And we're right back there, but now that you can't legally push toys all day, it's just general "IP". Mugs, posters, more spinoffs, whatever.

I was offered three show running gigs over the pandemic. All reboots that I would consider unwise to pursue because they were "of a different time" and didn't (in my opinion) have anything more to say. Two of them were properties created by notorious sex pests, so there's also that. The animation industry loves to prop up its sex pests.

I turned all of them down, partially because I didn't respect the original creators but also because none of them had anything going for them except just being "more of the same".

I don't think any of those projects survived the intervening years, so in retrospect I maybe should've taken the job. I'd probably feel a bit gross, but at least I'd have floors in my house.

The entertainment industry is in a bad spot. The whole thing. I've had I don't know how many pitch meetings in the last few years, and they all start the same way:

"Hey! Before we start, we just want to let you know that we're not actively producing anything right now. We think maybe soon, but we won't be picking anything up today..."

And then later:

"The little we are doing is IP, so if you have a new take on our IP or a new IP you're connected to that you can bring in, that'd be great."

I always wanted to make original stuff. There came a time when I'd had my fill of Billy & Mandy and wanted to do something else new and original. That never manifested, and I was constantly being offered IP to produce. I turned too many of those down, maybe, before deciding that it was probably better that I run the IPs that mean something to me rather than having some hack do it.

But now those jobs have all gone to celebrities and fallen live-action writers, who are also slowly being eaten by the system. WB was hot for Scooby stuff a few years back, so I pitched some ideas. A few of them were turned down for being "off-brand" in a variety of ways. WB has now made (I think) all of those off-brand shows (or something close) with celebrity show runners.

I was going through a whole Midlife Impostor Syndrome thing recently where I was wondering if maybe I don't just suck. Like, it's weird that for a couple of decades I'd have people calling me trying to get me to run shows, and now nobody will call me back about the possibility of a design job.

Talking to some friends and realizing that they were in a similar situation helped me feel like I wasn't alone. That was nice. Talking to some of the most talented colleagues in my industry made me made me realize that those people weren't getting jobs either. That was unnerving. Talking to complete strangers in other parts of the entertainment industry now has me thinking that the whole house of cards is coming down. That's real concerning, yo.

It's hard not to think it's purposeful, when deranged billionaires own the entirety of our media and want to shape a society where they can't be criticized. We're letting wealthy tech bros firebomb the very heart of our culture, and it's weird that no one is talking about it. Because (for now) we still have that capability.

#maxwell atoms #entertainment industry #animation #intellectual property #turds

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itsswritten · 3 days

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teeny tiny

Pairing: Fairy reader x Azriel

Word Count: 2.6K

Summary: Azriel practices dwindling with you. (Just some fluff, mutual pining, pre bond snapping)

Wings Universe - read more from this couple here.

Azriel was watching you intently, a soft smile spread on his lips as his gaze danced across your expression. You were so passionate when you spoke about your work– your duty as a fairy.

A stark difference to how he felt about being an Illyrian.

But knowing you now for only a year, you had softened that perspective he had for his own heritage. Purely by how dedicated you were to yours, and how you lit up whenever you got to speak about it. Naturally, when getting to know the IC you had wanted to learn everything about the Illyrians, everything about the sisters, about Amren. Every finer detail.

That warm nature of yours, got even the most reserved opening themselves up to you. You were always genuinely interested too, mesmerised in the differences and similarities you found among your new friends. You would never scrimp on compliments either, lovely words rolling off your tongue in awe when Cassian had explained some Illyrian lore. You even went as far to admit that you’d always thought the dark winged fae looked very cool and fierce.

Azriel could vividly remember the heat filling your cheeks one evening at Rita’s when you’d admitted that, the faerie wine offering you some liquid courage. The comment had gone straight to Cassian’s head, prancing round Rita’s flexing in front of Nesta with a stealthy look, posing for her. “Look how fierce I look, Nes,” Nesta only rolled her eyes.

Azriel, though, had kept that comment. Tucked it away in the corner of his mind that he saved purely for you. A space filled with compliments from you, mentions of the things you loved, or observations of when he thought you looked especially beautiful– which truly was everyday. That corner of his mind was slowly growing by the day, bit by bit consuming him more and more. But he didn’t mind. For every new area you occupied in his consciousness, it replaced something dark instead. Those nightmares became few and far between after you entered his life, and he felt lighter, brighter.

A mark that could only be left by a radiant individual– you.

Ever since he’d met you, he was absolutely smitten. There was a magnetic charge between you both, that just couldn’t keep him away. He was like a moth to a light, fluttering so dangerously close that if he wasn’t careful he might just burn.

But he couldn’t stop. Despite the risk of it all, the risk of you burning his desires down. The obvious rejection you would undoubtedly give him if his feelings ever became known. So he settled for friendship, in fact savoured in it. He welcomed the friendly banter and familiar touches you so kindly offered him, but sometimes he dared to imagine…selfishly letting himself wonder, if he was to confess, would it really all go up in flames?…or would a warm glow await him instead.

Azriel began to look for the good parts of his own culture, an excuse to be able to share something with you. Little anecdotes of younger years with his brothers, the plants that grew in the harsh terrain of Ramiel, and what creatures may lurk in those mountains. Something Azriel noticed had piqued your interest.

He found you numerous times after that in the library with Nesta and Gwyn, looking through bestiaries and field journals. Your commitment to the land and its creatures never wavering. You had found old scriptures, thousands of years old, of rare creatures that roamed the Illyrian land. Feline-like beasts that apparently once lived among Illyrians as their companions, a familiar of sorts. You had practically barged into Azriel’s room one evening when you had unearthed this new information, kneeled on his bed sharing this new discovery word for word as you read the translated version Gwyn had given you.

“We’ll have to go look for them Az,” You had beamed, “It’ll be like an adventure, and well I could write it off as work too seeing as technically this falls under my jurisdiction.”

Azriel had never cared much for his own culture and myths, actually, had rather hated every aspect of it. But somehow, watching you find the beauty between the cracks changed something in him. Over time the dismal opinion he had of Illyrians and that part of himself, paired with the progression in the camps had made a slight difference.

Today though, today, you were sharing even more of your world.

“So I thought, you know with you already being able to winnow you would grasp this the easiest” you smiled at Az.

You had brought him to the edge of one of the night court meadows you usually worked at. Elain had asked to join you on a day's work for the spring season, once confessing she wished the cauldron had turned her into a fairy just like you. You had told her she was perfect the way she was, exactly who she was supposed to be, and promised her anyone of any kind was welcome in the meadows.

What was supposed to be a fun girls day with Elain had quickly snowballed into a field trip, the rest of the inner circle adamant they had to come too. But if your friends couldn’t master the art of dwindling then they would not be permitted in the meadows. Rhys and Feyre were fine, that unlimited pot of power they both possessed actually meant you’d caught them several months ago, rolling around in a flower enjoying some quality time together. You’re not sure who was more embarrassed, yourself or Feyre when Rhys clumsily fell out of a flower bell stark naked covered in pollen.

Before the others would be allowed to cross the threshold of the meadows you would need to teach them first.

“Dwindling is a lot like winnowing, how you move yourself to a different space. Or even how your shadows move you through space. It’s essentially the same, but it’s the space within you that’s moving…well smaller.”

Your hands had been spread wide in your explanation, bringing them closer together as if your movement were perfectly representing how it worked. Your brows furrowed though, as Azriel looked at you with a soft dazed expression. Almost glassy eyed with a dumb smile on his mouth.

“Are you even listening to me Az?” Your tone felt stern leaving your lips. A little huff following after, that got his shadows moving in a giddy manner. It wasn’t just Azriel that found you utterly adorable, but his shadows too had a hard time hiding how your expressions caused a stir in them.

How they basked in your laughter, grew agitated in your discomfort or selfishly, liked to relish in your charming pouts.

Azriel quickly shook his head, as if shaking himself from the daze you so often ensnared him in, “I’m always listening,” he promised.

You rolled your bottom lip through your teeth gently, pausing for a moment to take in his words. How it had struck a ripple through your body, that often created butterflies in your stomach. Glancing up through your lashes you took your friend in, his large strong frame towering over you, never in an intimidating way. No, his presence, however daunting to others, always filled you with safety and comfort you hadn’t felt around many. And there were those beautiful hazel eyes that often reminded you of the sunrise after you’d worked the night shift. Golden rays breaking through the midnight blanket, spilling hazel threads into petals of blue.

Maybe one day you would tell him how when the sky filled with ribbons of gold and sapphire, that you only thought of him.

Quickly you stopped yourself from falling into your own daze, remembering his passing words.

I’m always listening.

That he was. So attentive, so kind, you’re not sure what you did to deserve the friendship of the Shadowsinger. You continued on, brushing over how genuine his words sounded. Rummaging around in your bag you pulled out a pouch of fairy dust.

“This amplifies your power, makes it easier to shrink. Should also help with the nausea,” you muttered, now choosing to ignore the way his eyes seemed to drink you up.

It was getting increasingly hard to disregard the effect the Shadowsinger had on you. He was so beautiful, so pretty– in that rugged Illyrian way. And he was very thoughtful too, and there was the way he said things to you sometimes that made it hard not to assume it meant more. Every word felt like a whispered kiss or unspoken promise, that you found yourself at times hoping, and daydreaming that perhaps it did mean something deeper.

Sprinkling the dust over Azriel, his nose scrunched a little at the scent. So familiar, he realised it reminded him of you. That lingering scent of fairy dust was always on you, mixed with vanilla and hints of honey, an underlying breeze of peonies. Your scent alone was enough to enchant him, enough to know he would be dreaming of you again tonight. His consciousness would slip him into a blissful haze of what it would be like to envelope himself in the crook of your neck and laze in your aroma.

Gently you took his hands into yours, his ragged hands engulfing your own.

Azriel couldn’t help notice the stark contrast. How perfect and soft you were, delicate and light. He was rough and weathered around the edges, hardened by war and conflict. A gentle squeeze from you pulled him from his thoughts, realising how close you were now, he would only have to lean down slightly to bridge the gap between you. So close he could press his lips to top of your head and–

As if brushing that thought from his mind, his shadows moved towards you. Brushing a strand of hair from your face, while the other tendrils wove through the air in between you both like a dance.

“Are you ready Az? Remember everything I taught you?”

He nodded.

Channelling his power in the technique you had shown him, his eyes fluttered shut. Honing in on the warmth of your hands and the faint sound of the breeze. His siphons simmered a glow as vibrations of power and space moved over the sharp lines and angles of his body, retracting and restricting the space within.

The air sounded different all of a sudden.

Vibrations growing louder, rustles becoming more powerful. Slowly Azriel opened his eyes, looking down at you, standing as you were before. He questioned if he’d even managed to do it, but as he glanced up he saw the tall green vertebrae of the grass tower above. The strands gently swaying in the wind, allowing the morning sun to filter through and cast viridescent shadows across the earth.

He had done it. He had dwindled.

The air was filled with a symphony of sounds, the song of crickets and the gentle rustling of the grass in the wind. Butterflies flitted by, leaving a gentle gust of wind in their wake. They were larger than him now, and he could vividly see the intricate designs and colours that lay on their wings.

“Az? Azriel are you okay? How do you feel?”

He hadn’t even realised you were talking, not until your hand gently pressed against the side of his face. Your thumb tracing the line of his jaw, as you looked up to him in concern.

“I feel fine,” he replied, finally remembering to take a breath as your touch left him.

“No nausea? You looked a little peaky for a moment, I was worried,”

Your remaining hand had slipped from his gentle grip, a simmer in his chest wishing it would remain. But Azriel unfurled his wings, stretching the dark membranes out, distributing his weight onto either feet to check his balance.

“Okay…” You smiled then, “This went better than I thought, you know it’s Cassian I’m most worried about. I just have a feeling he’ll sneeze himself into a giant or something,”

“Wait, is that possible?”

“No, or at least I don’t think so. But somehow I could see it happening with Cass,” You laughed. The angelic waves of your laughter pulled up the corners of his lips as he let out a chuckle.

Oh Azriel could stay in this moment forever. Just the two of you, no one else in sight for miles.The sun basking it’s glow upon you both. Your laughter faded into a comfortable silence before you closed your eyes, head tilting up towards the sun as the rays washed over your face.

Azriel thanked the Mother again for the blessings he had received since knowing you, because this moment right here– to be with you was surely one.

“Y/n…” Azriel couldn’t help breathe your name out, it barely a whisper as words he kept tucked in that corner of his mind seemed to pile into his mouth.

Gently your eyes fluttered open, your expression turning to him with a light hum in question. But before he could even untangle the mess of confessions on his tongue, a shadow loomed above.

With a slight jump, you hastily stepped back, colliding into the tough warm frame of the Shadowsinger, craning your neck up to see what had cast such a darkness.

A shadow– Azriel’s shadow.

The smokey tendril seemed to loom over you both inquisitively. It’s movements speaking of a curiosity to how its master was now so tiny.

“There’s always one,” Azriel grumbled, his hand tenderly moving to the small of your back for a moment as he stepped to your side.

Azriel crossed his arms across his chest, his expression boring on unimpressed as he glanced up at the disobedient wisp.

“You’ve got no excuse,” Azriel chastised, referring to the other shadows that had obediently followed an appropriate size to him after dwindling.

