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targaryenluvs · 6 months

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MAKE YOU STAY / EDDIE DIAZ

PAIRING: Dark!Eddie Diaz x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Your attempt to leave Eddie won’t work, because he won’t let them, or you.

WARNINGS: Obsession, guilt trip, jealousy, possessiveness, sexual content, manipulation gaslighting & entrapment.

WORDCOUNT: 2.3K Words

A/N: Happy season 7 launch!! I got inspired slightly by @megalony and her new Dark Evan series go check it out!!

Gif not mine, credits to the owner!

Life with Eddie use to be everything you could ever dream of. Whether it be slow mornings getting ready together, sharing a shower and helping Chris get ready. Or an absolute hurricane ripping through your home whilst the three of you stumble over each other to get ready after a sleep in.

No matter the time of day, you loved whatever you were doing, as long as they were by your side.

And Eddie’s protectiveness use to be just another aspect of your relationship you loved, until you opened your eyes.

It use to be small, his anger.

An incessant colleague reaching out for tips and aid in a new project, you being a senior member meaning it wasn’t uncommon for people to reach out to you. You were one of the best workers at the company, well respected and loved as well as brilliant. And always willing to help someone in need.

He use to love that about you. Until it followed you home.

Chris was currently at a friends house, leaving the two of you to an inside date night, “Now on what planet would I ever sit and watch four movies with the title ‘Die Hard’. You sure as hell can’t die that many times.” Eddie shook his head as you refilled each of your respective glasses.

“Sure you can, just ask Chimney.” You gasped before swatting Eddies arm, “Be nice! And put on our show.” The murmuring voices of your favourite characters was more than enough to lull you into his arms, content washing over you. Your ringing phone however, was ready to disturb the peace Eddie had longed for all day.

“Let me just grab this.” His hand scooped your phone up before you could, “Just get it later.” His dismissive tone made you frown, “Give me my phone, please.” You leaned over to snatch it, walking into the hallway. Eddie couldn’t help but massage his temple, did you seriously chose a phone call over peace and quiet in his arms?

He hadn’t noticed how often you picked up your phone, until it interrupted him. It happened often. When the two of you were cooking together, soft music and ambience long forgotten. Almost falling asleep, cuddling, and out of the blue the world was falling apart without you. Eddie thought he could handle it, you were needed, that wasn’t your fault, right? But what he also couldn’t handle was the secretive nature.

Why did you always walk away? Were you hiding something?

And now you were coming home later, clanging into the house at 11, or 12. Sometimes even later. “Where were you?” Eddie stood by the door as you hung your jacket, “Jesus, you scared me E.” His arms were crossed, shoulders tense as you made your way to him, a smile too wide for his liking. “Work ran late, m’ sorry.” As you walked away, his hand caught onto your wrist.

“Ow, let go.” Eddies grip loosened as you retracted your arm, soothing it, “What is your problem?” You looked up to view a sweet smile, “Nothing, just worried about you. When you didn’t call, I got so scared. This world, it’s scary Y/n, you know that, especially during these times.”

Your eyes watered involuntarily at his saddened demeanour, “Oh Eddie, I’m so sorry, I should’ve called. That’s my fault, forgive me?” Your arms came around his neck, before trailing down to his chest, playing with his name tag. “I forgive you, I can also think of a way you can make it up to me.”

His smile was mischievous, and intentions impure. “Oh? And what would that be Mr Diaz?” His hand was heavy on your back and slithering lower by the second, “I think we have an appointment with a bed tonight.”

“I have work tomorrow, so do you.”

“Cmon, for me?” His eyes were pure evil, and you were more than happy to give in, even if you were tired. Really damn tired, but he wanted you, so you should give in right? You did give him a fright. “Take me away Diaz.”

If you’d noticed the signs earlier, maybe you could’ve gotten away. His jealousy, when it did rear its head, was an ugly shade of green.

A late night, again.

Eddie had been by the door for 10, sitting for 20, pacing the kitchen and stress-eating for another 10 before he finally settled into bed. Wide awake of course. The opening of his bedroom door caused him to stir. He watched as you slowly moved around, placing your stuff away, putting your phone on charge and then changing.

He sat upright as you yelped, “Eddie! You scared me, again! Why are you sitting in the dark?” His face was drained of warmth, skin cold to the touch. “Was waiting for you, again.” You frowned at his words, “Baby, you know I’m late these days. Better for you to go to sleep than wait up.” He shook his head, burying his head into your stomach as his body relaxed. Your hands raked through his hair gently, “I think you should consider working from home.”

Your hands stopped in their tracks, working from home? The last time you worked from home was during lockdown, and you’d driven yourself half mad. “Why is that?” Eddie glanced up at you, “You’re barely home, Chris misses you, I miss you. Don’t you want to be with us?” You took a deep breath in before smiling, “Of course I do. I- I’ll see what I can do baby.”

His hands quickly dragged you into bed, “Knew you’d understand amor.” Eddie rested his head in the crook of your neck, his hands slowly making their way underneath your shirt.

“Sweetie, I’m tried.”

“I missed you.” You relented, letting him continue. It seemed to be all you were doing these days, bending backwards and over to please him, literally.

The first time you noticed his behaviour was also when you realised you needed space. Not that he’d give it to you. A new coworker, Harry, had invited not only yourself, but your friend Aleya and Jack out to lunch.

He was a nice guy, very eager to learn and never scared by a little constructive criticism. The only problem was probably his overbearing cologne, very pungent? Intense?

You’d also been driven to work that day, courtesy of your boyfriend. You were working shorter days now, completing about an hour or two of work at home now. It had taken some adjusting, after a few forgetful days and about a million texts from Carla with an impatient Chris at home waiting for you.

You spotted Eddies truck pull up as you wrapped up your conversation with the your three lunch goers, “And that’s me, I’ll see you guys on Monday. Thank you so much for lunch!” You reached out to Aleya for a side hug, the same for Jack and a normal hug for Harry. “Tell Eddie there’ll be a fire at my house later tonight, and he better bring Evan!” Jack joked as you waved him off.

Jack may or may not have a huge crush on Evan.

You hopped in, quickly chucking your purse and files into the back seat before kissing Eddie on the cheek. “Hi! How was Chris’s school?” Eddie shrugged his shoulders, “Fine.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his shortness, “Something wrong?” He turned onto the highway, knuckles tightly gripping the wheel, “You smell like him.”

“Like who? Harry?”

“That his name?”

You rolled your eyes, “No, it’s actually his father’s, middle name Jesus. Care for some wine Eddie?” Not once, had Eddie ever been physical. But raising his voice? Oh that was fair game.

“You think you’re funny huh? Having lunch with other guys and taking the piss outta me?”

“Nothing happened baby, it was lunch. He’s new and trying to fit in and I’m being nice. There’s nothing to worry about I swear.” The silence permeated in the truck, causing the hair on your arms to raise. You hated the silent treatment wholeheartedly.

“Whatever.”

His change in demeanour could flip like a switch, you always assumed it was him putting up a front. But when Eddie showed up the next day, flowers in hand and looking his sharpest, you were forced to reevaluate. “God I wish my boyfriend was that sweet.” Your project partner whispered as you sighed, “That’s Eddie.”

Even your boss wanted you to go with him, “Take the day off sweetie, you deserve it.” And with a pat on the back and a million swooning interns drooling over Eddie, you were sent on your way.

“I got these for you Y/n/n.” Your favourite flowers, arranged perfectly and smelling divine. Your hands wrapped around the bouquet, “Thank you Eddie, they’re perfect.” His smile caused your heart to race, he looked amazing. The Eddie with you that day was incredible.

His infectious laughter, perfect smile and the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear. That, was the Eddie Diaz you knew and loved. A gentleman, who had eyes for only you. Which is why you couldn’t help but wonder, what made him change? How was it possible to go from absolutely furious and unnecessarily jealous to an angel?

You didn’t want to know, and you didn’t want to stay around long enough to find out.

Maybe it was the date, or the fact that you felt as if he deserved an explanation face to face. Either way, if you’d known better, you would have made it away.

“Eddie, we have to talk.” The two of you were currently sitting on the couch, favourite show playing in the background. Eddie hummed along, a slight acknowledgment to your words. “It’s, about us.” Eddie turned the volume down, your sentence piquing his interest.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think, we should break up.”

And with six words, Eddies entire world came crashing down in front of him. What on earth were you talking about? “What did you say?” The smile on Eddies face was anything but sweet or reassuring, a bad attempt at keeping his composure. “You’ve been acting, odd, to say the least.” You stood from the couch as he followed in pursuit, all the way to the kitchen.

“I feel like, all that we’re doing lately is either fighting or sleeping. Every time I come home, you have something to say. Whether it’s about my later nights, about who I was with or what I’m doing on the phone. It’s like I have no privacy at all. I cannot keep a single thing to myself. And if I try to? You blow up at me. I mean last week for example, I tried my hardest to not argue with you by walking away. And all you did was follow me around the house, it drove me crazy. Showing up to my workspace when I tell you I can get more done without random lunch dates. I’m a grown adult but you treat me like a child. And if I stand up for myself I’m cheating. It makes no sense at all Eddie. And I tried to make it work, but I feel like you’re controlling me. I even reduced my hours, because you asked. I moved in even when I wasn’t ready, because you asked. I need a break.” You took a deep breath after your monologue, needing a second.

Turning towards Eddie, he stared straight at you. “I had no idea you felt that way baby. I’m so sorry, I never meant to do any of it. I love you so much, I can’t help but worry. After everything we’ve been through with Shannon,” And there it was, the guilt. It was blinding, clawing its way through you. Shannon. He’d already lost someone he loved, and Chris lost his mother. No wonder he was always to protective over you.

“Hey, I’m not leaving like Shannon okay? What happened was a tragic accident, and I promise nothing like that is going to happen again Eddie.” You immediately engulfed in a hug, his head resting against yours, “I don’t want to loose you, I don’t want Chris to loose you.” Eddie muttered repeatedly as you closed your eyes.

Chris walked into the room, thirsty, tired and curious, “Is something wrong?” You immediately detached yourself from Eddie, wiping away your tears, “Nothings wrong sweetie, did you need something?” He nodded before turning around and walking to his room, “We’ll talk later yeah?” Eddie whispered into your ear before moving ahead.

Sniffles came from underneath Christopher’s blanket, “You alright buddy?” Eddie asked, patting his hair down, “Water.” You watched as Eddie swiftly made his way to the kitchen whilst you sat down, “You need anything else?” Chris’s hand slowly lowered the blanket before smiling your way, “No thanks mum.”

And as quickly as he spoke, he turned over to sleep again. Your eyes were probably protruding out of your head, shock filling your senses. “Mum?” The word sounded foreign on your lips, but apparently comfortable enough on Chris’s.

“He called you mum.” Eddies voice was low, most likely as astounded as you based on the look on his face. You got up slowly, aware of the sleeping boy. You couldn’t help but smile, and kiss his forehead before making your way to Eddie. “I can’t believe it.” Eddies hand came up to wipe away the stray tears before pulling you in and kissing your forehead, “I can.”

“You’re apart of this family baby, always have been.” His words seeped in as he guided you to your bed, whilst you were stuck on autopilot. Chris viewed you as a parent to him, that’s how common you were in his life now, a constant for him to fall back on. He loved you, almost as much as you loved him. Your words weren’t forgotten just swirling in your head, how the hell could you ask for a break now? With this new huge responsibility?

Eddie knew, of course he knew. He was the one encouraging Chris to call you by your new name. Because if there’s one thing Eddie knew he needed, besides Chris?

It’s you, and he’d do anything to make you stay.

#yandere 911 x reader #911 x reader #eddie diaz x fem!reader #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz imagine #eddie diaz x reader #911 imagine #911 fic #dark!eddie diaz x reader

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girlfromthecrypt · 2 months

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Note: This is merely a pitch introduction post. My main project remains Such Happy Campers. I have no title in mind for this IF (suggestions are welcome), although I am very passionate about the idea and will work on it on the side while I write SHC.

You are... or were one of the most famous yet mysterious characters in the 21st century pop-rock scene.

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. Your friends agreed… and that is how your band came to be. After years of practice in your friend’s mother’s garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It's a meteoric rise— until it isn’t.

And now, a decade after your band has withdrawn from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be.

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac

TW: themes of mental illness, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation and self-harm, unhealthy relationship dynamics

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past.

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them. When they first walked out onto that stage, it felt like my heart was going to explode.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Others:

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they tried to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

[dividers by @thecutestgrotto]

Please consider reblogging if you like my work!

#interactive fiction #choicescript wip #choicescript game #romanceable characters #if: wip #original fiction #daisy jones and the six #music inspired #upcoming if

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 6 months

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Follow You Anywhere 5

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: still sick but still craving dick.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You drain the glass of water and cling to it. You’re at a loss of what to do next. You’re not just trapped by this man, you’re bound up in fear. It’s a real life horror movie.

You stand and blink long and hard, trying to steady yourself. You turn, your legs stiff and straight, your movement slow as if walking through sludge. You stop and sway as you find Sy watching you from the doorway.

No wonder you never noticed him before. He’s so quiet, you didn’t even know he was still in the room. Well, he is a soldier after all. That fact chills you more than anything. Even if you were more formidable, you still wouldn’t have a hope.

He wears only a pair of thin gym shorts, low on his hips and displaying his thick stomach. He’s not really fat, just burly. He’s got hair fron chest to waistline, his stomach boxy with muscle but not perfectly defined. His arms are hug and bulge without flexing.

