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flamingo-writes · 11 months

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A Dinner Invitation — Hobie x Reader

Based off my Gal In The Chair headcannons

Genre: fluff, slice of life. Plotless fluff basically.

Warnings: none. Perhaps cursing? I don’t remember, at this point my brain writes curse words like they’re not actually curse words.

Summary: Miles gets a dinner invitation at Hobie’s universe. Not only Miles walks into Hobie’s home, which is as artistic as he expected, but much greener than he imagined. And there he meets Hobie’s girlfriend, equally artistic, perfectly matching Hobie’s energy. Seeing Hobie so relaxed and affectionate feels weirdly intimate and refreshing to Miles.

Word Count: 1.2K words

A/N: I’ve been daydreaming of all sorts of scenarios revolving the Gal in The Chair. So, be ready for the spam 😩 if you’d like to be tagged, let me know.

“Home, sweet’eart!” Hobie said walking inside the seemingly chaotic place, as Gwen, Pav and Miles followed him.

Miles looked around, surprised by the amount of things lying around. It was chaotic but didn’t look dirty. Almost as if everything had been purposefully place where it was. It was a small apartment with hardly any furniture. But there were art projects, materials and plants everywhere. Plants everywhere. The confusion only seemed to grow with every step, the apartment smelled like a woman lived there, but didn’t smell like Gwen.

And still puzzled by what went on between Hobie and Gwen, specially after he’d said she’d left her jumper, among the things he’d heard, he was sure there was something going on between them. And judging by the apartment, —and the smell of girl’s perfume—, it did seem like Hobie might live with one.

As Miles felt simultaneously more confused and somewhat relieved, he saw Hobie walk up to a girl working on a mannequin, fixing some clothes. He kissed the top of her headache wrapped his arms around her waist.

“That looks cool…” He purred. “Sexy, even…”

The girl giggled and looked over at Hobie as they kissed.

Miles sighed relieved.

“Will you model that for me later today?” Hobie asked with a flirty smirk.

“I can’t. This is a personalised piece Julie asked for…” The girl said looking over her shoulder at Hobie with a gentle smile and loving stare. “How did it go?”

“Messy,” Hobie said letting go of the girl. “awful, but Gwendy and Pav are here and I brought a new friend…” He said.

Pav yelled your name as you put down the needles and pins and greeted Pav in a tight hug. You let out a soft giggle as Pav lifted you up effortlessly, as if it had been ages since he last saw you.

“Who…?” Miles whispered confused.

“Hobie’s girlfriend,” Gwen said.

“A true renaissance artist,” Hobie said before introducing you to Miles, telling him your name. “Buy her stuff. She personalises and fixes your clothes, also does that with secondhand clothes. She also designs them as well as handmade Jewellery. Brings your plants back to health, she also reproduces and sells them, if you ever want to gift your mum some pretty plants or flowers…Helps me setting up my art shows, and set up everything for a gig. She’s also my left hand, best friend, lover, and favourite person on earth,” Hobie said proudly as you blushed lightly as Pav let you go from his tight bear hug.

“I’m not as interesting as Hobes just made me sound…” You said modestly walking up to Miles.

“But she is,” Pav intervened and walked into the kitchen, parading around the place like he lived there.

“I’m…Miles…” He said with an awkward chuckle as he extended his stiff hand towards you.

“Nice meeting you Miles. Coffee? Tea? We also have plain ol’water…Juice…”

“N-no thanks…” Miles chuckled awkwardly. “I’m fine. Thank you…” He said as he looked around. “So you do all of this for a living?”

“Sadly, in this highly capitalist and consumerist society, people do not appreciate the handwork of a true artist…” Hobie said as Miles looked slightly puzzled at him.

“That’s Hobie for, I do this full time even though it’s a lot of stuff, I barely manage to make a living out of this,”

“No way!”

“People don’t buy plants nor get their clothes fixed everyday,” You shrugged.

“Hey!” Pav said defensively as he went into the kitchen.

“Pav always buys plants, though” You chuckled. “Hobie helps me a lot too, the both of us manage to keep this whole place afloat,” You sad looking at Hobie with a dreamy smile.

Hobie from the kitchen looked at you with a cheeky flirty smirk and winked at you.

“Buy your mother a nice set of earrings and a plant, kid…” Hobie told Miles as he walked out of the kitchen with a cup of chai.

“My mother really liked the flowers I bought her last week,” Pav said. “Also the necklace and earrings set you made for her!”

“I’m glad, Pav. You know where to find me…” You said happily as Hobie wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple as he handed you the cup.

“I made some chai, if anyone wants some” Pav said happily.

You took a sip out of Hobie’s mug and hummed.

“God, no matter how many times I do it, it’s never as good as Pav’s…” You sighed softly.

“My man’s got a talent,” Hobie said.

“Gotta go back to that shirt I was working on,” You announced. “Are you guys staying for dinner?”

“Gwendy and I can handle dinner, you go do your thing, luv” Hobie said as he grabbed your jaw in his long fingers and kissed you sweetly. “Call you when it’s done,” He said softly as you hummed and stole one last peck from him before handing him back his cup and went back to the mannequin.

“Can you bring me my own cup of chai?”

“Anything for you, princess,” Hobie said with a soft voice as he turned around and went into the kitchen.

Miles looked at you as you went back to measuring and putting pins on the mannequin. Quickly absorbed by your work.

"Gorgeous, isn’t she?” Hobie said with a proud smirk. "C’mon, y’all wanna have dinner, y’all better help…"

Despite the chatty mess of laughs and sarcastic comments, Miles was still intrigued with how you never seemed to lose focus from your work. Even when they were being crazy loud. Blending naturally into the commotion, Miles felt comfortable between all of them. Wondering whether if it was because they all were spider people, or simply because the over all energy marched his own. He had friends before, but never a group of friends like this one. He felt absolutely free, being able to behave naturally without the fear of being judged or stared at.

Pav took over the kitchen, making most of the work himself. While the food was ready, Pav and Gwen talked about spices as Miles kept looking around intrigued. At some point, Hobie disappeared from the scene, and as Miles was looking for Hobie, his eyes dragging, looking over every detail in the apartment. Eventually, he spotted Hobie’s tall figure towering over you.