The shadow slumped a little in response, eliciting a small gasp from you at how utterly adorable you found it. As if remembering you were there the shadow turned it’s attention. Azriel’s earlier command to resize itself held no authority but it quickly slinked itself slightly smaller for you. It’s size resembled something of Azriel’s shape as it twirled around you making the layers of your dress flutter up in the wind.

“Oh my…” Your cheeks heated a rosy hue as you attempted to hold your dress down in the gust of air.

“Sorry about that,” Azriel heaved, his patience growing thin as he tried to hide his slight embarrassment at his unruly shadow.

“It’s quite alright Azriel,” you reassured him with a light chuckle, the smile on your lips easing him. The use of his full name, raising goosebumps on his skin.

It wasn’t the only thing your smile eased, the shadow, as if melting under you, softened like honey. Oozing back behind Azriel’s wings in a dazed infatuation.

“Come,” you took Azriel’s hand in yours. Pulling him gently through the blades of green. “You should settle in this size for a while, make sure everything feels okay before we return,”

Azriel watched your fingers interlock with his, the smaller wisps of his shadows winding around your joined hands. Whispering words to one another that he couldn’t hear.

He swallowed hard, once, twice taking in the view before him. Your usual pink dress dipping to the small of your back, taut flawless skin kissed under the sun as you pulled him through the green. No wings on show, though.

He wondered when you would share that part of you…if ever.

Azriel would never ask, but he hoped one day you trusted him enough.

That he would be so lucky. But as you glanced back over your shoulder, sending him a soft smile that seemed to bury itself deep into his chest. He pondered, if for only a moment, that perhaps he was lucky.

a/n: just a little instalment from your favourite couple! <3 What else do you want to see from them?? (Other than flower sex , I promise this is coming👀)

forever tags: @lilah-asteria @illyrianbitch @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @milswrites @marscardigan

Wings tags: @minaethrym

#azriel x reader #acotar #wings universe #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #angst #acotar series #azriel shadowsinger #fairy x azriel #azriel x fairy #fairy reader x azriel

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twost3ps · 1 day

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I have not been doing so hot. I keep on saying that but burnout is actually crazy double comboed with artblock. But after some tears of frustration I wanted to show my swap au so yeyey

Short synopsis:

Lilith, Lucifur, Charlie 🔄 Adam, Micheal, Emily

Micheal and Adam fall after taking the forbidden fruit (it is a pear!) Rule over hell together and then have 7 children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily. Hell does its own exterminations every year. Micheal and Adam lead along side with their children who participate as well. Up above Charlie watches in dispair. Her father has told her about the horrors of hell and its deranged rulers. She's the angel of Mercy (maybe I might change that) and wants the sinners of hell to have a second chance. So she goes down to hell without asking and tries to find a way to help save some of the sinners from suffering. In that time she makes friends with Hell's royal family starting with Emily and then comes to realize that heaven is a little (a lot) more corrupted than she thought

So here are some of their busts. I drew emily young bcz this was initially going to be a family portrait but I got lazy but for the au she's her canon age her horns are covered by her hair o3o

So heres a long but not full backstory and info of the au if ur interested under the cut:

Idk why yet why Micheal tempted Adam with the pear but it happened. Because of their betrayal, Adam and Micheal get sent down. But while Lilith is stripped of her fertility, Adam has his humanity stripped. When Micheal recovers, he's greeted with his lover in the form of a wild beast, body stretched, covered in feathers. The only human-ish thing is Adam's face which is essentially looks like a porcelain mask of his face with his eyes closed in a permeant smile unless he opens it and then the mask splits in two.

It takes days for Micheal to calm down the animalistic Adam. It just seems like everything about him is gone. Micheal still loves him, though, so he stays. Adam thrashes around, he screams, and he yells. The abyss is nothing but rubble as Adam digs wildly while screaming. Adam is too hostile for Micheal to comfort so he deals with just watching from afar.

As years roll by as Micheal watches his lover, Adam begins to calm down. He's grown tired and his animalistic rage has subsided. Micheal is able to pet Adam and he can see how tured Adam is. They begin sleeping together again.

All seems hopeless that Adam will ever gain any semblance of his humanity. That is until the first sinner arrives.

Micheal had seen the sinner from afar. He was going to approach, but then he heard Adam. Adam barreled at the sinner and before Micheal knew it, Adam had eaten the sinner with a vile crunch.

Micheal rushed to Adam to see the damage. Then Adam moved and turned. It was then that Adam had spoken properly since the fall. He asked Micheal what happened but Micheal could only stare and cry. They were able to talk for a while and they savored every bit of it.

That joy only lasted for a few hours before Adam became animalistic again.

From then on, Micheal made it his mission to gather as many sinners and feed them to Adam.

Initially it hurt. It hurt a lot. And after doing it for so long, Micheal knew that the sinners would never reform. But that harsh reality paled in comparison to Adam finally having his concise again. Being able to finally talk to his lover and husband was more than enough reason for him.

So time flies and hell is getting bigger and stronger. The population of sinners is also getting bigger. There becomes less spawn killing of sinners but they are kinda checked over like livestock to the royal family.

Hell in this universe is more fairy tale based to differ from whats supposed be a circus theme??? that i get from hazbin. Thats what people say so I'm making my hell the brothers grim x into the woods x shrek.

I want the royal family in fairy tale clothes okay >:(

Hell is essentially far far away land except everything is out to get you. The place is straight up inhabitable as everyone who spawns in ends up having to run away immediately. It's so hard not to die or get hurt. The terrane is unforgiving, the trees are out to get you, the flowers are out to get you, the animals are out to get you, the weather is out to get you, the water thats not whatever is out to get you. Any wrong slip and you can just die again. Sinners are a lot more prone to betrayal and rage because living is just so hard.

There is no pentagram city, its like, a couple of very small town that are ruled by overolords. Overlords are people who just got lucky or got into a contract with one of the royal children. They use their power to stay alive and have some semblance of stability but they are given power to they raise other sinners like cattle through contracts if needed.

These overlords though are pretty... yeah... so they kinda become like those fairy tale villains.

So for funzies, all those fairy tales that people hear on earth are true stories that come from hell that had been told by demons who escape to the mortal realm and whisper them in writers ears as they sleep or some bs like that sdfoeufb

But as stated, exterminations do happen. Like cattle, it is important to save up the stock. You cant consume everything as they come, cattle needs its time to grow. So every year, they let the population grow and on extermination day, Micheal and Adam ride out into hell as they purge a bunch of sinners till Adam eats enough to revert back to human form till the next ectermination.

It's only them that exterminate and collect till their children grow up and join them in the exterminations- fueled by their want to keep Adam humanly conscious. They collect the bodies and then Adam feeds on them after hours to gain his humanity back

Micheal and Adam have their children- Cain, Abel, Seth, Alclima, Awan and Emily

Cain, Seth, Alclima, and Awan become the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse (i went with the good omens version with death, famine, war and pestilence- conquest is not one -yet- )

Cain (death) in very short is like Death in puss and boots with a lot less chill. He does have Death's sickles (I wanted to make them Abel's horns so thats a maybe) He's a mama's (adam) boy and a giant brat

Seth (Famine) Chillest of the siblings. He's a lot like Adam, just not as brash. He spreads famine through locusts that emerge from his cloak. They look like pretty jewels until they fly off. Food rots in his presence during exterminations. He hates when he accidentally activates it when hes eating (he loves snacking)

Alclima (War) She's very tough and brutish. Very honest in her opinions and not afraid to speak about it. Her and Cain play fight a lot. The exorcist army exists but they live as the royal family's castle's soldiers and they are commanded by Alclima. During exterminations, she is the one to lead them in battle. Her presence gives people the rage of war.

Awan (Pestilence) Very eerie girl/ Shes got that dead eye look sometimes and just stares at people. Shes actually very kind and soothing. She's very girly and has a room similar to stockings from paswg. Shes a stem girlie

Abel kind of overlooks them as the representation of chaos. (I wanted the death and chaos are the children of the devil thing to happen so this it) The first attempted murder does happen between Abel and Cain, but since they're in hell magic sooo hahah blam Cain allows his body to merge with Abel out of regret and so Abel kind lives in his conscience but can also switch control over his brother (idk im so done)

Emily is supposed to become a fifth horseman as the representation of conquest. But she young and stuff and only just became an adult so she still maneuvering through it- also sera's here too and she takes the place of Alastor and is a royal advisor to the family sufoauebfoebos

They are all part lion coming from Micheal but their horns are from Adam

Their children are very mixed about exterminations, but Emily has the most issues with it. The family in general feels bad, but family over the people. Emily is just way more emotional about it, especially since she is yet to participate.

Exterminations are very mixed in hell with the citizens because while some have the will to live, some want to truly end their suffering. Many willingly sacrifice themselves and go under contracts with overlords. With overlords, they get to live comfortably as they possibly can but they still hate hell so when exterminations roll around they willingly die.

This is a lot but its not everything. Actually this is all very vauge rn but idk if I want to work on this :p

THIS IS SUCH A MESSKJFBIABFIAEGFIAUEGIdfi

Also a bit of the beast adam deisgn. I want to add some more stuff. do some tweaking but AUAGSDD yuppers i will change some stuff about him later (i forgot his horns)

i dont think i'll do much with this au after this -maybe draw it but i won't write- but it was a fun thought

I'll try to post tomorrow some guitarhero stuff but im so dead IAFBISUEBFGI

#hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel #guitarhero #michael x adam #hazbin hotel michael #micheal hazbin hotel #myart #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin hotel au #swap au #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel cain #hazbin hotel abel #hazbin hotel seth #hazbin hotel alclima #hazbin hotel awan #hazbin hotel emily

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sakuraspoke · 13 hours

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crying is crucial // papa emeritus iv x gn!reader

summary: after trying to keep your emotions under control, you finally break down. copia finds you & tries to comfort you in your pain.

tags/details: sfw. 960 words. angst & emotional hurt/comfort, reader is depressed - their past hurt is alluded to but not detailed. it's basically just copia being a soft, loving angel & knowing exactly what to say.

full transparency - i wrote this during a recent low, after a conversation with a friend, as an attempt to express what i wish someone (namely copia) would say to me in a moment like this. hopefully it resonates in some way & brings some comfort if you need it 🖤

dedicated to sweetest one @conjuring-ghouls for being my ✨ test reader ✨ and really encouraging me. thank you for talking me out of my comfort zone, friend.

a big thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers & to @foxybouquet whose brilliant italian masterlist is incredibly informative & has taught me so many precious new words.

You hadn't cried like this in a long time.

It wasn't unusual for you to feel down. Depression was something you'd lived with for as long as you could remember, but for the most part you managed to keep it at arm's length and not let it rule your life.

Today, though... Today was different.

You don't know what triggered it exactly. All you know is that since you woke up this morning, you had been haunted by that familiar lump in your throat, that burning sensation behind your eyes, the telltale signs of lingering sadness ready to spill over, and just tried to stave it off long enough to get through the day. Until, curled in a ball on your bed that night, you let it happen. You let the sobs come and the tears fall, soaking the side of your face and the pillow underneath you.

And that's how he finds you.

"Darling," you hear Copia call from the hallway, "Where are you amo-"

Shit. You hadn't heard him come in.

He knew you struggled, he knew about the anxiety and the sadness that lived somewhere within you, but he'd never witnessed you in this state. And while everything in you is screaming to not let him see you so broken... you can't move. The sadness weighs you down like an anvil in your chest and you remain where you are, pulling your legs in tighter to yourself as if to become smaller. To disappear.

"Amore?" he says quietly as he steps into the room, softly gasping when he spots you, your body wracked by sobs. He's quickly at your side, trying to disguise the panic in his voice as he asks, "What is it?"

You can only sniffle in response. Your words evading you.

"Oh, amore..." he whispers. You feel his weight shift on the bed as he lays down beside you, brushing your hair from your face and gently encouraging you to look at him. "Please... Talk to me."

You take his gloved hand and hold it against your cheek, still silent, just focusing on the feeling of him while you gather yourself. You can't quite manage to look at him yet, but after a few quiet moments you speak.

"I've just been thinking about how... hard it's all been..." you tell him, your voice slightly hoarse.

"How hard what has been, tesoro?" Copia softly encourages, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"My... life," you say between shallow breaths. "Sometimes... sometimes I wonder why... why all these bad things have... happened and I just..."

Oh no. It's happening. What was left of any kind of composure is gone. Your chest heaves and you begin to choke on your sobs as you try to explain yourself.

"It feels like i-it should be... easy by n-ow. People tell me I'm so strong and... I a-am but... I don't want to... h-have to be... all the ti-ime..."

Copia just listens, offering a gentle shhhh��when your tears overcome your words again, pulling your body closer to his and laying your head on his chest. You stay like that for a little while, with him gently stroking your face, your arms, your hair, as you try to follow the soft pattern of his breathing to calm your own.

"We all need to cry sometimes, amore mio," he offers gently, breaking the silence. "It's... You see, cuoricino, I could sit here for hours and tell you how strong you are, how capable and bright you are. I could tell you over and over again how well you're doing, or how I admire you... and all of these things are true, sì? But, sometimes..." he pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Sometimes what you really need to hear is, 'That's right. Those things weren't fair, and you are allowed to cry about it'. In fact, you need to cry about it. È cruciale!" he states, the sing-song inflection in his final word breaking through the fog and making you giggle.