You gulp and look down at the empty glass and walk forward.

“I can get that, sweetie,” he offers as you come close.

“No, it’s okay,” you murmur, “I gotta... finish up a few things anyhow.”

He doesn’t move. His large body blocks the exit and you poke your tongue out to wet your dry lips. His eyes narrow on your mouth and he releases a heavy exhale.

“Excuse me,” you voice quavers, “I’m just tryna... get past.”

“Sweetie, you sound tired, maybe you should lay down,” he reaches for you and you flinch. You see him hesitate before he closes the gap, rubbing your arm with his large hand. “Hm, I could rub your feet, we could talk. We got a lot of catching up to do.”

“I... M-maybe later, this project is a big one,” you lie. It’s really nothing. A sixty-dollar edit you could do in your sleep. “It’s a bit early, anyway, right?”

His hand lingers as he looks down at you. His thick fingertips flutter up your shoulder and along your neck. He turns his knuckles to graze your throat before he frames your chin.

“You’re much prettier in person, you know that?” He purrs, “especially when you smile.”

Your lip quivers as goosebumps raise on the back of your arms, “thanks, Sy. Um, sorry, can I get through?”

He rubs your jaw with his thumb and tilts his head. Finally he drops his hand and sighs, smacking the side of his leg as he backs up, angling to offer just enough room for your escape. As you step out, you can’t help but brush against him.

“Mmm,” he hums, “you smell like flowers.”

You grip the glass even tighter, “thanks.”

“Everything about you is just so...” he trails after you, right at your heels, “perfect.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s a sweet compliment but it really doesn’t feel like it. He follows you to the kitchen, once more planting himself in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he watches you. You cough and rinse the glass, leaving it beside the sink.

You face him again and wring your hands. As you near, he moves without being told. You skirt around him and sit at the table. You try not to shake as you open the laptop. You pause but resist the urge to look around. Where’s your phone?

You do your best to bottle up every thought. You don't want him to sense your panic. You need to stay calm until a chance comes up. You don’t know what or when, but it has to.

You click onto Adobe Suite and reload the same project as before. He just stands there, by the wall. You're too nervous to check if he’s looking at you.

You hear a peculiar tapping and Aika slithers past her owner. As she approaches, you swallow and brace yourself. She sits beside you and puts her head in your lap. You gape down, in relief and surprise, and daintily touch her head.

“She likes you a lot,” he beams and walks around the other side of the table. He drags a chair out and sits, “I told her all about you. She was over there too. Sniffin’ out IEDs.”

“Oh,” you glance at him over the laptop. “Wow.”

A pang stabs your chest. For a moment, you feel bad for him. You can’t begin to imagine what he saw in a war. You presume being far from home is never easy but that’s all so much more intense.

“Yeah, tough, but we made it through,” he proclaims, “easier to get on when you got something to come home to.”

You nod and look at the screen. This is all sorts of messed up. How stupid are you? Why couldn’t you just keep a journal? Why did you have to stream your stupid life to the stupid internet? You just assumed that no one would care. Like usual.

You drag your fingers around the touch pad, trying to focus on the actual work. That's the only real escape you have. You need to think about anything else.

“I thought... I thought you made your money from your videos,” he says as pushes his shoulders back, his figure broader than the chair.

“Mm, no. Um, you know, not many viewers. I edit for other people. Pictures, videos,” you answer. It’s easier to talk when you keep it clinical. “Weddings, stuff like that.”

“Ah,” he sniffs, “well, not about how many followers you got, just that they’re good people, huh?”

“Sure, uh, yeah,” you sputter.

“You okay, sweetie?” His tone sharpens.

“Sorry, I'm just... working,” your lip twitches. “You know, I just... wasn’t expecting... you. I usually work um, between videos, and I didn’t plan on doing anymore today.”

“Huh,” he pokes his tongue into his cheek, “but you usually do one. One early, one late.”

You shift and Aika nuzzles your thighs, huffing until your pet her again. You bite the inside of your lip as your face singes, “right, but I’m a little behind...”

He’s quiet. You feel him staring. He probably can see right through your lies.

“You’re a hard worker, sweetie, I woulda guessed so,” he stands and the chair scrapes loudly, making you wince, “let me get outta your way. I can wait a bit longer.”

You don’t look up as his shadows blurs along the edge of your vision. You wait until it fades away before you dare to peek. The TV comes back to life and you exhale. It’s not exactly freedom, just room to breathe.

🧸

You are anything but behind. You’re so desperate to dissociate, that you breeze through your current projects. In the background, Sy lurks, the couch creaking as he sits up, his footfalls against the floor as he paces, and the little clicks and clacks of his curiosity as he looks around your place.

As your eyes begin to glaze over from the glare, he appears on the other side of the table, “hungry, sweetie?”

You’re not. You shrug, not wanting to give the wrong answer.

“I could order something. I know you just shopped and all but I don’t mind.”

“You know, that’s nice but I’m still full from breakfast.”

“Ah, yeah, that was a big one,” he agrees, “you know, those field rations made me a bit of a glutton once I got back to civilization.”

“Oh. You’re welcome to cook for yourself or something,” you offer.

“You gonna stay on that all night,” he points at the computer, “that sh—the light can’t be good for your eyes.”

“No, um, I... just finished.”

You close the laptop reluctantly. You hear the edge creeping into his timbre. He’s getting impatient.

“Well, if you’re not hungry, how about I run you a bath? You’re tense, you should relax, sweetie,” his hands go to his hips and tugs up his shorts just a little.

“Sure...” you murmur.

He goes before you can say anything else. What else can you say? He’s crazy and it’s becoming more obvious by the minute. Maybe you are too for not screaming at him to leave you alone.

Aika exhales and falls onto her side, stretching her long legs as she relaxes. Right, he’s not the only one you have to worry about. You get up and clasp your hands together. You walk around the table, once, twice, three times.

You hear the faucet and shudder. You stop and look at Aika then the door. You could sneak out right then. Tell your neighbour there’s an intruder in your home. With all his things and his dog. And they would see him walking in with you on the cameras like everything was all good.

Right. It’s an option but not better than the current one. You’re more likely to piss him off than get rid of him.

“Got it running for ya,” he comes out and you push your hands down, fighting own your fear.

“Thanks,” you say as you cross the room, “that’s so sweet.”

“Yeah, sweetie, no problem,” he nears and you keep from shying away, “I’m just tryna take care of you.”

“I... really appreciate it,” you eke out.

“You just take your time,” he runs his hands up and down your arms. “Mm,” he bites his lip, “you’re just so pretty. I can’t believe you’re real.”

Your chest wracks and your head swells. You can’t believe he’s real either.

You force a smile and freeze as you sense him leaning in. He kisses the top of your head and purrs, “you just go get nice and fresh.”

He releases you and reluctantly lets you go. You sidle past him cautiously. You don’t look back as you head for the bathroom. You shut the door behind you and let the air free from your lungs. Holy crud.

You go to the tub and stare in at the rising water. You wait for it to fill up before you shake the daze. You undress and slide into the water. You lean back and grip the edges. The world is surreal.

You’re too restless to enjoy the warmth. Usually you would find a bath soothing. You often take them with a candle burning and your favourite soap bubbled over the surface. You don’t think you’ll ever know peace again.

You sit up and hug your knees. You sit like that for a while. You want to fall apart right there but you know you can’t. The thing that helped you so much has doomed you.

You pull the stopper and get out. The water’s just making you cold. You dry off and wrap the towel around you. You pick up your clothes and go to the door, pressing your ear to listen to the other side.

You turn the handle slowly and ease it inch by inch. He’s not there. You tiptoe out, vigilant as you cross the room. You turn into the bedroom and nearly let out a yelp. You didn’t really think he’d left but you could hope.

“These are real cute,” he lays down the button up silk pajama shirt with the matching shorts.

“Oh, uh, sure, um...”

“Should be nice and comfy,” he faces you with a grin.

“Well, uh, yeah, but...” you begin to argue. You don’t really sleep in those ones, you more lounge around. “Thanks.”

You keep your arms across your chest, the tower firmly clutched around you. You look down at the set as he remains close. You wait. Is he gonna go?

“Aren’t ya gonna put them on?”

“Sure, uh,” you grab them, your other hand fisted around the top of the towel, “I’ll just go do that.”

“You don’t gotta be shy with me,” he purrs, “but I guess you’re a nice girl, huh. You like to take it slow.”

You press your lips together, “mhm.”

You back away, wanting to run in the other direction. You turn at the door and leave him there. You can’t help but feel he’s already seen too much.

You flit back to the bathroom and lock yourself in. You are about to combust. You tremble as you pull on the shorts, then the shirt. You hang the towel and linger by the door.

He's really not going to leave. For whatever reason, you hoped he might call it a night and go. Why would he do that? He doesn’t do sane things.

“Sweetie,” the knock on the door makes you jump. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine,” you squeak.

The door handle wiggles. You flick the lock back and he pushes it open from the other side. He lets go of the handle and steps back, his eyes roving up and down your body.

“Ah, sugar, you look... look real... good,” his voice is smoky as he spreads his hand over his chest. “Sweet little thing, just wanna eat you—up!”

He surprises you as suddenly he has you off your feet. He has his arms around you as he lifts you and carries you away from the bathroom door. You yelp and hit his shoulder, wriggling and kicking. Oh no!

“Sy, please, no,” you cry out but he ignores you, “no, no, no...” you panic finally overflow and your eyes glisten. He takes you into the bedroom and your heart pounds feverishly, “please...” you wisp before he tosses you on the bed, “don’t hurt me!”

You bounce on the mattress and hold your hand up, bracing for his next move. When it doesn’t come, you part your fingers and look at him through them. He watches you with a line in his forehead.

“You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He rasps.

“I... you just caught me off guard,” you push yourself up on your elbows, “I didn’t--”

“I was just playing,” he frowns, “having some fun with my girl. Wanted some snuggles, is all.”

Despite it all, you actually feel bad. He sounds genuinely hurt. You sit up all the way and pout up at him, “Sy,” you utter softly, “I’m tired, I’m sorry.”

He inhales so his broad chest rises and blows it out as he rubs his shaves head. He drops his hand and sniffs, “yeah, me too. Been a long day.”

“So... so...” you quaver as you grasp at the last of your courage, “let’s just sleep it off.”

His jaw ticks and he tilts his head until you hear a pop, “yeah, you’re right, sweetie. Think I just got overexcited.”

You flutter your lashes as you hold back the wave of relief. It dissipates as soon as it rises. This isn’t over. You have a whole night ahead of you and brand new day.

#captain syverson #dark captain syverson #dark!captain syverson #captain syverson x reader #sand castle #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere

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truly-neutral-art · 5 months

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Din/Luke Pacific Rim AU pt.2

Pt.1 | Pt.3 | Pt.4

Another addition to this AU because It's been living in my head rent free for ages. I can't do a Pacific Rim AU without recreating the iconic Kwoon scene. Also, I was too lazy to draw backgrounds so I just stole them from the movie ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Under the cut is a teaser of the fic I'm trying to write. It's a first draft, so there's probably some mistakes. Also, I'm still kind of in Screen Writing mode from school, so please don't mind if there's not a lot of internal character narration.

“Four points to two,” Luke calls after the final candidate falls. His emotions are carefully masked on his face but Din can see how tense he is.

“We’re wasting time, Marshal. He’s barely compatible with any of them, this isn’t going to work,” Luke says.

“What do you suggest?” The Marshal raises a brow.

“Put me in charge, I’m drift compatible with several cadets. We don’t need him.” Luke gestures towards Din. The look on his face makes Din’s blood boil. Contempt. What did he ever do to Luke to earn this?

“What’s your problem, Skywalker?” Din stomps towards the edge of the mat.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t think you're the right man for the job,” Luke replies. He’s now turned squarely towards Din, his face back to that eerie calm. It sends a shiver down Din’s spine.

“No, there’s more. You’ve got a problem with me.” Din steps closer, trying to ignore the piercing blue of Luke’s eyes.

“Enough! both of you.” Marshal Skywalker turns to them both.

“If you think you’re so much better, then let’s go.” Din points his bō at Luke. “If you win, you can pilot the Crest. If I win, you back off.” Din holds Luke's gaze, projecting his challenge.

“Neither of you are in the position to make that decision,” Anakin states, breaking the spell.

“What? Think your own blood isn’t good enough to beat me?” Din didn’t know Marshal Skywalker that well, but from what he did know, the man was prideful. Maybe it wasn’t the smartest move, but it got him what he wanted.

The Martial turned towards Luke, earning his attention. No words were exchanged between them, the Martial simply gave a nod. A brief look of satisfaction washed over Luke’s face. Din turned towards the mat to prepare for the fight before Luke’s eyes turned back to him.

Luke stepped to the edge of the mat, shoes and outer shirt removed. He bowed at the waist before stepping forward. He was in a simple black tank top and the standard cargo pants. It was the first time Din had seen any of his skin exposed beyond his face. His arms and neck were covered in pale, lightning-like scars that looked like they extended beyond what Din could see. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. He knew almost nothing about Luke when he really thought about it. Only what he heard from the news from the past four years.

He had to admit, it made him earn a little more respect for the kid. At first he’d seemed like a petulant child who was getting his favorite toy taken away, but now, Din wasn’t as sure that was the case. He had no more time to think on it as he and Luke passed each other on the mat, walking to opposite sides, then turning to face each other.