As you set down your tools, and Hobie pulled a chair next to you, he cupped your face in his large hands and pulled you close, kissing you sweetly. Something about Hobie being the badass and cool punk, a guy who was seemingly ready to start a coup d’état anywhere, now looked like the biggest softy he’d ever seen, while still looking cool somehow.

Feeling weirdly love sick and jealous, he didn’t intend to stare as Hobie and you kissed. He thought about how good it must be to have what the two of you had. He glanced over at Gwen, feeling his crush poking at him, twisting his guts as Gwen met his stare and smiled. She then looked over at the both of you.

“Aren’t they gross?” Gwen asked with a playful smirk.

“I think they’re cute,” Pav intervened.

Miles chuckled and gazed back at you, as you were now hugging Hobie. Your hand disappearing in his wicks, as his face was nuzzled against the crook of your neck and his arms around your waist.

“I think they’re cute. Perhaps slightly gross…” Miles joked.

“It makes me kinda jealous. I wish I could get the courage to ask Meera out on a date…” Pav sighed.

“We can hear ya talking over ‘ere, lads…” Hobie chuckled.

“You’re so nosy,” You chuckled kissing Hobie’s head.

“We knew that,” He replied as he pulled away from the hug and stared at you, cupping one of your cheeks in his large hand. “Absolutely gorgeous,” He said as he leaned forward and stole a peck from your lips. “How’s dinner, Pav?”

“Basically done. One or two more minutes,” He said.

