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chahnniesroom · 6 months ago

Text

some loves

pairing: bang chan x female reader

summary: some loves are too hard to bear. years after being trainees together, chan still thinks of you all the time. he has no idea that a collaboration would lead him back to you.

word count: 6.9k

tags/warnings: reader is an independent singer/songwriter, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of past injuries, a little bit of jealousy, i am still in denial that chan doesn't do lives anymore, hongjoong from ateez is in this fic

read it on ao3 | masterlist

a/n: once again, sorry for the long time between posts. disclaimer that i do not know much about how the music/idol industry works and i did not really do much research. also i'm not an atiny so sorry if my portrayal of hongjoong is not realistic at all. also also i did a lot of the writing on a new tablet doing handwriting with a stylus to text so please forgive any typos or weird formatting! i didn't have a chance to edit much so i may have missed some things.

Chan��s in his studio when he gets the call. At first, he doesn’t even realise his phone is ringing. It’s 2am on a weekday and he’s been working away for a few hours so the rest of the world has just about faded into the background.

He’s both surprised and intrigued when he looks at the caller ID and sees Hongjoong’s name. Chan would consider Hongjoong to be a friend, but they’re not particularly close and he can’t think of a reason that would warrant this late night call.

“Hey hyung,” Hongjoong greets him briefly before getting straight to the point. “What’s your schedule like in the next few months?”

“It’s actually not too bad,” Chan replies after a moment of thought. “We’re just finalising all the music for the next album so it’ll be a bit of time before we get busy with recording and filming for the comeback. What’s up?”

“You don’t have the answer now and I don’t want you to feel any pressure at all, but would you be interested in doing a collab together?”

“A collab?” Chan repeats. “Like, ATEEZ and Stray Kids?”

“We could,” Hongjoong says reluctantly. “But actually, if you’re up for it then I was thinking more like just you and me. I have a couple tracks that we could work off of and I’ve roped in someone to help me with recording, engineering, and production.”

“Who?” Chan asks, interest piqued.

“Not sure if you’ve heard of them, they go by the name HALLA.”

Chan recognises the name instantly. When Chan had first stumbled upon HALLA one late night scrolling and listening to different independent artists, they seemed relatively unknown. However, a little research revealed that they had KOMCA credits on a number of songs for idol groups, some of which had become widely popular. Their personal work was a variety of genres and a majority of the tracks didn’t have vocals, but the ones that did had clever or thoughtful lyrics. There were a couple of different voices featured in the original songs, both of which were smooth and melodic. HALLA has a style that Chan thinks would complement Stray Kids and he’s considered reaching out to them a few times, but was always held back by something.

There was little about HALLA posted on the internet and while Chan definitely appreciates their privacy, he’s curious to meet the person behind all the songs that he enjoyed. There’s just something familiar about all their music that he can’t quite place, something that he wants more of.

“I’m in,” Chan agrees.

“You can take some time to think about it, talk to JYPE to see what their thoughts are too.”

“No need, I’m interested and I know I can convince management to support this.”

“Well that was easy,” Hongjoong says and Chan can basically hear him grinning through the phone. “And for my own pride, I’m going to pretend that you said yes the second I suggested the collab instead of when I mentioned HALLA-ssi.” Chan instantly flushes and is glad that Hongjoong can’t see him over the phone.

“It wasn’t-” Chan begins to protest.

“It’s okay,” Hongjoong interrupts. “I’m also pretty thrilled to get to work with them, so I understand. Didn’t realise you were familiar with their work, but I guess a hidden gem like them can’t stay hidden for long. I’ll send some files over to you and we can organise a time to work.”

—

Chan finds it easy to work with Hongjoong and they make quick progress on the song, writing lyrics and creating a guide within a couple of weeks. Before he knows it, they’ve scheduled a time for Chan to visit KQ Entertainment to record vocals. Hongjoong knows that Chan is keen to be involved in the production and arrangement of the song too, so they also have a couple sessions booked for that, although Hongjoong teases him relentlessly about just wanting to work with HALLA. The worst part is that Chan can’t even deny it.

Hongjoong meets him at the entrance of KQ Entertainment and quickly takes him through security.

“HALLA-ssi is already in the studio,” Hongjoong explains as they wait for the elevator to arrive. “I was getting input on a track that’s been killing me for the past few days.”

“Did they help?” Chan asks, a little surprised that HALLA is involved in more than just this collaboration. He still hasn't had a chance to connect with them other than quick introductions through text a couple of days ago and he's just as excited to meet them as initially.

“Yeah!” Hongjoong grins, eyes curving into little crescents. “HALLA-ssi is amazing. She only had listen to it a couple times before she came up with suggestions on a few different ways to fix the part that I hated. I left her to finish cleaning the song up and then it’s basically ready for review.”

“How did you start working with HALLA-ssi? I’ve been meaning to try to connect with her.”

“It was actually a friend that suggested working with her. For someone who isn’t signed with a label- which I don’t know how nobody has signed her yet- she’s surprisingly well connected within the industry. I’m sure that KQ would be more than happy to have her work with us, but when I hinted at that, she didn’t seem interested.”

“Really?” Although KQ Entertainment is still one of the smaller companies in the industry, most unsigned artists would still jump at the chance to work there since they have a good reputation, especially due to ATEEZ’s popularity.

“I haven’t poked too much, it’s not really my business. I thought I might as well try. I just know that she’s amazing at her job and I’m grateful that I get to work with her at all.”

They turn the corner to the hallway that leads to the recording studio. The door is ajar and Hongjoong opens it, waving his arm forward to allow Chan to walk through first, before following closely behind.

HALLA’s sitting at the desk and the second Chan sees her face, he stops in his tracks.

“Y/n,” Chan breathes.

You look up, startled, and your eyes connect for a split second before Hongjoong crashes into Chan, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Hyung,” Hongjoong complains, unaware of Chan’s inner turmoil. “Why’d you stop?”

Chan lets out an apologetic wheeze from where he’s now trapped under Hongjoong, before resting his forehead against the ground. He needs a second to recover.

It feels like a punch to the gut to see you in front of the recording studio’s computer, fiddling with a track. You look different, but somehow it feels like Chan has been transported right back to his trainee days and all that time that the two of you had spent side by side.

It has been years since Chan last saw you. He had found out that you had left JYPE just months after Stray Kids officially debuted, but all efforts to track you down had been futile. You had changed your number and broken contact with all the other trainees. He had asked around a little bit, but everyone he talked to had been unusually cagey about the subject.

Suddenly, everything makes more sense, especially the little that he knows about HALLA.

As trainees, Chan’s favourite moments had been when you had regaled him with stories of growing up on Jeju Island. The two of you had connected early on through your shared love of the ocean. You had promised him that if he ever went to visit in his free time, you would take him on the best trails up to the Hallasan, the shield volcano, and show him incredible views from the highest point on the island. Occasionally, your parents would send you care packages and the two of you would open them hidden away in one of the vocal practice rooms, the sweet citrus of hallabong exploding in your mouths.

You had always spoken about Jeju Island so fondly, of course you would find a way to indirectly pay homage through the stage name that you chose.

“Oppa,” your voice rings out in the silence of the room. Now, Chan knows why the female voice on some of HALLA’s songs had always seemed hauntingly familiar. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” both Chan and Hongjoong say at the same time, then make eye contact with identical confused expressions.

“Hongjoong-ssi, you didn’t mention that the person you wanted to feature on the track was Channie-oppa,” you say, making it clear who you were addressing your concern to earlier.

“It was supposed to be a surprise!” Hongjoong gets up slowly, dusting off his clothes and scratching at the back of his head, still looking bewildered. “I had no idea that you two knew each other, hyung mentioned he hadn’t worked with you before.”

Chan stays quiet, not sure how much you’re willing to share. Hongjoong must not know about your time with JYPE if he can’t piece together how the two of you could have met.

“Oh- I used to- We trained together back in the day,” you explain sheepishly. “I was with JYPE for a little while and all the trainees knew who Channie-oppa was. That was a long time ago though, I didn’t use the name HALLA back then.”

The five years that you trained at JYPE are more than a little while, but Chan forces himself to bite his tongue at your deliberate understatement. You don’t elaborate further and while it’s obvious that Hongjoong isn’t satisfied with your answer, he’s willing to drop the topic for now. You look relieved when he switches the subject to the song.

The three of you finish recording quickly. It shouldn’t be a surprise, the work so far with Hongjoong has been smooth so adding you to the mix has just made things easier, but Chan knows he’s a perfectionist and it often takes him an almost embarrassing number of takes before he’s satisfied. The only delay comes when Hongjoong decides he wants you to sing some of the backing vocals and resorts to actually getting on his knees and begging. Chan doesn’t go so far, but he can’t help but agree that your voice blends with the song perfectly. Of course, he also just wants to hear you sing.

You relent when Chan quietly voices his agreement and it really shouldn't make Chan feel as smug as it does.

It’s not even early enough for dinner when things are wrapped up. Chan is usually eager to finish a schedule early, but he’s reluctant to leave, taking his time packing up his belongings.

Finally, he doesn’t have a reason to stay any longer so he musters up the courage to ask.

“Do you guys want to go grab some coffee or something to eat?”

You and Hongjoong make eye contact before turning to look at Chan guiltily. His stomach churns for some reason.

“I’m sorry,” you wince. “I actually promised to help Hongjoong-ssi with an ATEEZ song and we need to go over the edits that I made before his meeting with the company later today.”

“Oh,” Chan replies, feeling a little relieved. “Right, no yeah I get it. Hongjoong actually mentioned that earlier, but I forgot. My bad.”

You offer an apologetic smile before turning to the computer, opening up a file.

“I’ll see you guys next time, then,” Chan says, starting to back out of the room.

“Of course! Thank you for your hard work and good job today!” you say brightly. Looking distracted, Hongjoong mumbles an agreement and waves goodbye. Unlike you, he’s not staring at the computer monitor though. Instead, his focus is solely on you. Even from his side profile, Chan can tell that he’s enamoured.

Honestly, Chan can’t really blame him, you look comfortable and confident, swallowed up in an oversized hoodie as you start explaining the alterations that you made to the track. Your voice is calm, but warm and you’re careful to start off by complimenting the work that Hongjoong had done previously.

Chan leaves, resolutely ignoring the twisted feeling that’s back with a vengeance and any thoughts of what the cause might be.

—

Chan can’t sleep. His thoughts are all about you, what you’ve been doing the past few years, what happened to you at JYPE that made you leave, and mostly trying to remember how and why your relationship with him slowly fell apart.

That’s the hardest part. In the darkest time of his life, when Chan had been discouraged and disheartened, you had joined JYPE with a brightness and enthusiasm that gave Chan the motivation to continue being a trainee. He had adored you. He still does.

In those last few months before the survival show had been filmed, Chan’s relationship with you had gone from being everything to nothing. It happened in the blink of an eye, and Chan had never understood what caused you to withdraw so quickly and thoroughly. The two of you had gone from spending almost all of your free time together to you avoiding him at the company, pretending not to hear when he called out your name or tried to get your attention.

The regret of letting you slip away has always eaten away at him, but now more than ever.

Of course, at the time it hadn’t felt so simple. The survival show was Chan’s first serious chance to debut, and not just that, but the weight of having eight other people’s careers depending on his leadership took a toll on all his other relationships. Your absence in his life still hurt, but Chan had lots of practice losing people. He had coped in the way that worked best in the past, throwing himself headlong into producing, training, anything to keep himself from wallowing in his feelings.

Chan doesn’t have any schedules for today, but he still heads to the company. He knows this isn’t the healthiest way to deal with things, but he doesn’t know anything else.

When he arrives, Chan just barely manages to catch a glimpse of a few familiar faces. He calls out before he can think better of it, jogging slightly to catch up. Sana, Momo, and Mina watch curiously as he approaches. He knows that Twice also aren’t in a busy period of the year, so he doesn’t feel guilty delaying them.

“Sorry to bother you all. Sana-noona, I was just wondering if we could chat?”

Sana makes brief eye contact with the rest of the girls before agreeing and waving them to go ahead of her. She follows behind Chan as he leads them into his studio, clearly interested in determining the reason behind this atypical meet up.

“What’s up, Channie?” she asks once the door is closed behind them.

Chan tries to think of the best way to start, not wanting to just outright ask, but not knowing how to subtly steer the conversation into the right direction. Finally, he abandons trying to be casual and just blurts out, “Do you remember Y/n?”

“Of course I do,” Sana says, sounding amused at the sudden mention of you. “You both had reputations for being veteran trainees. I mean, other than Jihyo.”

“I was always surprised that she never debuted,” Chan admits. “I just thought it would happen eventually and I was so shocked to find out that she had left. I didn’t- I don’t understand why she gave up on something she wanted so badly.”

“Give up?” Sana asks, sounding like she’s offended on your behalf. “Why would you say it like that?”

“What do you mean? It was like she was there one day and gone the next, I just assumed that she had enough and quit. Nobody seemed to know anything about it. I never found out why and it’s been kind of killing me.”

“You didn’t hear what happened?”

“What- something happened? To her?” Chan swallows hard, suddenly feeling unwell.

“It- I thought that you of all people would know-”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, but- you never talked to her about it? You knew her better than any of us.”

“Noona, I didn’t know that she was gone until months later. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it to me, I never reached out at first. When I finally did, her number had been changed. What was I supposed to do?”

“I- It’s better if you were to hear it from her. I don’t know the full story and you know how things can be distorted through gossip. And you especially must know how dangerous that can be.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You really have no clue? The two of you were inseparable…”

“Please,” Chan pleads.

“You know how it is in the industry, you were so close, of course there were rumours…”

It suddenly clicks.

“But we were just friends! And the dating ban-”

“Chan, you know nobody actually sticks to those, right?”

“But really, we were never-”

“I believe you,” Sana says, carefully. “But you know that to management that it doesn’t really matter whether or not anything was actually going on. To them it’s all about the optics. A perceived relationship is just as dangerous as an actual one.”

“Management…” Chan repeats, his mind racing. “They never mentioned anything to me though.”

“You never found it suspicious? You two are extremely close and out of the blue she suddenly stops talking to you, then right after the two of you stop hanging out, you’re chosen for the survival show? Someone must have talked to her at some point. Maybe not management, but for sure someone.”

“You think that’s why it took so long for me to debut?” Chan asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“It was a liability,” Sana explains. “To have a dating scandal so early on? Neither of your careers would survive. It’s painful and a terrible part of the industry but it’s true.”

“And.. Why she left, you know about that too?” Chan pleads.

“I think I’ve said too much already. I know that it’s hard, but some things are really personal.” She pauses for a moment. “What brought this on, anyway? You haven’t mentioned Y/nnie in years.”

“I can’t say much, but I- I saw her today, got to talk to her, found out what she’s been up to.” Sana gasps. Chan continues. “It was so weird to see her after so long. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered, but…”

“I’m glad that you two got to reconnect,” Sana says gently. “The two of you cared about each other a lot, that much was obvious. Talk to her, I think at the very least you’ll be able to find peace about what happened.”

“Noona-” Chan reaches out and pulls Sana into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. I’m sorry that it took so long for you to find out.”