In the blink of an eye Luke swung his bō with the finesse of a warrior. He moved forward before stopping in the middle of the mat as he pulled his bō up in defense. Din followed suit, taking on a more aggressive starting position. He could tell Luke was analyzing him, eyes flitting around to every point of his body. Din took the opportunity to attack. In one swift moment he had his bō mimicking a strike at Luke’s skull.

“One, Zero.” The words had barely left his mouth before Luke made a counter attack. In a flash Luke had reversed their positions with a satisfied smirk.

Without wasting any more time the two began to fight again in an explosion of movement. The people in the kwoon reacted to them, but Din’s focus narrowed in until it was only them in the room. He watched Luke’s movements carefully, anticipating and blocking every attack that came and returning his own. He picked up on a franticness in Lukes’s movements and took advantage, landing an attack on his ribs.

“You’re too eager, you’re projecting your moves,” Din commented as they reset.

“I don’t need your advice.” Despite his words, Luke waited, ready for Din’s next move.

Luke swiftly blocked everything Din threw at him and pushed back even harder. In the next moment Luke attacked with a flurry of blows, catching Din off guard. He was stronger than he looked.

“Two, two.” Luke had once again evened the score.

There was barely a pause before they were at it again. This bout lasted longer than the others, both having picked up on each other’s gambit. They danced around each other, the only sound in Din’s ears were the clacking of their bō staffs and their heavy breathing. Neither was holding back.

In a blur of motion Luke darted towards Din’s legs, throwing him off balance. Din rolled out of the throw but as he lifted his head he was met with Luke’s bō to his throat. Luke's eyes were no less intense this close.

“Two, Three.” Luke stepped back into a ready position. “Better watch out, Djarin.” There was a satisfied smirk on his face. He was winning. Din wouldn’t give up that easily.

He pulled out every trick he had, but Luke seemed to always be a step ahead. He was too fast, almost as if he could read Din’s mind. From the outside it would almost look like this was rehearsed. In the end, it was Din’s weight advantage that won him the point. He moved in close and pinned Luke's arm before throwing him down to the mat. The blond hit the ground on his back, breath escaping his lungs from the impact.

Din almost went to help him up but Luke threw his legs backwards into a handstand before standing back up. He barely looked affected, the only sign of fatigue on him was the sweat on his forehead that matted down his blond hair.

“Three, Three,” Din called. “And there’s no need to show off.”

The next point would declare a winner. There was a smile on Luke’s face, different from the ones before. This one was more open, leaving Din feeling dizzy instead of insulted.

Din tried to understand it but there was no more time to ponder as Luke set on his next attacks. He was more aggressive than he’d been the rest of the fight but Din pushed back, not without some difficulty. Luke danced around Din with a frightening agility. The only thing that kept Din in the fight for so long were his reflexes. He knew he had to end this fight soon or Luke would eventually wear him down.

In a decisive move Din attacked at Luke’s head, trading off his defense for offense. He had Luke on the move, nearly pushing him off the mat. However, before he could land a finishing blow Luke darted to the side, slipping his leg between Din’s and toppling him to the floor. When Din processed what happened, he was pinned under Luke’s hips on his chest and his bō at his neck.

Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd, but Din’s view had narrowed into Luke as he stood up. Din stayed on the ground, still a bit stunned from the end of the fight. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about its outcome. But one thing was for certain, he and Luke were drift compatible. Very drift compatible.

Din was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t even realize Luke was reaching down to him until his hand was in his face. He took it and allowed Luke to help him to his feet.

“You felt it too, didn’t you?” Luke asked.

“Yeah.”

#dinluke #star wars #luke skywalker #din djarin #art #dinluke fanart #fanfic #fanfiction #pacific rim au #dinluke au #tru's dinluke pacific rim au

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sehunniepotwrites · 9 months

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WITH YOU | MK.L | THREE

SYNOPSIS. There are many things Mark Lee wants to do with you. He wants to walk you home. He wants to dive into the deep blue sea with you. He wants to go on a drive with you at his side. But mostly, this crazy, head over heels in love boy just wants to make it with you.

PAIRING. mark lee x fem!reader

GENRE. college!au, friends-to-lovers!au, tooth-rotting fluff, humor WARNINGS. profanity, sulky!mark because he failed his exam and lost a game, mention of (non-alcoholic) drinks, mentions of creeper guy that doesn't get a damn hint

WORD COUNT. 1.2k+

DISCLAIMER. This is work of fiction. I do not own the people/characters or concepts I have written about. You cannot translate or copy my work. © sehunniepotwrites, 2023

I. WALK YOU HOME | II. DIVE INTO YOU | III. DRIVE | IV. MAKE IT WITH YOU

Mark Lee having a bad day was a rare commodity. The athlete was seldom seen with his brown eyes aimed to the floor and a frown stitched onto his face. No, he was usually spotted with a bright sparkle in his irises, a grin that was way too wide for his small and handsome face, his hockey gear tucked in under his arm, and most importantly, you.

Maybe that was the stark difference between Mark’s drastic moods. You weren’t present at the home game that just finished. On top of it being midterms week, an ultimate stressor on its own, you skipped out on today’s game in favor of finishing a midterm project with a partner that may or may not have been putting some moves on you. Hearing that news after basically bombing his Biology exam that was worth twenty perfect of his grade just added onto his sullen behavior. Instead of focusing on the game, Mark’s mind was void of the strategized plays and off the ice, floating all the way down to the campus library–where you were.

Mark really shouldn’t be upset. He should’ve been proud that you put your grades first instead of a game. After all, you weren’t a student athlete; this game shouldn’t mean a thing to you. But it was his game. You were his lucky charm. You always have been and you always will be.

Sure, others showed up to the games with his number painted onto their cheeks in their university colors and poster boards that displayed his name but they weren’t you. You weren’t the one in the crowd with the pretty, mismatched ribbons in their hair or screaming his name as he scored a goal. You weren’t there, drowning in his away game jersey like you usually were. You were drowning in school work with a guy that would not leave you alone.

“It’s fine,” you said. “I just have to stick it out until the end of the week and it’ll be okay. I notified my professor and we’re meeting up in their office so I’m not left alone with the guy.”

“Yeah but–”

“Go and score a goal for me,” you hushed Mark, pressing a manicured finger to his lips when he tried to push back. “Promise?”

Mark’s frown grew. “But–”

“Ah,” you replied, adding more pressure to his lips. Raising your free hand, you brought your pinky towards him. “Promise?”

Mark sighed in defeat, linking his pinky with yours. He shook your intertwined hands. “Promise.”

Knowing you won, you grinned. “That’s my Marky. Now, go! I’ll see you tomorrow! You’ll be fine without me.”

But he wasn’t.

And it’s sad how reliant on you Mark became. Before you, he could fully function on his own. Now? Mark was seen with you more often than not. You were like an extension of him, something he couldn’t live without. His teammates and friends noticed it; Haechan wouldn’t let Mark go a day without teasing him on the ice. Johnny, who wasn’t on the team, often made a lot of noise during games to let Mark know exactly where the two of you sat. And Jaehyun, bless his soul, always explained the technicalities of the sport so you understood each and every play-by-play in order to cheer Mark on.

He wasn’t fine before, during, or after the game and all he could think about was you. Nothing else mattered but you.

To top off this horrible day, they lost the game. There were definitely other factors that contributed to the loss but the most defining one was that Mark’s head wasn’t in it. He tried taking your mind off of you but quickly deemed it impossible. Even after he showered, lugged his sorry ass out of the hockey arena and into his car, his mind was still glued to the thought of you. Driving aimlessly around campus didn’t help and before he knew it, Mark’s hands fiddled with his dashboard screen until your number was dialed.

Two rings later and he heard your voice. “Hey,” you greeted, voice booming from the speakers. Your voice was soft unlike the other times you answered the phone–a lot gentler, like he needed to be approached with caution.

“Hi,” Mark mustered out before going silent again. All the two of you could hear were the sounds on the road.

“What’s going on?” you asked with that same soothing voice.

You knew what happened. You weren’t there to witness the losing game but word travels fast. Johnny and Jaehyun called you shortly after the game, relaying an abbreviated version of the game while escaping the disappointed crowd. They made it known that Mark was off his game the entire time. Your friends made a light joke, saying it was because you weren’t there, and pointing out how he seemed different whenever you were in attendance. You brushed off their teasing but assured them you would check on your best friend.

But despite knowing, you wanted the news to come from Mark. If he didn’t want to talk about it, that was okay with you too. You could practically hear him shrugging as he replied, “Dunno, I just wanted to see you.”

Noticing that Mark was so close to shutting down completely, you answered, “Well, I’m always down to see you. Care for a drive, Marky?”

He caught the sound of rustling from your ride and figured you were rushing to get ready before he arrived. The arena was a mere seven minute drive from your housing complex, not giving you much time to get yourself together at all. Prior to him calling, you were most likely nestled up under your comforter, adorning your favorite pair of sweats and oversized hoodie to keep you warm. Mark wanted to say that you didn’t have to change, but knowing his best friend, you’d probably ignore whatever he said.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I need.”

“I’ll see you in a few then,” you said with finality before hanging up the phone.

A few minutes later, Mark pulled up to your complex, only to find you already downstairs. You didn’t come empty handed, the drink tumbler he always used when he was over at your place in one hand and your tumbler in the other. He reached over the console to open the passenger door for you and you immediately slid in, handing him his cup.

“Hey you,” you smiled at him before pressing a short kiss to his cheek. Whereas he caught you off guard the last time you went to the beach, his soft lips grazing against your cheek, it was your turn to surprise him. The action shocked him so much, he almost dropped the steaming drink in hand.

“H-hey,” Mark stuttered a bit pathetically, swiftly turning his attention to his tumbler. Bringing it up to his lips, he tasted his favorite comfort drink–hot cocoa with whip cream and marshmallows. The temperature was a bit too hot, the liquid burning his tongue after having a lick of melted whip cream, but he didn’t dare complain. He took another sip of it before putting it down and shifting the gear to drive.

The drive itself wasn’t necessary to Mark, he already felt a bit better in your presence as you buckled your seatbelt.

It’s you—you’re what he needed. You’re what he wanted. And you’re the one person that would always bring a smile to his face. It didn’t feel right to admit it to you now, not when he was just sulking in all of his sorrows. Maybe another time or place. But for now, Mark was content with you in his passenger seat and his hands on the wheel, ready to go anywhere as long as you were at his side.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. hi, it's been a while, hasn't it? i'm slowly writing again, starting with finishing all the drafts that have been sitting in my docs for a hot second! my writing style's change a bit so don't mind the stylistic changes (if you even notice it). i apologize it's short but i didn't have much planned for this one. it's just marky sitting in his thoughts.

TAGLIST. @johtenrecs @bat-shark-repellant @bebsky @donutswithjaminthemiddle @suhnnyskhies @baekhyuns-lipchain @emmybyeakitty @sokkigarden @iwishiwasthemoontonight @stvrrynight @ppangjae @luvenshiti @ferxanda @jenosuh @mxrcayong-main @lebrookestore @the-universe-in-you-jjh @planetkiimchi @hannie-dul-set @kdyism @lovesuhng

reply to this post or send an ask to be added to the taglist!

#nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct x reader #mark scenarios #mark imagines #mark x reader

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floralcyanide · 1 year

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𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s.

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project.

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words.

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly.

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity.

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station.

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly.

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

#cillian murphy #j robert oppenheimer #oppenheimer #j robert oppenheimer x reader #j robert oppenheimer x you #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #oppenheimer fanfiction #oppenheimer fic #oppenheimer fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fanfiction #spoilers #oppenheimer spoilers #oppenheimer 2023 #floralcyanide writes

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agustdakasuga · 1 year

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The Way Of A Criminal: Chapter 4

Genre: Mafia!AU, Criminal!AU, Angst, Romance

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Normal!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Your father was a stranger, you never knew who he was and what he did. But one day, someone knocks on your door, informing you of his passing. Now, you learn more about him, his life and the legacy you are expected to continue with the help of his 7 executives.

Story warning(s): This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed/gore, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking and gambling. This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. Please read at your own discretion.

Instead of dealing with all this head on, you avoided it. You put everything aside and went on with life, spending all your time doing work, studying and doing your university projects.

Wonwoo noticed this and decided to invite you for a night out. Just a chill night with some drinks. Usually, you would decline, which is why Wonwoo has never invited you out. But you could use the distraction. Maybe being out of the house was good.

DING DONG

“Coming!” You ran down, fixing your earring. You didn’t really know how to dress for a night out like this so you picked a random dress. It was a dark blue, crushed velvet cocktail dress.

“Come on in.” You opened the door for him. Wonwoo smiled, bowing before removing his shoes to come in.

“This dress isn’t really motorcycle friendly, is it?” You let out an awkward laugh, going into the kitchen to get your phone that you left there to charge.

“I didn’t ride my bike since we might drink. I’ll call a cab.” Wonwoo said. He just stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do since it was the first time he was in your house.

“(y/n)?” Wonwoo suddenly called your name, stopping you in your tracks.

“You look great.” He smiled softly.

“Oh... Thank you.” You felt your cheeks heat up at his sudden compliment. He held out a hand to support you as you wore your shoes. After locking up the house, he escorted you to the cab that was waiting for you. And of course, Wonwoo opened the door for you to get in first, being the gentleman that he is. The car ride was silent.