“C’mon, Miles. Let’s set the table,” Gwen said gently bumping her elbow on Miles’ ribs.

~~~~~~~

Don’t forget to like and reblog if you enjoyed it! Feedback is also very welcome and always makes my day 🥺

#Hobie Brown #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #spider punk #spider punk x y/n #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #hobie x you

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imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

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Gorgeous

pairing: song mingi x reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: dom!reader, sub!mingi, mingi's called princess a lot, thigh riding, praise kink, degradation, kinda bratty mingi in the beginning, hair pulling, that's all i can think of

a/n: didn't know if i should post this or not but🤷, hopefully you enjoy

it's like a treat ig because i'm probably gonna be pretty inactive for the rest of the week😭(other than queued posts)

It was always hard to fathom how lucky you were.

Lucky to have many things you suppose; a roof over your head, food to eat, clothes to wear.

But most specifically to have him.

The amazing, beautiful man laying across your body on the bed, his torso laying horizontally across your own, creating a cross-like symbol.

Mingi held his phone close to his face, scrolling through something you couldn't quite make out from the position. His breathing steady, looking at utter peace as he lay completely unaware to the admirer he had.

The way the sun streaked across the side of his face, flowing in from the open drapes of your bedroom window like a spot-light just for him.

You could stay like this forever. Watching him, feeling his weight on you, letting the comfortable silence consume the room filled only with your heartbeat and his calm breaths.

Finally he seemed to sense your eyes glued on him, looking back up and meeting your gawking head on with a quiet kind of blush.

Phone forgotten, mind elsewhere.

“Hi.” He whispered, voice low.

“Princess,” You could feel him give a slight shiver at the sound of yours, husky from disuse, almost seductive with the way you let a hand gently brush though his hair and lower then to feel over his cheekbones and nose, paying special attention as your fingers grazed his lips.

He sighed into it, puckering his lips to leave a soft kiss on each of the pads of your fingers before your hand drifted upward again, petting and playing with his hair, him pushing his head into your touch, nearly purring with hopes of more.

God, you were so lucky to have him.

So lucky that you'd ever even met him.

So lucky that on that one day you’d been forced to take a shift at your former job, in a cafe, taking over for a 'sick' coworker.

Tired and cranky and upset with life, but there he was, something to bright up your day. And perhaps the rest of your life.

He came in panting.

Late for whatever he was supposed to be doing, hair a ruffled mess that only seemed to endear you more. A small, almost awkward smile, adorably sheepish across his face as he ordered his drink.

You were pretty sure his shirt was inside out but didn’t want to point it out because you didn’t want to embarrass him. It didn’t matter much though because his friend, a regular named Seonghwa you knew from writing his name on his drink almost every day, joined him a few minutes later, pointing out to him what you had failed to.

He turned even redder when his friend had told him, glancing over to you, hoping that you hadn’t noticed.

Only to see a catlike smile on your face that had him quickly heading to the bathroom to fix himself up.

He stood in the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror, cursing himself, becoming determined to not make any more a fool of himself than he'd already done.

But when he finally came out, heading back to his table, he failed to watch where he was walking, crashing right into you and spilling coffee all over your clothes and the floor.

He was absolutely mortified. Apologizing over and over, fretting as he tried to help clean up, only proving to get in your way more the poor thing.

Your coworkers came over to help, to mop up the mess and help try to save the fabric of your shirt but Mingi continued to insist until one of them almost scolded him, telling him to go back to his table.

For the rest of the time he spent there, working on his project with Seonghwa you could feel his eyes on you, looking away whenever you glanced back.

Mingi wasn’t a regular, it was his first time there and probably his last after making such a fool of himself in front of the fucking barista.

An extremely attractive barista.

A barista he couldn’t help but stumble over his words with, blush like a schoolboy.

And making you spill the coffee was the last straw....he could never show his face here ever again.

He looked down at his lap when you brought his coffee over, avoiding all eye contact until you were safely back behind your counter only for him to notice something was written on the side.

‘I can act like I can’t see you staring at me, or you can call me later, (insert phone number I’m too lazy to make up)’

After that Mingi became a regular.

And all because of that fucking annoying coworker that fake called in sick so she could skip and hang out with her boyfriend.

Well now you had a gorgeous man laying across you, subtly, maybe even unconsciously grinding up against you.

So maybe you could forgive her.

“Please,”

A single breathy word and you glance down, a moan escaping him, an octave higher than his voice normally is, wanton and full of pure need.

He ruts against the side of your leg, phone pushed over to the end of the bed as he moans.

Looking up at you with eyes that scream ‘fuck me’ in a universal language…but also something more.

He eyes you carefully, watching the way your thighs almost imperceptibly press together. You watch as he raises an eyebrow before it’s quickly gone, replaced by a pout.

“Don't you want me?” You swallow the lump in your throat, watching him slither up your body, coming up so close you can feel his breath across your face. His lips are only inches from yours, your noses almost touching.

His eyes flicker down before he's whining, body languidly moving until he's straddling your hips, tensing thighs pinning you in place and his hard dick pressing against your stomach.

“Jesus christ, fuck all.” You mutter, wondering when the day will come when he makes you finally lose it.

“How ‘bout you fuck me instead?” He rolls his hips against you once more, letting out an over-exaggerated moan like he’s your own personal show.

You groan.

Fuck the way he always seems to get his way.

Fuck your weak willpower.

Fuck him, as he wants.

Your book gets thrown unceremoniously onto the floor as he snatches it out of your hands.

“Well that wasn’t very nice.” You frown.

The bratty look on his face has you wanting to do everything he asks of you and more until he’s a crying little mess, ruined beyond even talking.

“Well it’s not very nice that you’re not fuck-“

Your hands are on him.

Groping and sinful in every way you know he loves best.

Your hands are everywhere and his uselessly clutch at the sheets in tight fists, drowning under your touch, gasping for air like a man being drowned.

“God, please!”

Looking up at you with the eyes of a devil pretending to be an angel.

A smile curls at your lips.

Then your hands are sliding up and under his shirt, cool fingers feeling over smooth skin. Over his abdomen and then up higher until he’s panting.

Running over the blank canvas of his throat, lightly teasing at the prospect of wrapping around it.

Touching, teasing, feeling anywhere you can find purchase, driving him absolutely, maddeningly insane.

One hand brushes over the curve of his ass. Right where it meets his thigh, letting him try to arch into it before squeezing and kneading, making him bury his face into the crook of his arm with muffled noises of pleasure.

You’re in his head, taking over every thought and every little thing. Making him forget anything and everything except for how good it feels. You feel.

He whines, thrusting becoming sloppier, needier.

“You desperate baby?”