But then you really take his words in, overwhelmed by the warmth with which he speaks to you and, as hard as you try to keep it together, you can't help but break down again.

With this Copia sits up slightly, and wordlessly guides your legs over his so he can cradle you properly. He feels your pain so acutely that it makes his heart ache, but he knows he needs to be steady for you right now.

"I'm here," he tells you, his voice shaking slightly, immediately betraying his intended steadiness. "I've got you... This is okay. You're okay... You're okay," he whispers, rocking you gently. "You are strong, amore. Of course you are strong... But you don't need to think about that right now. All you need to do is sit here with me, and let yourself feel what you feel."

So you do. Safe in the arms of your Papa, you let yourself feel. When another wave of sobs overwhelms you, Copia just holds you tighter and continues to rock you against his body. The voice in the back of your mind telling you that you don't deserve this love threatens to rear its ugly head but right now you're too far away to hear it. Not even the loudest, ugliest corners of your insecurity are a match for the peace you feel with him.

You're not sure how long you're there for, but Copia never stops holding you. The physical crash after such an intensely emotional episode hits you hard and you feel your body becoming heavier, imploring yourself to just go to sleep and draw a line under this day. Just as you are drifting off, you hear him quietly repeat himself.

"I've got you. You're okay."

#1 hour later: editing bc i messed up on ao3 and got the word count wrong :')#copia x reader #papa emeritus iv x reader #the band ghost fanfiction #fuck ok #DID IT #v nervous because i haven't posted any writing in YEARS #i used to post [redacted] ~oneshots~ all the time back in the day #alas i am now an Overthinker™#impulsively posted it on ao3 before i had the chance to chicken out #but that was enough putting myself out there for one week #papa emeritus iv #copia

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aprilthearcher · 3 days

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lost the game of chance

[remus lupin x fem!reader] [platonic james potter x fem!reader] based on ‘How Did It End?’ and ‘So Long, London’ by Taylor Swift. warnings: angst, angst, not sure if it’s a happy ending, but perhaps an ambiguous one. curse words, smoking, mentions of the war. my poor knowledge of tarot. English is not my first language, and I tried to do sth fun with my writing style on this one. No instance of (Y/N).

The hushed whispers, gasps, and fingers that would follow me everywhere were not, in fact, any more subtle than screaming the question directly at my face. For all the harm it meant, I guess I still couldn’t blame them. They knew no better than to entertain themselves with meaningless gossip about people they barely knew. It was either amusement from the messy breakup of the month or finally facing the fact that a war was brewing. Sally and Annie’s fallout had been the most discussed topic just a fortnight ago.

The twins' straightforwardness, although somewhat appreciated, had come as a surprise. I had heard the question being asked behind my back many times this week, in whispers and brimmed to the top with fake empathy.

“We wanted to say we’re very sorry about what happened between you and…” I didn’t know if she hadn’t finished the sentence out of apprehension or some sort of ‘respect’ thing.

“Remus” I said. Both of the twins visibly relaxed after I spoke his name out loud without bursting in tears. “You can say his name, I won’t crumble.” Liar.

“Yes, terribly sorry we are. We wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I am, thank you.”

I was leaving when I heard it.

“How did it end?”

And there it was. Turning around, the sight that greeted me would’ve made me laugh under different circumstances. Marion, presumably the one who couldn’t contain herself and asked the question, had both of her hands covering her mouth and her eyes had never looked bigger. Her sister, Nora, had her eyes shut closed, face scrunched up in embarrassment while the tip of her ears turned red.

Why don’t you ask him? Perhaps then I’ll know, too. Why don’t you go and find out for me? Why don’t you? Would you two be a dear and ask him why he called it all off? Because I can’t pretend like I understand how I got here, pretending to be composed as if I hadn’t been crying all weekend.

“We won’t tell anyone.” (Except all of our friends, who will tell their friends, and they tell theirs…).

“I guess… I guess we didn’t work out anymore.”

Short and sweet. I could tell the twins were disappointed. Sally had definitely been more indulgent.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

“She said that? She said we didn’t work out?”

“Why are you so surprised, mate? You were the one to tell her that.” James’ tone was colder than the snow covering the courtyard. The boys were killing time in the Gryffindor Common Room, huddled in the burgundy sofas and armchairs, protected from the bitter November weather. Both of his best friends were hurt and the one moaning and complaining was the one to blame.

“Well, yes, but…”

“But? You know, Remus, we wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t screwed it all up.”

Peter, concentrating on shuffling a deck of cards wandless, whistled softly. He might have seemed uninterested, but you could bet he had been listening to the entire interaction. “Unfortunately for you, James has a point.”

“Sirius, you’re awfully quiet.” Remus mumbled while biting the skin around his nails.

Sirius Black was, perhaps for the first time in his life, lost at words. He had been strolling round the room wondering when Remus had gone completely mental. Sirius knew his friend had always been somewhat loony – if you catch his drift – but this was on another level.

“I’m restraining myself from speaking because if not I’ll probably punch you in the face.” Honest as you could get from the eldest Black son.

“What has speaking got to do with you punching me in the face?”

“You want to find out, Remmy?” Asked Sirius, staring at Remus from the window, where he had decided to finally sit down and unroll a cigarette.

Peter’s squeaky laugh was cut short by a golden cushion landing on his nose.

“That shit will kill you,” Remus protested, chin lifted up to point at the cigarette on Sirius’ lips.

“Oh, cry me a fucking river, Remus.”

Remus felt like crying a river but not over Sirius’ disgusting habit.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Every corner of the castle was haunted, either by the memories created together or by her phantom-like figure wandering the halls aimlessly; an arrow being constantly thrown around by the wind, changing directions when she saw even a glimpse of him.

The library was a bittersweet haven. Continually looking over her shoulder, methodically wiping away a tear from time to time; still, as much as it reminded her of Remus, it had been one of her favourite places before even meeting him. The fear of seeing him there couldn’t – wouldn’t – keep her frozen in her dorm forever.

The smell of books, the sound of quills scribbling against pieces of parchments, and even the occasional screeches of the librarian were unparalleled comforting for her.

Distracted by the illustrations on the spine of a large tome, she didn’t notice the person standing behind her.

“I read the book you lent me last month.”

A near heart attack later and with a hand on her chest, she turned around. The bulky teenager smiled sheepishly, fixing his glasses with one hand while the other held out the book. He was wearing the red and gold gloves she had knitted for him as a gift. A mini embroidered lion had been enchanted to run across the horizontal colourful lines. She smiled at the sight of it. James Potter was the greatest friend she had ever had.

“Did you like it?”

“Loved it.”

Silently, he circled his arms around her, the book still in his hands was now a delicate weight on her back. She returned the hug immediately, her arms enclosing tightly around his frame. The lingering smell of chocolate brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t tell anyone but I think Snape is our own version of Mr Hyde.” James spoke softly on the shell of her ear. The chuckle she let out made James’ heart soared. She was the greatest friend he would always cheer up.

“Thank you.”

“For making fun of Snape? You’d have to thank me daily, sweetheart.”

“I would say hourly.” A cheeky grin crept up on her face.

“Now you’re catching on.” His hands abandoned their place at her back to gently grab her face. “Want to go to Hogsmeade and grab a butterbeer? It’s still early.”

She could never say no to him because James’ gentle smile reassured her, time and time again, that it would be alright.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

The war had left her short of friends and allies; short of hopes and dreams.

With a heavy heart, she conjured a small bouquet of white flowers to lay on James and Lily’s grave. The soft autumn breeze did nothing to dry her tears. She would come to see them as often as she could, and as often as her grief would allow her. The worst part of it all was that she had lost Harry, as well.

She fought Dumbledore tooth and nail to at least be allowed to be part of his life. If raising him was too much, then she could surely visit him once or twice a month. He refused – though he kept quiet at the sight of the albatross he saw circling the house in Privet Drive the night Lily and James died –. He knew she’d find some loophole in his restrictions. Nobody had said anything about a bird common to be seen on the ocean flying across Little Whinging.

October 31st was a hazy memory, getting blurrier by the years. She had been shuffling her tarot cards – a branch of magic she’d wanted to take up since she was a little girl – when the entire deck burst from her hands. Suspended in the air, the only visible cards were the Tower, the Ten of Swords, and the Three of Swords. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what had happened.

A white-feathered bird was out of the window a few minutes later and in its journey, the albatross found a giant man flying a motorcycle with a bundle in his arms.

The sound of the soft leaves being stepped on took her out of her memories. She turned around with a tight grip on her wand.

“Hey.”

Remus Lupin had changed over the years. More scars littered his face, the bags below his hazel eyes were more prominent, and he had done something to his hair. He was holding a bouquet of lilies in his right hand, the other one was hidden inside the pocket of his trousers. A tiny, apprehensive, yet handsome smile had formed in his lips.

She would always be under whatever spell that smile incited in her.

“Hi.”

For Remus, she was still stunning. His heart still leaps at the sight of her eyes.

#remus lupin #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders x reader #fem!reader #remus lupin x f!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader

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buddie911abc · 6 hours

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Warning. I'm moping.

**I said all this, but then remember how broken Buck and Eddie looked when Chris left. I just can't handle it. The tears.**

I am so gutted about Chris leaving. I've always loved Eddie's dedication and love for his son. It is a big part of his character. This was something special about him that made him stand apart from other characters. I could end the post here because that alone is just devastating.

But I can't leave it alone. I have entered another mopey phase. I was thinking about Eddie the other day. If Buck becomes wrapped up in Tommy, and his new Bobby-approved relationship, then I have to wonder who Eddie is as a character. Who is Eddie now that he might not be part of a super-couple. He was always more than just that. Right? Will Eddie just fade away into a side character? Buck and Eddie will still be friends, but without the Buddie, slow-burn-undercurrent of tension, the friendship hits different. Even when they were with other people, scenes were written that made them gravitate back to each other. (Buddie did not come into existence just because two hot guys were friends. We were seeing content written with multiple interpretations, but there was something in direction, acting, idk. that made it more) I'm not sure we're getting that anymore.

Buck and Eddie hung out all the time. Buck cooked for Eddie and Chris. Buck watched Chris while Eddie did different things, and the two of them had moments they wouldn't have had if Buck hadn't already been present due to Chris. If Buck prepared a meal just for him and Eddie, that would be dating, and they've made it clear they aren't going that route. Eddie has also been framed as a bad@$$ ex-military guy. It once made him unique in the show, but he shares that with Tommy now and Tommy is also a pilot. Eddie was a great father to a child with different needs. That has been taken away as well.

In one of Ryan's interviews, he talked about learning to love himself. I think there is potential, but for the life of me, I can't imagine what kind of story arc you would put with that. He has no foil. He has nothing to push against, and I'm just not in a place where I can see them introducing a character I would appreciate as a love interest. They could still do a new love interest, but that defeats the purpose of learning to love yourself first.

I wanted the season to leave me on the hopeful side of Buddie. I wanted some sort of canon confirmation that makes the audience aware that something is there for Buddie even if the story on screen hasn't reached it yet. I wanted something substantial that isn't us reading a scene with multiple interpretations. Something clear. Some of you may recall I have been vacillating between worrying about Buddie being erased and being hopeful that it would be canon.

As the situation stands, the Will was not mentioned. Chris is gone so co-parenting is now over. They are still friends, but now the writers are putting them together in scenes differently. Buck's reaction to Eddie being shot. That was love. Whenever they had scenes together, there was an undercurrent. That doesn't seem to be present. The scenes from tonight were close, but they were driven by the wider intimacy of their connection to Chris. That chosen family, and again, at the end, Chris was gone.

Say what you will about Tommy. The fact that he was written as the place Buck went to after everything went down with Chris and Bobby, indicates a huge shift in the writing. A lot of people hate Tommy, but he's written to be likable. The hate is mostly unfair. There are a few legitimate complaints, but nothing to account for hate. Even though there hasn't been a lot written so far, time is going to fix how much content we see on Tommy. Until they write him unlikable he's going to gain traction. I'm not ready for that either. And you know Tommy hinting that he wants to be "Daddy" with Buck is going to hit right for a lot of people. (I don't get into the whole Daddy vibe but I respect that a lot of people dig it.)

Anywayz, I ramble. With no new content coming up. I'll have to see if my hope will bounce back again. Maybe I'll see an interview to sway me back to hope.

Wait. I do have one hope. I hope I haven't brought the mood down for the rest of my fellow Buddie shippers. I rely on you guys. I need you to believe in Buddie in the moments I can't.

#911 abc #oliver stark #buddie #911 spoilers #ryan guzman #evan buckley #eddie diaz

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thefallennightmare · 2 days

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Hi, I hope you’re having a good day by the time you see this!

I hoping to request a head canon of a wedding day with Noah and all the exciting things that go into the wedding and probably an intimate moment when the wedding reception is over with Noah.

Thank you! \^o^/

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka

"Angel," a soft voice whispered in your ear.

Setting down the glass of champagne, you looked over your shoulder to smile at your husband.

"Hi," you fixed the collar of his shirt. "I was wondering where you ran off to."

Noah tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on the skin of your neck. "Had to shmooze some of the guests. But now, I need a few minutes alone with my wife."

Noah gathered the ends of your wedding dress and began leading you inside the building where your outdoor wedding was being held. You smiled at guests as you walked past them and followed Noah into a closet down the hall next to the bathrooms.

"What are we doing in here?" You giggled when darkness encased you.