—

A few days later, Hongjoong schedules another session to work on the song. Leading up to it, Chan is both looking forward to it and nervous, not sure what to expect. Although he still really wants to know what happened to you all those years ago, he’s scared about what he might learn and any part he might have had in it.

After a sleepless night, he ends up arriving almost 15 minutes early. This time, Hongjoong isn’t waiting at the building’s entrance. Instead he had let him know a few days before that Chan could just sign himself in and had sent him the name and location of the studio that was booked. When Chan reaches it, he can make out conversation from inside.

“HALLA,” Hongjoong can be heard through the studio doors, which aren’t fully shut. His tone is petulant and much more casual than it was previously. Chan wonders how much time the two of you have spent together between then and now and he almost misses the next thing that Hongjoong says. “You never told me that you were a trainee before.”

That stops Chan in his tracks, interested in how you’ll respond.

“It was a long time ago.” Your voice is faint. You’re still nice, but Chan can tell that your voice is stiffer than usual. “It doesn’t really matter now.”

This time, Hongjoong doesn’t let it go.

“What happened?” he prods.

“Just drop it,” you warn him. “It’s the past, forget I told you in the first place. Nothing ever came of it anyway.”

“Y/n-” Hongjoong changes tactics, the nagging tone replaced with a quieter, more serious one. You sigh.

“It didn’t work out. Obviously. I’m just not idol material.”

“Oh come on, I don’t believe that for a second. Your producing is good enough that I know for sure you’ve been getting offers to work with more companies than just KQ. When you direct during recording, you can hit every note without any warm up or practice. And I’ve heard your original songs, you must have been considered for both the position of lead rapper and lead singer as a trainee because there’s no way that anybody would let your talent go to waste.” Hongjoong is breathing hard by the end of his rant and Chan can see that this is something that has been bothering him for a while.

“It’s okay, Hongjoong-oppa.” Your voice is gentle, like you’re trying to comfort him. “I’m happy with what I have right now. Really. I’m grateful for all the freedom I have. Getting to work on any project I want and experiment with my music without having to deal with the bureaucracy and politics of the industry? Having that independence is precious to me. I wanted to be an idol for a long long time. But even though that specific plan I had didn’t work out, it doesn’t mean I’m not happy with what I’m doing.”

Hongjoong stays quiet for a while.

“Do you think that if you had the opportunity to debut as an idol now, you would?” he finally asks.

“Oppa, it’s not possible. I can’t dance, I’m too old-” you protest.

“No no, just hypothetically. Like if someone walked into the room and handed you a contract and said that if you signed it in an hour then you’d be able to debut.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“What’s your gut feeling?”

“I think I left that dream behind, I don’t know if I want to go down that path again. I don’t think I have it in me.”

“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong says after another pause. “I shouldn’t have questioned you so much, you shouldn’t have to justify your decisions to me.”

“No, it’s fine. It seems strange, right? For me to be an artist in Seoul and not want to get signed, it's only natural for you to be curious. But I learned a lot when I was a trainee and I learned even more after that and I can say with certainty that this is what I want.”

Chan takes that opportunity to knock on the studio door and push it open.

“Hey, hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, as if he wasn’t just eavesdropping on their conversation and purposely chose when to cut in. “Sorry, I’m a little bit late.”

“Hey, no problem man,” Hongjoong says. “We haven’t had a chance to do anything yet, so you’re right on time.”

“Good to see you,” you chime in. “I think this should be pretty quick so let’s get started!”

As you predicted, it doesn’t take long before a majority of the song is finished. Normally, Chan would be keen to stay involved until the very last detail is finalised, but he trusts you and at the end of this day, it’s Hongjoong’s song so he’s happy to give him the final say.

At the end of the session, Chan once again uses the opportunity to try to catch you alone. The two of you are side by side, packing your bags and Chan asks if you have any plans for the rest of the day. You confirm that you're available and Chan is about to suggest that the two of you take the time to catch up when Hongjoong interrupts.

“Oh, Y/n-ah,” he says. “I was actually hoping to get your input on something and I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier. Can you please stick around for a bit? Sorry, hyung.”

Hongjoong sounds so sincere that Chan almost doesn’t feel annoyed that he’s stealing all of your time and attention. Almost, because at the end of the day, Chan’s only human. Even though he knows he has no right to feel possessive over you, he can’t stop the petty jealousy that bubbles up inside of him. At this point, there’s no denying the emotion.

Just like the previous session, he leaves alone, heading directly to the studio. Hours later, his breath catches when he checks his phone and sees that you’ve texted him.

[Received - 8:04pm]

Channie-oppa~

[Received - 8:04pm]

This is Y/nnie

[Received - 8:05pm]

Sorry about earlier, I have a contract with KQ Entertainment and work comes first :/

[Received - 8:09pm]

But I’m free now! You still interested in catching up?

Chan stares at the messages until it feels like they’re burned into his retinas. Logically, he knew that you had his number, the two of you were in a group chat that Hongjoong had set up, but this was your first time messaging him privately. The first time you had reached out in years. A precious opportunity that he never thought that he would have. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

He’s also shocked to see you texting so casually. Although the two of you have been comfortable in person, he wasn’t sure that it would translate to one-on-one conversation.

[Sent - 8:10pm]

Hey Y/n!

[Sent - 8:11pm]

No worries at all, I understand. I’m the same way too

[Sent - 8:13pm]

I still wanna meet up… but I’m all the way back in Gangdong-gu 😅 It’d be a bit of a trek for you if you're still at KQ

[Received - 8:13pm]

Gangdong-gu?

[Received - 8:14pm]

Ohh JYPE

[Received - 8:14pm]

My bad, forgot that you guys moved

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Yeahhh

[Sent - 8:15pm]

Headed straight back to the company after we were done, sorry

[Received - 8:18pm]

Well… If you’re willing to wait then I don’t mind. KQ is close to a metro station anyway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

Wait, really?

[Sent - 8:18pm]

No no no, don’t take the subway

[Sent - 8:18pm]

I’ll send a driver. They’re gonna pick you up in 20 min

[Received - 8:19pm]

Wowow

[Received - 8:19pm]

Private driver?

[Received - 8:20pm]

You’re a real superstar now haha

[Sent - 8:21pm]

alsfjshkafs noooooooo

[Sent - 8:21pm]

It’s just faster

[Sent - 8:21pm]

and safer

[Received - 8:22pm]

I’m not complaining

[Received - 8:22pm]

but I’m going to get your autograph when I see you

[Received - 8:23pm]

If I sell it then I can probably afford my own private driver 🤭

[Sent - 8:24pm]

Knew it

[Sent - 8:25pm]

You’re just using me for my fame

[Received - 8:26pm]

Ah you got me this time

[Received - 8:26pm]

*Your fame, your talent, and your good looks

[Received - 8:27pm]

Even tho you were the one that said you wanted to meet up

[Received - 8:27pm]

Hmmm maybe you’re the one using me?

Chan listens to his phone as it continues to vibrate from where it’s lodged in between two of the couch cushions after he threw it across to the opposite side of the room. His face is buried in his hands and flaming red. He feels both giddy and terribly embarrassed.

Chan’s no stranger to flirting, he’s experienced his fair share being on either side through interactions with the members and with Stay, but he forgot how flustered he was being on the receiving end of your teasing. The part he never understood is that your playful tone always gave way to sincerity. Even when the two of you would joke around, he could always tell that you meant every comment that you made about Chan being talented or attractive and that flattered him almost as much as it baffled him.

[Received - 8:32pm]

?? Speechless that I caught on?

[Received - 8:36pm]

I think your driver has arrived… Otherwise I’m being kidnapped

[Received - 8:40pm]

Don’t think I would survive a horror film… I got into the car with no questions asked

[Received - 8:42pm]

It was nice knowing you I guess

When he realises how much time has passed, Chan grabs his phone and runs down to the back entrance of the company. Luckily you haven’t arrived yet and he takes the time to reply to your messages.

[Sent - 8:53pm]

Sorry, lost track of time

[Sent - 8:53pm]

They’ll drop you off at the back door, I’ll meet you there so you don’t have to get signed in or anything

[Received - 8:54pm]

Don’t think you’re getting away with ignoring my other texts

[Received - 8:55pm]

But thanks

[Received - 8:55pm]

Is this back door, the famous one that only allows in authorised people?

[Received - 8:55pm]

I’m honoured

Chan rolls his eyes at your cheesy reference and is in the middle of typing up a response when he sees the car pull up. You step out cautiously, then brighten when you see where Chan’s propping up the door.

“Hey,” Chan greets you. “Glad that you made it safely.”

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, looking around curiously as Chan leads you to an elevator that takes you to the rest of the building. “So this is the new and improved JYP Entertainment. I’d say that it looks the same as before, but I never got the chance to come in.”

“Yeah,” Chan says, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck as he walks. “I mean it’s pretty nice, but at the end of the day a practice room is a practice room and that’s where we spend most of our time.”

“Hmm I think we might have to agree to disagree on that one. You have your own studio don’t you?”

“Ah, kind of. It’s technically a shared one, but practically I’m the only one that uses it unless we’re out of the country for a long time,” Chan confirms.

“Seems a lot better than what we used to have! Do you remember when we used to cram ourselves into that tiny room that barely even fit two chairs and a table?”

“I almost forgot about that, it was so terrible! In the summer it would get so hot that we’d keep the door open-”

“And then someone would come yell at us because we’d be playing music too loud-”

“I remember begging management to install a portable air conditioner on multiple occasions, but they always refused.”

“Of course! Even if they weren’t so stingy, there weren’t any windows leading outside in there, how could they install it?”

“Is that why? I always thought they just wanted us to suffer.”

“That too,” you giggle for a moment, before your smile fades. “But they weren’t totally unreasonable. Management has a different perspective than us, sometimes they know better than us because of their understanding of the industry. They can see things that we don’t.”

It’s clear that you’re no longer talking about air conditioning anymore. A lump seems to have formed in Chan’s throat when he recalls his conversation with Sana. Luckily, the two of you have just arrived and Chan forces himself to smile.

“We’re here,” he says, opening the door and motioning for you to enter ahead of him. “Welcome to Channie’s Room!”

“It’s cute!” you say as you step in. “Very… neat. It’s actually more spacious than it looks.”

“Oh,” Chan says, faltering in his steps for a second. “You- you’ve seen my studio?”

“In case you didn’t realise, you go live every week from said studio. I think at this point everyone in the K-pop industry and every K-pop fan has seen it,” you tease.

“Right, yeah. I didn’t- I wasn’t sure how much you kept up with that kind of stuff,” Chan stammers.

“K-pop or do you mean specifically Stray Kids?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.

“Either I guess," Chan shrugs.

"I will admit that it took me a while to get back into it," you say slowly. "I wasn't... in the best mindset after I left." Chan stays quiet, sensing that you're not quite finished. "I know that I disappeared and I am sorry for not reaching out. I wanted to, but I also didn't know how. I know that I hurt you. That it was cruel to avoid you, not reply to your messages, ignore your calls. I had my reasons why, but it doesn't excuse the pain that I caused, and I'm sorry for that too."

“I think,” Chan swallows hard. “I think that the most difficult part was that for the longest time, I didn’t know why. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I asked Sana about it finally, after I saw you again. And I just felt so stupid to realise that it was obvious to everyone except me."

“I’m sorry,” you say again. “I wanted to tell you, of course I wanted to. But I also knew you. If I had told you that us being together was preventing your debut-”

“I wouldn’t have cared,” Chan finishes your sentence for you, starting to understand. “I would have done anything to keep you by my side.”

"Even if it meant throwing away your career," you say softly. "I couldn't let you do that to yourself. You worked so hard, how could I live with being the reason that you were stuck in the training rooms? You belong on stage, making music.”

"The part that I still don’t get though is why you left? You should have been able to debut as well, I know it."

“Ah,” you say wistfully. You look around and grab onto the pillow that’s on the couch beside you, fidgeting with it as you figure out what to say next. “You know, I actually was supposed to debut.”

“What? How come I never heard about it?” Chan feels a pang in his chest. All these years ago, the two of you had promised that the other would be the first person that they would tell if they ever found out that they had the chance to debut. It seemed that neither of them had kept their promise.

“It was supposed to be a secret project. JYP wanted to see how successful a surprise debut announcement would be. You should have seen the NDAs that they made us sign.” You shake your head, letting out a huff of air. “It turned out to be a good decision because it meant they could cancel it without anyone knowing that we existed in the first place.”

"Who was in the group?" Chan asks.

"There were five of us. I think you know all of them, Sumin, Ryujin, Sojin, and Hyowon," you list. You're right, Chan is either familiar with or has heard of all the girls that you mention. It doesn't make sense though, the group was filled with talented individuals and Chan can't think of any reason strong enough to lead to disbandment. Even more baffling is that of the five of you, only Ryujin ended up staying at the company long enough to join the lineup for another group.

"And they just cancelled it out of nowhere?"

“No... It was- I know that for any idol, preparing for debut is tough, but I think that in some ways, it’s especially brutal for the girl groups," you say instead. Chan doesn't question you further, knowing that you must have a point that you're trying to make.

“How so?” Chan has an idea, he’s seen what the female trainees went through, the differences in how they were evaluated and criticised. But he wants to hear it from you, wants to understand what you’ve been through.

“The visual aspect feels like it’s more heavily emphasised than our talent or skills. We were measured for our music video outfits the second they finalised the concept. It was really early on, but at the time I thought it was so exciting and fun that I didn’t question it. I think that all of us were so thrilled by the thought of debuting that we didn't think anything of it. We did our final fittings for it a few weeks before filming and they had made them all a size too small, everything was just a little bit too tight. They didn’t outright say it, but it was implied that they weren’t going to alter them. It was a choice to lose weight or our chance to debut was gone. We were devastated and angry and eventually just resigned. If that's what it took then I would do it. We dieted like crazy for the time leading up to filming,” you laugh, but it's in disbelief, the sound is hollow.

Paired with what you’re saying, it makes Chan want to burn the whole world down. He doesn't say anything, not sure if he can even open his mouth without letting his rage escape, something that you don't deserve.

“We were practising, like always," you continue. "There was a tricky step that needed to be fixed by the next day when we’d be recording, a flip that we hadn't quite mastered. I was the smallest one on the team, so I was the one being flipped. It must have been like 3 or 4 in the morning, we were all tired, hungry, and nervous about filming. Honestly, I don't quite remember what happened, it was all a blur. There was just this feeling that something went wrong and then pain."

You roll up the pants on your left leg and show off the skin there. Chan has to hold back a gasp at the sight. Even though it’s long healed, the scarring is extensive and obvious. Chan can't imagine how much it must have hurt.

“I broke my ankle in two places and sprained my wrist. I couldn't believe it, five years of my life just gone in an instant. It took months before I could walk and even longer before I could dance again. Even now, I can't dance anywhere close to the way that I used to," you say with a watery smile. “Sojinnie had a concussion from the fall and Suminnie dislocated her shoulder, I must have knocked into them or fallen onto them or something. What could we do? Three out of the five of us were out of commission, there was no time and no budget for a group that hadn’t even debuted to find replacements or re-record and re-film everything. I woke up after surgery and they told me that they were sorry, but my contract with the company was over. That someone had helped me pack up all my things in the dorm. I went back to Jeju-do as soon as I was released from the hospital.”