He nods, biting his lip in a futile attempt to hold back a groan when you grip his hair, pulling his head up and out into the open.

“Don’t hide from me,” you pout, “wanna see your pretty face.”

A wave of arousal washes over you at how much of a mess he already is. Even more so as he lets himself be maneuvered-practically manhandled-by you.

Because that’s the thing, no matter how hard he’d try to be a brat, no matter the words speaking out of occurrence.

It only ever led to one thing happening.

This. Him. A pliant mouldable thing all laid out and ready-begging-for you to use him however you may like.

Pushing him up higher onto his knees, his body easily being led along by your gentle orders. “Sit on my thigh baby. C’mon, you’ll be a good boy, won’t you?”

He makes a sound in the back of his throat, “yes, yes, ‘m your good boy, only yours.” He continues to babble, nodding along as he moves from your hips to straddle your thigh instead.

“Yeah? Gonna such a good boy for me princess” Mingi whines, burying his face into your neck, leaving sloppy open-mouthed kisses up and down the expanse of your throat. You laugh, perhaps at your own expense because in the next second he’s nipping lightly over the one place he knows will drive you insane, in hopes of eliciting a sound of your own.

He gets his way fairly quickly, your moans ringing loudly in his ears, making him all the more worked up.

It makes him so dizzy and hazy, he shakes his head, intent on savouring this. In imprinting this exact moment into his memory.

In remembering your soft gasp as he drags his tongue, hot and wet, over your throat, moaning all the while.

In remembering the way your nails dig into his scalp, tugging at the roots of his hair. Rough in context to the soft touch of the tips of your fingers sliding up and down the length of his spine, leaving goosebumps in your wake as he begins sucking a harsh hickey onto your neck that you know you’ll regret letting him leave tomorrow.

But that’ll be tomorrow and you can’t even begin to bring yourself to care about then when you could be right here. Right now.

“Fuck baby,” you breathe, dragging him back by his hair.

He lets out a protesting whine but you ignore it, lovingly looking into his watery eyes, his pace never ending, continuing to thrust into your thigh like a bitch in heat.

You let it slide for now.

Because he’s so cute as he pants, a flush crawling up his neck and over his cheeks.

So fucking adorable the way he covers his face with his hands, fingers slightly parted to see you, squeaking out, “don’t look at me like that.”

If he hadn’t been dry humping your thigh all the while you would’ve squealed and pulled him closer, cooing about how cute he was.

But that wasn’t the case,

“Like what?”

“Like you want to eat me or something,”

You smile teasingly, peeling his fingers away one by one.

You could simply devour him.

“Have I ever told you just how pretty you are, Song Mingi?” You whisper, fingers brushing over his cheekbones, voice soft as your eyes flicker down to his lips. Plush and slightly swollen and oh so kissable, spreading wide into a heartachingly dumb smile. Then you look up to his eyes, soft and shining with hearts dancing in his lust-blown pupils.

“Yes, all the time,” His words come out in a half pant and slurred as he presses himself closer, eyes lidded, “but you can always tell me again…I don’t mind.”

Your hands make contact with his hips, ceasing his movements all together. He whimpers but stops when you tut him, thumbs slipping just under the waistband of his boxers.

“Pretty,” you whisper.

A loose mewl crawls from his lips, trying to roll down against you. The praise going straight to his head-both of them.

He’s never outright admitted it, but you could always tell what the words did to him.

It was obvious with how his eyes lit up, breath hitching and body stiffening.

You noticed the very first time you’d called him that; pretty, gorgeous, beautiful, any and every synonym.

Fuck, he loved them all.

Loved to be called them, loved the words no matter if they were kind and sweet or envious and jealous or simply downright degrading.

In fact, he seemed to like the last one the most.

“Such a pretty little whore, aren’t you princess?” you pull his head up, contemplating before licking a long strip from his collarbone to jaw. "My pretty little slut."

You sound so possessive, so-so controlling and that paired with your hand in his hair-the other on his hip, squeezing the flesh of his ass while pushing him to move faster and faster, harder and harder and, and-

"Mine. Just for me, right? Such a pretty thing for only me to use, right princess?" You mutter against the skin of his throat.

His heart stutters and you can feel it, almost hear it until it’s covered by a loud keen, arching his back and pawing at your shoulders.

Shuddering and shivering and clutching and whispering "yes, yes, yes, yours, yours, yes yours." Over and over like a mantra as you pepper kisses all over.

He lets out a choked gasp, followed by a breathy little whine, going completely tense around you. Muscles pulled so taught his body trembles in place, his nails digging so hard into your shoulder you can't help but let out a hiss, wondering if he drew blood.

And then just like that he moans out a sigh.

You pull away to look up at him, “Did you just cum?”

His body falls slack, slumping against you with a weight that nearly makes you fall back against the headboard.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and nods, words failing him, continuing to shiver slightly with the intensity of his orgasm.

He nuzzles closer, whining when even then it’s not close enough, mumbling something tiredly, the words unintelligible.

"Pardon baby, what'd you say?"

Mingi, your angel, your devil, your fucking little brat. You can feel him smile against your skin, placing his lips up by your ear, teeth teasing the shell, breath sending shivers down your spine and warming your body.

“Can you fuck me now?”

You nearly choke, “what?”

He rolls off, laying on the bed right next to you, slipping off his now dirtied pants and boxers, before falling back and opening his legs wide. “Fuck me, please?”

You almost moan out loud.

“Aren't you tired princess?" He shakes his head no. You sigh. "Such a whore.”

He smiles sweetly, looking every ounce of ruined he did only seconds ago with mussed up hair and hickeys adorning his neck, all hard and flushed and begging to be ruined all over again.

Still managing to let that mischievous glint enter his watery eyes and get a smartass quip ready on his lips.

“Only a whore for you.”

---

a/n: i hope this is okay, this is my first fic for ateez so cut me some slack if it isn't the best😭, i'd love your thoughts and feedback to know what you all thought

and lol, just realized that this is my 500th post

my taglist is open here; @honeymooncrz, @d7dream, @lemonhongjoong

(unsure if you two want to be tagged for ateez or txt stuff so just lmk if you don't) @hobihearteu, @imsolovelylovely

#mingi x reader #mingi smut #sub mingi #sub ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #sub!ateez #sub!mingi #dom!reader #dom reader #sub kpop #sub!kpop

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meidnightrain · 6 months

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BAD BLOOD - alhaitham

❝ band-aids don’t fix bulletholes, you say sorry just for show. if you live like that, you live with ghosts. ❞

summary: arguments with your rival, the scribe, are common but this time, he takes it a little too far when his words hit close to home

warnings: reader is gn, reader and alhaitham are rivals

notes: day 8! struggled a lot because i can’t write alhaitham for some reason so i tried my best. some references are from the bad blood remix cause i prefer that to the og song

taglist (open): @staretes , @rynnlvrs , @sentifua , @i-probably-sleep-too-much , @reilly34 , @qqingque , @akutasoda , @mhiieee , @starryshinyskies , @rintosae , @kazemiya

“and then he called my work sloppy! like, i’m the best in the akademiya! if you think you can find someone else who can do star mapping from memory, then be my guest!”

kaveh sighed at the way you were so upset over a dispute had gotten into, nursing his cup of wine. was it worth getting worked up over? maybe not but what made it worse was who you had said that to you.