“C-Can I ask you something?” Wonwoo threaded lightly. You hummed, nodding your head.

“I know you like your privacy and I shouldn’t pry but there were this rumours and pictures floating around about some expensive sports car and handsome guy picking you up. Is he one of them?” He asked nervously.

“If by ‘one of them’, you mean my father’s... employees. Yes, he is... or was. There are 7 of them.” You rubbed the back of your neck.

“Are they bothering you?”

“Can we not talk about this anymore? I just don’t want to have to think about it for a few minutes.” That came out a lot harsher and colder than you expected. But Wonwoo didn’t react.

“Sorry. I’m...” You sighed, not really knowing how to piece your words together anymore.

“I understand. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t mean to pry.” Wonwoo smiled comfortingly. Thankfully for you, the cab stopped outside the club. You looked at the long line outside that didn’t seem to be moving,

“Don’t look so worried. My friend put our name on the list so we can just walk in.” Wonwoo laughed. You both got out and he grasped your hand, giving your names to the bouncer. You were so stunned by his action that you just followed him without a word, letting him lead you.

“There’s a table there.” Wonwoo said in your ear on top of the loud music. You were still shocked that he was holding your hand that you just followed him.

“Phew, it’s crowded.” You said, casually pulling your hand away to check if you dropped anything from your bag.

“Yeah, that’s what you get for being here on a Friday night.” He chuckled. You stood at the table while Wonwoo went to get drinks at the bar. The standing table was thankfully at the side of the bar, which meant less people.

“Relax, you’re here to have fun.” You told yourself.

“Here.” Wonwoo got himself a beer and got you a cocktail. It was a nice refreshing drink with flavoured soju as the alcohol.

“Let me know how much everything is tonight and we’ll split the cost.” You told him as you took a sip.

“It’s okay, (y/n). It’s my treat, just enjoy yourself.” Wonwoo smiled. He clinked his glass with yours. Although this wasn’t your exact idea of relaxing, you were glad that the noise and the crowd made the place too loud that you didn’t need to start sharing your feelings. Wonwoo was a good friend but you just weren’t used to sharing so much about yourself with others.

After some drinks, you excused yourself to go to the toilet. But of course, there was a line. About 15 minutes went by without the line moving. You were about to give up when someone grabbed your wrist.

“(y/n) sshi?” You looked at the familiar face.

“Oh... Uh...”

“Yoongi.” He said, letting you go. You nodded your head. Other people in the line now had their attention on you and Yoongi.

“Come.” He nodded over to follow him. You didn’t know why you just went along, not even asking why he wanted you to go with him. You came before a staircase with two guards. But they parted ways upon seeing Yoongi.

“Sir.” They bowed respectfully as Yoongi cooly walked up, hands tucked into his pockets. You quickly bowed your heads back to the guards and caught up to Yoongi.

“You can use this bathroom instead. It’s cleaner and safer.” Yoongi stopped before a door.

“A-Are you sure?”

“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have went down to fish you out of the crowd. Take all the time you need. This is our own private bathroom so no one else is allowed to use it.” He explained. You nodded, bowing gratefully to him before entering the restroom.

The bathroom was a lot more opulent and grand, with black granite and gold trims. Like Yoongi said, it was very clean, unlike a usual club bathroom. It was definitely a boys bathroom with urinals but you just used one of the stalls.

“Hyung, why can’t I use the bathroom? I really need to go!” You heard voices outside as you were washing your hands.

“Only the 7 of us use it anyway. Unless... Do you have a secret guest in there?!” The person talking to Yoongi gasped as if he just uncovered something scandalous.

“Watch your mouth.” You heard Yoongi threaten.

“Sorry, I’m done.” You opened the door. But you didn’t expect Yoongi to be standing so close that you ended up bumping into his back.

“Oh, no wonder hyung was guarding the bathroom.” The male said. He didn’t mind you and just brushed past to use the bathroom. Yoongi moved you away from the bathroom door, not wanting you to accidentally get hit.

“Thank you. Is it okay if I just stay here for a few more minutes? You can go back to what you were doing before.” You asked timidly. Yoongi took one look at you and nodded. You didn’t need to tell him anything for him to know what you were thinking. The club was getting overwhelming. Yoongi never really liked coming too unless his brothers make him.

“Why did you come if you don’t like it?”

“A friend brought me here as a distraction. Plus, I’ve never really come to a club before.” You replied. Yoongi nodded his head.

“You don’t need to stay and accompany me. I’ll go back down in a bit.” You said.

“It’s okay.” He leaned against the opposite wall. You took your phone out to send Wonwoo a text, assuring him that you were safe and that he could go home first. But you didn’t tell him where you were and who you were with.

“Actually... I wanted to apologise. My brothers told me I shouldn’t have offered you a smoke the other time. I just thought it would help.” Yoongi looked at you.

“It’s fine. I honestly didn’t think too much about it. There were other things to think about.” You shook your head.

“Understandable. I’m sure you have your fair share of confusion and questions that come along with it. This is just the start.” Yoongi said. You didn’t let his straightforward tone faze you, nodding your head glumly.

“Well, I should go. Thanks for letting me hang here.” You straightened up.

“No worries. I’ll walk you down.” Yoongi followed suit. You walked behind him, not sure of the way to the exit. With your insistence, Wonwoo had gone home on his own. You did feel bad for abandoning him when he was the one that invited you out but you also didn’t want him to wait.

“Do you have a ride home?” Yoongi asked.

“I told my friend to go home first so I guess I can get a cab home.” You waved him off, getting your phone out. But Yoongi stopped you, his hand grasping your phone and covering the screen.

“It’s not safe and cheap to get a cab from here at this time. I drank a little so I shouldn’t drive. Hang on.” Yoongi waved over one of the bouncers.

“Use the company car and send her home then report back.” Yoongi ordered.

“Yoongi sshi, it’s really okay.”

“Get the address from her and make sure you see her entering the house before coming back.” Yoongi ignored you. The bouncer nodded and bowed, running off the get the car.

“(y/n) sshi, hyung.” You both turned to see Taehyung jogging over. He had a big, square-ish grin as he waved.

“Jimin said you were here and that Yoongi hyung was with you. Are you driving her home, hyung?” Taehyung tilted his head.

“I drank. So was gonna get one of the workers to drive her back.” Yoongi explained, standing back as he lit a cigarette to smoke. Taehyung nodded his head.

“I’ll drive you home. I didn’t drink since I am the designated driver tonight. Bring my car instead.” Taehyung called out. The worker bowed and ran back into the club. Yoongi decided to go in first after his cigarette was done, not liking being out in the cold. He shot you a nod while you bowed gratefully to him. While waiting, Taehyung put his jacket over your shoulders.

“Did you come alone?” Taehyung asked.

“No... I came with a friend but I abandoned him. Yoongi sshi was kind enough to let me hang out in the quiet area. So I told my friend to go home first.” You said. You didn’t know why you were explaining so much to him.

“This isn’t you scene, is it?” He teased. You pursed your lips and shook your head. The noise and the crowd just wasn’t comfortable.

“Sir.” The car stopped right in front of you. The worker came out, bowing and passing Taehyung’s keys to him.

“Here you go. Watch your head.” Taehyung opened the car door for you to enter. You sat inside, keeping the sides of his jacket close to you so it wouldn’t get caught in the door.

Taehyung confirmed your address before starting to drive. One hand held his head, elbow resting on the door next to him while the other hand was on the steering wheel. During the quiet ride, you fiddled with the hem of the dress, pulling it down every now and then.

“Are you cold?” He asked.

“No, I’m good. Thank you.” You replied softly. With your head leaning against the headrest, you looked out the window. The only reason you would be out this late usually was because you were working.

“Thanks for dropping me off again.” You said as Taehyung pulled up outside of your house.

“Any time.” Taehyung smiled. You unbluckled your seatbelt and got out of the car. But before you could walk further, Taehyung rolled down the window.

“Goodnight, (y/n)!”

“G-Goodnight, Taehyung sshi.” A small smile formed on your lips as you bowed your head and entered the house. Like the other day, Taehyung only drove off after he was sure you had entered the house.

Only after you entered the house and you heard Taehyung drive off, that you realised you had forgotten the return him his jacket. You removed it carefully, as if any movement would cause it to tear like tissue. You inspected it, trying to figure out if you should wash it on your own, and risk ruining the expensive material, or just send it for dry cleaning.

“Hi, Wonwoo. Did you make it home safe?”

“Oh, (y/n). Yes, I am home. I went home after you sent me that text. Are you alright? You scared me.”

“Yes, I am alright. I just found a quiet space to chill for a while so I didn’t want you to wait for me. I just got home. Sorry for ruining the night. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” You said, putting your shoes away.

“Don’t say that, (y/n). I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy yourself.”

“I did enjoy myself, Wonwoo. Thank you for bringing me out to feel better.” You laughed. After wishing each other good night, you hung up.

You took a shower and was feeling peckish so you made yourself some ramyeon. There was always ramyeon in the kitchen for when you or your mother needed a late night snack after working.

“I’ll have to drop the jacket off at the dry cleaners tomorrow.” You groaned tiredly, looking at the blazer that rested over the back of the chair.

Hoseok was one of the first ones to wake up. After a day of working and a night of drinking, the boys all usually slept in during the weekends. The moment his foot touched the bottom of the stairs, a maid ran over to him, bowing her head in fear.

“What is it?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your workers are here, sir. They said that it is important for you to see them immediately.” She relayed timidly, afraid of making him angry.

“Send them in. And get my breakfast.” Hoseok shooed her away before shuffling to the dining room. Like any other normal person, he didn’t like having to work on the weekends.

“Good morning, Boss.” The 3 men put the crate that they were carrying down and bowed to Hoseok.

“This better be important for you to be here on a Saturday morning.” Hoseok said, not even looking up at them. He was more focused on the tray of food that the butler had placed down in front of him.

“The shipment is here early. We thought you would want to check it right away.” One of the men informed. Hoseok put his napkin on the table and stood up.

“Show me.” He commanded as he walked over. The men opened the box, revealing the contents inside.

“Very nice...” He picked up one of the items.

“Business on a Saturday morning, Hobah?” Yoongi came in. Hoseok’s workers bowed upon seeing the pale man enter the dining room. But of course, he didn’t even spare them a glance. He sat down in his allocated seat, waiting for the staff to serve him his breakfast. His breakfast was usually an iced coffee then his food 20 minutes later.

“Can’t help it, hyung. You want the best, you’ve got to work when others aren’t.” Hoseok laughed while Yoongi snorted at his comment. He placed the items back into the crate.

“Leave this here. I’ll show the others to see what they think. Good work. We’ll discuss the rest on Monday.” Hoseok said.

“Of course, boss. Have a nice weekend.” The 3 bowed, moving the crate to the side of the room before leaving the mansion. Hoseok took his seat across Yoongi.

“So hyung, I heard you had a little moment with the girl.” Hoseok asked.

“What moment?” Yoongi asked back, no emotion on his face as he sipped the last bit of his coffee.

“Jimin said you loyally guarded the door for her as she used our toilet. Even stayed with her in the hallway after to comfort her.” He explained. Yoongi rolled his eyes, his brothers really needed better things to talk about.

“I saw her the moment she entered, I’m surprised you guys didn’t considering how high our booth is. She needed to use a toilet and the queue was insane so I offered her to use ours. And I wasn’t comforting her, she needed a quiet place and I stayed with her. That’s all.” Yoongi explained.

“Well, that’s a lot more interaction than what the rest have got. Looks like she’ll warm up to you first.” Hoseok said.

“No, she’ll warm up to Taehyung first. He was the one that sent her home.” Yoongi dug into his food on the tray that the butler brought him. Hoseok hummed but couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him.

“What’s Hobi laughing about?” Namjoon came in. He had been awake for a while, opting to sit in his room to read the newspaper rather than come downstairs right away.

“No idea.” Yoongi replied, putting a chopstick of rice into his mouth.

“Ah, seriously, Hobi. I thought we established that we are not going to bring work into the dining room?” Namjoon tsked at the crate in the room.

“It’s fine, Namjoon ah. I’ll move it after breakfast. The boys needed me to inspect the goods, that’s all. Even risked bothering me on a Saturday to do it.” Hoseok waved the leader off. Namjoon shook his head with a sigh.

“Bring my breakfast.” He ordered as he took his seat at the head of the table. The butler bowed and left.

“I’m done. Going back to sleep.” Yoongi stood up and shuffled out of the room. The weekend was for Yoongi to catch up on sleep, it was normal to not see him for the entirety of the two days because he was just sleeping or resting in bed. Jin and Taehyung were the last ones that had breakfast. Jungkook and Jimin would sleep in until dinner time.

“Here. Take what is yours and leave the rest. I told you I would get things done.” Jin dropped the stack of files on the table. Namjoon, Hoseok and Taehyung shrugged, going through the pile to retrieve their things.

“So, hyung, did you find out anymore information about (y/n) when you did your stalking?” Taehyung asked.

“Yah, Taehyung! That was supposed to be confidential.” Jin hissed at the younger exposing him to the rest. However, the younger just shrugged.

“You’re running a check on her?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not running a check on her... Well, at least not the background checks I usually do. I just wanted to find out about her to maybe try to connect with her in some way. She is a closed book.” Jin explained.

“So what if she is a closed book, I’m sure you can still find whatever you need on her.” Hosoek laughed.