"I- I'm sorry that I didn't know," Chan says, clearing his throat roughly when his voice breaks partway through the sentence. " I wish that I could have been there, to help or comfort you. I should have-"

"Oppa," you respond gently. "It's okay. I didn't tell anybody what happened and the company also kept things quiet. I'm glad you didn't find out at the time. You had other, more important things to focus on, I didn't want to distract you from that."

"You're not a distraction," Chan says incredulously. "You're important to me, I would have dropped everything to be with you in such a difficult time."

"And that's exactly why I couldn't tell you. You've always been too good to me, Channie-oppa," you sniffle. "Look at you now! I'm so always proud when I think of how far you've come."

Chan lifts a trembling hand and carefully cups your face, using his thumb to wipe away a tear that has started making its way down your cheek. He hears your breathing hitch, but you don't object to his touch. If anything, you melt into it.

Chan takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around you, bringing you close. The gesture breaks the dam of tears that you must have been holding back. Chan rocks the two of you back and forth gently, just letting you cry and trying to surreptitiously wipe away his own tears. It takes a few minutes before you calm, taking huge shuddering breaths that break Chan's heart almost as much as your sobs had.

"I'm sorry," you say with a voice thick with emotion.

"Hey, no," Chan reassures you. "There's no need to apologise. Are you feeling better now?"

You nod slowly, head still pressed against Chan's chest.

"I think- I think I just missed you. I always thought it would get easier, not having you in my life, but it never did."

At your words, Chan can't help his arms from tightening, squeezing you close.

"I finally found you again," he says. "And this time, I promise that I won't ever let you go."

read it on ao3 | masterlist

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slytherinshua · 6 months ago

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BLACK CAT

genre. fluff. warnings. not proofread. pairing. taesan x fem!reader. wc. 402. request. no. a/n. idk why i struggle to write for taesan sm its so frustrating even this measly 400 word drabble took so much effort to write like someone bless me with the taesan brainrot or smth it doesn't matter how many fic ideas i have for him its still hard to write anything 😭😭😭😭

“You’re purring like a cat.” You giggled softly, glancing down at Dongmin whose head was resting in your lap. He’d had a long day, and had come home exhausted with only barely enough energy to shower and melt into your arms. Onedoors always said how similar Dongmin was to a cat, but they didn’t even know the full extent of it. He was unbothered or even “cold” towards others, but with you, he was the softest ever. All he wanted to do was be in your arms all day. No one else would believe it if you told them your boyfriend was the clingiest person on the planet.

“Don’t stop, it feels nice.” He complained. You had been massaging his head, letting his freshly washed hair flow through your fingers, until you stopped to speak.

“Is it relaxing?” You asked, continuing your fingers movements, gently carding his hair through your fingers and kneading his head. He hummed, curling into an even tighter ball than he was before, getting as comfortable as possible.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to adopt a cat a couple months ago?” He questioned a little groggily. He knew how much you loved cats. You always sent him cat videos that showed up on your feed, and you grew up in a cat household as well. The idea of adopting one of your own with your boyfriend made you smile.

“Yeah. But I already have a cat of my own right here, don’t I?” You teased, scratching his raven-coloured hair, pressing a kiss to his pretty forehead. He shifted on your lap so his head faced up, a position in which he could maintain eye contact in.

“Wouldn’t it be so cute, though? A little black kitten. People never want to adopt them because they think they’re bad luck, but they deserve love too.” You remembered telling Dongmin that piece of information months prior in a very devastated one-sided ramble about how unfair it was that people didn’t like black cats. You felt a little proud that he remembered it and sympathised enough to use it as his own argument for getting a cat.

You giggled, “You’re so cute.”

He whined a little, lips downturning just slightly, “I’m serious…”

“I know. Go to sleep, kitten, we can talk about this more tomorrow.” You shushed him, slyly using the nickname and smirking in victory when you saw his ears flush.

↳ boynextdoor taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @rizzshimura,, @captivq,, @icyminghao,, @eternalgyu,, @metalchick529,,

@schmocolateschmchip,, @kpoprhia,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @blossominghunnie,,

@kangtaehyunzzz,, @snowflakemoon3,, @lovialy,, @lecheugo,, @okshu,,

@wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @emmylksblog,,

@talkingsaxy,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @dimplewonie,,

@hrtsvivis

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nadjasnandor · 9 days ago

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what I don't understand is like .... they wrote the guillermo and nandor dynamic the way they did AND made both of them queer. like. nobody asked them to do ANY of that. so turning around and mocking everyone who very reasonably looked at what the writers of this show wrote and said "they are written like a couple" is just a baffling thing to do. imho

Exactly. And if you don't mind, I'm going to use your ask as an excuse to write out why I'm upset about certain things, because what you said is the root of my problem.

My disappoint doesn't come from Nandor/Guillermo not going canon in the traditional sense (at least not fully), but from the very 2010s-esque way everyone seems to be talking about fans post-finale. Basically saying they never intended Nandor & Guillermo to be anything but platonic and blaming the weird fans for wanting their pornographic whishes (🙄) to actually happen in the show, like they were not in any way responsible for creating those wishes, is insulting but, more importantly, not true. And they can't convince me otherwise because I was there, watching the whole thing unfold in real time.

I already mentioned being remotely normal about Nandor/Guillermo pre season 3 and there is a reason for that. During the first season the fandom was small. And by that I mean both Nandor/Guillermo shippers and also the people watching wwdits in general. During season 1, sometimes all you saw when going into the tags was about 5 of my gifsets in a row, for instance. Even if people watched the show, they didn't really interact with it in a fandom-y way. During the middle of s1, I complained about there not being Nandor/Guillermo fics at all and even between s1 and s2 I posted about there not being a lot. It was also this era when the first mentions of possible canon romantic feelings were brought up and it was by Harvey himself, who said he thinks Guillermo has feelings for his boss. This was, of course, only Harvey explaining how he views his character but I feel it's important because, as it's been mentioned before, Harvey came up with a lot of Guillermo's character, starting with his surname. He basically created current Guillermo. In the original pilot script, Guillermo is a 40-something, very bitter man. Quite different from our Guillermo and it's all thanks to Harvey.

But during this period, that is during s1 and s2, anything romantic between Nandor and Guillermo was purely accidental and mostly due to Kayvan and Harvey's chemistry. We all knew this, even if by s2 we did get the first articles about Nandor & Guillermo's relationship being maybe not fully platonic. By the end of season 2, the fandom has grown for sure but it was still nowhere near its current size. We also had Nandor say he treated Guillermo like a son, which was quite annoying but we at least knew where we stood with the show. Didn't stop us from shipping those two, of course, because fandoms have survived on less (Looking back, it is funny how much I hated that line when now it's just *vaguely gestures around*). It's important to note that after season 2, Jemaine left and Paul took over. And then came season 3.

There is a reason why I was so insane about the Cloak of Duplication and then Gail. The former canonized Guillermo's feelings for Nandor on screen for the first time and the latter showed that it was not just a single episode, throw away scene. Instead they continued with Guillermo being jealous of Nandor and his sexual partner. That was huge. But the fandom still hasn't blown up fully, that happened later during season 3. And I think it's important to say that because they wrote and filmed season 3 before the show blew up. They cannot say they wrote those scenes to please (or bait) fans. They weren't 'pressured' to do anything with Nandor and Guillermo. Season 3 was also when the very heavy Nandor/Guillermo promoting started. (Like the parody of The Bodyguard poster with 'Never fall in lo-', for example). Now, I don't remember if the first articles calling them the will-they-won't-they couple of the show came out during this season or later, but it was definitely past season 3. So by the end of season 3 the fandom has grown large and people were obviously very into the ship.

Now we can say shippers are pushy or annoying but fans can be annoying in general. People can be annoying lol. When your show grows big enough, annoying people you don't like are going to watch it too. (I'm sure if those annoying people are cishet men then this burden is easier to bear but I digress. I am a little bitter, after all). But at this point, fans had no reason to be pushy, we thought every sign was pointing to canon romantic Nandor/Guillermo.

At this point, the show saw how large the fandom has grown and how invested people were in Nandor/Guillermo. If that's not what they wanted, if they felt people were seeing things differently than how they intented, they could have pulled back. They had enough time between season 3 and season 4 to do that. But they didn't. Instead, they doubled down and continued to do the same for 2 more season. Even if by season 5 the latest we already had Paul saying weird things about the dynamic.

Instead it seems they decided to pull back in season 6 but by then it was too late. People were expecting them to come through on the thing they have been teasing for 3 seasons. And then they blamed the fans for not liking what they offered up instead. For wanting 'pornographic scenes'. Because it's 'not that kind of a show'. They say this about a show with an episode called The Orgy.

And even while saying all that, they didn't stop them from teasing the fans until the very last moment. Nandor's 'you know what would be cooler than being friends' is just cruel lmao. And that's why it felt more like mocking to me. Not only because of what happened in the show, but because when I watch those scenes, I can't seperate them from how the cast and crew talk about the ship and the fans in interviews. They apparently now think it's stupid and weird but will gladly tease it in the show for whatever reason? It's funny because fans are weird and kinky, I guess. Things unheard of in relation to this show.

I also don't understand Kayvan and Harvey's complete 180 turn. During the early seasons, Kayvan was not really into the idea of the ship, saying it's a bit toxic due to the power imbalance in their dynamic but he seemed to go full throttle later, even overtaking Harvey in hyping the ship up. And then in the first post-finale interview, he says that 'Nandor is never going to have sex with Guillermo', even if the show left that door open with the last scene. And then there's Harvey, who was the first to say Guillermo has feelings for his boss, who is now championing the repserentation of platonic gay male friendships on tv. In his case, I can give him the benefit of doubt, because he must have his own experiences with that and it's not my place to dismiss or doubt them. I do find the change strange and have complained about it but it's more understandable than Kayvan's. (EDIT: I didn't read this interview after the finale but it just makes things even more confusing, if I'm honest.)

I tried to be as coherent as possible and write out all my thoughts about this topic but I most likely still missed some things. I don't really like to talk about my feelings and thoughts this elaborately because I find it difficult to fully express myself but I tried my best because I felt like I was going insane.

#i talked to a friend about this and it was nice so i ended up wanting to collect my thoughts and putting them out there #hopefully it makes sense #ask #wwdits spoilers #nandor x guillermo #and if you dont agree thats fine its just my experience and feelings on the matter #wwdits negativity #not really. more like paul negativity lmao. but just in case

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bamsywrites · 3 months ago

Text

And Comes Dawn pt ii

pairing: halbrand/sauron x reader; there will be two love triangles in the future

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tag: dark romance, slow burn, sauron is Stressed™️ , sauron is so horny he contemplates murder, minor sex mention, idk what else to tag or warn

Notes: 24 hours later I already have part 2 done. I was going to have up until galadriel joins the raft for part 2 but I have a lot of ideas so I'm splitting them up. I am also stretching the time during season 1, like instead of being a couple months it's gonna be about a year because it's my fic and I can do that. Saurons pov is all over the place bc he is all over the place and yeah. Feed back always welcome and lemme know if you wanna be tagged. Oh and everything was still done on my phone so sorry if it's weird.

Series Masterlist

It was all a blur for you. You were woken from sleep by the creature attacking the ship and in the flurry of rushing water, screams, and the sound of breaking wood. You had found a pair of arms around your waist. You held your breath and clamped your eyes shut, if you were to die you didn't want your last memory on this Earth to be of the ship's wreckage and the corpses of your traveling companions floating under the water. These fears disappeared as you broke to the surface of the sea with the arms around your waist still holding you securely. You gasped and filled your lungs with air, wet hair obstructing your view, but you could see the familiar face of your savior.

“Halbrand?” You coughed.

He hummed a response, and you could feel the sound reverberate in his chest. It was comforting, the feeling of his strong arms and solid chest. Despite the cold of the waters, his body was abnormally warm, and you found yourself pressing into him for more of that heat.

“There's a raft not far. I think there's another survivor or two aboard it.” He spoke, securing one arm tightly around your body as he used his other to move through the water.

You squinted and could see what you suspected to be the raft he spoke of, but it was rather far for him to swim carrying you “I can swim. I do not wish you to have to carry me all that way through the water.”

“No,” he responded firmly. “There is some terrible beast who just destroyed our ship. I will not allow you to go out on your own in the water.”

“But then we could both die if it finds us.”

Halbrand looked down at you, looking into your eyes as he spoke. “In that case, my conscience will be clear because I will be dead. I can already see the arguments forming on your tongue, and the answer is still no.”

He gave you a pointed look at which you nodded, “Thank you. Now hold on, sweet one.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, closing your eyes. This has been quite the journey for you. You missed home, but you longed for a new start, a new place where your family's reputation didn't loom over you, and you weren't regarded with suspicion at every turn. You couldn't allow yourself to think this was it, that you'd die like this at the sea. You'd been through too much.

You didn't know if it had been 15 minutes or 3 hours when you heard a voice call out your name from the raft, the woman who'd slept across from you. You had only introduced yourselves and not talked much at all, but it was still a familiar voice.

“Here, help her up,” Halbrand called to one of the men as he hoisted you as best he could on to the raft. “There you go, sweet one.”

You pulled yourself up on the raft, and almost instantly, you found yourself falling asleep on the wood. Exhaustion took you after the adrenaline drop of finally being out of the water. You were swept into sleeps embrace as the sun began to peak over the horizon.

You awoke, rubbing the sleep out from your eyes and looking around you. The horrors of that night replayed in your mind, but then you remembered Halbrand. You sat up and noticed that the raft was considerably larger, different pieces of driftwood tied together, and makeshift sails set up. There were also more survivors than last night, but it was a considerably small amount. Your eyes roamed the passengers, but you couldn't find the one you sought.

“Your awareness of your surroundings is incredibly lacking.”

You startled at the sound of his deep voice, causing him to chuckle. He had been lying down and sat up as you turned to look at him. “Glad you woke, sweet one. If you'd slept much longer, I'm sure they'd try to add you to our rations.”

“There's rations?” You asked eagerly, unable to ignore the emptiness in your belly.

Halbrand nodded, “There is. He”- he motioned to an older man on the other side of the raft - “didn't want to give you any because you were sleeping, but I was able to do some convincing.” He handed you a chunk of bread and a small portion of dried meat.

You gave him your thanks, and as you grabbed it, you noticed his knuckles were bloodied. A quick glance at the old man, who you now noticed was sporting a bruise and a few cuts under his eye, gave you the answers you needed.

“Tell me you didn't strike an old man for this?”

He sighed, rolling his eyes and pushing the bread and meat further into your chest. “If I tell you he fell upon my fist, will you eat it? How I came about this matters not. What matters is you will not last if you do not eat.”

You sighed, feeling guilty but taking a bit nonetheless. The feeling of the bread and dried meat hitting your barren stomach was enough to make you moan softly. Halbrand chuckled, watching you and leaning against one of the makeshift masts.