A quiet click and the small closet was filled with a yellow-tinted light.

Noah stood in front of you with a piece of cake and two forks.

You gasped. "Did you cut the cake without me?!"

You really didn't care. The day had been a constant move of different things and you barely ate so the sight of the chocolate cake made your mouth water.

"I knew that neither of us would have time to actually enjoy this in between talking with everyone and dancing so I thought we could find a few minutes to ourselves," Noah picked up a large piece and guided it into your mouth.

You hummed in delight. "I'm so glad we went with the chocolate."

The two of you enjoyed the solace of being together and eating a piece of cake.

"What's the plan for later?" Noah questioned when the cake was gone.

You took off your heels and began rubbing at the sore ankles. "We're hitting up McDonald's on the way to the hotel. Then we will eat as much as we want while watching whatever the hell we want. I'm exhausted and sex as husband and wife can wait till tomorrow."

Bad Omens were set to head on the road for their next tour next week so a honeymoon wasn't an option right now.

You could have waited until after the tour to get married and then go on your honeymoon but neither of you wanted that.

Instead, you had a small wedding with friends and family. Something secretive that no one knew about until yesterday.

Your honeymoon was spending a three-day weekend at a hotel away from Noah's roommates who you all loved dearly.

But as husband and wife, you needed some time just the two of you.

Noah, who took over rubbing your ankles, gave you a kiss on the lips.

"Sounds like a great honeymoon to me, wife."

#tina talks #noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian headcannons #bad omens headcannons #thefallennightmare

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lowkeychenle · 15 hours

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the hardest part [ZCL] (M) fic teaser

Description: You, Chenle, and Jay have been best friends since before you could even remember. After moving away to pursue your dreams, you don't talk to them as often as you should. One day, you get a call notifying you of Jay's passing. When you go back to your hometown, you find everything is different except for one person--Chenle.

Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst (please see content warnings)

Content Warnings: death of a close friend, survivor's guilt, lots of what-if scenarios, navigating life without someone you've always had around, mental break downs, panic attacks (not vividly described AS panic attacks), two people coming together to heal from grief, explicit sexual content (unprotected sex, oral sex, mentions of sex, etc. although it's not super crazy so do with that what you will)

Release Date: 6.5.2024

Expected Word Count: 15-20k (maybe less?)

Teaser Word Count: 796

Taglist: Open!! Please let me know if you'd like to be added.

Permanent Taglist: @sunnybutcloudy @neozon3nha @waffleuvs

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x fem!reader (featuring OC by the name of Jay)

Juliet's Masterlist | Tell me what you think? :)

When nightfall comes, you and Chenle go to your separate rooms. He bids you goodnight, and you close your door. You sit on the edge of the bed and take in the room around you. Everything has changed immensely since the last time you were in your hometown. Your best friend bought a house, and you’d barely even thought or heard about it. Pride in him surges through you, but for a moment, you think it may be misplaced.

You don’t deserve to be proud of someone you’ve failed to talk to as often as you should have. Losing Jay has torn your world apart, and you still don’t truly believe it. You change into your tank top and shorts, and then grab your toothbrush and toothpaste from your bag.

You’re on your way to the bathroom when you find Chenle in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and bringing a glass of water up to his lips. He gives you a tired nod.

“You’re still up?”

“Sleep on a day like this?” He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I’ll probably have some crazy ass dream or something.”

You forget your adventure to his bathroom and approach the kitchen island. Without a word between the two of you, he goes into the cupboard to get you a cup as well. He fills it with water and slides it across the countertop.

“Thanks,” you say.

He nods once and crosses his arms over his chest. “How’s life going, though? Current events aside.”

“Life is a constant revolving door of work,” you tell him. “Working my way up the corporate ladder and all that bullshit they spew.”

“You look good. As long as you’re getting all the things you wanted, I’m good, too.” He closes his eyes and tilts his head back.

“Kind of debating if it was worth it at this point.” You sigh. “I’m proud of you, by the way. Buying a house on your own is a big deal.”

“Family business money.”

“You work. You earned it.”

“I guess that’s true. Thanks.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I’d be okay if you weren’t.”

“Like I’d ever leave you to deal with something like this alone.” You tap your fingers against the granite, admiring the swirls of color deep in the design.

“Regardless, I needed you.” Chenle gulps, glancing at his feet. “I still do. Now more than ever with Jay gone.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” you ask.

He wets his lips and takes the bottom one between his teeth. “It’s not that I thought that, necessarily, but I did wonder if you were. I didn’t hear from you, so I kind of just hoped.”

Guilt takes another stab at your heart. “Chenle, I—”

“Don’t apologize again,” he replies sternly. “Life is life. There’s no way any of us could’ve predicted this, okay? Sometimes, shit happens. Not being around a lot isn’t the end of the world.”

“It was for Jay.”

“You were not the end of the world. You didn’t kill him, for fuck’s sake. There’s nothing any of us could’ve done. And reminiscing on it like this and placing unplaceable blame on ourselves is going to make things harder.” He sets his cup in the sink.

“I know. I know that, but for some reason, my head keeps—”

“Let’s watch a movie,” he offers. “Maybe it’ll distract you a little bit.”

You agree, and go into the bathroom to brush your teeth before you follow him into his room. It’s so innately Chenle in there, you immediately feel relaxed. Some things never change, and you’re glad he’s one of those things.

“Sorry, I don’t have a TV in the living room,” he says as he pulls his covers back.

“Just roll me off if I fall asleep,” you reply, climbing onto the untouched side.

Eventually, he’s next to you, and you rest your head on his chest while he finds something to watch. He selects some random comedy movie and then shuffles to put his arm around you.

His scent is familiar, too. The world calms around you when you’re with Chenle. One out of two of your safe places has left the Earth, but luckily for you, Chenle is more than ready to play both roles.

The movie does, indeed, successfully distract you from the impending doom of everything outside. You’re able to forget, even if it’s just for a couple hours, and sink into the familiarity of your best friend.

His chest rumbles when he laughs at the screen, and the feeling has you drifting faster than you’d care to admit.

Until finally, your eyes flutter shut and stay that way, and just like that, you have the best night of sleep you’ve had all week.

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serial-serializednovelreader · 2 days

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Nova’s Notes - Dracula Daily - May 28

Finally, a letter from our good friend Jonathan Harker! I’m sure nothing bad has happened to him since his last entry. /s

So right off the bat, he tells us his plan for escape using the Szgany people as a means of sending two secret letters home, one to Mina and one to Mr. Hawkins.

“To her I have explained my situation, but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would shock and frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her.”

I’ve seen some flack on him from this and that’s valid, but I want to approach this from a different perspective (also, I’m a total Jonathan apologist).

So from what we can see here, he’s “explained the situation” to Mina. I’m going to assume that means “I’m trapped in this castle with no means of escape for the next 32 days, after which I’m not sure what’s going to happen to me. You will receive letters from me saying I’m on my way home, don’t believe them. I am being held here against my will, you and Mr. Hawkins need to find a way to get me out of this.”

Obviously, I’m sure that’s not actually how he said it — he likely said it much more covertly than that — but that’s the gist. While he does say he hasn’t explained the horrors to her, one of the reasons he doesn’t is because, again, he can only speculate about what’s going on here. He doesn’t have hardcore evidence that anyone wants to suck his blood or that the Count wants to murder him. His livelihood is built off of facts and sending a letter that has a ton of speculation without proof in it is pretty much against his moral code at this point.

Also, think about the position it would put Mina in if she received a letter filled with the horrors he has endured. Jonathan is placing her in a position of trust and power by telling his boss to “communicate with her” (to figure out a plan of escape for him). If Mina knows exactly what has gone down in that castle, she likely will be much more frantic in trying to get him out of there (and who can blame her?). But Mr. Hawkins wouldn’t be. He doesn’t know anything about what is going on, and that would then put Mina in the position of likely having to explain everything to Mr. Hawkins and him deciding whether he believes her or not. Sure, she can show him the letter, but I don’t know if he reads shorthand, and if he’s skeptical enough, he might dismiss the entire letter as “not from Jonathan” (this could be an exaggeration, but we also don’t know Mr. Hawkins well enough to know his character).

However, Jonathan being held against his will by an unreasonable client is something a bit more down-to-earth. While Mina might leave off the “after-32-days-who-knows-what-will-happen-to-me” part, she can say that Jonathan has tried to ask the Count to leave and has been refused for various reasons. Mr. Hawkins has likely dealt with this before and knows ways to counteract this. Perhaps he can send a letter to the count requesting his solicitor back for urgent matters, or something of the kind. While this likely wouldn’t have worked (due to, you know, it being *Dracula* we’re dealing with), Jonathan is eager to try anything at this point and this would be playing into Dracula’s illusion of Jonathan simply being a guest who can leave at any time. Plus, Jonathan knows if this tactic doesn’t work, he has more serious grounds to say the Count is holding him against his will.

Another point, he probably doesn’t have an unlimited supply of paper to work with, so he also wants to keep this letter relatively short. He could just read the pages from his diary and include those but that would make for a bulky envelope and it might not even fit.

On the emotional side, if you were in a horrifying situation and had one letter to send home, what would you put in that letter? Would you play up the horror of what you’re going through or simply emphasize the importance of getting out of there and how your loved one can help? While, yes, he should include some of what he’s going through (and, to be fair, he does explain some of the situation to only her which is a step above most protagonists, who likely would either a) not send letters explaining it to anyone or b) just explain it to his male boss). I think most people in his shoes probably wouldn’t want to include the trauma of what they’re going through in order to not stress out their partner, no matter the gender. It’s what a lot of humans do and whether that’s the right call or not depends on the situation.

Finally, another big reason I believe he keeps it a secret is because of the next sentence:

“Should the letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the extent of my knowledge....”

Here’s the thing we have to remember: Jonathan doesn’t know for sure that Dracula doesn’t know shorthand. He’s already proven himself to be smart and knowledgeable, knowing the laws (almost as much as a lawyer in his own right) for a country he’s not even from. Sure, there may have been things the Count has said to suggest that he doesn’t know shorthand (which has given Jonathan that level of security), but we also know he’s a lying liar who lies. So, who knows? Jonathan sure isn’t going to take his chances describing every single weird encounter he’s had since he arrived at this castle, because that would be playing his hand about how much he knows.

Yes, writing these letters is taking a huge chance and is showing a bit of what he knows. But if the Count is able to read the letter in its current form, Jonathan will, at worst, sound like an ungrateful and rude guest with weird ideas (presuming he didn’t say “the count’s murdering me in 32 days” which he probably didn’t). They can still come back from that. Will it be awkward? Yes, very. Dracula might even say “Jonathan, haha! You can leave at anytime, why do you say this?” (LIES).

But if Jonathan detailed every single thing that has happened to him? That would likely get him murdered on the spot. He has broken the rules of this game the Count so enjoys playing by inviting someone else into their confidence (at least to that full extent). It might even put Mina in danger as well.

“‘The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they come, I shall, of course, take care.’”

And here we see Count Dracula trying not to lie for one second (impossible). I doubt they gave him the letter of their own free will; I’m almost sure he either used his authority as a nobleman or he used his vampire powers to make them hand over the letters. No matter what, it’s evil and I hate him for it. Of course, he’s going to put the blame on *the Szgany* to make them sound as if they just gave him the letters because there’s nothing Dracula loves more than discrediting those he deems “below him” (which, really, is anyone who ISN’T him when you think about it) and making them seem ignorant. Plus, it’s another abuser tactic to remind Jonathan that no one here is really on his side: he’s already done this with the villagers and the coachmen, so it stands to reason he would do this here. We know that’s not true (look at how the villagers protected Jonathan), but for Jonathan, it’s likely starting to feel true after almost a month of isolation.

“…here he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly—‘the other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us.’ And he calmly held letter and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed.”

Back to my earlier point: what if Dracula *could* read shorthand? I’m sorry if that’s a theory everyone already has and I just haven’t seen it yet, but it is something to consider. No matter if he does, he obviously knows it’s from Jonathan and it’s written in some kind of code to a loved one, so he was going to burn this no matter what. But still, the possibility of him being able to actually *read* that letter is scary…

Notice how he says “us” here, trying to rope Jonathan back into a little group with him (presumably away from the Szgany, or even, perhaps, from the outside world). It’s sickening to me that even while he’s burning Jonathan’s only hope (at this point), he’s still trying to build a sense of rapport between them. While Jonathan called him a creature — rather than a man — for the first time after the lizard fashion thing, this is where I’d call him a creature because that’s just horrible. He even has the audacity afterward to say “Your letters are sacred to me” while also admitting he broke the seal and read Mr. Hawkins’ letter as well. It’s an invasion of privacy on so many levels and, of course, there’s nothing Jonathan can do about it. If he even had the heart to complain, Dracula could just lean on the excuse of “I don’t understand English customs” (uhhhh you understand their laws to an alarming degree though???).

As a disclaimer, I don’t think it’s a thing in Transylvania to peek into other people’s mail — I’m sure it’s just as much of a taboo there as it is everywhere else — I’m just saying that’s the excuse Dracula would use to justify his evil behavior. Because he likes lying.

After he locks Jonathan in the study (which, wow!!! He’s really punishing him by just straight up locking him in the study now), what can Jonathan do but sleep? I suppose he was so numb to everything after that he just went to sleep. Or, if we really want to take it there, perhaps Dracula compelled him to sleep, as we theorized he did in the carriage ride on the way to the castle. For what purpose is unclear, but perhaps he wanted to tamper in his room and search for more secret letters or something of the kind and didn’t want Jonathan to be suspicious while he did so.