“That’s the thing... She does not have much of a record except for her birth certificate and basic school details. Everything else either doesn’t exist or has been wiped.” Jin informed.

“Wait, you’re telling me there is actually information that you can’t find?”

“How do you know information has been wiped? She could have just not had that much of an eventful life so far. I doubt she can wipe her own records and she doesn’t seem to have a reason to do that.” Namjoon said. He didn’t know you but you didn’t seem like a skillful hacker that could wipe records.

“I know information has been wiped because I am the one who wiped them...” Jin admitted with his head slightly hung.

“What?”

“Boss wanted me to wipe them. He was paranoid, especially when it came to her. So my task was to regularly wipe her records that were 'not relevant’. Hospital visits, stuff like that...” Jin gulped.

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xxkiller-muffinxx · 9 months

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I'll always be there for you

Clay x inventor! reader

Summary: You are an inventor from Putt Putt Village. Using the golf course for building things that can aid the trolls. You were the best! Until you moved to Pop village, where you have to impress all of the trolls to make a good first impression. Then with the help of Clay’s affirmations you wind up doing just that

Words: 1009

Warnings: All of this is fluff

A/N: I admit it, I hated trying to figure out Clays character without having to watch the movie again. I have watched so many videos just trying to get it right and it's been likean earworm, tearing me apart from the inside out. That's why at some point it feels a little more headcanony than other parts. (we dont get enough of Clay honestly.) Anyway this was fun to write, I can't wait for you all to read it! Happy New year everyone!

❉❊❉

You groaned as you came out from under the machine. It’s a machine that doubles glitter. It was just to be a little in spirit of returning to troll society, but it’s turning out to be the hardest machine you’ve ever worked on.

You dust glitter off your arms and adjust your clothing. A part of you feels embarrassed to be working on a glitter machine like this. You have so many other projects and your working on this to be cool to other trolls? You’re close to giving up when-

“Hey! I’ve been looking for you! I asked around town and- What. Is. That.” Clay stopped in his tracks as he pointed to the large (but not too large) glitter-covered machine. You sigh and brush yourself off, inherently spreading more glitter.

You cover your face in embarrassment. “No, it’s nothing, just a thing I’ve been working on.” You say, not expecting Clay of all people to show up suddenly and notice your big “surprise.” Your cheeks flushing a deep shade of red.

Before you could protest, Clay was already inspecting the machine.

“Clay-”

“It’s a party machine!”

“Clay, don't do this.”

“Or it’s a…sun bathing machine.”

“You’re not serious please just-”

“Ooooor it’s a Glitter doubler machine that doubles one piece of glitter into hundreds more.” Clay look at you as if he was correct and you groaned in embarrassment. He walked over to you and stood next to you. “Can’t hide anything from me, you know this. What’s wrong?”

You frown, crossing your arms. “I feel like I’m doing too much to impress these new Trolls, I mean glitter machine? Someone has to have already made that.” You say as you nervously bite your nails. Clay’s arm wraps around your neck and pulls you into his shoulder.

You lean into him, grumbling your grumbles that he loves so much. Clay shrugs slightly. “Well, if you’re doing too much than…they’d want you to do more.” Clay sends you a serious look and you instantly recoil, he can’t be serious. Clay interjects your thoughts “I know it sounds crazy but have you met Viva’s sister? She’s crazy when it comes to going big or going home. She never goes home.”

You snorted at the sentiment, but looked at your invention and frowned. “But what if it explodes when showing off? That defeats the purpose! Everyone will hate me for sure.” You we’re becoming a nervous wreck the more you thought about it,

Clay’s hand went over your temples, beginning to rub gently at them to stop any sights of an inventor's headache. “Okay okay, bring it back down. There you are.” He said, nipping your chin with his thumb and index finger. You laughed, mostly because your neck was ticklish, but also because you blush hard ever time he does it.

Clay looked you in the eyes and crossed his arms. “Let’s think about disasters; after you build it huh?” He offered, you rolled your eyes and he clicked his tongue at you. “That’s my girl, now let’s get to work!”

✩✪✩✪✩

Now, you stood next to clay for your first test. When suddenly, glitter sputtered out the sides and the top. You groaned. Clay then pointed out that it's doing one thing they wanted, but not another. “Okay, we're doing something right and something wrong.” You look at the machine and feel a sense a pride in it now.

“Okay, well, obviously it's something on the sides. I have to cover those up somehow.” You'd deduce and giggle when Clay made a mock surprised face. “Alright let's do it!”

✩✪✩✪✩

You laid on the ground stomach full after Viva brought you French fries and meat circles. You were halfway to a food coma when Clay asked “This isn't just about the machine right, the change is hitting you too?” he asked, looking at you with worried eyes.

You just nodded. “I understand change is hard, but this? This is crazy. Moving entirely out of Putt Putt Village for this? It's enough to make your skin crawl.”

“Well just so you know your are not the only one, every other troll is in some kind of tiff about it too. I mean I had to give up my admin house.”

“You hated living in that thing.”

“Quite the contrary, it was actually delectable beyond reasoning.”

“You always do the voice when I'm right. Just admit it alright?”

“Nothing to admit.”

“I sometimes hate that I love you.”

✩✪✩✪✩

Finally, the moment had come, everything fell into place. You decided the go big or go home approach would be best. So now you had a small glitter volcano, it's small, adorable, and simple. However its just big enough to where you can't go home.

Surprise surprise, everyone adored it. Glitter trolls have already been caught bathing in it, but you only build the machines, you don't monitor them. You are in Poppy’s pod getting a mouthful about how great that glitter-cano is. Then when you came out you got more compliments! It wasn't until you and Floyd were eating lunch together that Clay even asked. “So, did everyone like the-”

“YES! They loved It! They all loved it so much that they told me they liked it and I've never felt greater!” You squealed as you looked at the pin Poppy had given you. It wasn't much, it just said “You did it!” even then you still were pretty stoked.

Clay smiled. Leaning on his hand as he looked at you. “That's awesome! I'm so proud of you.” he reached across the table to offer a high five, and you smirked and took his hand. He was confused until you pulled him to meet you in the middle to accept a kiss on the forehead.

He slapped a hand onto his forehead and you laughed softly. “Thank you for being my number one Clay.” Clay admittedly blushed, but he'd never say that he did. He waved a hand.

“It's nothing, you know I'll always be here for you.”

#fanfiction #trolls #trolls band together #trolls fandom #trolls fanfic #trolls fanfiction #trolls franchise #trolls x reader #dreamworks trolls #clay x reader #trolls clay #trolls clay x reader #trolls 3 #clay trolls #brozone x reader #brozone

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writing-for-life · 4 months

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Ok, I’m not going to get involved in a certain thread because I don’t want any drama and the line of argumentation leans too much to one side already (the views of the vocal majority in this fandom) for it to make much sense to contribute, but I had a few thoughts today:

In a fandom where people write AUs full of cows and merpeople and other shenanigans that have nothing to do with canon (or the actual characters, to be frank), they can’t do that for Calliope (or any other female character, for that matter)?

She doesn’t get to play in the sandbox?

We don’t have the imagination to turn her into one of the two dolls that kiss?

We have to keep her in character while everyone else can be turned into… whatever person (certainly neither the one of the comics nor the show)?

We constantly have to remember her strife and trauma and can’t invent (!, that’s what writing is about!) a different or new side to her? Or a better future? One in which she gets to be happy?

Or we can’t turn her into someone she canonically isn’t?

While all of this always, always works for Dream? Or the hairy guy?

And speaking of said guy: Do we have any reason to think Dream would treat him better than Nada? We’re automatically assuming he’d do the same thing to Calliope, but not to him? Or: Why do we assume he would do what he did to Nada to any other love interest, because canonically, there’s no evidence for that (we wrote about this on here before)? So no, that line of argument just doesn’t fly in my view.

If Calliope and Dream have chemistry and people are able to acknowledge it (which most do), that on its own is enough to ship them. The chemistry argument works with every M/M ship. Why doesn’t it work with her?

Oh, she is allowed in gen fics (and I am a fan of those btw, but that’s past the point), or as a character with very little agency, or any personal or sexual desires. Even better if she serves the ship. That’s okay of course, I forgot. Reminds me of most of the women of the Sandman—I wonder why.

I just wish people would give the honest reason without going through all the mental gymnastics of why Dreamuse is not an interesting (or even bad or problematic) ship, and the other one is the best invention since sliced bread:

They want to see/imagine two guys together.

There, I said it, it wasn’t hard. It’s really as simple as that in fandom, it’s a predictable fantasy, and it’s the same in every fandom. The Sandman isn’t any different.

M/F ships are frowned upon because they’re “heteronormative”, and yet, (mostly) women proceed to project (mostly) heteronormative relationship dynamics on two guys of which they fancy at least one and use the other to project themselves on. Sometimes, they fancy both of them and get more of what they have the hots for. Good for them, there’s nothing wrong with it. We have oodles of research by now why some women prefer M/M porn; it’s not earth-shattering, groundbreaking or “queer-positive” (it sometimes fetishises homosexuality though, but that’s a different topic). It’s been like that since at least the times of Spirk, and probably longer. It’s actually a fairly (dare I utter the word on here?) straight female sexual fantasy. The queer-positivity everyone is so enamoured with is more than, and not singularly limited to, shipping M/M—as a bisexual woman, I personally can’t identify with that line of thinking at all, but other people’s mileage might vary…

If people are into smutty/explicit fanfic , that’s just how it works: Some women project on a female body while imagining to get railed by a guy, others prefer to imagine two guys because they fancy men. Again: Nothing wrong with it, but it’s also not as deep as people often pretend it is.

Yes, I wrote about that one before as well. That’s why I can do it again—“once your reputation is ruined” and all that 🤣

It’s ok to be horny for two guys without turning it into a brain-contorting statement every time.

It’s also okay to reflect on the wider implications of completely erasing women from EVERY fandom, especially if you identify as one.

Edited on May 27 since it’s obviously necessary:

If people’s main takeaway from this post is that it’s about criticising fetishising homosexuality, they clearly have a reading comprehension problem and should read it again. “Sometimes” doesn’t mean “always”, plus it wasn’t even a main point. I even said that fancying m/m is a fairly middle-of-the-road-fantasy, and that there’s nothing wrong with it. The internalised misogyny that shows in people who think they are “saving women from men” by completely erasing them from the narrative and only centering men is a different topic, but these two things aren’t the same.

If people’s main response to this post is, “Then write your own stuff,” they also have a reading comprehension problem and did not get at all what this is about. It’s also the slightly old getting standard response to anything that invites critical thinking, but that one isn’t all that surprising anymore. The assumption people aren’t writing their own stuff is also a bit… silly? But I imagine that misconception is down to the fact that those people never check any tags beyond one or two, and certainly never any that involve female characters. [And to say it quite frankly: That some people wrote verbatim, “If you want Dream and Calliope to fuck so badly, write it yourself,” just shows me that they’re incapable of viewing anything but through a sex/smut lens. Good for you, kids, your world sounds so exciting *slow clap*. But maybe don’t project your thirst on everyone else.]

Some people in the OP this was about even made good points, and I didn’t criticise any of those because they are true.

This post is about the double standards people apply when they say why one ship (m/m) is more successful than the other (m/f):

Trauma? Never a problem when it’s Dream.

Relationship that somehow “shouldn’t work”? Never a problem in tropes like enemies to lovers and many others that are totally used for thee ship. Or with two people (read: men) they really want to see together.

Bending a character beyond recognition or giving them a totally different backstory, because that would solve the “relationship has run its course”-issue? Never a problem with the two guys who can be anything from a cow to a mafia boss. But the women? Nope, we have to remember their trauma and strife, keep them exactly as in the source material and protect their sacredness by completely ignoring them.

Still don’t get that this is not about a ship per se but the erasure of all women from stories bar being cheerleaders for thee m/m ship in some way? Okay, then that one’s really beyond anything I can explain, although I think some people just like to consciously misrepresent stuff or really don’t do anything but skim-read. That’s not on me I guess…

#the sandman #sandman #dreamuse #dream of the endless #calliope the sandman #ye olde #fandom misogyny #morpheus #calliope sandman #folks this is not about shipping wars #but why am I surprised this is what you want to turn it into #it’s not about write what you want to see #it’s not about one particular ship #it’s sbout erasing women from meaningful stories #and not allowing them the kind of agency the guys always get

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skzkiof · 5 months

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kiss me;

ivantill, 8.7k read on ao3

For a second he just stood there dumbly, eyes wide open. He heard a gasp from the side then a whispered, “I thought they weren’t actually supposed to kiss here?” Till hadn’t prepared himself for this, but he knew he couldn’t risk ruining the scene even more. Eyelashes fluttering, he closed his eyes and cupped Ivan’s face, kissing him back with fervor.

Till couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Surely he had misheard, or maybe he hadn’t actually woken up this morning and he was still dreaming.

His manager looked as real as ever, though, staring at him with a hint of knowing amusement. He couldn’t stand her sometimes. (He loved her.)

“I thought you’d be excited,” she sighed dramatically, crossing her arms. “I guess maybe we should consider pulling out of the movie and – ”

His hand jerked out without his permission, fast as lightning, grabbing her arm. “Don’t even joke about that, Mizi.”

Her answering grin was all teeth. “They’ll want to do a chemistry read, first,” she put her hand over his. “Don’t get too excited. Nothing is guaranteed yet.”