“Thank you. For the food and for saving me. I don't know how to express my gratitude for all you've done for me,” you swallowed and wet your lips. “Though I must admit I'm greatly confused as to why.”

You looked over at him, brow furrowed as you awaited an answer.

“Because you are fair of face. I can not imagine the despair I'd fall into if I was stuck on a raft with nothing but them to look at,” he motioned to other inhabitants, “it would be quite bleak indeed.”

You couldn't help the blush that formed on the bridge of your nose and traveled across your cheeks. Despite this, you still shook your head. “There is no need to be rude or dishonest. I simply ask for the truth.”

“I admit that was rude, but it was anything but dishonest. You are beautiful, and I quite like looking at you,” his eyes noticed your blush, and it caused him to smirk - if only he knew of the butterflies forming in your stomach at his affirmation.

“Though,” he continued, “you are right. That is not the reason I saved you. It's only an added benefit. When I met you on the ship, there had been many that had complained that there was not enough notice. That I would deplete the rations and that they would have to recalculate everything. But you brought me extra soup, and it wasn't a small portion either. You brought it because you knew I had been on my own and assumed I'd been without food. You had no selfish intention. You were simply kind to a stranger because you felt it was the right thing to do. There is not enough of that in the world, and humanity can not bear to lose someone like you who is kind and good for no other purpose than that it is right.”

“Oh,” your voice was small, and your entire face burned bright red at his compliments.

“I would tell you more, but I'm afraid if I do, you may burst into flames.”

The waves rocked the raft gently, the previous night it had lulled you into a nice, deep sleep but there's only so much to do on a raft in the middle of nowhere and you had spent the majority of that time asleep. Your eyes watched the stars, feeling lucky that the sky was full of them and that the moon shone bright. The thought of endless darkness, especially knowing what was out there hunting in the ocean depths, was a terrifying thought. The sound of the others snores mixed with the sounds of the waves.

There was only one other who was still awake. Halbrand was busy tightening the ropes to secure the pieces of the raft together. You had noticed he did not sleep much. You had been on the raft for 3 nights and two days, and most of that time was spent with him. Though there wasn't much conversation, you seemed to be the only one on the raft he wasn't annoyed with. You caught him looking at you at times, which made you think he really did mean what he said on that first day.

“Still looking for hope in the stars, sweet one?” Halbrand teased with a smirk as he walked to where she sat and sat down next to her so close that their legs touched.

“Have you forgotten my name? You seem to only refer to me as ‘sweet one’.” You asked, tearing your eyes from the stars to look at him.

He rolled his eyes, your name rolling from his tongue. “Do you not like my nickname?”

“It is fine. I was just curious, and I wasn't quite sure why.” You looked up at him as you awaited his answer.

“Because you're sweet. Hence, sweet one.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You're quite the flirt, Halbrand.”

“Only with you, sweet one.” He playfully pushed his shoulder into yours, and he sat there with you, looking up at the stars.

You enjoyed the moment. The heat from his body and the solid feeling of him next to you brought contentment. You wondered if it was meaningless flirtations or if he could mean all of it. You pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind. You were stranded on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Any romantic feelings you may be growing for him were unimportant in the face of that fact.

You looked over at him, and your eyes trailed down to the relic that hung from his neck. You'd noticed it before but had never thought to ask about it. Your fingers gently reached for it so you could get a better look.

“What is this?” You tilted your head, holding it in your palm.

“Have you seen it before?” His voice was soft, but his brown eyes watched your face intently.

You shook your head in answer.

“It's the heraldry of my family. I only asked if you'd seen it because it has been almost an age since we used it. I can't imagine any family in the Southlands has used heraldry in some time.”

You turned it over in your palm, examining it further. “Why do you carry it?”

He wet his lips, gently taking it from your fingers and looking at it himself. “It's a reminder, a grim one, that our fates are never certain and that fortune can change for anyone. We've seen that here,” he motioned around them.

“Is it a grim reminder? I find it quite hopeful. No matter what, nothing is certain, and nothing lasts forever. There may be evil, and there may be terribly dark times, but those times do not last forever. There is also good. Also times of wonder and prosperity.”

He laughed, smiling as he looked at you. “Of course, that is what you would say. Ever the light and so full of hope.”

It was not long after this that you had fallen asleep. He still sat next to you awake as ever. His mind reeling and racing with millions of thoughts, the conflict within him felt as though it would rip right through him. He wanted control and order. It was the only way in which this world could know peace. He also wanted revenge on Adar, on the orcs who attempted to kill him.

But he remembered Morgoth. He remembered his former master and the chase for power that ended in his utter destruction. Even before then, Morgoth had become enslaved to the power he held and the power he craved. That was a fate that Sauron did not wish to share. He did not want to lose control for the sake of power, but he would never be quenched without having power. He could not have both.

Then there was you. He had not expected you, and he was finding himself enthralled with you. He could not understand you or the effect you had on him. A human, of all creatures, making him question all he knew to be true. He had not lusted for the pleasures of the flesh in thousands upon thousands of years and it was never for a human but when your eyes gazed up at him through your lashes or when he saw the smile stretch across your lips and the dimples that followed, it made it impossible not to imagine how those same eyes would look gazing up at him as you kneel at his feet or how those lips would look parted in ecstasy. His thoughts were plagued with the idea of taking you, tasting you, and utterly corrupting you.

It was all incredibly inconvenient.

This wasn't part of the plan and if it was just lust that plagued him, perhaps he could drown you and be done with it but the infatuation with understanding you and your motives and how you became this way stopped his hand. And the damn warmth that radiated from you that reminded him of the home he could never return to. With you curled into his side, he could close his eyes and imagine a time before he was corrupted. It made him wonder if he truly was past all redemption.

When those thoughts dared make themselves known, he'd imagine you looking up at him with tears streaming down your cheeks and his cock shoved down your throat.

His eyes drifted toward the water. It wouldn't be hard. He's so much stronger than you. He could handle any resistance as he pushed you under the waves, and then his mind would be free of those thoughts. But then he looked at you, and a million unanswered questions filled his mind. He knew if he killed you, they would remain unanswered and would plague him forever.

He cursed under his breath and watched as you slept. The choir of a million thoughts did not stop, and he briefly wondered if you would be his undoing.

previous next

#halbrand x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #sauron x reader #the rings of power fanfiction #the rings of power x reader #trop x reader #trop fanfiction #× reader #///mine

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taliesin-the-bored · 1 month ago

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Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel (Thank you for tagging me!)

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

#tagging game #I might have rushed this but I was worried I was going to spend a long time overthinking it if I didn't #I have one ask for a theme song for Kay from the Spring which I still haven't answered #despite having a whole playlist for him #because I'm not sure any of the songs are good enough and after all this time the stakes seem higher #It was an anon too so the chances are the person will never see it at this point #I'm counting this getting posted as a rare win for non-perfectionism

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kisseobie · 3 months ago

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day 5 of piwontober 24’ ✶ “wine pon you”

prompt: food play/biting/marks/drunk sex with hwang intak

pairings: intak x reader

warnings: nsfw (mdni), sex under the influence, dubious consent

word count: 5.1k

tags: alcohol use (only intak is drunk), clubbing, biting and marking, drunk sex, one night stand, stripper reader, smoking, infatuation, brief mentions of vomit, intak is whipped as hell lmaoo, rizztak 🙈, giggly sex, no attachment, pov switches, blowjob, vaginal penetration

a/n: hi everyone <3 i wasn’t expecting to take this prompt so i’m sorry if this sucks but hehe first kisseobie piwontober 24’ fic 💟 loveeeee me some sleazy intak so i hope u all enjoy! i didn’t use the foodplay prompt btw lol not my thing unfortunately..

sorry for posting so late by the way! :( i hope the unusually long length makes up for it :3

full piwontober 24’ masterlist here ❤︎ ིུ͠*:·.

buzzed bodies and a powdery scent of pungent perfume, it’s nothing out of the ordinary for intak, comforting even. he wouldn’t necessarily call himself addicted, but his feet drag him down a couple of blocks to the same strip joint more often than the man would like to admit. the establishment isn’t stellar in any means, nothing to write home about. the selections of liquor are not to intak’s liking, the rainbow lights flicker in a manner that’s almost nauseating, and the dj can’t bump a track for shit.

intak knows that an intense infatuation with a certain stripper isn’t necessarily something applaudable, and if anything, his roommate jiung would laugh his ass off at the revelation, but he can’t find it in himself to really care. not when you take the stage, chunky heels clacking against the shiny floor, bedazzled top hit with a beam of white light, cascading diamond-like forms across the walls. intak watches your every twist and turn so intensely, like the show was specifically crafted for his eyes only, a personal love letter addressed to hwang intak—signed xoxo, y/n.

intak watches as you slide effortlessly against the metal pole, the cool rod leaving a trail of goosebumps on the surface of your smooth skin. he likes that about you, that despite the fact that you’re just a mere fantasy for him, you’re human—something real. it presents itself in different ways, he’s been coming here long enough to notice the way your muscles sometimes tremble in exertion during a particularly difficult move, or how you subtly tuck away stray pieces of pretty hair that stick to the gloss on your lips. he notices it all. he wonders if you notice him too.

your dance routine ends and intak finds himself plopped on a lonely barstool, downing some bottom shelf bourbon—nothing out of his typical routine here, really. he can feel the blaring music, the thumping of the beat coursing through his entire being, only aided by the incessant hollers of drunk partygoers. it however, does nothing to distract his thoughts from you—pretty skin, pretty hair, pretty teeth, and a nice set of tits too. the man feels like a pervert, coming to the same shit club every weekend to get a glimpse of his sweetheart, the dreamy girl that most likely doesn’t give a damn about him. intak sighs, and then takes another swig.

“pretty boy is here again. sat right up at the front, probably trying to take a sniff at your panties or somethin’.”

“stop that. he seems nice.” you shoot back, but only snickers from the girls in the locker room follow. they think you’ve got some weird situationship going with the guy, you suppose.

you were aware of the mystery boy of course, he watched your every show without fail, drank his bodyweight at the bar, and ended the night by clumsily wobbling out of the club, only to come back the next weekend and follow the same tired routine. he is a pretty boy, you’ll give him that. dark eyes that twinkle ever so slightly, a lopsided grin permanently etched on his face when he watches you dance, lean body that accentuates his height well.

despite the fact that he’s charming, you don’t miss the way he adjusts his pants when you’re on stage, or how he sometimes leaves to the bathroom after you’ve finished, presumably to relieve the obvious tent in his pants when you roll your hips against the pole just right. he’s just another sleaze, a pretty one maybe, but a sleaze nonetheless. you sure aren’t fooled, even if his dedication to your performances is intriguing.

“hey y/n, if you don’t want him, i’ll take him. he looks pent up, the poor guy.” your coworker jokes, but you pay no mind to the teasing. you have a show to put on, whether the pretty boy watches or not.

meaningless conversation ends and you situate yourself on top of the dirty dressing room bench, slipping on your heels, a dazzling crimson red and eight inches tall. opting for no tights today, you examine how the shoe emphasizes the length of your shaved legs—in other words, you know you’re gonna make a few extra tips tonight. your mouth waters at the thought of buying yourself a nice breakfast in the morning, maybe a stack of blueberry pancakes with extra whipped cream?

after some waiting backstage, the club’s owner, a pudgy old man you’ve never quite gotten along with, announces your name with a cheesy slogan. a few men hoot and holler, clearly ready to eye you down like a fresh piece of meat for their tasting. the lights dim as the velvet cheetah-printed drapes part to reveal you in all your glory, dressed to the nines, even if the clothing you adorn is sparse. the music cues, and you walk, letting the crowd drink you in like a tall glass of wine. as you strut to the beat with a shimmery smile, you unconsciously scan the audience, eyes honing in on one man in particular. he’s here, of course he is, staring at you as if you hung the stars for him, and you might as well have, judging from the gobsmacked look on his face. you shoot him a sly wink before turning to the pole, gyrating your hips against the metal before latching your legs onto the very material. it’s exhilarating as it is exhausting.

a few dozen twists and turns on the rod later, your practiced routine finally comes to a close. the cheers are loud, they always are. you collect tips from wrinkly hands, blowing kisses and shooting winks at all sorts of men—married, recently divorced, rich, poor—it doesn’t matter to you, you aren’t one to judge. when you’re done collecting dollar bills and desperate notes with numbers scribbled across, your vision catches pretty boy making his way to the bar, greeting theo, the bartender always on night duty, like an old time friend.

“you come here often?” intak teases at taeyang, who stares back at him with his arms crossed, visibly unamused. the man gives it to intak straight, an admirable quality for sure, though some may call him too blunt for his own good. your show ended a few hours ago, and intak’s been perched on this very stool, drinking glass after glass, hoping it’ll clear his thoughts that seem to only focus on you.

“don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink? you look like shit. if you puke on my countertop you’re cleaning that shit up yourself.” theo scolds, but there’s no malice in his tone, a little bit of disinterest and concern maybe, but no malice. intak lazily raises his hand in the air with his head down, a nonverbal way of saying “i know, i’m gonna get going.” that taeyang can read every time with ease. the man with shoulder-length hair audibly sighs.

“she’s nothing but a fantasy man, let it go. you come here every weekend just to sit and watch a girl out of your reach. it’s getting pathetic.”

intak winces at the harsh words, but smiles nonetheless. he gets up with some effort and pulls a few crinkled twenties out of his pocket, slapping them on the table in between them with a, “always a pleasure talking to you, theo”. taeyang scoffs, grabbing the bills to place them in the register. “yeah yeah, get home safe.”

intak stumbles out of the stuffy club with a headache, already dreading the inevitable hangover he’ll have in the morning. he waves his arm around aimlessly, hoping to signal a taxi, eyes wandering around the street in boredom until they catch onto a familiar figure sat on the hood of a car. you’re wearing a fuzzy long coat, shielding you from the cold of the night as you cup your hand around a lighter. intak watches you take a deep drag from a lit cigarette, blowing the swirly smoke into the autumn air with an indifferent expression on your face. your hair blows in the wind, but you pay no mind to it, seemingly lost in thought. intak rubs at his eyes with closed fists to be sure you aren’t a figment of his imagination—he’s never seen you away from the limited space of the stage.

before he can talk himself out of it, the boy crosses the street, hands in his pockets as he takes slow, hesitant steps towards you. you’re even prettier like this, intak thinks, not faking a smile for some fast cash, wrapped up in a big coat that makes you look so incredibly small, scrolling on your outdated phone with sleepy eyes. he’s never seen someone so beautiful.

“hey.” are his first words directed at you, a little lame but they grab your attention nonetheless. you jump at his voice, clearly not expecting to entertain a conversation this late at night. intak waits awkwardly as you scan him from head to toe, a hint of what looks like recognization in your eyes. you give him a tight lipped smile, obviously nervous because of the sudden encounter. he can’t blame you, he supposes, not when you’re in this line of work. he probably isn’t the first man to approach you, and most definitely not the last either.