When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, his coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been sleeping, he said:— [para. break] ‘So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed.’

I hate the way Dracula acts here. “Awwww are you sleepy 🥺 go to bed 🥺🥺🥺” like how???? You locked him in the study????? Ugh, hate him. It makes you wonder what he’s so cheery about and what he was up to while Jonathan was asleep….again, my best guess was tampering in his room.

I passed to my room and went to bed, and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.

This is so sad. That last sentence really hammers home how much Jonathan is suffering and how *even then* he’s trying to make some positivity out of it. But for the first part, we know weird dreams usually indicate that Dracula is up to something, right? Perhaps he knows he messed with Jonathan so much that he doesn’t need to send him dreams — the mind games he played in real life are enough to satisfy him, at least for today. And that’s truly where the horror comes in.

#sorry if I sound heated today y’all #I just really hate Dracula in this entry #I’m not having it with him #like I just really wanna bap him #and not in the cute April fools way we did #also yeah first part might be a hot take hope you enjoy!#dracula daily #dracula #jonathan harker #count dracula #novas notes

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saja-star · 5 months

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I've had a hard time articulating to people just how fundamental spinning used to be in people's lives, and how eerie it is that it's vanished so entirely. It occurred to me today that it's a bit like if in the future all food was made by machine, and people forgot what farming and cooking were. Not just that they forgot how to do it; they had never heard of it.

When they use phrases like "spinning yarns" for telling stories or "heckling a performer" without understanding where they come from, I imagine a scene in the future where someone uses the phrase "stir the pot" to mean "cause a disagreement" and I say, did you know a pot used to be a container for heating food, and stirring was a way of combining different components of food together? "Wow, you're full of weird facts! How do you even know that?"

When I say I spin and people say "What, like you do exercise bikes? Is that a kind of dancing? What's drafting? What's a hackle?" it's like if I started talking about my cooking hobby and my friend asked "What's salt? Also, what's cooking?" Well, you see, there are a lot of stages to food preparation, starting with planting crops, and cooking is one of the later stages. Salt is a chemical used in cooking which mostly alters the flavor of the food but can also be used for other things, like drawing out moisture...

"Wow, that sounds so complicated. You must have done a lot of research. You're so good at cooking!" I'm really not. In the past, children started learning about cooking as early as age five ("Isn't that child labor?"), and many people cooked every day their whole lives ("Man, people worked so hard back then."). And that's just an average person, not to mention people called "chefs" who did it professionally. I go to the historic preservation center to use their stove once or twice a week, and I started learning a couple years ago. So what I know is less sophisticated than what some children could do back in the day.

"Can you make me a snickers bar?" No, that would be pretty hard. I just make sandwiches mostly. Sometimes I do scrambled eggs. "Oh, I would've thought a snickers bar would be way more basic than eggs. They seem so simple!"

Haven't you ever wondered where food comes from? I ask them. When you were a kid, did you ever pick apart the different colored bits in your food and wonder what it was made of? "No, I never really thought about it." Did you know rice balls are called that because they're made from part of a plant called rice? "Oh haha, that's so weird. I thought 'rice' was just an adjective for anything that was soft and white."

People always ask me why I took up spinning. Isn't it weird that there are things we take so much for granted that we don't even notice when they're gone? Isn't it strange that something which has been part of humanity all across the planet since the Neanderthals is being forgotten in our generation? Isn't it funny that when knowledge dies, it leaves behind a ghost, just like a person? Don't you want to commune with it?

#spinning #historical reenactment #fiber arts #history

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ja3yun · 24 days

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The Doll House | Park Jongseong

doll!jay x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (m.rec), punishment, pussy slapping, begging, slight choking, pet names (sweetheart, good girl, princess), mentions of fire and other supernatural elements, anything else lmk! wc: 10.3k synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion after a month but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house and how they came to be. sunghoon | masterlist | heeseung a/n: hi! with this being the third instalment for this series, it's finally answering some questions while also posing some more! i truly enjoyed writing this chapter and i hope the little word plays and everything get your gears turning with theories! i enjoy hearing your theories so much like i can't even describe it <3 thank you so so so much for the love, i am forever grateful. likes, reblogs, feedback etc are all appreciated!

The doorbell chimes through the air, pulling your attention away from putting away the dishes in the kitchen, and a grin effortlessly spreads across your face. Mia's visit today after a month apart fills you with an immediate sense of joy. Though Jaeyun and Sunghoon are great company to keep, nothing quite compares to the presence of your best friend.

Her absence has been so obvious; her infectious energy seems to breathe life into everywhere she goes, which is a much-missed aura in this mansion; her presence has the power to dispel the shadows and chill that cling to the brick walls.

"Who could that be?" Sunghoon's voice interrupts your thoughts as he strolls around the kitchen island.

"It's Mia, remember? The friend I came here with. I told you she would be coming," you remind him gently, accepting the cup he just dried.

Sunghoon and Jaeyun both offer their assistance with the chores, but their motivations are drastically different. Jaeyun's assistance comes from a place of actually wanting to help and spend quality time with you, whereas Sunghoon is helping because the faster you finish, the sooner he can fuck you in whatever room you wind up in.

Despite your initial concerns, their dynamic surprises you as they seamlessly work in tandem. Rather than competing for your attention, they've embraced the idea of sharing you - an unexpected but pleasant development.

Jaeyun's bright smile at the island warms the room, his anticipation evident, "Will Mia be staying for the last month?" he inquires eagerly.

“Why? Is Y/N not enough?” Sunghoon jabs playfully, his eyebrow arching at his brother's question. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close so your back is pressed against his chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, "If you'd rather be with Mia, I’m more than happy to have my baby girl all to myself," he murmurs against your neck, planting a gentle kiss on the nape.

Your skin tingles with a mix of excitement and affection as Sunghoon leaves a faint mark, a delighted expression dancing across your face.

“No, no! I was just curious," Jaeyun protests with a pout, his posture relaxing into a slight slouch. He’s so cute when Sunghoon teases him like that, you’re almost reluctant to stop it.

But before you can say anything, Sunghoon gently turns you to face him, his expression softening as he meets your gaze, "Remember," he murmurs, his voice tinged with a hint of seriousness, "you can’t tell Mia about us, yeah?”

Of course, you knew that telling her would be disastrous no matter the outcome. She would either think you were crazy and lost your mind, or she would tell the world. Your best friend was never the best at keeping secrets.

“I know, don’t worry,” you offer the simple words as reassurance to him, which paired with the sincerity in your eyes, he gladly accepts.

Leaning in, Sunghoon lands a soft kiss on your lips, his kind gesture relieving any remaining anxieties, "Good. Now, once she's finally fucking gone, come find me in my room," he says with a sly leer, his fingers slithering teasingly over your sides - a familiar trick he uses to make you weak. You should reprimand him for speaking so dismissively about your best friend's arrival, but he just has the power to make you forget.

Sunghoon's demeanour takes a brief shift as he addresses Jaeyun, a hint of authority creeping into his tone, "And you," he gestures towards Jaeyun behind you, his expression momentarily serious, "if you're staying here, you stay absolutely still, got it?"

"Okay, Dad, jeez," Jaeyun retorts, rolling his eyes in mock annoyance at the implication that he needs to be reminded.

You grasp Sunghoon's concern, especially given that you're currently aware of the doll's secret due to Jaeyun's loose lips. However, Sunghoon's tone feels unnecessarily harsh. Jaeyun holds a special place in your heart, and you find yourself fiercely protective of him. It irks you to see Sunghoon address him in such a condescending manner, as if he's incapable of handling himself.

Feeling defensive of Jaeyun, you push against Sunghoon's arm, shooting him a stern look, a firm reminder that he should catch his tongue because both of you know how it affects Jaeyun.

The bell rings again, drawing all three of your attention back to Mia's imminent arrival. Sunghoon excuses himself to his room, and Jaeyun settles comfortably into a chair, leaving you to answer the door with the unspoken reassurance that Mia won’t uncover their secret. But then again, what if you slip up?

It's a nagging worry in the back of your mind as you approach the door. Mia knows everything about you - every hook-up, every situationship, even mundane details like what you had for breakfast each morning. She's your confidante for everything, even the embarrassing stuff like bursting spots on your backside. With her, nothing is off-limits.

You remind yourself to keep your wits about you, to guard your words carefully in Mia's presence. The last thing you need is to accidentally let slip the truth about the dolls and your illicit affairs with them.

You need to keep your wits about you.

As you swing open the door, greeted by the radiant presence of the angel you call your best friend, every worry and concern fades into the background. Her infectious smile and warm embrace envelop you, dispelling any lingering doubts or anxieties.

"Baby!" you exclaim, unable to contain your excitement as you wrap Mia in a tight embrace, swinging her from side to side. Though it's only been a month since you last saw her, it feels like an eternity.

Mia reciprocates your enthusiasm, squeezing you just as tightly, the warmth of her embrace filling you with a sense of homecoming. Both of you laugh and struggle to breathe amidst the suffocating love you shower upon each other, relishing in the joy of being reunited.

"God, I've missed you. It's so boring back in the city without you," Mia confesses, her words honest as she finally draws back to assess you. Suddenly, she pushes you to arm's length, her hands gripping your shoulders as she scrutinises you with a sceptical expression. With a flick of her finger, she motions for you to turn around, and you oblige, doing a quick twirl to indulge her curiosity.

You give her a quizzical look, tilting your head in silent inquiry as to what she's up to. "You're glowing, like literally, you look fucking amazing," she observes, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

"Don't I always?" you jest in response.

"Obviously, but you've got that honeymoon glow," Mia insists, walking into the house but not before nudging you with her shoulder. "Is there a hot gardener here that I don't know about, hmm?"

Laughing, you shake your head, dismissing her playful insinuations. You make a conscious effort to maintain the facade, concealing your unconventional relationships with the dolls from Mia, despite her keen observations.

They must be fucking you good for her to notice a change within a minute of seeing you.

Mia follows you to the kitchen, her gaze lingering on the various porcelain dolls scattered throughout the hallway, just as she had when you both met Soonyeol for the first time. You sense her unease, evident in the hurried pace of her steps as she tries desperately to evade the watchful eyes of the dolls.

What she finds unsettling, you've grown to find some comfort in. Each time you clean them, you develop a newfound admiration for their intricate beauty and craftsmanship. Sometimes, Sunghoon will even tell you stories about certain dolls and their origins, adding to the mystique surrounding them.

Entering the kitchen, you find Jaeyun still perched on his seat, his usual joyful smile replaced by a stoic expression as he takes on his doll persona.

It’s weird to see him like this now, especially because you’ve seen him convey every emotion possible on that beautiful face of his; the solemn look he wears now just feels wrong.

"I brought non-alcoholic wine," Mia announces, reaching into her bag and producing two bottles of white wine. Since she’s driving, she’s bringing you along in her sobriety for the day. If it was easy to get an Uber in these parts, she certainly wouldn’t be settling for 0.05%.

You chuckle at the sight, "Seriously? Gary Barlow wine?" you tease, unable to resist poking fun at her choice.

Mia feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over her heart, "I'll have you know this is my idea of a very nice day out," she retorts, her voice taking on a mock-serious tone as she quotes his TikTok video, struggling to suppress a giggle. "That, and it was £2 off with my clubcard."

You both burst into laughter, her tension from earlier dissipating as you share a lighthearted moment. Grabbing two large glasses, you place them on the table, inviting Mia to pour some for you both.

"How was the drive?" you inquire, taking a small sip of wine.

"It was fine, although longer than I remember," Mia replies with a huff, sinking into a seat opposite Jaeyun. You notice her discomfort as she eyes him, face contorting in a form of disgust, "How has it been here?" she asks, wishing to know how on earth you’re coping in a mansion with such watchful eyes.

"It's a big house, lots to clean. All in all, it's been good.” You sip your wine, struggling to maintain the facade of normalcy.

The urge to confide in Mia, to unburden yourself of the secrets weighing heavily on your shoulders, is almost overwhelming. You want to tell her about the dolls, the ominous door that almost blinded you, and the sense of anxiety you feel sometimes when you roam the hallways. But you swallow the truth down, burying it beneath layers of false smiles and empty reassurances. It's a lonely feeling, knowing that you can't share your fears and anxieties with your closest friend. But for now, it's a burden you'll have to bear alone.

Mia accepts your answer with a sceptical expression, her eyes never wavering from Jaeyun's impassive face, "It's so fucking creepy," she murmurs into her glass, her discomfort evident in her tone, "Do you actually have to place them around the house? Can't you keep them locked up or something?"

You glance at Jaeyun, hoping for a flicker of reassurance in his eyes, but they remain devoid of emotion, sending a shiver down your spine. It's unsettling to see him so detached, his usual warmth replaced by an eerie emptiness.

Gathering your resolve, you pick up your glass and move to stand beside Jaeyun, offering him a supportive smile before responding to Mia. "It's part of the job, Mia. Soonyeol entrusted me with the responsibility of caring for them," you explain, your voice tinged with a mixture of obligation and fondness.

Mia scoffs at your explanation, "Girl, you're in a mansion on your own, just clean up on the last day. It's not like she would notice," she suggests, her nose upturned in disdain. You can tell that this whole situation is deeply unsettling for her, a puzzle she can't quite solve without knowing the full truth. She will never understand until she’s in your shoes.