For all they knew, he wouldn’t even get cast. Or if he did, maybe they’d kick Till off the project and replace him if their chemistry wasn’t promising enough. He really hoped it would be. But either way, he would be meeting him.

Till felt himself grinning before he could stop it, “I’m meeting Ivan.”

Till couldn’t recall the exact moment he discovered Ivan. To be fair, most people probably couldn’t. He was everywhere, it seemed – commercials, movies, television, even music videos.

What he could recall – as clear as if it’d happened yesterday – was the feeling he had felt. It was like a dam had opened and there was no stopping it. He realized he wanted more out of life.

He didn’t just want to continue being an extra on every set, the side-character who was killed off after one or two episodes.

Since then, he’d been able to build a decent name for himself. He wasn’t Ivan, by any means, but he was well-known enough to get the lead in an upcoming highly anticipated movie. And if the universe smiled upon him, just one last time, he would hopefully get to have Ivan as his love interest.

“I am running on exactly two hours of sleep, by the way.”

Mizi snorted, side-eyeing him. “I can tell,” she teased, and he knew it was just that: a joke but he still couldn’t help the sudden rush of insecurity.

As if sensing it by some form of magic, she slowed to a stop in the hallway and took his arm.

“You look great, Till. You haven’t even gotten makeup done yet and you still look amazing.” She squeezed his arm. “You’ve got this, you know that, right?”

He forced a smile. “Don’t you know confidence is my middle name?”

And usually it was true. If there was one thing he had over most of his competition in the industry, it was overflowing confidence.

Mizi smiled back, far more sincere. “Come on,” she said, tugging him along gently. “We don’t want to be late.”

Before the chemistry read, he went to get his makeup done as scheduled. Hyuna was no better than Mizi, grinning wildly as she gently applied a bit of concealer under his eyes.

“Let me guess,” she said, “didn’t sleep much?”

Till rolled his eyes, but made sure not to move. “I wonder if every actor has such a nosy makeup artist or is it just me?”

“Hmm, I would say you’re just lucky.” She winked and stepped back. “You look good enough to eat.”

He snorted. If he wasn’t so nervous underneath it all, he might’ve cracked a joke. Like how the only person he wanted to eat him was —

The door swung open, startling him. “Come on – ” he relaxed when he saw it was just Mizi. “We only have a few minutes.”

Quickly stumbling out of the chair, he rushed to her side and followed her into the hallway. As they walked toward the room set aside for their scheduled chemistry read, Mizi looked him up and down, not even trying to be discreet. Till made sure no one was around before quietly flipping her off.

Couldn’t tarnish his reputation and all that.

She giggled, light and airy. “I was just going to say,” she bumped their shoulders together, gentle, “you look good. Don’t let anything bring you down, okay?”

And he knew it wasn’t just empty words; Mizi had been there for him since the start of his career, long before he’d managed to actually make a name for himself. She’d been there with open arms (and an extra large pizza) every time he’d been turned down from a role, every time a casting director had scoffed like he was hilarious for even thinking he had a chance.

It had been hard, then, but motivating. He never wanted to be underestimated ever again. He thought he’d never feel so scared again, walking toward an audition room. It was a pointless fear. He had joked but surely they wouldn’t actually try to kick him out, even if the chemistry read wasn’t a success.

“Break a leg,” Mizi whispered just as they stopped in front of the door.

Till could hear voices through the wood. He concentrated and tried to see if he could pick out Ivan’s voice, in the sea of them, but he wasn’t sure if he could trust himself. He thought he heard him, a familiar drawl he had heard on television a million times, but he could’ve just been imagining it.

Mizi glanced at him, a silent question. He just nodded.

Without another word between them, she turned and opened the door.

Till didn’t even realize he’d been holding his breath as his eyes scanned the room: it was all the usual people – the casting director sat at the table with two other staff members on each side, a few other stray staff members were scattered around the room.

In the middle of all of them was Ivan.

He was smiling politely as others talked to him, a small quirk of his mouth. Till must’ve stared for a second too long because suddenly Ivan was lifting his head and their eyes met.

Till had seen him a hundred times, at least, through a screen but he wasn’t sure anything could’ve prepared him for this moment.

For seeing him, here, like this, in real life. Ivan was even more stunning in person.

Ivan’s smile stretched just a little wider, barely noticeable. Till should’ve smiled back but he felt like he was frozen.

“Okay,” the casting director – Luka – stood up from the table. “From what I’ve been told, this is your first time meeting, correct?”

Till didn’t even realize he was addressing them until Mizi gave a gentle nudge at his side. He flushed, standing a little taller. He might’ve been meeting his idol, for lack of a better word, but he was still a professional.

“Yes,” he answered, cursing the slight shake to his voice.

Ivan nodded. “I’ve seen him plenty, of course, but never met, no.”

Till felt a shiver down his spine. Ivan. Ivan had seen him before, too, which shouldn’t have been surprising. He had been on a number of notable series by now, but for some reason he still hadn’t been prepared to hear it.

“Wonderful,” Luka said, “Everyone – ” He did a little twirl with his finger, making a point to address everyone in the room. “Out.”

Till knew the process by now. Luka’s process, at least. He could be a little unorthodox. Usually he didn’t mind it, but right now he was already starting to feel sweat pool at the small of his back.

Mizi let out a tiny huff of amusement as she helped to herd everyone out of the room. Last to go was Luka, who didn’t even say a word before closing the door.

If Ivan was confused, he didn’t voice it. For a moment, the room was silent with just the two of them.

“Sorry,” Till said eventually, clearing his throat. He dared a glance in Ivan’s direction; he was standing just a few feet away, a thoughtful quirk to his head. “Luka can be a bit, uh. Unorthodox in his methods. He always likes to give actors a few minutes by themselves before starting the read.”

He was proud of himself; his voice was steady and clear.

Ivan hummed, but still didn’t say anything. Till took advantage of the moment to really look Ivan over. He was beautiful; dark hair swept back with a few loose strands, eyes lined with black – not too much, just enough to somehow make his dark eyes look even darker, his lips shined with a thin layer of gloss, skin clear and perfect.

The way his mouth was twisted, Till could even see his fang. Not literal, of course, it was just his canine – especially sharp and pronounced – but it had always been one of his selling points that fans seemed to like.

He looked like he was conjured up in a lab somehow.

And Till, well. He wasn’t naive. He knew he was attractive – wouldn’t have gotten this far in the industry if he wasn’t – but he felt lacking compared to Ivan, more than he had in a long time.

Without thinking, he reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it. But the wild look was part of his appeal, Hyuna had always said. Made him stand out.

“Are you going to keep staring at me or actually introduce yourself?”

Till startled, yanking his hand out of his hair hard enough he winced a little. He opened his mouth, ready to apologize, but then he saw Ivan was smiling. Barely, really, more like a smirk.

Clearing his throat, he wiped his hands off on his jeans in what he hoped was a discreet move (he was still sweating like crazy) and stepped forward. “Why should I introduce myself when you apparently already know my name?”

He froze as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He was so stupid.

This was Ivan – the Ivan – and here he was already messing everything up because he never quite knew when to shut his mouth. He waited, expecting the worst. He wouldn’t have even been surprised if he’d pushed him out of the way and stormed out of the room.

But instead Ivan did the complete opposite. He gave a little laugh, eyes crinkling just a little around the edges. Till felt something warm blossom in the pit of his stomach.

“I haven’t had someone talk to me like that in, well, ages.” His eyes were still sparkling when he finally stopped laughing. He extended a hand. Till moved quickly before he could think too hard and just make himself more nervous. Ivan’s hand was warm, smooth.

Till knew his own hands weren’t nearly as smooth, from playing guitar. It was just a hobby he had picked up on the side, nothing more, but his hands still suffered for it.

“You must play an instrument,” Ivan said, startling him. For a moment, he wondered if he’d accidentally spoken his thoughts but then Ivan tilted his head. “Guitar?”

Till swallowed around the lump in his throat; Ivan’s thumb gently moved over his knuckles, once, fleeting, before he was pulling away. Maybe he’d imagined it. “Yeah. Um. Just a hobby.”

“I would love to hear you play, if ever given the chance,” Ivan said. Normally, Till would’ve brushed it off as empty words but there was something oddly sincere about the way he said it.

He dropped his gaze, focusing on the collar of Ivan’s shirt. Anything to make sure he didn’t keep staring at his face. “Yeah. Sure.”

Before he – or Ivan – could say anything else, the door was opened without even a knock. Till spun around as Luka entered the room followed by the rest of the staff and finally Mizi alongside a woman he didn’t quite recognize. He wondered if she was part of staff and somehow he had just never noticed her until now.

That question was answered quickly when she went to Ivan’s side. “You’ve totally got this,” she said, hushed but just loud enough Till could hear.

He wondered if that was true. Didn’t want to get his hopes up.

“Okay, since I’ve given you both more than enough time to get acquainted.” Luka nodded at the scripts on the table. “Go ahead.”

Till forced his hand to not shake as he reached out and grabbed his version of the script; the part they’d be rehearsing, today, had been highlighted. It wasn’t too long. He just had to get through the scene without any mistakes.

He skimmed through it quickly, saw Ivan doing the same, even though they had both already read the script. Ivan, possibly only one or twice, but Till had read it nearing a dozen times.

So how did he manage to forget what happened at the end?

They didn’t kiss, not in this scene, but they almost did and that was enough to have Till suddenly rethinking everything. You’re a professional, he reminded himself, and tried to believe it.

He had certainly kissed plenty of people on set by now but admittedly he had never found any of them quite as alluring as Ivan.

Still, this was a chance to prove himself. He wouldn’t let that get in the way of doing his job properly.

“We don’t have all day,” Luka said, as impatient as ever.

Till resisted the urge to glare at him and simply set the script aside; it wasn’t frowned upon to read from the script during chemistry reads, of course, but he had the entire thing memorized already.

Ivan probably hadn’t been able to memorize it in such a short time but Till was surprised to find he set his script aside as well. He was always called an acting prodigy by media, the best the industry had seen in ages, and it seemed like it went beyond just a good performance on screen.

They both stepped closer to each other, waited until Luka gave the final nod.

All jokes aside, Till really was a professional. He felt like he was a different person when he got into character. Immediately he felt his eyes start to sting, his bottom lip tremble a little.

“You lied to me,” he said, voice thick with emotion.

It was surprisingly easy to look Ivan in the eyes all of a sudden. Ivan stared back just as intensely, reached for his hands. He held them, loose and gentle. “You know I didn’t have a choice.”

Till jerked his hands away. “But you promised me.”

“I know, I know,” Ivan’s eyes were glossy too, brimming with so much emotion Till had to remind himself they were acting. He couldn’t remember ever having to do that before. “But I need you to trust me, okay?”

Till swallowed. “I – I don’t know if I can,” he whispered, just loud enough for Luka and the others to hear.

Ivan frowned, looking thoughtful for a moment. “How can I convince you to trust me?”

He opened his mouth, closed it, cursed himself because – he’d fucking forgotten the line. How could he have forgotten the line? He dared a quick glance at Luka, who was watching him with slightly narrowed eyes.

He was so screwed. Ivan was definitely getting the role, no doubt, but not before Till was probably kicked off the project.

And now he was so nervous he was shaking a little, hopefully not enough to be noticed by Luka and the others but there was no hiding it from Ivan, as close as he was.

So much for being a professional.

Maybe it would be better just to get it over with and admit his mistake, take whatever consequences would follow, even if that meant being kicked off the project. Even if it meant not getting to work with Ivan.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, Ivan surged forward and kissed him.

For a second he just stood there dumbly, eyes wide open. He heard a gasp from the side then a whispered, “I thought they weren’t actually supposed to kiss here?”

The only thing that followed was silence, but Till knew the answer; he might’ve forgotten his line but he still remembered how the scene ended – Ivan’s hand on his neck, thumb stroking his jaw as he begged him for one more chance.

Not a kiss, but something close. The actual kiss came far later in the script.

Till hadn’t prepared himself for this, but he knew he couldn’t risk ruining the scene even more. Eyelashes fluttering, he closed his eyes and cupped Ivan’s face, kissing him back with fervor.

It was like something out of his wildest dreams but also not at all.

After a few seconds, he dared to open his eyes, surprised to find Ivan already staring back at him.

Suddenly Ivan was pulling away, turning toward Luka. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away.”

Till licked his lips, flushed when he realized what he’d done and quickly pursed his lips into a thin line to ignore the urge to do it again.

“Well,” Luka looked torn between amusement and annoyance, “I supposed you were going to kiss him eventually one way or another.”

Till blinked as the words settled. “Wait, you mean – ”

“Don’t get too excited,” he interrupted, already standing, “but you should be optimistic.” Weirdly, he said it while staring at Till like he was the one auditioning for the spot, not Ivan. There was no way he knew, right? Or maybe he was letting him know he was going to be kind enough to ignore his obvious mistake. “We’ll call you once we’ve discussed it and made a final decision.”

Till watched as Luka left with the staff, not even giving them a glance back. For once, he was thankful to be ignored.

Once they were gone, Mizi rushed to his side. “Are you okay?” she asked, side-eyeing Ivan skeptically.

He appreciated her concern, as always, but he was fine. If kissing strangers was an issue for him, he probably would’ve picked a different career path, but even those kisses were usually planned for and this wasn’t, which was jarring, yes, but he wasn’t upset.

Ivan’s manager was at his side, too, looking at him with disapproval. Till wondered how often he did unexpected stuff like that.