“hi?” is how you answer, hesitant but oh so curious. he’s always been a wallflower from what you know, watching from a distance but never one to approach. the change in routine is certainly sparking your interest, and you wait with bated breath for him to come clean, to reveal his true intentions towards you, good or bad.

“i’ve seen you dance a few times. you’re really good.” intak sheepishly admits, scratching the back of his neck all shy, as if he hadn’t watched you dry hump the floor half naked earlier. his timidness is frankly a bit refreshing, usually an attendee of one of your shows would have tried to get in your pants by now.

“thank you. i’ve seen you in the crowd, y’know. you never tip me, so i can’t be all that good, can i?” you tease, but the question does hold some truth in it. he hasn’t tipped you a single dollar since stepping in the club for the first time, another useless observation of yours.

“sorry.” he blurts out, cheeks red with embarrassment, like a kid who got caught stealing out of the family cookie jar. you hold back a snort at his flustered expression, you were merely teasing the boy. no hard feelings. “it’s all good. a bit curious as to why you come to see me every weekend though. or maybe you’re just here for the drinks, who knows.”

intak laughs at that. “when all the club supplies is whiteclaws and cheap bourbon? i could get better drinks at the supermarket.”

“well you’re right about that,” y/n affirms with a giggle. “so then, what is it? what draws you here every weekend, pretty boy?” you know the answer, but you’d like to hear it straight from the source. it’s more fun that way.

intak sighs, and then reaches his arm out to shake hands, to which you raise an eyebrow, but accept the kind embrace anyways. his hands are warm, a bit sweaty too. he sports no rings, and his fingers are a bit calloused, it makes you wonder what the guy does for work—welding, maybe?

“i’m intak.” a beat passes. you smile, all teeth and gums, and shake his hand in return.

“y/n. it’s nice to meet you, intak.”

intak’s room is warm, a welcomed contrast to the depressing weather outside. not the cleanest living space, with socks hanging from drawers and far too many lopsided posters pasted onto his walls, but strangely enough, it’s comforting. before now, hwang intak to you was always a man of great mystery, but his cluttered apartment humanizes him. there are a few framed photos propped up on his messy desk, old ones, showcasing intak as a young boy, smiley as ever with his arms draped over various shoulders of people you don’t quite recognize. he’s got some little notes written on the glass frames as well, one in particular catching your eye, a scribbled “my first drink EVER! it tasted like shit!!”. it makes you smile, similar to how the sight of an excited puppy playing fetch would.

as you snoop around intak’s bedroom, your thoughts start to wander to earlier tonight, when you took the stage and locked eyes with the man whose very space you’re currently occupying. his legs spread, chest puffed, jaw slack as he watched you perform with a needy look on his face, practically eye-fucking you across the dim room. it should have disgusted you, it definitely did with every other man who saw you as a mere object of their perverted desires, a sex symbol that they couldn’t live without. there was something different about the boy though, something that made you crave a single night with him. it’s why you accepted his offer to come over to his place with little to no deliberation, despite you swearing to yourself countless of times in the past that you’d never let a random man take you home.

intak’s currently in his bathroom, hyping himself up in front of his mirror as best as he can, fearful that he’ll screw this up and scare you away forever. he can be a bit clingy when intoxicated, sometimes sappy too—a fact that jiung can attest to. the boy would be absolutely mortified if his drunk tendencies landed him on the club’s hefty blacklist, so he takes a deep breath and gives himself an internal pep talk to loosen up: “intak, you’ve got this man. she wouldn’t have taken your offer to come over if she thought you were a weirdo. get back in there, bro.”

intak places a final kiss onto his flexed bicep as good luck, then cringes at himself before taking a deep inhale, brows furrowed in concentration. he walks out of the bathroom and opens his bedroom door, gasping aloud at the delicious sight he’s met with. you’re not wearing your coat anymore, nor your dancing heels, left very naked besides the crimson panties you wore for your earlier performance. your draped over his bed, leaning across the width of the mattress, supporting your weight with one hand planted firmly on intak’s bed, the other raised up to your line of sight as you examine your coffin nails before you take notice of intak’s presence. intak resists slapping himself across the face, not wanting to seem like even more of an idiot after you teased him just an hour ago for never tipping you during your shows. instead, he just stands and stares, gobsmacked at the view, you sat atop of his bed, perky tits out, nipples hard and waiting for his attention.

“you gonna stand there all night or..” is all you can manage to get out before the man takes fast strides towards you and pulls you into a desperate kiss. you moan into his mouth, tongue swiping against his, tasting nothing but bourbon and musk, the flavor provoking a throbbing heat to your core. his dominance seeped into the hot kiss, presenting itself in the way he grabbed at your cheeks roughly, how his tongue shoved itself in your mouth so sloppily, how his lips travelled to the nape of your neck, leaving bite marks in their wake. he was experienced for sure, and thank god for it, because the makeout sesh alone had your typically level-head clouded with yearning and lust.

without proper warning, intak’s calloused hands travelled to your boobs, the rough contact against your soft skin making you mewl. he groped at the flesh with eagerness, replacing his left hand with his tongue as he circled your bud with the wet muscle, flicking it with a deep groan. his mouth latched onto your left tit, suctioning the area with just the right amount of pressure. you let your hand slip into the tufts of his jet black hair, tugging at the strands every time intak bit at your skin. the boy maneuvered his head to give the same attention to your right boob, but not without replacing the left with his hand, his own spit thinly coating his palm as he squeezed.

a few minutes passed just like that, with intak worshipping your boobs like an artist intensely dedicated to their craft. the man unlatched his lips from your chest with a loud pop, placing a single kiss on each of your nipples before sitting back and admiring his work. your skin was now littered with red and purple marks, all from intak and none unwelcome. “pretty.” he remarks, staring at your tits like a man starved. the attention has you dripping, pussy weeping for contact, to which you subtly make an attempt at rubbing your thighs together to bring temporary relief to your aching cunt. intak takes notice of this, smirking at you, facial features sporting a knowing look.

“intak, wanna see you please.” you beg, craving to see what the man looks like underneath the thin layer of his clothes. “fuck, yeah, okay,” he responds, his voice breathless—all a result of you, only you. “it’s only fair i give you a show too, right?” he jokes, the lightheartedness soothing any nerves you may have had earlier. “right.” you affirm with a focused expression, before giggling back at him. intak steps a few feet away from his bed, eyes locked on yours as he cheekily pulls off his own coat. his black wife beater follows, giving you the liberty to drool at the view of his sculpted abs. your line of sight travels downwards, to where you can spot a prominent v-line, along with the beginning of a trail of pubic hair—not too long, but still present, not that you mind.

intak starts to tug at his belt buckle, but you’re quick to sit at the edge of the bed, feet tucked snug under your thighs as you replace his hands with your own. you free the boy from the tight constraints of his jeans, leaving him in only his boxer briefs. they’re red in color, almost matching the hue of your own underwear. you can spot the thick outline of his cock, already hard and practically slipping out of his briefs. there’s also a wet patch of precum oozing out of the elastic material, and you can’t stop yourself from drooling at the thought of tasting him.

before you free his girth out of its constraints, you leave a few sloppy kisses and kitten licks right on top of the cloth, his subdued scent and taste overtaking your senses. intak may be the only one under the influence, but you could get drunk just off of this, especially with the way the man bites his lip at your gentle contact, a strangled “fuck..” leaving his lips. you quit your teasing after a few more licks, pulling down intak’s underwear in one swift movement, almost immediately grabbing at his length with a closed fist and pumping at a steady pace. intak’s reaction is immediate, head thrown back with a loud groan, eyes momentarily rolled to the back of his skull as his hips buck upwards into your fist. you’ve barely done anything and the man already seems close to cumming—it’s as cute as it is dirty, the way he melts into your touch, so pliant and oh so desperate.

“y/n, let me fuck your face.” intak pleads, eyes as twinkly as ever. you reply by guiding his mushroom tip into your open mouth, slowly sinking your mouth onto his length as far as you can go. you look up at intak, mouth full of cock and tears threatening to spill from your lined waterline, silently giving the man a go at your throat. he wastes no time in thrusting into the heat, whimpering and swearing at the way you suction your lips. he speeds his hips to set a near animalistic pace, resulting in you spluttering on him as the force of his thrusts hit against the back of your throat. just as you’re about to tap out, pinch at intak’s thick thighs and catch your breath, salty seed slips into your mouth, coating your throat white. you pull off of him to cough and swallow, looking absolutely defiled in front of the man. for some reason, the fact doesn’t bother you one bit, instead, you only wish for him to rough you up some more, to give you his all, even if it’s just for a single night. even if come tomorrow morning, you’ll slip out of his blankets, leaving no signs that you were ever there.

intak hunches over your frame to capture your slick lips into a messy kiss for the nth time tonight. he can taste his ecstasy on your tongue, savoring the flavor far more enthusiastically than he would any drink served at your club. you loop your arms around his broad neck, pulling him closer and closer until you both are pressed flush against each other, with your back, a bit sweaty, meeting the soft fabric of his linen sheets. intak ruts his swollen, sensitive cock against your crotch, still shielded by your panties. despite the barrier of cloth, intak can feel how wet you are—he grins at that, knowing that he’s the one who’s making you all hot and bothered. he feels like he’s on top of the world, with the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, occupying his sheets and pleading for his touch.

“jesus babe, you’re soaked. all this for me?” intak muses aloud, obviously proud of himself at affecting you just as much as you’ve affected him. if he wasn’t so worried about first impressions, he’d pump his fist in the air.

“all for you takkie, now help me get rid of these panties already.” you demand, followed by a flirtatious wink that almost makes intak buckle at the knees. the man drops his head to where he has the perfect view of your crimson panties, contrasting beautifully against your shiny skin. red had always been his favorite color, after all. intak mimics your tactic on his cock from earlier, placing feather light kisses on your inner thighs, and eventually on your clothed mound, too. you whine at his teasing, but it’s only fair he returns the favor, isn’t it?

your scent is heaven on earth to him. delicate and strong at the same time, flowery musk coating his nostrils—it’s so irrevocably girl. the boy takes his sweet time inhaling your smell, completely ignoring your protests. you beg a little more, and always one to please, intak latches his teeth onto the waistband of the silk, tugging it off with his canines while looking you right in the eye. he’s so sexy like this, you think, in between your thighs, already pussy drunk, but slow enough in his movements so the pair of you can properly savor the moment. you appreciate his pace; it’s rare when a man doesn’t insist on sticking it in as soon as you’ve been undressed. intak is kinder than that.

his teeth continue to tug your panties down the length of your legs, until they slip off completely, leaving you completely bare are vulnerable. intak sweetly folds your panties and places them at the edge of the bed, knowing that they must have costed you a pretty penny, before shifting his unwavering attention to your sopping cunt. he stares for a bit, making you a bit shy to the point where you start to close up your legs, but intak is faster, prying them open with force. the dominance that he now exudes is salivating, and you wait, curious as to what his next move will be.

“pretty face, pretty hair, pretty tits, pretty pussy. how are you real?” intak questions you, but his deep eyes are still glued to your cunt, throbbing and calling out for his touch. light and gentle or hard and rough, it doesn’t matter anymore. you just want him, willing to take anything he’ll give you with obedience and a smile. it’s been too long since you’ve been worshipped like a goddess, rather than painted as prey for predator.

instead of intak touching you where you need him most, he leaves scattered bites across the skin of your inner thighs, completely neglecting your cunny to mark you instead. in reality, intak knows that no amount of biting will make you his, and he’ll be back at the club next weekend, watching you perform once more with a glass of bourbon in hand. the realization sends a pang of hurt to his heart, but he bandaids the wound by showing you a good time—a great time, even. it’s all he can do, and do it right he will. so he ignores the ticking of his obnoxious alarm clock, redirecting his focus once more to your cunt.

his digits reach out to explore your pussy, swiping and swirling around the surface in a plethora of ways. intak gauges your reactions to each touch, quickly catching on to what sensations make your legs shake and bottom lip wobble. oh how he’d love to get his mouth on you right now, have you fall apart on his tongue, but his cock throbs as he ruts his hips against his sheets, urging him to slam into your heat as soon as he possibly can. if he doesn’t, he might die this very minute, and so he does. removes his skinny fingers from your puffy bud, stands up and plants his feet onto his carpeted floor, grips onto your thighs to pull your weight to the edge of his bed.

“intak. condom.” you gently remind. as nice as he is, sexy too, you’d much rather protect yourself from some sexually transmitted disease, or worse, an unexpected bundle of joy that you cannot afford to bring into this world. not now, at least, and not with pretty boy intak.

“shit, yeah. sorry, let me get one real quick.” intak responds sheepishly, embarrassed that he’d let his lust take over without taking the proper precautionary steps beforehand. intak walks over to his bedside drawer, pulling out a wrapped piece of latex as fast as he can, clearly desperate to bury himself within your walls as soon as humanely possible. he repositions himself in front of you, cock standing tall, the tip red from the previous attention you gave it. he rips at the foil with haste, almost dropping the condom like a fucking idiot. you don’t let him linger in embarrassment, wrapping your manicured hand around his forearm before gently consoling him with a, “intak, relax. ‘s just me.”

that’s the problem, the fact that it’s you, is what intak thinks, but your words do help him calm down, even if it’s just a bit. he takes a deep breath and slips the rubber onto his length, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort. there’s none, of course, just pure lust, and your ready expression convinces the boy to sheath himself into your tight walls, pushing in inch by inch with little to no resistance—perks of you being so incredibly wet, he guesses.

you both moan at the stretch, the feeling so intense that intak may as well have crashed on top of you. he has half a mind to grip an arm onto the sheets, right next to your head. the position is awfully intimate for a one night stand, but neither of you have time to dwell on it when intak pulls his hips back slightly, only to piston back forward with a level of force you weren’t quite prepared for. the boy is quite literally the definition of pussy drunk, setting a desperate speed from the get-go and tucking his face into the nape of your neck. his lips are right underneath your ear, making it impossible to miss each and every one of his pathetically beautiful noises.

after awhile, intak adjusts the angle of his thrusts just a bit, and you cry out at the way his cock prods at your g-spot with the perfect amount of precision and pressure. “oh! right there, tak!” you moan out, attempting to meet his thrusts by pushing your own hips downwards. you clench around him in a vice grip, embarrassingly close already. it’s the first time a man has been able to draw out so many sounds from you, you’ve never felt so good before. intak nods at you each and every time you gasp aloud, egging on your, and his, inevitable orgasm.

intak breaks eye contact to look downwards, groaning at how your walls suction him in and leave a frothy white rim against the base of his dick. his length is coated with a sheen, certainly your wetness, and it only makes it that much easier for him to thrust into your gummy walls. the room feels about 20 degrees hotter now, with intak’s sweat dripping onto your chest like a leaking water faucet. he can’t smell the powdery perfume and whiteclaw breath from the club anymore, nose just picking up the scent of you—y/n.

a thumb circles your clit in quick motions, the final tipping point sending you to the edge with a pornographic, “fuck!”. your cunt flutters against intak’s girth, your legs tremble and spasm uncontrollably, eyes tearing up once again, no doubt ruining your carefully applied mascara as intak just fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life. he’s not far behind, only pistoning into you a few dozen more times before unloading his cum into the rubber of the condom.

the pair of you stay silent to catch your breaths, intak still tucked within your cunt as he collects himself. a few minutes later has him pulling out of you with a hiss, cock sensitive from all the exertion. he flops onto the empty space next to you, turning his head to face you, you doing the same. you both giggle, still a bit breathless and so very satisfied.

you almost say something in the heat of the moment, something you’re sure to regret in the morning, but as you turn to look at intak once more, he’s fast asleep. a definite effect of all the drinks he had earlier. you lean over to place a single delicate peck on his cheek, dreading having to leave his side in the morning time, but you couldn’t get attached, not in this line of work. so you tucked yourself away from the boy—cuddling him would make it that much harder to leave him.

morning comes, as it usually does. intak wakes a bit later than usual, sunshine leaking through his thin curtains to shine directly into his eyes. he groans, sits up and stretches his arms real wide to wake himself up faster. as soon as a yawn exits his mouth, the man is hit with an intense headache that prompts him to grip at his forehead in discomfort. the events of the last night are a blur, but his lips remember sloppy kisses, ears remember giggles and whines, cock remembers a fair amount of attention. and then it all comes back to him. y/n.

he turns to his right, but there’s only emptiness beside him. the sheets, however, are crumpled in a way that suggest someone occupied the space not too many hours ago. but it doesn’t matter anyways. one night is all he asked for, and one night he got.

a knock at his wooden door startles intak, and a sleepy jiung enters the room with uncharacteristically hesitant steps. intak watches curiously as the shorter boy seats himself at the edge of his bed. jiung sighs, and then stares as intak with an expression full of pity that he doesn’t need right now. or ever.