"It's... nice, to look after them like this," you say wistfully, casting a fond glance down at Jaeyun as you speak.

Unable to resist the urge to offer him a comforting touch, you reach out to tuck a loose strand of Jaeyun's hair behind his ear, a small gesture of affection. Jaeyun wants nothing more than to nuzzle himself into your touch but Sunghoon’s words are still ringing in his mind.

Mia observes your interaction with a mixture of curiosity and concern, her eyes flitting between you and Jaeyun as if trying to decipher the unspoken language passing between you. You’ve only ever looked at one other man the way you look at him and it was your high school sweetheart.

The connection you share with Sunghoon and Jaeyun is utterly unlike anything you've ever known. They resonate with your soul in a way that defies rational explanation, leaving you convinced that they must be otherworldly beings. There has to be more to them than just kindred spirits trapped in the shell of these dolls; no mere human soul could evoke such a profound hold over you.

She scoffs and laughs in disbelief at your act of affection, “You’ve lost it, completely lost it. Being in this house alone has driven you to insanity,” she shakes her head, crossing her arms.

You retract your hand from Jaeyun and look at her in wonder, “What do you mean?”

It’s completely lost on you how this could look to her because for you this is normal. Soonyeol was strange in your eyes when you first arrived, Mia also accused the owner of being crazy, but now you understand Soonyeol and her attachment to her dolls.

Mia's incredulous gaze flickers between you and Jaeyun, her words dripping with disdain. "Look at you fixing that stupid doll's hair!" she exclaims, her voice laced with exasperation as if your actions are the epitome of absurdity, "You're going to turn into that creepy bitch who lives here."

Her words cut through the air like a knife, slicing through the fragile peace of the moment. You can’t feel it but you know Jaeyun would be tensing under her words if he had the ability to. Jaeyun doesn’t like it when people talk bad about his owner, especially since the reason Mia finds her so creepy is because of him and his brothers.

He does understand to an extent that Soonyeol being so young and cooped up with four dolls in a mansion that can only rival the one in Saltburn might be seen as weird, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear about it, considering the passing comment is from someone who knows nothing about her.

You place a calming hand on Jaeyun's shoulder, your protective instincts kicking into high gear. "Listen, if you're going to run your mouth, just fucking go," you retort harshly, your voice fueled by your need to shield Jaeyun from Mia's unnecessary commentary.

Mia's eyes widen in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and frustration. "Y/N, listen to yourself," she chides, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment, “You've gone stark crazy... maybe you should come home-"

"No!" The word bursts from your lips in a panic, cutting off Mia's well-meaning suggestion before she can finish. The thought of leaving sends a wave of fear coursing through you.

Mia recoils at your outburst, taken aback by the intensity of your reaction. "Y/N, I don't think it's good for you here," she pleads, her tone softening as she reaches out to touch your arm.

But you pull away, shaking your head vehemently. "You literally said I was glowing all but 10 minutes ago," you snap back, narrowing your eyes at her, "Just fucking go."

There's a moment of tense silence as Mia processes your words, her expression shifting from concern to anger. She knows there's no reasoning with you when you're in this state, and she can sense the wall you've built around yourself.

"Fine. I'll see you when you screw your head back on," she spits out at you, her voice dripping with ire and disappointment. With one final, venomous glare at Jaeyun, she grabs her bag and storms out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the halls.

You're left standing there, the echoes of her departure ringing in your ears. Despite the sting of her words, you can't bring yourself to regret your decision to kick her out. At the end of the day, this is the dolls’ house and you wouldn’t like it if someone came into your flat and disrespected you or your belongings.

But you can’t help but process her words as you calm down. You know she is just looking out for you, showing her genuine concern because she knows what isolation can do to someone and their mental state, and maybe she is right. You are attached to the dolls way beyond your own comprehension and it’s taken you just now to truly realise it.

You cussed out your best friend to protect the feelings of a doll. It's a sobering thought, one that fills you with a sense of unease and self-doubt.

Maybe you should have gone with her, go back to your normal life, and forget about this place.

In the silence of the room, you turn to Jaeyun, and suddenly any wish to leave vanishes. Just like that. His face now upturned to look at you with sorrow. He looks so beautiful in this light that his being is almost angelic.

You cup his face with your hands, using your thumbs to stroke any semblance of comfort into him before speaking, "She doesn't mean it, Jaeyun," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper in the hushed atmosphere of the room, "She just doesn't understand."

Jaeyun nods slowly, knowing that you’re trying to appease his mind but what’s said has already bruised him.

Kissing Jaeyun's nose, you offer him a tender smile before gently patting his cheeks. With a sigh, you reluctantly release your hold on him, the weight of the moment hanging heavy in the air, "I'll go check on the others," you murmur softly, "I'll be back in a bit."

_____

You shake off whatever you’re feeling and head through the mansion to help the other dolls. Admittedly, your task for moving them around has become much easier now that Jaeyun and Sunghoon move freely except for dinner time, which has freed up a good chunk of your time.

Each step you take echoes softly off the aged floorboards, their worn surfaces groaning beneath your weight. Sunlight filters sparingly through the windows, casting long shadows that dance across the dimly lit passages, adding to the eerie yet enchanting atmosphere of the mansion.

Sometimes you wonder about its history and its owner. How did a 20-something obtain such a grand house and why does she live alone? Of course, she has the boys but even then you can’t exactly take them on a night in the town. It’s so strange to see someone your age devoid of the usual life a young person would lead; no mobile, no wi-fi, not even a computer in sight.

The more you stay here though, you understand her a little bit better. There’s a comfort in the way this mansion takes your superficial worries away, like how many likes you have on your Instagram post or how people perceive you in general. The eyes that follow you here can’t pass judgment on you, which at the beginning was terrifying but now brings you a strange sort of solace.

As you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, you can't help but feel a sense of companionship with the dolls scattered throughout. With each step, you offer a soft greeting to your porcelain companions, their frozen expressions seeming to acknowledge your presence in return. If Mia stayed that day, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so threatened by them.

"Hello there, lovely," you murmur as you pass a doll perched on a velvet chaise longue, her delicate features bathed in the subdued sunlight streaming through the window. You straighten her white-laced dress and smile politely.

Even though the porcelain girl remains silent, you know she’s thankful.

You asked Sunghoon if it was just the four of them who could talk, curious about the dolls that decorate the shelves of the house. He informed you that they aren't sentient beings but each one has a complex past and represents an identity in their own way. Ever since then, you’ve started to view them differently, a new appreciation for them blooming.

While you’re fixing a doll standing regally on the shelf by a towering grandfather clock, her elegant gown billowing around her like a ghostly mist, a faint melody drifts into your ears. It's a common occurrence, though typically happens in the dead of night. Sometimes, in the quiet hours, the strains of a piano tune or the gentle plucking of guitar strings would echo through the halls, adding to the mansion's eerie ambience.

On your first few nights here, it made you quiver under your bed quilt but now you’ve come to find it a beautiful lullaby.

Following the source of the music, you're drawn to the open doors of the music room, their inviting stance beckoning you inside. Peering around the wall, you catch sight of one of the dolls seated with a guitar, fingers moving across the strings with practised ease.

His head hangs low, a curtain of dark brown hair obscuring half of his face, yet you recognize him instantly. It's Jongseong, his broad shoulders and golden complexion a telltale sign, along with his sharp jawline drawing attention to the almost heart-shaped mark on his neck.

You can't help but admire the striking beauty that emanates from him, even in this quiet moment of solitude. Sunghoon and Jaeyun's stories about his kindness flood you and memories of his selfless gestures are etched vividly in your brain.

You recall the time when Jongseong risked getting caught just to offer you a simple plaster for your pricked finger, his compassion shining through despite the potential consequences. And then there are the small, subtle acts of care that he continues to bestow upon you, like the glass of water that mysteriously appears by your bedside table each morning, a silent gesture of his thoughtfulness.

Then there's the delicate daisy that sometimes rests on your pillow before you go to bed for the night, a token from the front garden that Jongseong must have plucked with care, knowing how much you adore its simple beauty. Every day you go outside and admire the flower as it basks in the summer sun, its life a brightness to contrast the otherwise dreary house.

Jaeyun and Sunghoon both deny any involvement in the sweet actions, leaving Jongseong as the only possible culprit.

“You can come in you know,” his voice suddenly speaks over the gently strum.

Your breath catches at the unexpected sound of his voice, and you freeze in place, startled by his acknowledgement of your presence. For a fleeting moment, you wonder if you imagined it, but the gentle strumming of the guitar persists, a soothing backdrop to his quiet words.

With cautious steps, you inch further into the room, the rhythmic thud of your heart echoing in your ears and adding percussion to his song. Jongseong's gaze remains fixed on the strings of the guitar, his hair casting shadows across his face that do little to mask his smirk.

Now how does he know that you know about him?

Jongseong suddenly screeches the guitar to a halt, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an air of knowingness, "You seem in shock for some reason," he observes, his voice soft yet perceptible in the stillness of the room. With careful precision, he returns the guitar to its glass cabinet.

Your heart skips a beat, torn between maintaining the facade of ignorance and embracing the truth about Jongseong's secret. As his gaze holds yours, uncertainty gnaws at you, leaving your voice hesitant and faltering. "I... I am?" you manage to utter, the words tinged with a hint of doubt.

Wow, so convincing, Y/N, you internally chastise yourself for the lacklustre response, feeling the weight of your indecision bearing down on you. But before you can gather your thoughts and make a quick save for your fumble.

"Jaeyun and Sunghoon are terrible liars," he remarks, his voice calm and composed. "And I saw you just there, comforting Jaeyun because of what your friend said."

His candid admission catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless. Just like Sunghoon, Jongseong quickly discerned the truth, his thoughts solidified by Mia's careless words and your instinctive need to shield Jaeyun.

Exhaling slowly, you release the tension that had knotted your muscles, allowing yourself to relax a fraction. "She really doesn’t mean it," you clarify to Jongseong, hoping to ease his mind as you had done with his brother.

"It’s okay, you look fucking crazy, to be fair, fussing over some dolls," he replies, his tone surprisingly nonchalant, much to your relief. Considering Jongseong’s caring nature, you wouldn’t want her words to bruise his kind spirit.

You bristle at his casual reference to them as 'dolls,' unable to bear the thought of diminishing their significance, "You aren’t just 'some dolls,' Jongseong," you protest, your voice laced with compassion.

Rising from his seat, Jongseong offers a faint smile as he approaches you with unthreatening steps. "We know that, but she doesn’t. Don’t be too hard on her," he reassures calmingly, his words like a balm to the part of your brain that had been feuding with Mia, now quieting and subsiding under his simple wisdom.

As his hand gently strokes your hair, you feel a sense of comfort wash over you, his touch soothing the lingering unease in your mind. His fingers then trace down to your chin, his touch tender, "You’re good with him, you know, with Jaeyun," he observes softly, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that draws you in.

"He brings out a protective side of me, I don’t really know why," you admit quietly, your eyes locked with Jongseong's as you speak. His half-smirk in response only deepens the adoration reflected in your widened pupils. He closes his eyes like he knows something you don't.

Jongseong playfully pinches your chin before withdrawing his hand, "Yeah, Soonyeol has been the same ever since she got him," he remarks.

"Have you been here longer than him?" you inquire, your curiosity piqued as you gesture towards the kitchen where you left Jaeyun.

"I’ve been here for…a long time," Jongseong reveals, his voice tinged with a hint of reminiscence, "Heeseung for 8, Sunghoon for 4, and Jaeyun just over a year.."

The weight of his words swirls in your mind, each year marking a chapter in their shared history within the mansion's walls. You find yourself marvelling at the depth of their experiences, each doll carrying different memories and stories within their hollow frames. It now makes sense why Jaeyun knows so little.

That nugget of information must also mean that Jongseong knows everything there is to know about this place, about each of his brothers, if he has been here for so long. Maybe asking him will unlock the mysteries of this place.

"I'm not trying to pry," you begin tentatively, causing Jongseong to lift his brow in curiosity, "But how can you guys...how are you able to talk?" Your voice trails off slightly as you pose the question, a hint of apprehension colouring your words.

To your surprise, Jongseong chuckles softly and smiles wider in response, "Sunghoon mentioned you were snooping around when you arrived," he remarks, a twinkle of amusement dancing in his eyes. After a moment of silence, he lets out a long breath, contemplating his next actions before continuing, "You won't give up until we tell you, will you?"

His words catch you off guard, a mixture of relief and curiosity flooding through you. Despite your initial hesitation, Jongseong's casual response reassures you, hopefully paving the way for an open and honest conversation that can curb your nosiness.

“Come on and I’ll show you.”

_____

With intertwined fingers, Jongseong leads you into the library, your mind buzzing with anticipation at the possibilities of what he could be showing you. You grip his hand tighter, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls you towards the far end of the room.

But as you near that god-awful painting of the sheep, a sense of dread washes over you, sending a chill down your spine. Suddenly, you release Jongseong's hand, the realisation of what he's doing hitting you like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, no, no, no," you protest vehemently, shaking your head in refusal, "I am NOT going near that room."