Finally he brushed her off and stepped forward, closer to Till. Mizi pursed her lips but didn’t intervene; she really was the perfect manager for him.

“I apologize,” he said, giving a slight bow. “I shouldn’t have done that without warning, but…”

He trailed off, and Mizi finally spoke, “But?”

But Till already knew the answer. Ivan smiled, but it wasn’t mean. “You forgot your line,” he said. It wasn’t a question. Mizi startled, glancing at the script still laid out on the table. “An honest mistake. I didn’t want you getting chided for it, and I thought it’d work as a good enough distraction.”

It certainly had. Till could still feel the press of his lips – plush, but just a little dry.

“You did that for Till?” Mizi asked, sounding skeptical. Till couldn’t blame her; people in the industry rarely looked out for each other like that, nevertheless strangers.

Ivan nodded, his smile growing just a little wider. “I guess you could say I’m intrigued.” He extended a hand and Till took a second too long to move, realizing his intent. Ivan squeezed his hand. “I look forward to working together.”

Till envied his confidence. Technically, nothing was confirmed yet. But even he knew it wasn’t up in the air. Luka just liked making people sweat.

“Me too,” he said.

“Did you see Ivan’s manager?” Mizi asked the next day. Shooting wouldn’t start for a few weeks but she came over often just to hang out.

Till blinked. “The girl with the, uh, blue hair and piercing stare?”

He didn’t miss the way her mouth twitched, forming a smile for only a second. “Yeah.”

Till had recognized that smile, however brief. He looked back to the television. “You should go for it.”

“Wh – what?” she stammered, nearly spilling their bowl of popcorn. “I don’t – I mean – ”

He grinned, side-eyeing her. “I always knew you were into the stoic types.”

“She wasn’t – ” Mizi pursed her lips, looking down. “When you two were doing the read, you know how we all left? Well, we talked some.” Her cheeks were flushed, nearly the same shade of her regularly-dyed hair. “She was nicer than you’d think, looking at her.”

Till wasn’t sure how much he believed her. Everyone was nice to Mizi. She was just that kind of person. You would have to be pure evil to be mean to her. “I trust your judgment,” he said instead, reaching out and squeezing her arm.

She peered at him from under her eyelashes. “But what if it complicates things? Especially when you’ll be working with Ivan for the next few months. And I mean, I don’t even know if she’s, you know.”

“And you’ll never know if you don’t ask,” he replied, making sure to soften his voice. “And don’t worry about me, okay? I can take care of my own shit.”

Till was confident. It was something Mizi always said she admired about him; he knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t afraid to work for it.

But he was also well-aware of his own shortcomings. He could be testy and impatient, and didn’t always take being corrected or criticized well.

“What if I say something wrong?” he whined, standing in front of the oversized mirror in his living room.

Mizi glanced up from her phone. “Then you – and I know this is an abstract concept to you – but you apologize.”

Till glared at her through the mirror. “And what if he says something wrong?”

“You wait it out,” she replied just as easily. “I mean, he seemed nice enough at the chemistry read.” She set her phone aside, seemingly done with it for now. “He didn’t have to help you like that.”

Till felt his cheeks grow warm just remembering the kiss. In the moment, he had been able to control himself, too caught up in making sure he didn’t ruin the scene more or – worse – lose his role. But now, looking back, he couldn’t quite believe he had kissed Ivan.

It was always going to happen, Luka was right, if Ivan got the role but somehow that didn’t make it any easier to believe.

And he had gotten the role; Luka had called him this morning with the good news. After that, Till had thought about texting Ivan, congratulating him. They had exchanged numbers for a reason.

But he couldn’t quite work up the guts to do it.

He must’ve waited too long because eventually a text had popped up on his own phone from ‘Ivan’. (He had debated adding a heart before realizing that was asking for trouble.)

“Since we’ll officially be working together,” it had read, “I would like to get to know each other better.”

Till had mulled over how to respond for so long he had eventually texted Mizi instead for help. With her help, he had responded back with a simple, “How about brunch?”

He still wasn’t sure people actually used the word brunch in real life but he had trusted Mizi more than himself in the moment, and either way it worked out because Ivan said yes.

He said yes with a little :) to be precise and Till felt like his heart was going to burst. He was playing a dangerous game, he knew, letting himself feed into this when they were coworkers, nothing else, but he couldn’t help it.

And Mizi was enabling it.

After their conversation, Mizi had invited herself over to help him get ready. Fair enough, because without Hyuna he wasn’t really too sure how to do much more than throw on a shirt and jeans.

She had helped him with some basic makeup – a bit of eyeliner and gloss – then picked out his outfit for him, which he still wasn’t sure about.

It was brunch, after all, but she had picked out a long-sleeved silky blue shirt and black jeans. He felt a little overdressed but she had assured him it was perfect.

“I should get going,” she announced, tearing him out of his downward spiral. She jumped off the couch and walked over, peering in the mirror alongside him. “You look hot.”

Till snorted, shaking his head. “I used to dream of you hearing you say that.”

And it was true; when they had first met, when his career was still new and fresh, he had immediately developed a crush on her. Now, he was glad they were just friends. Now, they were so close it didn’t even feel weird joking about it.

Mizi winked playfully and patted him on the back. “Just be yourself.”

That was what he was afraid of.

Mizi left after that, which was expected – it was only an hour until Ivan was set to arrive – but being alone didn’t help his nerves at all.

Nearly exactly on the dot, Till’s doorbell rang. Old-fashioned, really, because most people just texted when they arrived.

Smoothing his shirt down in the mirror, and reminding himself this wasn’t a date, he walked over and opened the door.

Thankfully, he hadn’t been the only one to get dressed up. Ivan wore a long-sleeved black shirt, tucked neatly into dark blue slacks. His hair was swept back out of his face; if he wore makeup, it wasn’t obvious enough for Till to be able to tell but either way he was as stunning as ever.

Till realized – belatedly – that he had just been staring at him without saying anything for at least a minute. Flushing, he stepped out of the way, a silent invitation inside.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, anything, Ivan was saying, “I almost feel bad for what I’m about to suggest,” he smiled, small, “considering how good you look.”

Till blinked once, twice. “Oh. Um. What?”

Stupid. He was so stupid.

“You obviously got dressed up intending to go out,” Ivan continued, still smiling with a hint of amusement dancing in his dark eyes, “which I know we discussed, but…”

Till swallowed; why was his mouth so dry? “But?”

“But,” Ivan tilted his head a little. “I can’t speak for you, of course, but getting recognized in public is daunting.”

Till was suddenly reminded of their differences. He’d been recognized a few times, sure, but undoubtedly nothing compared to what Ivan went through. His face was plastered everywhere – billboards, magazines, commercials – so no wonder he was tired of getting recognized everywhere he went.

Even if you didn’t know Ivan, you’d at least seen his face. And most people can’t control themselves around a celebrity, regardless of personal interest.

“I understand,” he said finally, not sure what else to say.

Ivan smiled a bit wider. “So do you mind?” Till wasn’t quite sure what he was asking, but thankfully he continued before he could make a fool of himself. “I know it must also be daunting to have a stranger in your apartment.”

The dots connected quickly, suddenly. Till didn’t even have to think about the answer. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, but then, “I just – well.” Warm in the face, he gestured weakly at his kitchen. “I don’t have much.”

“No problem,” Ivan was already pulling out his phone. “We can just order something.”

That was how they ended up on his couch, shoes thrown off, eating a pizza. It was oddly comfortable, even though Till kept catching himself staring at Ivan’s mouth.

It was hard not to remember the kiss. It had just been part of the script, albeit a little early. Not to mention, Ivan had only done it to save him from making a complete fool of himself.

But it was still hard to forget, or brush off. After all, Till had admired him (and possibly had a crush on him) for so long. He never imagined just meeting him, nevertheless anything more.

“Do I have something on my face?”

Ivan’s seemingly innocent question was what finally drew him back to reality.

Till startled, nearly dropping his slice of pizza. It was starting to get cold anyway. “Um. No. I mean. Your face is fine.”

He winced at his own words, cursing himself internally.

Ivan smiled – no, that was a smirk. “I’m glad to hear you think my face is ‘fine’.”

“Well, I mean, I didn’t – your face is more than fine,” Till stammered, even as he cursed himself more with each word.

For a moment, there was silence and Till was sure he had finally properly screwed things up. But then Ivan threw his head back and started laughing hard enough he shook the couch a little.

Once he quieted down, he gazed at Till with a crooked smile. “You’re funny.”

Till flushed. “I’m sure you hear that kind of stuff all the time.”

“Mmm,” Ivan tilted his head back and forth. “Yeah, but people are usually a lot more suave about it.” When Till frowned, he nudged him with his foot. “That’s a good thing. I prefer when people don’t try so hard.”

Till couldn’t fight back a smile even if he tried. “Oh.”

“I was gonna suggest we do a readthrough of the script tonight but,” Ivan checked his phone. “It’s getting late.”

Till tried to hide his disappointment. He was surprised how much he’d enjoyed Ivan’s company. He had hoped he would, of course, but he was never sure how these things would go. Like mentioned, he didn’t always get along with people easily. And Ivan was, well, Ivan.

Famous, beautiful, rich. Till expected him to be a lot more conceited or snobby. Most of the famous people Till met were like that, after all, but not Ivan. He was sweet. A little odd, but wasn’t everyone?

“Are you free next Friday?” Ivan asked.

Till didn’t even have to think. If he had plans, he would just have to reschedule.

“Um, probably,” he said, aiming for casual and probably failing.

Ivan smiled again; he had one fang that Till was starting to think was unfairly adorable. “We can meet, then, go over the script.”

“Sounds good.” Amazing, actually, but he didn’t dare seem too eager, even though he was starting to think Ivan wouldn’t mind.

“Soooo,” Mizi slung herself over the couch ungracefully. “How did it go, hmm?”

Till snorted, pushing her out of the way to sit down. “I – ” His smile fell. Mizi was quick to adapt, sitting up properly. She had always been good at adapting to his moods. “I think I might be screwed.”

“What?” she leaned in closer. “Did he do something?”

Till appreciated her concern, as unfounded as it was. “No, he was… he was great, actually. We ate pizza and talked about a lot of nothing. He mentioned coming over next Friday so we can actually go over the script.”

“So… what’s wrong?” She was frowning, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. He couldn’t blame her.

He sighed, peering down at his hands folded together in his lap. “I think I could really like him, Mizi. Like… a lot.”

The thing was, he had never really liked someone before. He had certainly never dated. Beyond his short-lived crush on Mizi, passionate as it was, he had never even gotten the urge to date, or even do what a lot of other actors did and sleep around casually.

And now he was worried if he spent too much time with Ivan, that might change. Turn into something more than a crush from afar.

For a long moment, they were both silent. Finally, Mizi reached for his hands, cradling them gently.

“You are a really good person, Till.”

He rolled his eyes, an automatic response. She squeezed his hands harder.

“You always undervalue yourself, Till,” she continued, and he couldn’t look away from her determined gaze. “You act overconfident to make up for it, but I know you too well for that. You don’t know think someone like Ivan could ever like you but you fail to realize he’d be lucky to have you.”

He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. “I – ”

But she apparently wasn’t finished, “I met with Sua.” She paused for a moment, like she was realizing something. “Ivan’s manager,” she clarified. “We really hit it off. She cares for Ivan like I care for you, I think.”

He just nodded, unsure where this was going but happy for her either way.

“I probably shouldn’t say this, it isn’t my place but,” she smiled, small, “I will, because I think you need to hear it. Apparently Ivan can’t stop talking about you. Sua said he’s never been so interested in another person. She even asked me about you.” Her smile widened a bit. “I only said good things, of course. I knew she was just worried.”

Till couldn’t believe it. He had also never known Mizi to lie, especially about serious stuff.

“But I – I can’t,” he stammered, looking down at their hands. “Even if he was interested,” which was so hard to believe he almost felt like he was dreaming, “I can’t risk it.”

Mizi ducked her head, forcing her eyes to meet again. “Why not?”

“You know why,” he said, and he wasn’t even embarrassed that he sounded like a petulant child. “I would be risking the movie. If we had a fight or – or broke up, I don’t know if I could pretend like nothing happened.”

He was making a lot of assumptions anyway; assuming Ivan was interested in something more, when maybe he just wanted something casual or temporary. But still the details didn’t matter. Either way, Till knew he couldn’t go back to acting like only coworkers.

“Till, I know you care about this movie,” she smiled again but there was something sad about the curve of her mouth, pitying. “But sometimes life is about taking chances. You can’t just depend on your career for happiness forever.”

He wanted to argue because he couldn’t find the words. Mizi squeezed his hands even tighter. It was almost painful but also oddly comforting.

“What if you got a role a few years from now – your dream role – but then suddenly you were kicked off the cast.” Till waited, knowing she wasn’t finished. “You would be devastated, obviously, but you would be even more devastated if you had to go home to an empty apartment.”

Till licked his lips; when did they get so dry?

“Plenty of people are satisfied never having a partner. Dating.”

Mizi rolled her eyes. “I know that but I also know you’re not one of them, Till.”

She really did know him too well. “But we’re both famous, Mizi, and he’s – he’s a household name. If we dated, we couldn’t keep it from the public for too long. Someone would find out.”

“And that is something worth discussing,” she finally released his hands, choosing instead to squeeze his wrist. “With him.”

Till suddenly felt like crying. He didn’t, but his eyes burned. “What if we’re wrong? Even Sua?”