“she was here last night, wasn’t she?” jiung asks, and intak can already hear the unwanted lecture that is sure to follow the question.

intak inhales. “yeah,” he chuckles, “she was.”

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @dprvivi @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @jiungsdaisy @asianpenguin04 @lunepoesie @haku-s0ultrain @tkooooop @taehyux @peterm4arker

✶

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ceilidho · 6 months ago

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This is in no way of hating but i want to know why do you enjoy writing noncon/rape? When I first downloaded tumblr which was couple of months ago i was surprised by the amount of noncon fics here. I eventually came to enjoy them which makes me question myself. Whenever i read a noncon fic and enjoy it i feel like im betraying women who actually went through those traumatic events. Plus I actually don't really like dark romance books? I love cod dead dove and that is mainly because i really love the characters and the authors are so talented. I rambled so much and i hope you don't get this in the wrong way i don't mean to hate AT ALL i love the stuff you write. Maybe i shouldn't think too much and let myself enjoy what im reading lol

first of all, no worries! i wasn't sure about your tone/intentions at first, but by the end i was totally fine with the question.

i actually don't mind talking about this stuff - i just sometimes avoid it on main because i prefer chatting about it privately.

second, i'm no psychologist or sociologist, so i probably won't be able to give you the most satisfactory answer, but i think there are a lot of different reasons. i can only name a few. one thing i should mention right off the bat is that rape fantasies are very normal (and this is true whether you're a survivor of SA or not) and writing/reading fiction can be a safe way to process those thoughts/feelings.

one of prevailing reasons is, of course, that many survivors of SA use noncon/dubcon literature/art as a way of processing their experiences and taking ownership of their trauma.

and look, people are going to go back and forth on this point (i've seen it all before - many people refuse to believe that engaging with noncon lit/art is helpful, and in fairness, it's NOT helpful for everyone because every person is different), but at the end of the day, if a survivor tells you "writing/reading this was helpful in my recovery" then that's that!

additionally, for many women and non-binary folk (i can only speak as a cis woman, but i'm sure this is a shared lived experience across many different people), we're also taught from a very young age to suppress our sexual desires / that being open about our sexuality is morally reprehensible and shameful. and a lot of people carry that shame for years, impacting them well into adulthood. so dubcon/noncon fantasies can be a way of being able to enjoy sexual scenarios where you don't have to be the initiator, thus taking away some of the emotional weight and shame.

plus, at the end of the day (and im sure many people will disagree with this take, it's something that i'm still figuring out myself), there is a kind of weird underlying consent implicit in dark fics. like, you might be reading a fic or novel that's ostensibly noncon, but you're also actively seeking out that literature (hopefully it's not just sprung on you - i do very much agree with tagging to the fullest extent and my lukewarm take is that I think all books, even traditionally published ones, should come with content/trigger warnings too).

there are a medley of reasons why someone might write or read dark fiction/dark romance. again, i'm just one person and i can only speak from my own experience!

i think at the end of the day, the important thing to realize is that fiction is fake, and as long as the writer appropriately tags their work and ensures that the audience is aware of what they're getting into when they start reading, they're not coercing the reader into something they aren't prepared for.

and it's totally fine if you have limits (like, you can read and enjoy dubcon, but not noncon) or can't engage with the material at all, but it's also unfair to say that it reflects someone's real life values - the same way that we don't say that the people who enjoy crime fiction must love murder.

and the last thing i want to say because this got a bit out of hand lol, is that, yes, for some people dark fiction is genuinely harmful, whether or not they're a survivor. it's not for everyone and that's completely fine and i'm aware of that, which is why i agree that you should tag as much as possible (even if you feel like you're overdoing it sometimes), but someone else's discomfort doesn't give them the right to tell you how to process your own emotions/experiences/desires/etc.

as long as no one's getting hurt, there's no issue as far as i'm concerned. and sorry but, no one's getting hurt by reading a fic or a novel unless the author didn't give proper content warnings - if you "forgot" to read the tags or read anyway DESPITE being warned, im sorry but that's life.

#this is sooo rambly but doing my best to give my perspective

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that-weird-thing-in-the-woods · 1 month ago

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~{Hey so I’m making a fic or my Aphrodite & Ares and Ares Au with the help of @goddessofbees! Hope you stay for the ride!}~

•The Before•

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Danny has noticed some…weird things lately not the bad kind weird just weird

Like when Dash was being an ass about something ( at this point Danny just zoned out when he talks ) and he had the sudden urge to punch dash in the face but not like his emotions kinda??? It feels like empathy times ten and all he can feel is protectiveness for himself and that is a sentence he never thought he would ever say

And he hasn’t told anyone this yet, it feels like he’s insane just my thinking it but saying it out loud just sounds kinda sad and weird and he doesn’t need his friends to feel anymore pity from Sam or Tucker (He can practically taste it from them when he talks about ghost stuff with them, It sucks) and he doesn’t want to worry Jazz anymore than she already is

Jazz has started to look for colleges to go to and Danny is happy for her but due to her being busy with that stuff and going on trips to far away colleges to check them out she left him with their parents which would be fine for any normal family but when you have ghost hunters for parents when your a ghost, yeah you see the picture

So yeah Danny has been dealing with this for the past two weeks and so far he’s hated it but there is some good that come out of this (but he’s still saying he hates it, he’s salty like that) like when fighting a ghost he just zones out and lets the “feelings” take over and deal with the ghost before throwing them into the portal and giving main control back to Danny and than after that Danny more often than not feels “Love” and “Satisfied” from the “feelings” not that Danny is complaining, it feels nice and he always feels (In his own emotions) comfortable and complete, relaxed

But right now was a bad time for Danny

first Jazz was out of town for the next week to visit this one college by the coast and Sam was out of town too with her parents for a new rich people trend going around that Sam was complaining about to him and Tucker speaking of Tucker he and his family are visiting one of his cousins for a couple of days so Danny has no one to talk to and is lonely as hell

two dash decided that this day he was going to give him hell like bothering him in the halls and making him bump into his desk when dash passes him and just being a pain (He could barely stop the “Feelings” from fist-fighting/beating him

And three Danny was able to deal with school and Dash and was about to go to sleep but that’s when a ghost decided that at that exact time was the time for them to start to cause trouble (Why is it always when he’s about to sleep???) so he when out as phantom to deal with it and as they were fighting the ghost got a few good hits in but like always Danny was able to soup the ghost and he was about to go home until his parents showed up and started shooting at him and almost hit him in the head!

So Danny turned invisible and booked it to his room to calm himself down from them shooting at him also with the “Feeling” thing he found that hugging himself calms himself down a lot faster and makes him feel protected and safe but when calming himself down from his frazzled state

He doesn’t noised the two figures in the doorway of his room…

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

~{ I hope you guys like this story! And if you want to be tagged just ask! See you gremlins soon byeee }~

Part 2

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macabr3-barbi3 · 9 months ago

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DoubleTrouble No 1 🖤❤️

Myself and the delightful and talented @fraugwinska have been working on something tasty and present to you: a DoubleTrouble fic!

A single prompt from my Ao3, shared between two writers, one POV each ❤️

I tackled the reader's perspective, and you can find one from Alastor's POV right here! So many thanks for FrauGwinska for being an absolute superstar and working with me through this new and exciting experience <3

We hope you enjoy!

Tags: period sex, cunnilingus, mentions of blood (obviously), rough sex <3

Minors DNI🔞

The Blood is Rare 🩸

The fact that you still had a period in Hell was bullshit, but you suppose they needed to give people something to be miserable about. That was probably why people ended up in the situation you were in now, seated across from Alastor with a deal on the tip of your tongue; sheer desperation, because somehow the cramps were even worse than they had been on Earth and the only thing that helped was a good old fashioned orgasm. If it were anyone else you wouldn’t even consider asking- a lot of demons, except the really-weird-even-for-Hell ones, were still squeamish about blood being involved with any kind of orgasm.

If you were right though. Alastor would relish the opportunity you were about to present to him.

Fresh to the hotel just a few days after your last Hellish period, Alastor had startled you in the kitchen with a knife in your hand. The resulting jump had caused the blade to slip, gash in your thumb bleeding steadily over the apples that you had planned to fry up. Rather than allowing you to fetch a bandage, Alastor had chuckled, said “no need, dear,” and popped your thumb into his mouth. It was probably some ploy of his- strike fear into the hearts of new residents, give them a reminder that he was a cannibal and that he wouldn’t hesitate to eat them if they stepped out of line or caused any issues.

It backfired on him. At the taste of your blood his eyes grew black, staggering away from you with the shock of it, antlers extending so quickly they smashed the glass front of a nearby cabinet and he ended up trapped between the wooden dividers.

“More,” he had snarled, but his antlers stuck in the cabinet had been enough of a delay for you to make an escape.

He apologized, of course, a couple days later, explained his nature as a cannibal, a predator, had reacted before his mind, and that such a thing would not happen again. He had ended the awkward conversation with a statement of, “should you feel the desire to spare some of that tasty treat in your veins, do be a dear and let me know!”

And, well. Here you were. Letting him know. Ready to make a deal with one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell to get a little relief from the torture chamber that was your body in ovulation, even when there was nothing to fucking ovulate.

Alastor was tense when he phased into the hotel conference room to meet you as you had asked. His spine is stiff when he settles into the chair across from you, not having been alone in a space since that time in the kitchen. “What is it that I can help you with, my dear?”

“I want to clarify something- do you want to like, eat me?”

“Oh!” Alastor’s eyes widen with his smile. “I wouldn’t have been so blunt about it, darling, but if you’re asking- yes. That little taste that I had a few weeks ago was… inadequate, to say the least. But naturally staying here at the Hotel, Charlie would have been terribly upset had I consumed you.” He flicks his gaze over your form. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t mean to let me indulge.”

A deep breath as you brace yourself. “Hah, not exactly. But uh, I do have a proposition of sorts for you. In regards to that. Kind of.”

He fades out of sight, rematerializing a couple seats closer to you. “Color me intrigued! What do you have in mind?”

You almost call the whole thing off- then a monster bolt of pain rips through your abdomen, nearly forcing you to double over the table with the ache of it. Any thought of embarrassment or hesitation flies from your head. Alastor is the only one that would be willing to help you in this way, you’re sure of it.

The groan of pain escapes you before you can stop it, and his eyebrows raise. “I have a deal to offer you that would allow you to- um. Sample my blood, if you’re amenable. Once a month.”

His head cocks to the side before his expression clears and he understands what you’re implying. “You’re referring to menstruation?” You nod, face red. “I see. Please provide me with more details of what this proposal would entail on my end then.” His claws are digging into the table, wood splintering beneath them and betraying his interest before even hearing what he would have to do.

“Right. I don’t know if you’re aware or not but periods can be crazy painful. Just on Earth too, but down here they’re basically unbearable when the cramps get bad. One thing that can help is having an orgasm.” You’re trying to resist the urge to hide in some way. You know this is what needs to be done. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, of course- just, you know. Uh, collecting on your benefit would probably do the trick.”

His eyes narrow. “I see. That is the… service I’m to provide, then?” A nod, flushed face dropped into your hands. “Well, I suppose I will simply have to endeavor to do my best! I’m never one to turn down a challenge- certainly not when the payoff is so enticing.” His eyes go dark, not quite black yet but the air between you changes, antlers going long and jagged. “I’m open to your proposal.”

“I need terms,” you breathe out, pleased that he’s still willing to help with the sexual nature of your request. “I need- just, something confirming that you won’t actually eat me for real. The blood is all that I’m willing to part with- no flesh.”

He sighs, eyes rolling. “Less exciting,” he says with a wave of his hand, “but not a dealbreaker. Anything else?”

“Only once a month- during this time. You can’t just be making me bleed whenever you want.”

“Done.” He’s in the chair next to you then, eyes black, grin so wide it threatens to split his face open, clawed hand held in your direction. “Do we have a deal?”

You take his hand in yours, green light filling the space between you and a screeching feedback sound assaulting your ears. When it fades Alastor is watching with hooded eyes. “Would you like to begin now?”

“Oh God. Uh, if now is a good time for you I guess. If you want to do it now.”

He laughs low and dangerous, his tall frame rising from the chair to tower over you. “Darling, I’ve wanted some semblance of what you’ve proposed for weeks. I’m not a man that makes a habit of denying himself a treat when it’s offered to him so sweetly.”

Your hand is still in his, and there’s a strange pull behind your navel as Alastor yanks you into the shadows with him, rematerializing in his bedroom. “Feel free to sit on the bed,” he offers, gesturing to the mattress and manifesting a large dark towel. “Or lie back- however will be more comfortable for you.”

He releases your hand once you’ve sat, and you stay upright as Alastor sinks to his knees in front of you, fingers coming to the top of your skirt and pulling everything down in one fell swoop, his expression darkening at the scent of you exposed before him before ducking his head. You can’t see what he sees with how close he has already come to your skin, his enlarged antlers blocking your vision, the muscles of his back flexing with the force of his inhale as he breathes you in. A jolt of pain hits you again, deep in your core, and your whimper at the feeling has him bringing his eyes back to your face.

His eyes are hooded and dangerous, feral smile on his face while your fingers dig into the bedsheets. “Feel free to hold on, dear,” he says with a gesture to his antlers, before dipping his head to your bare cunt and slicking his tongue between your folds, angling his head just so to slip into your heat.