“mhm, and who said this to you? crackpot old fools that archons know how long have been working in the archives. they probably don’t have enough melanin after spending more than half their lifespans kissing books,” he mumbled under his breath, taking a swig of wine.

“it was alhaitham!” you pointed at him with indignation. it was sort of comical to see the way his face contorted and how he choked on his wine, struggling to gulp it down by patting at his chest.

“why didn’t you say so sooner?!” he threw his hands up in the air, a stark contrast from the way he had dismissed your complaints. his hatred and rivalry towards alhaitham was unrivalled, maybe except to you. he knew the bad blood you had to him, though you both weren’t sure whether alhaitham harboured any to you.

ever since your schooling years in the akademiya, you had butted heads constantly, competing for the highest score in exams and winning favor of teachers. sadly, this had meant that you were both acknowledged to be the cream of the crop. you were both on a higher level than other students which meant that you were constantly paired for projects, to complement each other’s intelligence.

it had been okay at the start, speaking only when necessary, offering small snippets of suggestions here and there. but it eventually turned to something more when you started to hang out under the pretence of projects you had to do even though they had been long completed long ago. going on study dates, events hosted at the grand bazaar, stargazing. you both enjoyed each other’s company that was for sure, but your pride got in the way of expressing your feelings.

perhaps you could say it was a battle, a battle to see who would cave first and confess to the other and your competitive spirits were the what kept you both from pursuing something more. you had a deep admiration towards him, a feeling that you couldn’t describe and you know he had it too. but instead, it felt like he was rubbing salt in your wound and laughing right at you for deciding to engage in this battle of who could go the longest.

you were going to lose first, that was until an argument that you had both gotten into during your final year. you had messed up the major calculations for mapping by mistaking the vertical for the horizontal axis and had drawn on the map from the wrong side which causing you to mix the polar axis too. funny, how a single argument landed you both right here in this never ending cycle of insults and regrets, what caused bad blood between you both.

he hadn’t been understanding like most, geography was one of your weaker subjects and you still had about a week and a half to the deadline. his words were sharp like a knife, leaving scars in your back. usually he would throw insults your way and you’d brush them off, thinking that it was a part of his personality but in truth it did hurt you with pain ranging from papercuts to cat scratches but this time, it was multiple stabs in your back.

“maybe that’s what’s wrong with your life? you’re meant to be second-best, no in-between. after all, could you expect more of someone from your background?” he had said monotonously, though you felt the fury underlying in his tone. when you had gasped and shrunk back from him, did he realise his mistake. reaching out to you with a small frown but you slapped his hand away.

“i’m sorry, i’ll just…redo the whole project.” you had struggled to speak, grabbing the strewn papers on the desk and dashing out the library doors despite his calls for you to come back.

the tears that had threatened to brim in your eyes spilt, blurring your eyesight as you ran aimlessly to nowhere, clutching the blueprints with his handwriting elegantly written on. what was shiny, now all rusted from the blood you spilt that had gone cold.

were you overreacting? maybe. should you have done the project by staying up nights to get a perfect grade, presented it to the class by yourself while avoiding alhaitham entirely? probably not. years later, those kind of wounds were the ones that lasted and lasted.

the both of you had problems and you think you couldn’t solve them. he had mumbled a halfhearted sorry afterwards, though you knew that was just for show, he had practically lived with ghosts until kaveh started to room with him. you had forgiven and forgotten about the way he had made you feel, but you would never let it go.

kaveh watched you finish the cup of wine in one swallow, a bit hesitant to speak his mind when you were in a sorry state as his eyes looked to something in the distance. “i think…i’ll go get us some more wine.”

you merely nodded in thanks, grabbing the half finished bottle on the table and peering into its interior boredly. it was sad, to think about the good times he and you had. but when you looked up, it’s not the architect but alhaitham himself in the seat opposite you with an awkward frown.

“can we talk?”

<- prev masterpost next ->

#🕊️ - 1989 event #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin x gn reader #alhaitaham x reader #alhaitham x you #🗞️ - genshin impact fics #🪧 - event: 1989

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teaberrii · 5 months

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Chapter 12: Eyes Everywhere

After ending a five-year relationship, you pour all your energy into work. Your latest assignment? Staying at a popular bed-and-breakfast to gather information. It should be a piece of cake... If only the owner isn't the man you scolded on the street.

Jing Yuan/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Female reader

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

You’re spending the rest of the afternoon doing research in the city. You manage to score an interview with some businessmen, and the responses of one of them have you see a silver lining.

“There are a lot of great business opportunities here besides hospitality. I mean… it truly is a great place if people here can get it up and running. It may be small, but they should take advantage of the island's natural resources. That can seriously boost its economy! I already know people who want to get factories up and running… but they’ve been and still are facing a lot of obstacles.

"Take this off the record, but I think the people here are too protective of themselves. Maybe it’s because of what happened to that owner that everyone sees outside influences as a threat.”

“Owner?” you ask.

“Yeah. Caelus… I think that was his name. He owned a boutique hotel”—the man points somewhere in the distance—” somewhere in that area on the next street over. I kind of knew his old man as my wife and I stayed there when it was just getting off the ground. It’s quite a shame. Their ideas were very unique, and I heard they were doing well before the awful news…”

“Have they said anything about their business running into some sort of trouble?”

“God, it was so long ago… but I remember a fight. Don’t know the man who was arguing with them but my wife was a local here. She’d never seen him before either, so it might’ve been an irritated customer since it was pretty clear he wanted to make a scene.”

You show him a picture of Caelus’s uncle. “Was this him?”

“Yeah! Pretty sure.”

So, that meant Caelus’s uncle mainly or had always stayed in the city. Was he already trying to sabotage the hotel before the Star Rails project with Jing Yuan's ex? Did the resentment go that far?

You thank the man for his time. Then, as he walks away, you quickly turn around. Perhaps you’re paranoid, but you swear you sense someone looking at you. But all you see are people and tourists walking around. Nothing out of the ordinary.

“Well, well, if it isn’t everyone’s favourite mother.”

You recognize that voice anywhere. You turn around, and your guess is right. “Didn’t think I’d see our athlete superstar walking the streets alone.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets the special opportunity to spend time with the one and only,” Dan Feng says with an amused grin. “You’re lucky.” You give him a deadpan look but start walking with him nonetheless. “So, how was the date? Did Jing Yuan treat you like the queen you are?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, son.”

“Oof. You got me.”