“Then you can come to me and cry it out.” She smiled, warm and sincere.

It was a decent enough backup plan. Without warning, he lunged forward and hugged her. “Have I said recently how you are the best manager in the world?”

“You don’t have to tell me, I already know.”

Till decided not to rush it, even if Mizi suggested texting Ivan and setting a closer date to see each other again.

When Friday finally rolled around, he felt like he was going to be sick.

He made a point to not dress up, just a pair of his usual jeans and a black t-shirt. If this was going to happen, he wanted to be sure it was because Ivan really liked him. Not because he thought he looked good enough to settle for.

A few minutes after 12, his doorbell rang.

Brushing by the mirror without looking, he opened the door. Ivan had apparently had the same thought; he looked as gorgeous as last time, obviously, but he was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans too with a thin jacket. His hair also wasn’t slicked back, hanging loosely around his face.

He also had a bag, probably to carry around the script and whatever else he might need.

Like last time, they ordered food and ended up on the couch. This time, however, they had the scripts. Till noticed a ton of highlighted parts in Ivan’s copy; maybe he shouldn’t have assumed he just had a natural gift for memorizing things. He had obviously worked just as hard.

For a while, they just rehearsed through the easy parts. Didn’t bother acting any of the parts out just yet.

Most of that stuff – gestures, movements – would be changed before they actually started filming anyway so Till didn’t usually worry about it, just focused on the actual dialogue.

But then they flipped the page and Till saw it: the scene where they kissed. The actual scene.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. When Till finally chanced a look up, he noticed Ivan was already looking at him.

“Do you usually practice these parts?” Ivan asked.

Till tried to decipher his voice, his expression, but it was all perfectly neutral.

“Sometimes,” he answered, because it was true. “Makes it less awkward later.” But other actors preferred keeping any kissing strictly in front of the camera. Till didn’t really have a preference.

Ivan hummed thoughtfully. “Well then, I’m up for it, if you are.”

He could almost hear Mizi in his head, telling him he shouldn’t do this. He should confess, first, otherwise it wasn’t fair. To him or Ivan. And he would confess tonight. He had already made that decision but…

Couldn’t he be just a little selfish first?

“Sure.” Understatement of the century.

Collecting their scripts, Till set them aside on the coffee table and was relieved when Ivan made the first move to scoot closer. He still couldn’t quite read his face, perfectly blank.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” Ivan said, a hand already reaching out and settling on Till’s neck, warm and heavy.

Till was pretty sure Ivan could’ve done anything to him in that moment and he still wouldn’t have asked him to stop, but he appreciated the sentiment.

Not trusting his voice, Till just gave a tiny nod and that seemed to be enough for Ivan. He leaned forward, slowly, like he was giving Till the chance to stop him if he wanted to.

He didn’t.

Finally their lips touched, just a gentle press. Ivan’s lips were even softer than he remembered, warmer too. The script didn’t detail the kiss; that would be decided later with help from the director but – Till supposed Ivan was preparing for everything as he tilted his head, pressing their lips together with a bit more fervor.

Hardly complaining, Till kissed back, scooting a little closer. That should’ve been it. Given the scene, it was doubtful the kiss was going to be anything more than this.

But Ivan didn’t pull away, and Till wasn’t going to be the first to end it.

Opening his eyes, he finally wasn’t surprised for once to find Ivan already staring back at him. What was difference, however, was the look in his eyes. Intense, but somehow warm.

Till felt a shiver down his spine and decided this was it. Words had never been his specialty. Moving quickly, he shifted up onto his knees and swung a leg over Ivan to settle on the other side, kissing him the entire time.

Only once he was settled, straddling him, did he finally pull back. “Is this okay?”

Ivan’s eyes were always dark, nearly black, but this was something else. “Depends,” he replied, low but steady. He lifted his hands, placing them on Till’s hips. “Is this okay?”

Instead of replying with words, Till just leaned in and kissed him again. This kiss was immediately different from the first, filthy and almost aggressive. Ivan bit at his bottom lip, just the edge of too hard, and Till let out a sound in the back of his throat that was outright embarrassing.

He only pulled back for air when he absolutely had to, panting a little to catch his breath. Ivan’s eyes were half-lidded; he somehow looked the best he ever had. Till swallowed. This was his chance.

“I have something to confess,” he forced the words out before he could reconsider.

Ivan blinked, once, almost immediately looking more alert. “What?” His hands shifted on his hips but didn’t pull away. “Do you want to stop?”

“Quite literally the opposite,” he replied, feeling nearly delirious. This was it. “I know this is – probably not what you want at all, and I’m probably reading too much into everything, and – and I know this could get in the way of the movie, I’m not an idiot, but I think I would really regret not saying it.”

Ivan squeezed his hips, then, and it was enough to make him feel a little more grounded. “You’re kind of scaring me here, Till.”

He stared at Ivan for a moment, appreciating every detail of his face, before he took a deep breath, “I think I could end up liking you.” He paused, letting the words settle properly in the silence between them. “A lot.”

Till wasn’t sure what he was expecting. The silence lingered so long he was starting to feel an ache in his chest.

Without a word, he went to move off Ivan’s lap but his hands tightened around his waist. “Stay,” he said, the softest Till had ever heard his voice.

“You don’t have to try and – and placate me,” Till stammered, but he didn’t try to move again. “I’m not gonna be mad at you for not feeling the same way.”

Ivan opened his mouth, closed it. Till watched his face flicker through about ten different emotions before suddenly he was kissing him again, hard and messy. Till gasped into his mouth, surprised – confused – but hardly disappointed.

He curled his fingers in Ivan’s hair, eyelashes fluttering. He could do this forever. He also knew he needed a real answer.

He deserved that.

Mustering all his courage, he pulled back. Ivan stared up at him with a newfound intensity. He forced himself to speak around the lump in his throat, “I’ve admired you for a long time. I know that might not be – appealing, in this context. But I don’t think that has anything to do with what I’ve felt since we met.”

Ivan continued to stare at him. Till gulped.

“You’re just not what I expected,” he paused. “In a really good way, and I’ve never done this before. Not just with another actor. Or, uh, coworker. I mean, like at all.”

The corner of Ivan’s mouth started to quirk up. “You’re cute.”

“Oh.” Till flushed. “Thank you?”

Ivan let out a soft laugh; gently, he moved Till off him. Under different circumstances, he might’ve overthought what that meant but Ivan was still smiling, warm and small.

“Are you asking me out, Till?” he asked, not even trying to hide the mirth in his eyes.

He supposed he was, in a way. “I mean, that’s – that’s assuming a lot. I just, I wanted to let you know. I didn’t – ” He hadn’t expected anything, he meant to say, but he suddenly stopped, finally connecting the dots. “Wait. Does that mean – ?”

Ivan leaned against the back of the couch, watching him with that same sparkle in his eyes. “I liked you the second I set my eyes on you,” the confession felt like igniting fire in Till’s very core. “I wasn’t sure why, at first. I’d never felt that way before, and we barely knew each other.”

Till didn’t dare speak; he didn’t trust his voice anyway.

“But you’re… different,” Ivan hummed. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.” He smiled, that fang poking out again. Till wanted to feel it against his lip again. “And frankly, I don’t really care to.”

He paused, reaching out. Till didn’t even think twice, moving as if commanded by something out of his control. Ivan held his hand gently, thumb pressing into his knuckles, not hard but comforting. Grounding, like he somehow knew Till felt a little untethered.

“But I’m assuming you know by now I can’t promise you this won’t get out. Even when you’re surrounded by people you think you can trust, it’s not quite true in our line of work, is it?”

Till had already went over this in his head. “I don’t mind. I think it’s worth the risk.”

“We should at least keep it between us,” Ivan said softly, and Till wasn’t sure yet what he was going to say next. If he wanted to keep this hidden because he was ashamed or embarrassed to be seen with him. But then – “Just until the movie is done shooting. I don’t want them to project or assume anything just because we’re together.”

Till nodded. “I agree,” he said, meaning it. It was the smart move. “And if anything happens, if this doesn’t work, I need us to be on the same page.”

“I hope we won’t have to worry about that,” Ivan replied, “but the fact you even want to discuss it...” He smiled again, almost approvingly. Till didn’t want to admit how much that did for his confidence. “I promise you won’t have anything to worry about from my end. I could even give you something to use against me, if it would give you peace of mind.”

Till let out a sudden laugh, surprised by the odd offer. But just as Ivan kept saying he was different, he was starting to think Ivan’s oddness was what had really captivated him. “I’ll just have to take your word for it,” he said, still smiling.

They never ended up having to worry about. Months later, when the movie was wrapping up, they all celebrated by having dinner at Ivan’s house. The place had always been beautiful, from the very first time Till had seen it, but now it felt more like a proper home.

Pictures lined the walls that used to be empty, mostly of the two of them, but some were just of Till. He complained about them, sometimes, embarrassed but secretly he liked it.

Some were of all of them – Ivan, arms wrapped around Till. Mizi and Sua, heads tilted together.

Till was pretty sure he had died and gone to heaven. Or maybe he just should’ve been more hopeful when he was younger because sometimes he still struggled to believe this was real.

Sitting at the table, Ivan on his left and Mizi on his right, he wondered what he had done to end up lucky enough to have met both of them.

Or maybe Ivan was right, as he always liked to say: “You deserve good things, Till.”

Till still remembered the first time he’d said it when they were laid out in his bed. He had kissed Till’s forehead and he had suddenly felt the urge to cry, eyes burning.

Maybe, just maybe, he was finally starting to believe it.

“Can you believe they still haven’t figured it out?” Mizi was saying, giggling around the rim of her wine glass. “’How is their chemistry so good?’” she said, repeating what the director had said earlier.

Till hadn’t really heard him. He’d been too busy kissing Ivan with as much fervor as he kissed him every night. He supposed there were benefits, actually, to dating your costar.

Sua smiled at her side. “You can’t blame him. I’m surprised they were actually able to keep it hidden until the end of filming.”

Till chanced a glance at Ivan, who was already staring back at him. He smiled. Ivan smiled back, giving a nod.

“About that, actually,” Till cleared his throat. “We are planning to disclose that we’re dating. Not how long, obviously, but… we thought it might make things easier, especially since Ivan can’t stop complaining about wanting to take me places and not being able to.”

Mizi smiled, shifting to take Sua’s hand where it was resting atop the table.

“We’re happy for you.” She glanced at Ivan. “Both of you.”

At the end of the night, Till was surprised to have Mizi pull him away from Ivan’s side. She walked them to the edge of the porch, grasping his hands tightly in her own.

“I know this is going to be cheesy and you’ll hate every second of it,” she said, “but I just really need to say it.”

Till tilted his head with a confused smile.

“I used to worry about you.” She squeezed his hands tighter. “You always acted like you were fine on your own but I just – I could tell you had so much love to give and for a while I almost felt guilty, turning you down.”

Till tensed, already opening his mouth, but she continued, “I know you never wanted me to, and you never did anything to make me feel that. I promise. It was just – normal concern for a friend, okay?”

She gently shook their hands, smiling now. “But now I see you with Ivan and… Till, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so happy.”

He couldn’t fight the smile off his own face, small and sincere. He stared down at their hands. “I – ” He paused, swallowed around the lump in his throat. He hadn’t even said this to Ivan, yet, but somehow it felt right. Saying it, now, to Mizi first. “I think I love him.”

For a long moment, there was silence. When he finally glanced up, Mizi wasn’t looking at him. She was staring over his shoulder, eyes a little wide, and –

He dropped her hands and spun around. Ivan stood there, frozen with his hand in the air like he had just been about to tap his shoulder. Mizi squeaked and scooted past them, rushing to join Sua at the other end of the porch.

“I was going to ask if you were cold,” Ivan said, dropping his hand. It was chilly out, middle of autumn now, and Ivan knew he ran cold. The simple but sweet gesture made his heart feel like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Till just nodded, not trusting his voice. Ivan shucked off his jacket and moved to wrap it around his frame.

“I didn’t want you hear that,” Till said finally, clutching the jacket to keep it from falling. “I was going to tell you soon. Just needed the right moment. I know it’s probably too soon or I don’t know, I don’t really know how to gauge these things – ”

Ivan moved, smooth but fast, wrapping an arm around his waist and drawing him in close enough to tip their foreheads together. If he remembered they still had company present, he didn’t seem phased by it. “I don’t believe in there being a right time for anything,” he breathed softly. “I love you, Till.”

He smiled so big he knew his cheeks were going to hurt later. He didn’t care. Happiness was worth it. “Good,” he said before cupping both sides of Ivan’s face and kissing him.

It reminded him a lot of their first kiss but this time the roles were reversed. Ivan seemed surprised for just a second before he smiled against his lips, tugging him even closer.

When they separated, Till was breathless. He wasn’t complaining.

“I hate to say this,” he let out a shaky laugh, still catching his breath, “but I think we need to send a thank you card or something.”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, searching his face. “To who?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he replied before moving in to kiss him again. He heard Sua’s groan from across the porch. Ivan laughed against his mouth.

A week before they left for their first vacation, just a couple days after the news of them dating had hit the media, Till went to the store and picked out a card. It was the vaguest card he could find in the store, just a simple “thank you” with a smiley face on the front. He signed it just as simply – Ivan and Till – and left it like that. He trusted Luka to figure it out.

#alnst #ivantill #alien stage #alnst ivan #alnst till #ivantill fic #mywriting

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