You can almost forget that Alastor is only doing this to satisfy some carnal desire of his with the fervent way that he pushes his mouth against you, slick muscle delving deep into you and brushing his nose against the firm nub of your clit. There’s a reverberating rumble as he moans at the taste, clawed fingers coming up to grip at your thighs, spreading them wider so he can get even closer to the source of his obsession. You can feel where he flicks his tongue inside you, brushing against that sweet bundle of nerves with every strong push and pull. The pleasure curls in your gut, keeping the worst of the cramps at bay while your body tenses and releases in rhythm with the demon’s ministrations. Every so often he pulls out, brings what he’s collected back into the haven of his mouth and savors it, eyes closed and his throat rumbling with a satisfied groan.

“You’ve no idea,” he growls, “how I’ve thought of tasting you. Consuming you.” The sharp points of his teeth brush against your clit and your body jolts, hands finally flying up from the bed to clutch at his antlers, grip tight on the tines of them as he looks up at you.

The look on his face is nearly your undoing- more animal than man, and his claws dig into your flesh, tiny pinpricks of pain dragging you forcibly back to the moment. Your orgasm is just out of reach, not enough focus where you need him but you don’t want him to feel uncomfortable if you ask him for more.

“Fucking divine,” he whispers against you, and when his tongue brushes your sensitive clit with the words you shudder, the motion drawing his gaze to your face, flushed and hot. He smiles wide, expression smug as he leans in and does it purposely this time, licking up your folds and finally focusing where you need him to be. He circles it with purpose, pressure so sweet and sadistic, a light suck making you cry out his name and fist your hands on his antlers.

“Fuck! Alastor, yes, there- oh god, please, more…” He tenses under your hands and you worry for a moment that you’ve done something wrong. Then he’d sliding his hands under your thighs and dragging you closer to the edge of the bed, draping your legs over his shoulders.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his voice sending heat flooding through you, overriding the painful ache of a cramp that tries to make itself known.

“Alastor,” you moan, and his tongue resumes its residence in the tight grip of your cunt, a hand coming up to brush a clawed finger over your clit. He works you quickly, his efforts paying off as your body tenses, invisible string inside you drawing tight and snapping with a force you’ve never felt before. “Alastor- A-” You try to say his name again, hear it come out as as a choked off whimper and a near scream as you reach orgasm, legs tightening on his shoulders and pulling him as closer, your walls clenching down on the length of his tongue before be pulls back and licks you through the remainder of it.

You release your grip on his antlers and fall back against the mattress, eyes closed while Alastor removes his face from between your legs, licking along the tiny pinpricks of blood from his claws before you shoot him a halfhearted glare.

Your abdomen is blissfully absent of any clenching of your internal organs seeking revenge. Sated, you sit up from the mattress to see Alastor still knelt before you, faint lines of dried blood- your dried blood, your brain supplies- around his mouth. He looks like a predator fresh from his kill of the night, antlers jagged and long, eyes still dark and frantic as he looks at you.

“Was that sufficient, darling?”

“God, yes, it was perfect. I- I really appreciate your help.”

“Hmm. Of course. Though I must admit, only part of my… appetite for you has been appeased.” He rises from the floor, knees perched on either side of your thighs now and leaning in. You can smell something metallic on him as he approaches, know that it's your own blood as he stares down into your eyes hovered over you.

“Oh?” You become aware of a hard length pressing into your thigh. “Oh! I didn’t think that was something you would be interested in.”

He shrugs, rolling his hips and hissing at the friction. “Nor did I, dear. That does seem to be a theme with you, though- having a taste and finding that I crave more against my better judgment, against all reason.” He places a hand on your hip and runs his claws along the bare skin. “Would you allow me to help ease your pain once more?”

“God, yes,” you breathe out, “please, Alastor.” He takes a moment to undress, trousers removed along with his boxers before he climbs back over you and presses against the still slick folds of your cunt. He pushes in, hot and hard length opening you up and settling deep inside of you with a harsh exhale of breath against your neck. “Fuck, it’s so good.”

Alastor growls, the sound reverberating through his chest as he thrusts into you. A pulse of arousal shoots through you, the thought of bringing such a well spoken man to his baser instincts, so thoroughly invested in you that he can do little more than snarl like an animal into your skin, pushing you ever closer to the edge again. You’re already soft and sensitive from your first release, the cresting wave of a second hustling towards you.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at the tendon he finds there and moaning. “I could devour you,” he whispers, and you feel yourself clench down on him at the broken crack in his voice. He drags his tongue up the length of your neck, hesitates like he’s trying to savor it. “I could feast on you for centuries and never tire of the taste of your flesh, whether coated in blood or sweat.”

A whimper escapes you as he sucks on the skin of your shoulder, leaving a trail of harsh bruises along the path he takes. A hand comes up to twist into his hair, something to ground yourself, to draw this out as long as possible. Your other hand digs into the flesh of his arm pinning you to the mattress. “Fuck, more, please,” you beg him, and he pulls back from your neck to watch your face twist and contort in pleasure while he slams against the sweet spot inside of you.

“Say my name,” he demands, fingers on your hip digging bruises into the soft skin, his other hand tangled in the bedsheets, tearing them to shreds to avoid sinking his claws into you. “Say it. Tell me what you need.”

“Oh God, Alastor-” You angle your hips, the movement bringing him even deeper into your body, the length of him so sweet and sinfully delicious that a whine escapes your throat before you can think to stop it. “I need- I don’t know, Al, I can’t-”

“You must,” he commands, and he lets go of your hip to slip his hand between your bodies, fingers pressing against the taut skin of your opening where your bodies are joined. The stimulation is foreign and new and has your walls tensing and releasing rhythmically around him, release so close now that you were seeing stars behind your clenched eyes.

“Look at me.” Your lids fly open to meet the sight of Alastor above you, his face contorted in something like pain. “You must,” he says again, fucking into you with vigor now, sweat beading on his forehead. “I need it around me, I have to feel it. Please, darling, give it to me-”

Fuck. How could you deny him when he asked so sweetly? Not that you had any control over it- your body breaks beneath him, cunt wrapped around him like the softest of silk and tightening its grip. Your limbs seem to go numb for a moment, pleasure warping your reality for a few blissful moments, your vision focusing in a tunnel on Alastor’s face before it vanishes, burying once again in the space between your shoulder and neck.

With a final cry of his name he sinks his teeth into you, not tearing back as one might expect but content to simply let them rest there as he spills into you with a broken moan, hips bucking hard and fierce and then easing into something softer as your walls pull and push, wringing every drop from him.

A breath of silence as you both catch your breath, interrupted by a hiss of faint pain as Alastor pulls his teeth from you and licks at the wound he’s created like a satisfied cat. “You promised you wouldn’t try to eat me for real,” you mutter, voice soft from the strength of your cries.

Alastor hums against you, tongue still moving against you. “Hardly my fault.” He’s mouthing greedily at your skin, claws traipsing on the flesh of your hips and roaming wherever he can reach. “You’re delicious,” he groans, taking one final taste of your blood before pulling back and collapsing next to you, “a delicacy. How am I meant to live without this at every moment of the day? I think I shall starve.”

You huff out a laugh, stretching your muscles as well as you can without really moving. “Don’t be dramatic. You get it once a month, at least.” You roll onto your side, ignore the feeling of something slick and wet between your thighs and focus on the fact that your body is limp and pliant and not seeking revenge on you.

“You raise a valid point, my dear.” He throws you a sideways look, his antlers now having returned to their normal size and his ears relaxed against his skull. “Though I’m not at all opposed to repeating this aspect of the experience outside of your… monthly allowance to me. Deals always have room for negotiation, do they not?”

“Let’s get through this one first and then we’ll talk.” You yawn and try to rise from the bed, but an arm from the demon beside you is thrown haphazardly over your waist, pinning you in place.

“Stay,” he says, his eyes lidded and peeking at you. “There’s more to come yet, right? May as well stay where we can easily access one another for the duration.” His crimson eyes close the rest of the way and you settle back into the mattress, allowing your body to relax and slip into a peaceful sleep beside him.

#hazbin hotel #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor the radio demon #x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor smut #hazbin hotel x reader #bloodlust <3 #title by Hozier

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sammyofold · 6 months ago

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Here are those fic recs I promised you @incesthemes ! I hope there's some in there that you'll really enjoy <3 I split up the recs into overarching tropes to group some together, but I'll start with those that don't fit into any of the groups.

The list got a bit long, so I decided to split it up into two parts.

(Part 1 | Part 2)

Courting Death by theproblematique.

Summary: Sam Winchester lived the first six months of his life in a happy family; the next twelve years as John Winchester's only son, and the last decade as an orphan. He's supposed to die at twenty-two trying to save the woman he loves from a fire, because he doesn't have a brother to pull him back. But the night Sam meets his Reaper he discovers that Death is overly fond of pop-culture references, too beautiful to be real, and reluctant to kill him.

Servant of Servants 'verse by klove0511.

This is a two-part series (though I think it might've been intended to have more fics, its ending doesn't leave you feeling snubbed), posing the question: "what if it had been Sam who'd been mortally wounded at the end of Season 1?"

love potion no. 9 by according2thelore.

Summary: Dean drinks a love potion. Sam is falling apart at the seams because he's been in love with his brother for more than a decade.

keep me in a daydream by according2thelore.

Summary: After an accidental kiss makes a hunt go suspiciously well, Sam and Dean decide to try it again. And again. And again. It's no different from wearing lucky socks, right? A 5 + 1.

for you and me (i got no alibi) by remy.

Summary: There are people hitting on Sam wherever he goes, and Dean is doing weird things like holding doors open for him and touching him way more than is necessary, and it's all driving Sam up the wall. It doesn't help that he's been in love with Dean for just about forever, and all of it feels like a mockery of something he'll never get to have. Meanwhile, Dean is at his wits' end trying to figure out how he can make Sam realize that he is, in fact, trying to get into his pants.

Ben Has Two Dads by regala_electra.

Summary: When Ben turns thirteen and learns that Dean Winchester is his father, he runs away to join his father (and uncle). A tale where boys are boys, Vikings are Vikings, unicorns go to Candy Mountains, Dean and Sam are in big gay love, and Ben becomes a Winchester.

Last Temptation by merle_p.

Summary: Sam is running a fever again, the kind of fever no Ibuprofen or cold compress will bring down, the kind of fever that is eating him up alive, eviscerating him from the inside. He is too hot and too cold and too pale, delirious and shaking, resonating with whatever divine energy the trials are subjecting him to, and Dean is not sure how much longer he can stand to see him be in this state. Because Sam is quite possibly dying, and there is nothing Dean can do to stop it. Because Sam is dying, and he just. Won’t. Shut. Up.

Five Times Dean Forgot and One Time He Remembered by elsi.

Summary: Rowena warned him the obliviate curse might have “aftershocks.” That Dean could relapse to his amnesiac state without warning—though only temporarily, she assured. But this? This goes beyond calling a lamp a “light stick.”

Whatever It Is by theproblematique.

Summary: Both Sam and Dean get sent to the year 2014.

Take My Hand (Take My Whole Life, Too) by TeacupUnicorn.

Summary: Sam and Dean get handcuffed together during a hunt. With a werewolf on their tail and a proximity to each other they haven’t had since they were kids, their unstable relationship is put to the test and their trust in each other is pushed to the limit. Set sometime after 5x16 and before 5x20.

Not Her Sam by Yuval25.

Summary: Future Dean goes back in time to change the future and saves Jess. Future Sam tags along unexpectedly. And Jess is okay. No, seriously. She's fine.

Mistaken For a Couple

101 - mythology by ani_coolgirl.

Summary: As Sam, Dean, and Kali flee Lucifer's slaughter, Kali makes an assumption. The boys try to clear up any misconceptions. They don't do a very good job.

I need you so much closer by cherryvanilla.

Summary: five times they're mistaken for a couple plus one time they actually are.

Domesticity

Paisley by samsexualdeancurious.

Summary: After his mind wall was broken and was healed, Sam knows he can’t be a hunter anymore, so he and Dean retire, and Sam ends up finding a homeless dog who was abused and together they heal.

The Chicago Verse by compo67.

This is a series spanning a whopping 169 fics. I've read only a few of them and I enjoyed Sam and Dean retiring in this town together. It's still updating, looks like, since the latest fic added was in May of this year.

a few things worth saying by hathfrozen.

Summary: “So this morning,” Dean ventures as they blast down the highway in pitch black night toward a probable werewolf case. Sam looks over at him, thin eyebrows raised, eyes clear and calm. He’s not even difficult about it, doesn’t ask what Dean is after, doesn’t deny what had happened. Instead he says, very simply, “I just figure, why lie?” Alright then.

All The Way In by hunters_retreat.

Summary: Sam never did know how exactly it happened. One day, he and Dean were run ragged, exhausted from yet another disaster of a hunt, no money and no gas, no prospects and no allies left alive to give them a hand. The next, they owned a store with a shooting range and Sam was a professor of religious studies at a local community college.

Pre-Series & Season 1

To Blow Against the Wind by dreamlittleyo.

Summary: After Oasis Plains, Sam and Dean can't. Stop. Touching each other.

Star-Crossed by Agent_Hellcat.

Summary: Before Sam departs for Stanford, he writes a letter to Dean, begging him to come to Palo Alto with him.

Birthday Suit by wincestation.

Summary: On the morning of Dean’s eighteenth birthday, Dad takes him to buy a suit. Sam is… interested.

house song by according2thelore.

Summary: “The werewolf.” Sam says, quick. Hushed. Scared. “I don’t know how. I was—He was standing above you and then he wasn’t. And I think I did that.” Dean keeps whispering stuff to Sam, banal reassurances that Sam soaks up like a sponge, but he feels sick. Sammy did something impossible. Sammy’s been doing impossible things. For years. Or: Pre-Canon/Teen!chesters AU in which Sam develops powers at age eleven, Dean will do anything to protect him, and they have to live with the consequences

Outsider POV

What I've Done by Amoreanonyname.

Summary: He wasn’t going to say anything more about it. He could tell, Dean was happy to see him, but wasn’t going to humor this topic. Dean, young Dean would jump to obey John, to answer John’s questions, but this was an older Dean who was more loyal to someone else now. More loyal to his brother. John wasn’t the priority here, and he realized with another guilty jump in his stomach that he never should have been.

something you love and understand by monsterq.

Summary: In heaven, Mary makes an unwelcome discovery about her sons’ relationship.

a skeleton terribly restless by remy.

Summary: Mary knows she doesn't fit right in this strange new world she's woken up in, with these grown men masquerading as her sons, but she tries her best. She really does. She closes her eyes to all the things she does not want to see, and she lies to herself until she's convinced. Until she can't.

Flowers on the Window Sill by orphan_account.

Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester's relationship as observed by the good people of Star's Hollow.

Soulmates

Fix You by non_tiembo_mala.

Summary: After their encounter with Famine, the boys are in dire straits. With Dean left shaken by the horseman's taunts - which rang truer than he'd like to admit - and Sam juiced up on demon blood again, Dean is at a loss. He has no idea how to move forward, or where they're meant to go from here. Then again, they’ve always had each other - perhaps their salvation isn't as far away as it seems.

All Too Familiar by sammichgirl.

Summary: Sam's new hobby has consequences they never saw coming. Turns out, that's OK with Dean after all.