“But, since you asked... I had a lot of fun. It was wonderful."

“Wonderful? Really? You’re too young to be sounding so old, Mom.” You raise a fist, and Dan Feng quickly raises the bag of groceries he’s holding to protect himself. “Just kidding!” You face forward just as he asks, “So, are you two official?”

You don’t know what to tell him. The less people know, the better. However, Jing Yuan already messaged you about Yanqing's mistake. And there’s also the project. You may be digging up dirt on Star Rails, but you’re still partly responsible for this project's success. Perhaps it’s best to wait until this is all over to announce the news.

“All right, I get it,” Dan Feng says. “I think I know why you want to keep it hush-hush for now.” He winks at you. “I’ll keep your secret, Mom. Don’t worry. But… Did you know his ex is back?”

“Who did you hear that from?”

“No one. I saw her myself. If I were to take an educated guess, she was going to pick up Yanqing.”

“Have you met her before?”

“Twice. Once when she and Jing Yuan were dating. The next was on their wedding day.”

“...Ah.”

Dan Feng gently nudges you. “Hey, don’t be getting jealous. They’re done for.”

You want to say you’re not jealous. It doesn’t bother you at all. And, maybe you’d really feel that way if you’d never seen her. But now that you’ve seen and met her in person… it feels more real.

You clear your throat. “Where’s your brother?”

“He’s been worried about Jingliu, so they’re out on a little date. I wanted to go, but he insisted on going alone.”

“Someone sure sounds disappointed.”

“Just between you and me, I think he has a thing for her.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

“Me?” Dan Feng scoffs. “Oh, please. It’s Jingliu. It’d take someone really special to sweep her off her feet.”

“You don’t think Dan Heng meets those standards?”

“Do you think he does?”

“Sir, why are you asking me?”

“Well, you and Jingliu are kind of alike… You’re both women.”

“Very well spotted, thanks.”

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s a man or woman who exists that can match Jingliu. She’s unmatched.”

You and Dan Feng are almost at the bed and breakfast when the conversation turns to his training for the Global Games next year.

“It’ll probably be my last competition.”

“...Are you thinking about retiring?”

Dan Feng smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. I don’t think I have much of a choice.”

There’s more to the story, but you don’t get to ask when you reach the stone villa. You see March and Welt sitting on the couch inside, and Pom is anxiously looking upstairs. Knowing exactly where it leads, you glance up. You hear faint conversation but not enough to know what’s going on, but you’re sure that the voices belong to Jing Yuan and his ex.

“What’s going on?” Dan Feng asks, pushing open the door. “Why are you all just sitting here?”

March sighs. “Because there’s a war going on upstairs.”

“Where’s Yanqing?” you ask.

“Upstairs with Jing Yuan and… his ex,” Welt says.

Pom puts some glasses on the table. “Let’s calm down, everyone.”

You take out your phone and see the last text from Jing Yuan.

She found out through Yanqing.

You’re sitting next to Welt when Pom puts a glass of water in front of you. “Everything will be okay,” he reassures.

“Why is Yanqing up there?” Dan Feng asks. “Why are they up there, anyway?”

“She wanted a place ‘to talk’,” Pom says. ��Neither of them wanted to go to his place."

“Wait. How do you know this?”

“I… sorta overheard a little bit of their conversation when they got back. They came in, and Jing Yuan said they’ll be using the balcony upstairs.”

March leans back. “God, why’d she have to show up?”

You don’t know if you’ll get a response, but you text Jing Yuan anyway.

I’m downstairs. Is everything okay?

Just then, everyone hears footsteps, and the first person to appear is Jing Yuan. He’s carrying Yanqing who's resting his head on Jing Yuan’s shoulder. The poor kid looks exhausted. Behind Jing Yuan is his ex.

When Yanqing sees you, he lifts his head, and Jing Yuan puts him down. You stand and meet them halfway. Yanqing hugs your knees, and you affectionately pat his head.

“Is he okay?” you ask Jing Yuan.

There's a tired but stern look in Jing Yuan’s eyes. “He’s fine."

Then, his ex walks up to you, ignoring the stares of the others. “Let’s have dinner together.” She crosses her arms. “I have the information that you want, and I’ll give it to you on one condition.” Where is she getting this confidence from? “So, since we’re both here, let’s use the time to get to know each other. Just the two—”

“Enough.” Jing Yuan’s interruption makes the room go completely silent. Then, he shoots his ex a cold look. “Yanqing gave you his answer.”

“This is between me and her.”

“No, it’s not. You’re using other ways to try to get what you want without any consideration for your son.”

“Stop.” Yanqing’s muffled voice sounds desperate. “Stop fighting… Please…”

His ex turns to you, looking a little rattled. “So, we’ll have dinner tonight. Just me and you.”

You clench your fists, but you hold your tongue for Yanqing’s sake. As soon as she walks out the door, March lets out a breath. You still have a comforting hand around Yanqing’s head when she walks over.

“Geezus, what happened up—”

Dan Feng’s nudge makes her stop. He nods at Yanqing who’s still hugging your legs.

“I wanna go home,” Yanqing says, his voice still muffled.

You crouch and put your hands on his cheeks. “Then, let’s go home.”

The car ride back to Jing Yuan’s house is a quiet one. Before you get there, Jing Yuan reaches over and gives your hand a little squeeze. You turn to him, and you can see it in his eyes. He’ll tell you what happened but not with Yanqing in the car.

A short while later, Jing Yuan is making Yanqing a snack in the kitchen. You and Yanqing are in the living room, playing a game of chess, but you can tell from the tired and sad look in his eyes that he’s focused on something else.

“...I made a mistake.” At first, you think he’s talking about the game. “When Dad was driving me to school, he told me beforehand that I shouldn’t call you Mom while she’s here. I forgot, and…”

“Hey…” You sit next to him. “Don’t tell me you’re blaming yourself.”

“Maybe if I didn’t make that mistake, they wouldn’t have fought and…”

Jing Yuan puts a plate of healthy, homemade snacks on the table, and you and Yanqing look up at him. Then, Jing Yuan crouches and puts a hand around his son’s head. “It’s not your fault, Yanqing.”

“But… She got so mad.”

Jing Yuan glances at you. “Do you think calling her Mom is something you shouldn’t do?”

Yanqing looks at you. “Well, if she doesn’t mind…”

You kiss his head. “Of course I don’t.”

Jing Yuan affectionately ruffles his son's hair. "That means it's okay, and you didn't do anything wrong." Yanqing manages a small smile and Jing Yuan affectionately ruffles his hair. “Why don’t you take your snacks and watch some TV while Mom and I have a little talk?”

Yanqing looks from Jing Yuan to you and back to Jing Yuan. Then, he picks up his plate and walks over to the couch. You and Jing Yuan end up in the kitchen where he also prepared you a little something. But food is the last thing on your mind.

“I’ve never seen him so quiet,” you say. “What in the world happened?”

Jing Yuan sighs. “She wants you to leave Yanqing alone. If you do, she'll tell you what you want to know."

It takes a moment for his words to sink in.

“Yanqing never said you were seeing anyone,” his ex said, glaring at Jing Yuan.

"It's not something he should have to tell you."

“I don’t care what kind of relationship she has with you, but she’s not taking Yanqing away from me.” Then, she crouched and put her hand on Yanqing's shoulders. He was sitting on the couch, trying to disassociate from all of this negativity. Jing Yuan never wanted him here, but his ex refused to let him leave as she also wanted to set things straight with him. “Yanqing, Mom will give you a much better life in the city. We recently moved into a bigger house, and a new private school just opened—”

“...I don’t want to go.”

“Why? You can still see your dad, and—”

“It’s not just because of Dad,” Yanqing interrupted quietly. “I like it here, and it’s not like Dad isn't letting me see you. I still visit, but I don’t want to stay there… forever.”