Your mind flashes back to the burning sensation in your eyes, the eerie red light searing into your retinas. Over the past few weeks, you've actively avoided that creepy room, refusing to even glance in its direction. Your curiosity may be insatiable, but you draw the line at risking letting out whatever is in there just in the name of discovering a secret.

Your irises mirror the turmoil within you, reflecting the fear and trepidation that grips your heart. You've made a vow to steer clear of that door and any other painting in this place, focusing your investigations on less ominous artefacts like locked cupboards and hidden pages within books.

Jongseong looks at you with concern, his brows furrowing in disbelief as he processes your words, “You know about this door?" he asks incredulously, wondering how on earth you ever managed to find it.

"Yes, and I am not going near it," you retort defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest like a stubborn child, "It almost blinded me!"

As you stand your ground, refusing to budge an inch, Jongseong's expression softens, his concern evident in the gentle gaze he fixes upon you, "I promise you, Sweetheart, there is nothing in there that can hurt you, not when I'm with you, okay?" he reassures, his hand finding yours once more as he brings it to his lips, kissing away the surge of fear that threatens to engulf you.

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, knowing that he will protect you from whatever dangers may lie beyond that wooden door.

With a hesitant nod, you allow Jongseong to lead you forward, you trust him but you’re still cautious enough to keep your wits about you, trailing two steps behind him.

Reaching the top of the wooden panel that frames the door, he takes the spare key and unlocks the door. It was really in front of you the entire time and you had no clue; you’re no Sherlock Holmes, that’s for sure.

You let out a breath and scrunch your face, being ready for anything as he swings the door open. Yet, you’re met with darkness - no red light, no flickering flames, nothing like what you saw through the keyhole.

But why does that scare you more?

Jongseong pulls you in, his grip on your hand loosening as he flicks on some lanterns. The room, once plunged with darkness now has a soft glow from the lanterns as they gradually illuminate the space, revealing its secrets in flickering shadows.

It's a stark contrast to the rest of the mansion, with its black stone walls absorbing the light rather than reflecting it. The air feels heavy with the weight of something you can’t put your finger on, every corner whispering tales of those you’ll never understand or know.

In the centre of the room stands an altar, its surface weathered with age and a stone bowl resting atop it like an ancient relic. Symbols etched into the stone tell stories that you can’t translate, the old language lost on you.

As you take in the sight before you, a shiver runs down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity coursing through your veins. Where did the red light come from if everything in here looks like it belongs in the Addams Family house?

"What is all this?" you ask, your curiosity overcoming any sense of apprehension as you creep closer to the altar. It's reminiscent of ones you've seen in movies depicting satanic rituals, yet even with its eerie aura, you can't resist the urge to touch it, your fingers tracing the lines of its rim.

"The office," Jongseong replies casually, as if this were a mundane space for everyday tasks like taxes and emails. He flicks on the last lantern and shuts the door firmly, ensuring privacy and avoiding suspicion from any passersby.

As you stand mesmerised by the ceremonial bowl, Jongseong notices your admiration and smiles, "This is the ceremonial bowl," he begins to explain, his body now behind yours, his presence both comforting and electrifying as he presses slightly against you. His fingers intertwine with yours, guiding your touch along the edge of the bowl, "This is how we were summoned"

"Summoned?" you echo, your voice barely above a whisper as you turn to face Jongseong, your eyes wide with disbelief and intrigue.

“Oh, Sweetheart, to bring a doll to life, you need to give it an entity.”

“An entity as in…”

“Any form of life; angel, demon, human, that sort of thing. Someone calls and we answer”

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the idea of imbuing a doll with the essence of a supernatural being is both fascinating and terrifying.

As you process this new information, you can't help but wonder about the origins of the dolls in this mansion, and the entities that dwell within them. They all possess such different charms and energies that you can only imagine each of them comes from different channels of spirits.

“So what are you then?” you ask Jongseong, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

“I’ll leave you to guess that one,” he replies cryptically, pressing himself up against you until your back meets the edge of the altar. The cool stone digs into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"But you aren’t scared of me, are you, Sweetheart?" he continues, his breath warm against your ear as he speaks. You shake your head, unable to deny the truth, "Then that will give you some clue," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air between you like a tantalizing riddle waiting to be solved.

You stand locked in this intimate embrace, his presence gentle despite the surroundings.

“What about your bodies?” you inquire, your curiosity getting the better of you even though you're not entirely sure what you're asking. Obviously, they didn’t come from the pits of hell or wherever they're from, but you're curious about how Soonyeol managed to choose four dolls, each so perfectly suited to their personalities.

Jongseong tilts his head slightly, considering your question before responding, "Our bodies are vessels," he explains, his voice tinged with a hint of mystery, “We were crafted by the hands of Soonyeol, infused with the ashes of her loved ones.”

Jongseong's response sends shivers down your arms and legs, his words so compelling that they leave you speechless for a minute, "Infused with the ashes of her loved ones?" you repeat, your voice barely above a whisper, your head whirling, your throat dry as you attempt to swallow your nerves.

But before you can fully process what he said, Jongseong breaks out laughing, the sound reverberating off the walls of the poorly lighted room, "She just ordered them online," he says between laughter, his tone lighthearted. "That part isn't as evil unless you count the CO2 emissions from the planes."

Relief floods through you as you realise he’s just joking. You can't help but join in his laughter, the tension melting away as you shake your head in disbelief.

"Oh, you had me going there for a moment," you admit with a chuckle, feeling foolish for having been momentarily taken in by his playful deception.

Jongseong grins mischievously, his eyes twinkling with mirth, "I can give you the link to the site if you want? I know how much fun you’ve been having with the younger ones," he remarks, his laughter fading into a sly grin.

Your cheeks burn crimson at Jongseong's implication, and you shy away slightly, feeling a familiar wave of embarrassment wash over you. It's the same feeling you experienced when Sunghoon called you out for your rendezvous with Jaeyun, a reminder of the unconventional nature of your relationships with the dolls.

You can't shake the nagging feeling that at the end of the day, you're still fucking dolls, no matter how much Sunghoon and Jaeyun reassure you to embrace it. To be fair, the embarrassment hasn’t stopped you yet.

Seeing your flushed face even in the dim light, Jongseong's expression softens with understanding. He cradles your cheeks in his palms, his touch gentle as he strokes your flushed skin, "I'm not judging you, Princess," he murmurs, his voice tender. "I'm just feeling a little left out." He says playfully, making it hard to tell if he is serious or not.

But still his words catch you off guard and you meet his stare with a mixture of surprise and confusion. At that moment, you realise that Jongseong embodies the best of both worlds - the kindness and empathy of Jaeyun, coupled with the confidence and assurance of Sunghoon, coupled with his charm. It's a combination that draws you to him even more, creating a sense of longing.

Throwing caution to the wind, you act on impulse, letting go of any lingering doubts or hesitations. With a surge of boldness, you lean up and press your lips against Jongseong's, catching him off guard with the suddenness of your actions.

His eyes widen in shock at your sudden boldness, but they quickly darken with unmistakable hunger as he responds eagerly to your advance, smothering your mouth with his.

The kiss is electric, igniting a firestorm of sensations that consume you both, leaving you breathless and craving more. His lips are soft yet demanding against yours, his hands finding purchase on your waist as he pulls you closer, his touch somehow searing hot through your skin.

Jongseong groans as he dances his tongue with yours, the artificial buds on his muscle soaking in your taste. You suck on his tongue softly, eliciting a low snarl from him, his hand coming up to grip your hair roughly, while yours slide up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his toned tummy.

Drawing back from his lips, you see his entity burning with desire, his grip on you tightening, “Have you ever been fucked on an altar?” he asks, a smirk obvious on his face even in the dull lighting.

“No,” you breathe out, your chest heaving from the kiss.

“I’ll change that for you…if you’re a good girl,” he teases, the hand wrapped in the strands of your hair pushing your head down until you’re slowly following his guidance, sinking to your knees. From this angle, he looks like a god, a being worth worshipping as his aura glows white.

You know exactly what he wants and you’re willing to give it to him without question.

He undoes his belt with one hand, whipping it off hastily and placing it on the altar. You start to undo his trousers but as you move to assist him, your actions are abruptly halted by a sharp tug on your hair, forcing you back with a gasp.

Tears threaten to well in your eyes as the roots of your hair protest the forceful grip, but Jongseong's touch softens as quickly as it had hurt you, his hand now tenderly soothing the discomfort he caused.

"I need you to be good for me. It’s important to be good," he asserts, his voice commanding yet soft, "Only act when I say so, understood? I don't want to have to punish you, Princess. You don’t want that either, do you?"

His choice of words and gentle warning only add to the dampness in your pants, the material fully sticking to your wet cunt. You swallow hard as every word, every touch from Jongseong ignites your sense of being.

Shaking your head, you wonder if you want to obey him and avoid punishment as part of you wonders how far he could go with it.

Jongseong’s a gentle soul with kindness pouring out of him, you question whether it’s a facade to hide something more demanding underneath. Either way, you trust him, so even if you wanted to get a little bratty, you know he would cause you no real harm.

Both his hands are now on your cheeks, trapping you to look at him, “Words, Princess, use them,” he orders.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, licking your lips as you anticipate his cock laying firm on your tongue.

“Sweetheart, I’ll let you off this once, yeah? Just make sure you listen from now on,” Jongseong offers you a smile, patting your cheeks lightly before continuing, “If you ever want to stop, or I go too far, you tell me immediately. No amount of my pleasure is worth your discomfort.”

Smiling, you nod and quickly remember his instructions, “I will, Jongseong.”

Jongseong's gaze relaxes further with an accepting nod, and his touch is delicate against your skin, "Good girl," he says, his words a quiet affirmation of your submission.

He gives you the go-ahead to continue undoing his trousers which you eagerly do, your fingers quick to release the silver button and pull down his zip, leaving his trousers pooled at his ankles. You can see his member in the protruding silhouette of his boxers. Out of all the dolls, you’ve been most impressed by Jongseong, his cock is everything a person could dream of; girthy, long, like something off of Love Honey in the best seller’s section.

You discard his boxers next, leaving his member to spring into action. He is so fucking beautiful, you think to yourself, admiring every part of the craftsmanship that went into making such a wonder. Raising your hand, you go to wrap your hand around him gently but you pause, realising you probably need to be told that you can indulge yourself.

Jongseong notices your hesitation and lets out a chuckle, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk as you meet his gaze with eager anticipation, "You're free to go, Princess" he announces, much to your delight, and you need no further encouragement.

Grabbing the base of his shaft you pump him a few times, the soft feeling of his skin welcomed along your fingertips. You open your mouth, staring at him as you lick the tip of his shaft a few times, each time pulsing in your hand. The mechanics of these cocks is a wonder, how realistic they all are.

He gathers your hair in his hands, brushing the wispy strands from your face adoringly, careful not to be too rough with you just yet. You look beautiful to him right now, your tongue swirling around his head, the saliva trail you’re leaving behind every time you remove your plump lips to gather your breath. Soonyeol is beautiful, but you’re like his dream come true. There’s a pang of guilt as he thinks about it but when you start sucking his cock lightly, every thought goes out the window.

Hollowing your cheeks, you pump his cock and use your tongue to massage his bell in your warm mouth, the sensation of his cold cock in contrast to your warmth adds a new layer to your pleasure, already excited to feel him deep in your heat.

His size makes it difficult to fully take him in, so you use a combination of hand and mouth technique. You see the small subtleties in Jongseong's expression - the wrinkle of his brow, the tightening hold of his fist that inadvertently tugs at your hair again - and realise he doesn't mind how you are approaching it, he maybe even loves it.

It gives you a flutter in your tummy as you see his jaw slacking and his hips subconsciously twitching with pleasure. You’re an overachiever, have been your whole life, and while this is doing him wonders right now, you know you can do better.

Popping off his cock, you tap him on your outstretched tongue, grinning widely when his eyes meet yours. With his attention on you, you force him back in your throat, gagging slightly but relishing in the burn, your hands gripping his muscular thighs.

He hisses as with each bob, he hits your throat, “Fuck,” he grits out, pushing slightly to test the boundaries, and when you gag loudly, saliva dripping down your chin with a spurt, he instantly retreats, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he soothes, his hand lifting your chin.

But you liked it, weirdly, the feeling of choking on his cock stirred something inside you, and your thighs become sticky with your arousal that is dripping down - and Jongseong noticed.

“Wait did you like it?” he asks, tightening his hold on your jaw, “You want me to fuck that beautiful throat of yours wide open?”

God, yes.

With a nod and eyes full of want, you silently express your desire for him to completely ruin you. However, as you resume, a swift smack to your cheek jolts you, rendering a grimace as you look up at him, perplexed.

"Words, Sweetheart, be a good girl," Jongseong prompts, his voice carrying both authority and care. A flicker of understanding crosses his expression as he reaches out to stroke your cheek where his hand had landed moments before. "I'm here to give you what you need," he reassures, his touch tender against your skin, "But you have to tell me."

With a deep breath, you muster the courage to voice your desire, "I want you to fuck my throat," you whisper.

"That wasn’t so hard, was it?" he murmurs, his tone gentle as he encourages your honesty. ain some ways, submitting to a man like this is embarrassing, yet you can’t help but feel completely in control at the same time. He’s giving you the option to have whatever you want, something the other two don’t let you do. Jaeyun lets you take control but it’s all for his pleasure, not for your own, and Sunghoon doesn’t let you do anything on your own at all.