What We Do by BleedingInk.

Summary: Castiel catches Sam and Dean in a compromising position.

since feeling is first by queenklu.

Summary: That he wants to think this is Dean yanking a leash should make his blood run cold, not aching hot. It should make him sick, angry, it should get his fucking hackles up and make him fight. He does want to fight. But there’s a skin-thin line between primal things, and fighting isn’t all he wants to do.

if the dam breaks open many years too soon by deirde_c.

Summary: Sam’s soul springs a leak, and Dean’s the one who can repair it.

In the beached margin of the sea by rivers_bend.

Summary: Sam and Dean black out on a hunt, and when they wake up, Dean's having visions and Sam can't get new, strange feelings out of his head. When John finds out about the side effects, he'll do anything to get rid of the "curse". But Sam and Dean don't want to go back to the way things were before.

I Don't Need A Symbol by amoreanonyname.

Summary: It hadn’t meant that much to Sam at first. A warm glow at being able to do something nice for Dean, to give him something for once, to make him as happy as he seemed when he put it on immediately. It was what it meant to Dean that made it mean something else to Sam.

#wincest #samdean #fic recs #rec list #part 1 #og post #so here it is!!#this took me way too long 💀 sorry about that #tumblr also been giving me sooo much trouble formatting this ugh #if anything doesnt work or looks wonky lmk and i'll try to fix it!#hope you enjoy the fics!!<3

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burntheedges · 2 months ago

Text

Pas de Deux Chapter 4

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.6k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: It's time for your first practice with Kuiil and Din, and you're nervous.

a/n: I feel weird putting this up today but this is the schedule I set and I'm a little afraid that if I put it off I'll just never post anything again. I'm gutted and angry but I do love this fic, so. here's the next chapter. See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), a bit of angst, a bit of fluff

Chapter 4

You didn’t try to talk to Din again for a few days -- you were suddenly nervous. Adrian said he kept watching you during morning classes, but you hadn’t caught him in the act yet. For your part, you couldn’t stop yourself from watching him, so you figured he must not have been looking that much, because you would have seen him. Right?

You tried to put your stilted conversation with him in the hallway out of your mind. You didn’t want to let it get in your head before practices even started.

On Monday the following week, you were walking down the hall from class to rehearsal when Kuiil fell into step with you. You briefly glanced around, wondering where he’d come from, and smiled when he greeted you.

“I am looking forward to working together.” The echo of your words to Din made you smile, ruefully. As always, Kuiil was direct but his tone was warm. “I am glad Greef agreed with me about casting. I know you will do well.”

You blinked. You thought it had been Karga’s idea. “Oh, well, thank you! I didn’t realize… he didn’t tell me it was your choice.”

Kuill nodded serenely. “Yes. You were my first thought to dance it with Din, when I began to picture it in my mind. You will each bring something important to the piece, something the other could learn from. Something you can share.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t exactly sure what he meant. You were used to that, when talking to Kuiil. “I’m very excited to be in it, and grateful that you thought of me. I’m honored, really.”

He smiled at you as you stopped by the door of your rehearsal for Jee’s piece in the January mixed program. “We will start rehearsal this week, I will update the schedule on the board this afternoon. Before our first meeting, I only ask that you reflect on the idea of existing in the moment, and what that means for you personally and artistically.”

You blinked. This wasn’t your first unexpected request from Kuiil, but it was somehow always a surprise — you could never predict him, and once he was done talking, he was done. There was no use asking for more of an explanation. “I will,” you promised. He nodded and turned to continue down the hallway.

Existing in the moment. Well, you weren’t sure where to start, but you were going to have to try and figure it out before your first rehearsal.

…

On Thursday afternoon, you made your way to the small studio usually reserved for pieces with only two or three dancers. Kuill had scheduled short weekly practices to start focusing on the choreography while everyone was still busy with the upcoming programs for January and February. Adrian had escorted you until you passed his own rehearsal a couple of doors back, and you were glad he had — you’d needed the pep talk.

You can do this.

The door was open when you arrived and you stopped just short to take a few deep breaths. As you did, you realized Din was already inside and you could just hear his low conversation with Kuiil

“… never done something like this before. I—”

Kuiil interrupted him. “Din. You must try to set your worries aside. I know what you have done and what you have not. And I know that you can do this. You must learn to trust in yourself, not in who they said you were. Instead, in who you are.”

There was a pause, and you tried to will yourself to move, but failed. You wanted to hear his response.

“I—” he sighed. “I’ll try. But you know…”

“I know,” Kuiil agreed. You had no idea what they were talking about. You shook yourself into motion — you didn’t want to eavesdrop too much.

You tried to make some noise as you took the last few steps to the open doorway and into the studio. They both turned to look at you as their conversation suddenly stopped.

“Hello, my dear,” Kuiil said, waving you forward. You said hello and moved to meet them by the sound system, dropping your bag nearby. “Welcome.”

You nodded. “Thank you again, Kuiil—”

He waved his hand and you stopped, smiling. You knew what he was going to say.

“No, no, none of that. You are the best choice. And you, too, Din.” Kuiil turned to look at your new partner and you noticed that whatever they might have been discussing, Din had put on his expressionless mask yet again. He nodded.

“Now, we will talk before we dance.” Kuiil looked first at you, and then at Din. “Tell me, what does it mean to you, to exist in the moment?”

You felt relieved for a moment that you weren’t the only one given homework, and then nervous at the thought of sharing what you’d thought about. With one glance at Din you knew he wouldn’t be speaking first. Guess it’s on me, you thought, wryly, and squared your shoulders.

“Well,” you said, tone tentative. “I thought about it, as you asked. I thought of the obvious — not thinking of the future or the past, but only the present. But then in class and in rehearsal I wasn’t sure how that applied because, well, dance is always in the moment, in some ways. It’s an action, it’s happening right now, even though it can reference and build on both the past and future.”

You paused and glanced up at Kuiil. He was nodding. Ok, good. You didn’t look at Din. “And so I thought about it yesterday, in my rehearsal alone for Midsummer and then with everyone for Jee’s piece. And…” you hesitated, and finally risked a glance at Din. You were almost startled to find him staring at you intently, eyes dark and unreadable. You blinked. “And I thought about the difference between being on stage alone and with other people. We dance the choreography, of course, but we also react. To each other and to the music.” You paused.

Kuiil tilted his head. “Go on.”

You took a breath. “Well, being in the moment in dance is more than just following steps you were taught. You have to be aware of your fellow dancers, and you have to move with them but also in response to them, and to yourself. And depending on the ballet, your ability to react or modulate or adjust or improvise could make or break it. But aside from all that, it also puts you in conversation with each other and the music. There’s a difference between dancers moving on stage in unison and dancers moving and working together, even if they’re doing different things. Does that…” you hesitated again, glancing between them. “Does that makes sense?”

Suddenly, Kuiil smiled, and you felt your shoulders relax. “Yes, my dear. An excellent observation. Din?”

You both turned to look at him. For a moment, he said nothing, and you wondered if he really hated talking this much. Then he looked down and murmured, “I agree.” He glanced at you and you shivered. To Kuiil, he said, “The best performances happen when the dancers inhabit the music. Together. When they speak to each other in movement.”

Kuiil nodded. “A sentiment I think your former company might disagree with.”

Din sighed and for a moment you thought you caught the hint of a smile around his mouth. But you blinked and it was gone.

“True,” he nodded. “And it wouldn’t be our first disagreement.”

Kuiil nodded like he understood, and you resisted the sudden, overwhelming urge to ask what other disagreements he’d had with Concordia.

“Well done,” Kuiil said, looking at both of you. “I want you to continue thinking about this question as we work together. This will not be like a classical pas de deux,” he looked at Din, who nodded, “but instead something new. Some parts may be familiar. This piece will have three movements, each staged separately, and it will be difficult. Technically, yes, but also because of what I will ask of you.” He paused, and you felt your heart start to race, not with nerves, but with excitement. “The choreography will ask you to react to one another, at first as strangers, but later in harmony. It will be dynamic. First you will meet,” he gestured with his hands and moved them past one another. “Then you will circle each other,” he moved his hands around each other, sometimes coming closer, sometimes moving farther away. “And finally, you will come together and create something new.” He pressed his hands together and nodded. “Overall, it is about the connection you form and nurture between you, in these short moments together.”

No one spoke for a moment as you took that in. “That sounds beautiful, Kuiil.” Your mind was spinning as you thought of the possibilities for each part of the piece, and what it might look like on stage.

“Thank you, my dear. I believe it is the two of you who will make it so. Now, for today’s practice, we will listen to the first movement, and then I will send you home to listen to the rest. Focus on what you hear and we will talk about it after.” He turned to the sound system and your gaze drifted once more to find Din, to your right.

You found him already looking at you. Your eyes caught, and as the music started, you swore he might have started to smile.

…

You felt better after your first not-quite-practice with Kuiil. You hadn’t danced at all but you felt more sure of yourself and the piece.

The only thing you weren’t sure of was Din.

After rehearsal he had once again left quickly, and Kuiil had nodded at you as you followed Din out the door. He had already been halfway down the hallway when you stepped out.

A few hours later, you finished with PT and went looking for Adrian — he had promised you dinner (and a debrief) and you weren’t going to let him get out of it. You found him talking to Owen and pulled him away.

“Sorry! He promised to feed me and I’m starving.”

Owen laughed, waving you away. You tucked your arm through Adrian’s and dragged him towards the street.

“So,” he said, elbowing you. You elbowed him back. “How was it?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but weren’t sure where to start.

“Oh come on,” he said, when it took you too long to respond. You looked at him, confused. “I bet you haven’t even learned any choreo yet and you’re already in love with it.”

You rolled your eyes. “We talked about the piece and his vision for it.”

“Oooh, his vision,” Adrian teased you, and you laughed. “You’re so lucky getting to do this with, like, your favorite choreographer. It’s going to be so amazing, too, because I swear the two of you are on the same artistic wavelength. But what about your partner?”

You shrugged and you both stepped out onto the street and you smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it over dinner. Come on, you have to feed me.”

He laughed and tugged you down the street.

…

The following week you had a shortened rehearsal with Kuiil, due to the start of the January mixed program in the next few days. But it only took a few minutes for your tentative hope and confidence about the whole thing to start to slip.

You turned, holding your position in attitude, and began to draw inwards, collapsing your body as Kuiil had asked. Before you could begin the extension of the next movement, though, the music stopped.

“Hold on,” Kuiil called. “Take a moment, both of you. Breathe.”

You stood up straight and closed your eyes. You took a deep breath, trying not to hear his words as sharp criticism.

It wasn’t going well.

The first movement of the piece was all about meeting someone new — someone with a different style, someone who moved in a different way. Unlike a classical pas de deux, it started with the variations, with solo moments on stage for each of you that played to each of your strengths. Then Kuiil had you meet each other for the first time. It emphasized your differences in ways that showcased your talents, but at the same time those strengths drew you apart. You were supposed to move past each other, to miss each other, but then somehow to catch each other’s attention anyway. By the end of the first, you were just starting to be pulled into each other’s orbit, intrigued but wary, unsure of the nature of the tiny connection you formed.

But you both seemed to be having trouble with the idea of being in the moment separately, yet still somehow together.

You knew you would start alone, dancing in turns, and wouldn’t even share the stage until a few minutes in. But rather than start with that solo choreography, Kuiil had started this first rehearsal with the choreography for the first few moments you were on stage together. You started up stage left with a turn into a full extension that became an arabesque en pointe. From there you ‘fell’ to the floor and rolled before standing and turning into a leap. Then a series of jumps and turns took you across the stage towards Din.

Din, on the other hand, started in the wings from stage right and burst into action. While you were moving slowly through your extension and arabesque, he came flying onto the stage in a double saut de basque en dedan. From there he twisted and turned until he was supposed to cross paths with you.

You’d only learned a few counts of 8, and yet somehow you could both tell it wasn’t working. Whatever you’d managed so far, it wasn’t what Kuiil had envisioned. It felt disjointed. And the more frustrated you felt, the more you knew it would show in your body. You could feel it, and you could definitely see Din’s frustration almost radiating off of him in waves.

After a moment, Kuiil called you over to where he was standing. “Even though we start this piece with the two of you emphasizing different styles, you are still talking to one another. From the first moment, when you meet, you are interacting, you are curious. You are not dancing separately, no matter how tentative, no matter how new or foreign or hesitant the connection might be. You affect each other from the moment you meet. Your bodies cannot lie on stage.”

He sighed, and you felt your shoulders tense.

“I want you both to practice until next week, and to think about how to form that connection.” He looked at Din, whose spine was so taut you wondered if it hurt. “But let us stop for now. I know you have your solo variations this weekend, Din, and you, my dear, have Jee’s piece. Go and focus on those things, and next week we will try again.”

You bit your lip and nodded. You opened your mouth to apologize, but he waved you both towards the door. “No, no, it is only the beginning. Do not worry, we will find it.”

You nodded. You needed to get out of this room, to get your mind ready for the next rehearsal. For the performance awaiting you over the weekend. As you stepped into the hall you heard Din begin to speak to Kuiil, but you walked quickly away. Eavesdropping definitely wasn’t going to help you clear your mind, this time.

...

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a/n: uh oh 👀 now what? some ballet terms:

Kuiil mentions that this pas won't be like a classical pas de deux -- as I mentioned last time, classical pas de deux have certain recognizable parts. This one is a bit more inventive.

attitude (derriere) - a position with one leg extended with the knee bent at a 90 degree angle, usually turned out. in this case reader is doing it to the back (derrière) and en pointe (on her toe shoes). here's a video!

extension - reader mentions the 'extension of the next movement' -- she's starting in attitude derrière, collapsing inwards, and then extending her leg back out into arabesque (next bullet), all en pointe.

arabesque en pointe - similar to an attitude but with the leg straight rather than bent. here's a very short video of basically the position reader is about to do.

leap - a leap is a broader term that can be used for a variety of jumps in ballet, but in this case reader is supposed to turn into a saut de chat -- a leap where the front leg does a developpe. (the video shows this well)

double saut de basque en dedans (~0:28) - Din enters the stage doing one of these. The video has a few different impressive jumps but this one is one of my favs, tbh. He's turning in the air twice with one foot touching the knee of the other leg, which is straight. 'En dedans' refers to the direction of the turn (towards the supporting leg, the one that stays straight). Here's Baryshnikov doing one.

counts of 8 - reader refers to learning a few counts of 8. In dance we count in 8s (what anyone musically inclined would think of as two 4/4 bars) and you often learn new choreography in 8s, or 8 beats. it's just the unit of measure everyone uses (which would obviously change if the time signature of the music was different). I've heard a lot of explanations for it (can tie more movements together, more room for choreography, easier to break down the moments between the beats) but honestly I don't know the historical reason. lol

music - Kuiil has chosen a piece with three movements. I actually have one in mind but I'm torn on sharing it because it's not like, 100% right, but mostly. I've choreographed a lot of this thing in my head. 😂

tag list coming in a reblog!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #pas de deux fic #pedro pascal character fanfiction #nbt fic #x reader

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