“Yanqing, you’re still too young to understand, but—”

“You say he’s too young," Jing Yuan interrupted, "but at least he knows what he wants." She stood upright, and Yanqing ran over to Jing Yuan. "That might change when he gets older, but stop pressuring him into doing something he doesn’t want.”

“Pressuring him? I’m not! I’m reasoning with him.” His ex scoffed and crossed her arms. “It’s also because of her, isn’t it?”

"Stop saying it's because of her." Jing Yuan glared at her. "Because it's not. You're not respecting him."

She walked up until she was close enough to lower her voice so Yanqing couldn't hear. "I know she's looking for some information. She wouldn't come to me if it was easy to get." She returned his glare with one of her down. "I want her out of Yanqing's life."

“I’m not going to let Yanqing see her anymore." Jing Yuan puts his hands on the counter behind him. "Not alone, at least.”

You scoff. “I’m also not going to give her what she wants.”

A short silence passes where both of you are mulling over your thoughts about what to do with this crazy woman until…

“...But I'll still have dinner with her.” Jing Yuan looks up and sees you leaning against the wall. “She knows that you’ll definitely tell me what happened on the balcony. And, knowing that, I’m not going to run away.”

“If you made up your mind, I have an idea.”

“I’m all ears, General.”

◆◆◆

Jing Yuan drops you off at a nearby restaurant later that evening. As soon as you enter, you see his ex already at a table near the window. Taking a small breath, you walk over. You know she sees you but she’s still looking out the window. You slip off your coat and drape it over the back of the chair. Then, you casually put your phone face down on the table. When you sit down, she finally acknowledges you.

“How long have you been seeing Jing Yuan?”

“I thought we were here to talk about your deal, not my relationship with Jing Yuan.”

She pours herself some wine. “It’s related.”

“What’s your condition?”

She scoffs. “I feel like I’m looking into a mirror.”

You force a smile. "Let's not waste time.”

“Didn’t Jing Yuan tell you? I want you out of Yanqing’s life.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Then, no deal.”

You cross one leg over the other. “Regardless of who Jing Yuan dates, that person will be part of Yanqing’s life. Are you going to refuse whoever comes into their lives? Or, is it because it’s me, someone who happens to work at Star Rails?” A pause as you pour yourself some wine. “I also have other ways of getting what I need.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Of course not. What would I gain from doing that?” You calmly look her in the eyes. “I’m giving you a chance to clear your name. Everyone thinks Star Rails has something to do with Caelus’s death. You were part of that project. It’s natural that people suspect you.”

“A chance to clear my name? Don’t make me laugh. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“Caelus’s uncle was a stakeholder in that project. You handled everything. It’s impossible not to have met him at least once. That time, you and Jing Yuan were still together and you knew that Caelus was his friend.”

“...What are you getting at?”

"Caelus and his uncle didn't have a good relationship. He even caused a scene at his hotel before meeting you. He must have known long before that Caelus wouldn't accept the offer from Star Rails. So, to succeed, you tried convincing Jing Yuan to convince Caelus to go through with the project. But, that failed. And somehow Caelus ends up dead."

“I didn’t have anything to do with that!” The sudden outburst turns a few heads. Then, she exhales sharply. “Why would his uncle want him to partner with Star Rails in the first place?”

Do you have the right answer? You have no idea. But the one you can think of is the only one that makes the most sense.

“Money. Caelus’s uncle wasn’t happy that his brother left Caelus with everything, including the hotel. Partnering with Star Rails is one way for him to get some kind of control over the hotel. There’d also be potential money under the table.”

“And what would I gain from that, hm? Yes, I wanted the project to succeed, but why would I help him?”

“He knew a guy.”

“I was talking to one of my business partners today, and… he mentioned Caelus’s uncle,” Jing Yuan said. “Not knowing that I know him.”

“What did they say?”

“He was recommending him as a potential partner as he’s supposedly a great businessman and friend. And he also has connections.”

“Wait a minute… Don’t tell me…”

Jing Yuan nodded. “He said Caelus’s uncle has been on good terms with senior management at Star Rails for a long time.”

“Senior management, huh?”

“He could put in a good word for you and help you climb the ranks,” you say.

“That doesn't guarantee I'll get anything. You’re going to have to try harder than that, Honey.”

"Then, why didn't you file the project reports? There wasn't anything suspicious about it other than Caelus's uncle being listed as a stakeholder. If you really don't have anything to hide, why don't you give a clear explanation?"

She’s looking off to the side when she says, “I just forgot.”

You almost scoff, but you don’t hide the disappointment on your face. You thought she would’ve come up with a better excuse than that.

“I have proof that you didn’t just forget.”

You think she’d ask for it, but instead, there's a pause before she says, “...He approached me first.”

Jing Yuan’s ex walked into a restaurant that evening. A stakeholder had invited her to a business dinner, and she'd thought others involved in the project would attend. But when she arrived, there was only one person. He was still dressed in the same outfit from the meeting earlier today.

“Ah, you’re here.”

She sat across from him, thinking whether she should stay or make an excuse to leave. “I thought there would be others joining us.”

He filled his glass and then hers with wine. “Let’s get right to it, shall we?” He picked up his glass and gestured for her to pick up hers. She reluctantly did so.

Clink!

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about your performance," he said, "and this project is apparently a make or break for a big promotion.”

“...Um, yes. That’s right. Does this have anything to do with—”

“My nephew is the owner of the boutique hotel.”

It took a moment for those words to sink in. She shouldn’t be so surprised as they have the same last name, but it was so common that she didn’t think twice.

“Let me tell you now that you won’t have any luck trying to convince him. This project is just an idea… a vision of what could happen. But, it’s not going to work.”

“If you have such strong concerns about it, why didn’t you raise them during the meeting?”

He extends his arms to the side. “Because if I did, the project wouldn’t be a success.”

“What… What are you saying?”

“My nephew won’t partner with Star Rails because our vision doesn’t align with his. Regardless of what happens, he wants to remain independent, and he won’t change his mind. Unless…”

“Are we ready to order?”

You almost frown when you hear the young waiter interrupt Jing Yuan’s ex. When you look at him, his innocent smile almost makes you sigh. After the waiter leaves, you turn back and see Jing Yuan’s ex calmly sipping her wine.

“...You were saying?” you ask.

She puts her wine glass on the table. “There’s nothing else to say.”

There is. You can feel it.

“...Did he have something to do with Caelus’s death?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

Are you, really?

“But, I had nothing to do with it."

After a brief silence, you say, “...You asked how long I was seeing Jing Yuan. What about you and your fiancé? How did you two meet?”

She slightly narrows her eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“He told me today that I had no idea what you went through. It just made me curious is all.”

“...Why would he tell you that?”

You look her in the eyes. “You tell me. It sounded like it had something to do with Caelus.”

“Let’s not get off topic. I told you what you wanted to know. Now, it’s my turn. Stay away from Yanqing.”

“This isn’t about me. Have you considered what he wants?”

“He’s too young to understand.”