As Jongseong begins to push into your mouth, an upsurge of sensations overwhelms you: the hardness of him filling your mouth, the taste of him combining with your saliva, and the sting of tears welling up in your eyes. Despite this, a pleasure runs through your veins, sparking a burning yearning within you, you want more of him, desperately.

Jongseong's voice cut through the veil of your shared satisfaction, "You're doing so well, Sweetheart," he says, his words a calming symphony contrasting to the burning in your throat.

You respond with a muffled moan, your mouth full as you eagerly take him in, your body responding instinctively to his every touch.

"I love how you take me," Jongseong whispers, his voice laced with reverence and desire, "You're so good for me. You were born to suck on my cock.”

His words alone are making your clit throb and you can’t take the emptiness, so, you reach down and dip your hand into your panties, circling your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. He continues chanting your praises, so lost in the feeling of your mouth that he hasn’t noticed you seek your own pleasure.

As Jongseong continues to revel in the pleasure of your mouth, a sudden interruption jolts him from his trance-like state. Feeling the subtle shift in your movements, he realises what you’re up to.

With a swift motion, he withdraws from your mouth, his grip firm on your head as he pulls you up to meet his gaze. The intensity in his eyes is palpable, a mix of desire and admonition as he takes in the sight of you, flushed and needy, beneath him.

"Sweetheart, what do you think you're doing?" he chides, his voice low but commanding, “I didn’t give you permission to touch yourself, did it?"

“N-no…I just need you so bad, Jongseong.”

Your quivering voice of desperation makes Jongseong’s knees weak, that playful yet needy glint in your eye begging him to take you on the altar. He knows he has to punish you but you look so fucking sweet with your lips plump and drool on either side of your mouth that he’s almost forgiving you. You speak about the power the dolls have, but you have no idea the power you hold over them.

But he knows he can't let your transgression go unpunished. With a sigh, he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch gentle but firm. "I understand, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice tinged with feigned regret, "But rules are rules, and I can't make exceptions."

You accidentally let out a groan of frustration, rubbing your thighs together, hoping the friction can tide you over until he touches you.

sighing, Jongseong reaches out to caress your trembling thighs, his touch gentle yet possessive, "I know you're desperate," he murmurs into your neck, teasingly hovering over your nape with his lips, “So get on the fucking altar.”

With a whimper of surrender, you comply without hesitation, the anticipation of what's to come heightening your senses as you hoist up on the alter, positioning yourself on the edge. Every nerve in your body hums with anticipation, the need for his touch driving you to the brink of madness.

You’re glad that you wore a sundress today, planning to have a fun girls' day with Mia had its benefits even if it went horribly wrong.

In an instant, he rips off your panties, tossing them in the alter bowl haphazardly and hikes the skirt of your dress to your waist. Your pussy looks so delectable that he thinks prolonging stuffing you with his cock might be a punishment to himself rather than you.

But Jongseong is a man of his word, and if he doesn’t let Soonyeol away with anything, he certainly can’t let you.

He slaps your thigh sharply, a red mark appearing instantly against your skin, “Move back,” he demands, slapping your thigh once again. His tone is authoritive so you do as you’re told, not wanting to disappoint him anymore.

You spread your legs without direction, hoping your compliance will warrant an early yield in your punishment, whatever it may be. Jongseong licks his lips and smiles triumphantly, falling into your trap.

Yet, just as you begin to feel a glimmer of relief, Jongseong's hand comes down with brutal force, striking your pussy with a harsh slap that echoes through the room. The pain is searing, making you cry out in shock and agony, the sound reverberating off the walls as your body recoils from the impact. Each consecutive smack creates a new wave of pain, coupled with a surge of stimulation that makes you dizzy with sensations.

With each hit, Jongseong's expression regret, yet his actions are a contradiction of brutality, "I'm sorry, Princess," he says between strikes, his voice heavy with sorrow, even as his hand strikes you again, "I know it hurts but every act of defiance deserves punishment," Jongseong whispers, his voice an odd soothing balm, "We’re almost done, just two more, you can handle that right?”

His question, paired with the gentle caress of his fingers against your throbbing pussy, relaxes you, knowing that he meant it when he said he would stop if you wanted him to. Even now, as he looks at you, he's silently permitting you to end this.

But you don't want to. Not yet. The ache between your legs, the desperate need for him, drives you to endure just a little longer, "I can take it, Jongseong," you utter, your voice steady despite the trembling of your body. With a slow exhale, you brace yourself for the final two strikes, determined to prove your endurance and earn the reward awaiting you.

Jongseong's gaze softens with admiration, his hand hovering momentarily before delivering the next blow, "You're so strong, Princess," he murmurs, his voice laced with genuine admiration, "I'm proud of you."

The words, spoken amid your ordeal, fill you with a sense of validation, a reassurance that despite the pain, you're still cherished and valued in his eyes. Even though he warned you this would happen and you disobeyed him, he still gives you praise.

He delivers the last smack with force, putting punctuation on the end of your punishment, hoping that you’ve learned your lesson. And by fuck you have.

Bringing you forward, he sits you up straight, "You've done so well," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your forehead, "Now, let me take care of you."

Without hesitation, he takes his cock and slides himself inside your throbbing pussy, the sensation being both a culmination of need and a reminder of the pain you've endured.

But as he begins to move within you, the rhythm of his thrusts slow and deliberate, you find yourself surrendering to the pleasure that washes over you. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming as you finally get what you've been craving for.

You moan softly, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch.

But just as you feel yourself on the brink of ecstasy, Jongseong pulls out abruptly, leaving you gasping for more. "Please," you whimper, your voice thick with need.

Jongseong's fingers find their way to your throbbing clit, flicking it with expert precision, "Not yet, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear, "I want to make this last."

The sensation is electrifying, sending you reeling with desire as Jongseong teases you mercilessly. "Jongseong," you plead, your voice a desperate cry for more but he only chuckles, his touch driving you to the edge of sanity as he pushes you closer and closer to the brink.

And then, just when you think you can't take it any longer, he plunges back inside you, the intensity of his thrusts driving you to the edge of oblivion once more, "Yes!" you cry out, your body arching against his as pleasure consumes you.

Just as you're about to tip over the edge, Jongseong grips your throat gently, his touch both commanding and reassuring, posing no real threat, "You're such a good girl," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he grabs your attention, "Yet, you've been so bad. Snooping around, looking at things you shouldn't, fucking things that aren't yours." There’s a sly grin on his face as he pulls out again, leaving your hole clenching around nothing, tears threatening to fall as your impending orgasm is ripped away from you again.

Jongseong continues to torment you, his words cutting through the haze of desire, you can't help but feel a sense of vulnerability wash over you, "Was the last punishment enough for everything you've been up to?" he asks, his tone laced with both curiosity and a hint of warning.

Your breath catches in your throat as you meet his stare, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. You know that you've pushed the boundaries, looking around the mansion even when you promised Sunghoon you wouldn’t, and indulged in pleasures that were not yours to claim.

With a shaky breath, you nod slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, Jongseong," you murmur, your heart pounding in your chest, "I've learned my lesson."

“Oh, yeah?” he smirks, looking at the ceremonial bowl prettily decorated with your frilly underwear, “You sure?”

Your desperation mounts as you chant a series of "Yes's," your pleas echoing in the cold air of the room. Every fibre of your being screams for him, the ache between your legs driving you to the brink of madness.

And just when you think you can't bear the anticipation any longer, Jongseong plunges back into you, his gaze still fixated on your underwear. The intensity of his thrusts sends shivers of pleasure running through your hot veins, yet beneath it all, a nagging curiosity tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

If you were in your right mind, you would question his fascination with the garments adorning the ceremonial bowl. As he picks up the frilly underwear with his middle finger, a spike of anticipation plagues you, mingling with the pulsating waves of pleasure emanating from his touch. And then, his voice cuts through the air, commanding and authoritative.

"Spit on them, Sweetheart," he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Without hesitation, you comply, summoning every ounce of saliva you can muster before releasing it onto the delicate fabric. The sight of your saliva coating the underwear sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of arousal and confusion swirling within you.

But before you can question his motives, Jongseong's touch intensifies, driving you to the brink of ecstasy once more and rips it away as he tosses the underwear into the bowl once more.

“No! Please, please, don’t stop fucking me, Jongseong. I promise I won’t snoop around or do anything without you telling me to.”

Your voice is desperate but you don’t care, if he denies you of your orgasm even just once more, you might die on this altar you’re perched on.

Jongseong's eyes light up with expectation, his hand tightening around your throat in a possessive hold while his other lingers over the ceremonial bowl, his muttering casting a dark spell in a foreign language.

Then suddenly, the crimson light floods the room, the same flash of red that almost blinded you. Terror holds you like a vice, pulling at your senses while flames lick hungrily in the air. Instinct urges you to go, to escape the flame that threatens to engulf you, but Jongseong's grip holds you tied to the altar.

There is no escape.

"Shhh, Princess it's okay, it won't hut you. I just need you to beg me," he says, his stare penetrating through the chaos with uncompromising focus, his left hand now sliding to tap on your clit with planned precision, sending waves of thrill surging through your body as he continues, lips hovering yours in a whisper, “Let Hell hear how much you need my cock.”

Hell.

The fire that is burning your skin beside you, that’s what you saw that day through the keyhole, you came face to face with the underworld. And now Jongseong’s opened it up beside you.

Summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you meet his gaze, your voice a trembling whisper as you utter the words he demands. "Please, Jongseong," you beg, the desperation in your tone echoing through the dimly lit chamber, "Fuck me, I need your cock so fucking bad."

His grasp on your throat tightens somewhat, a subtle acceptance of your surrender. With a hungry grin, he moves in closer, his breath hot on your ear, whispering pretty promises, and as his hand continues to work its magic on your clit, you totally yield to him despite the fear rising inside you.

Kissing you, he fucks back into you, letting go of your throat and focusing all his attention on making you feel good, his hands finding home on your hips.

The more you moan, the more intense the fire becomes, some of the flicker burning your arm. Jongseong notices your unease and focuses your eyes to look only at him, “It can’t hurt you, I wouldn’t let them,” he whispers, his words causing more confusion but you’re already so far gone, lost in the feeling of his cock punching into your cervix that you can’t question him.

"You're doing fucking amazing, Sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I want you to scream my name, let all those fucks know what a good girl you are, that you’ll never be like them.” His jab at those below you in the underworld makes your skin tingle.

With each thrust, pleasure courses through you like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending and leaving you breathless with ecstasy. And as you surrender to the overwhelming pleasure, you heed Jongseong's command, your screams echoing through the chamber as you give yourself over to him.

The flames in the bowl seem to dance to the rhythm of you and Jongseong’s passionate encounter, with each blow of his cock piercing your open, the more you cry out, and that excited the crimson glow.

As the intensity of your pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel yourself teetering on the edge, every fibre of your being yearning for release. And with one final, desperate cry, you let go, surrendering yourself completely to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that wash over you.

Jongseong feels you coming undone and follows suit, his cock twitching inside you and hips pushing him as far as he can reach inside you.

Once the fires begin to fade, leaving just embers blazing gently in the darkness, you feel yourself returning to reality, your senses gradually returning to you. You notice the air is thick with the odour of burnt cloth and the remains of the fire that previously raged around you.

With a shock, you look down and notice the charred remains of your underwear smouldering in the ceremonial bowl, the flames having eaten them in their fervour. Panic grabs you for a minute, but suddenly Jongseong's voice breaks through the quiet, his words a calming salve.

"I get why the others are obsessed with you, Y/N," he says, his tone filled with admiration and longing, "You belong here, I know you do."

Despite his assuring words and gentle touch as he slips out of you, his hands soothing where he has left marks, lingering questions gnaw at the edges of your mind. "Jongseong," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, "what was that fire? And what did you mean by 'those fucks' down there? Was it hell?"

Jongseong’s expression softens, his fingers gently caressing your thighs, his actions were stupid and selfish in the name of his brothers and Soonyeol. He knows he shouldn’t have done that, but he just had to show you off, let everyone know that you were his at least once, “Y/N," he says softly, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and concern, "there are some things you're better off not knowing. Trust me."

His words give you pause but you’re sick of the secrecy now, “Tell me, Jongseong. I will find out one way or another,” you press him, hoping your tone is half as commanding as he was, “Just tell me, what the fuck was that?”

“Go to Heeseung. He can explain it far better than I can and to be honest, I don’t want to see your face when you find out,” he says suddenly, his tone firm but gentle. Confusion flickers in your eyes, but before you can question him further, Jongseong presses a tender kiss to your forehead, “I will warn you though, Sweetheart, he won’t take kindly to being last.”

taglist: @nshmrarki @kgneptun @ui11iane @addictedtohobi @parksunghoonsgf @chaewonshoney @chiiiiiiiiis @lilyuwon @rayofsunshineeee @moon7jay @erehkinnie30 @brownsugarbaybee @minniejenseo @woninluv @jaysluvs @fakeuwus @capri-cuntz @ash024 @who-tf-soddhi @bambangan @vousty @heeseungspookie @alvojake @yorukoshii @haechonly @riftanswhore @belowbun @emi-en @branchrkive @featjunranghae @thejjrl @nyxtwixx @sunghoonnsupremacy @nctislifue @itsnikitty @enhypenlovre

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jongseong smut #jay x reader #aj writes #park jongseong smut #the doll house #enhypen fic

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