“About what? You say he’s too young, but even I don’t understand why you want him to stay away from me."

"I don't need another person to be a bad influence on him. I'm already trying to get him out of this godforsaken town." She gives you a cold look. "Convincing Jing Yuan is hard enough. I don't need another person in my way."

"Godforsaken town? Why do you hate this place so much?"

She scoffs. "You haven't noticed? They aren't exactly the friendliest people to outsiders who want to do business here. They're too narrow-minded. I only want what's best for my son."

“Having me stay away from him isn’t going to help your case. It’s a short-term solution to a long-term problem. He may be young, but you should at least respect him.”

“Sorry for the wait!”

You don’t bother looking at the waiter as he sets your food in front of you. You give a nod of thanks just before he leaves. When you turn back, Jing Yuan’s ex is looking at you with a composed expression unlike before.

She looks as if she has something to say, but her phone goes off. After a glance, she says, “So, I take you aren’t going to do it.”

Perhaps you're paranoid, but you turn around. You sense you're being watched. But nothing seems out of the ordinary.

When you turn back, Jing Yuan's ex is already standing and putting on her coat. "Then, we have nothing else to discuss." She calls the waiter over, and there's confusion on his face but he does as he's told. He walks over, glances at you, and packs away her food.

You watch as they walk away. When you glance out the window, you see her cross the street and get into a car. You pick up your phone and turn off the recording that's been going on ever since you sat down. After texting Jing Yuan and knowing he’s on his way, you go to pay for your food. You step out into the cold, scrolling through your phone as you think about what you’ve learned.

You're sure Caelus's uncle has something to do with Caelus's death, and you also have a hunch that Jing Yuan's ex knows something about it if her fiancé's words are anything to go by. Was it the guilt of knowing and not doing anything? Or was it guilt—

Your eyes widen when a hand swiftly covers your nose and mouth. Your phone drops to the ground. Your hands are in a bind behind you. Despite your struggles, your attacker drags you into an alleyway, leaving your phone with an incoming call from Jing Yuan on the cold cement.

Chapter 13

Tag list: @suoshiii @lordbugs @lxry-chxn @seirenspinel @immahuman @queencybow @nqctre @grimreapersscythe @winterpein @asakenajustexistshere

#jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x y/n #jingyuan x you #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan x you #honkai jing yuan #hsr jing yuan

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papapandashipyards · 7 months

Text

Designing the OSP Ships for Nebulous Fleet Command

A good long while ago, I had the honour to design the second faction for the supremely excellent game Nebulous Fleet Command. (Get it here, don't hesitate, what are you waiting for? Get the game!) That faction being the OSP. The OSP's main thing being, that almost their entire fleet is made up of retrofitted civilian ships, hastily pushed into service. Almost. The first ship on the design block was The Ocello class Command Cruiser. The idea behind it was, that it used to be a state of the art Warship, but that time had passed a good 100 years ago. Many of these were mothballed withing OSP territory, and quite frankly you don't look a fully armored 12000 ton gif horse in the mouth, when a battle hardened navy is knocking at your door asking "you and what army?"

From the Tip of the spear we move over to what was avaliable. Civvies. Not to fret though, what they lack in class, they make up for in mass, either by numbers or by tonnage. We'll start with the numbers first, and this is where we meet the clippers. Clippers are the small fry of vessels, shuttles tugs, transport feeders, the small guys of the blue collar world. This may not bless them with lots of armor, but they sure as heck makes up for it in versatility. The Design brief asked for everyday civilian vessels in the size range of 60 to 95 meters, so I gave it my best shot with this lot.

Ultimately only three of these made it into the game, to uphold the delicate balance of the amount of work it takes the team to actually make one of these ships happen and also the gameplay balance of what their exact roles are and wether or not they are redundant, gameplay wise. I think the Team went with the right vessels, and I would only lament that I'd love to have had the "Mantis" as well. This leads us to the final and perhaps most interesting subject: The Freighters. The design document asked for three distinct types of freighters: -Bulk Freighters -Container Freighter -Liquid Gas Freighters Adittionally these ships were meant to be Randomizable in two ways: -be made out of three interchangeable sections, front, middle, engine

-lots of little doodads, like bridges, cranes, tanks etc. So I got to work and these are the results: Bulk freighter base models:

Bulk Freighter with Doodads example:

Finally some remixed Bulk freighter Hulls:

This worked out quite well for my sensibilities, so I went along with the other designs. Base Container Freighters:

Versions with Doodads:

And finally the LNG Freighters You know the drill by now. Base models:

Doodad examples:

And finally some remix variants.

And that is all! What a great and wild ride! The LNG Freighters unfortunately also ended up on the chopping block, but it's also understandable why; there's just too much hollow tank on these, to make for anything useful in combat. There we are. One whole like diary entry about my short and super sweet work for Nebulous Fleet Command. The Team there is doing wonderful work, and it has been one of my proudest moments seeing my scribbles turn into actual things in a video game that you can use to fight with - surreal! Shoutout to Mazer Ludd for Commissioning me on this awesome project and of course to Stephmo for making such cool models from my puny drawings!

#spaceship #art #digital art #concept art #nebulous fleet command #rtsgames

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emptyheadwriting · 1 year

Text

Cherish Me Before I Perish, Please- Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warnings-Angst, Sad stuff, no happy ending.

Word Count-2.5 k

Authors note: Do not suffer in silence, it is not worth it my friends.

When you started your relationship with Wednesday you did your best to be accommodating, focusing wholeheartedly on her needs and the limits she had set, willing to do whatever it took to make it work.

Never reaching for her hand in public settings, accepting her barely there compliments as if they were made of gold, and forcing yourself to be okay with the few moments you got to spend together each day, that you also had to seek out, otherwise, there would be no moments.

You always heard that love was a two-way street and that there was a lot of give and take, so you convinced yourself that you were simply a faster driver and you did not need anything in return for all that you were willing to give lulling yourself into the belief that she would eventually pay it forward.

You watched throughout your years together at Nevermore as she obsessed over mystery after mystery, never once filling you in, despite your asking. You looked passed her probing when you became the target of her investigations. Telling yourself that it didn’t sting as much as your brain told you it did because you were an open book anyway. Willing to bear your deepest secrets, fears, and ambitions to her, gaining no deeper look within her character.

An ember of hope even sparked up inside your slowly dimming eyes when she mentioned that Enid had given her a phone, if she was as fond of the written word as she seemed to be surely texting would be easier.

The fire never had a chance to burn, smothered within a day.

You had written out a good morning text, carefully curated to the specifications of what you considered to be the flavor of her love, going as far as to use multiple spelling and grammar checkers to be sure it was perfect and scheduled it to be sent the very minute she woke up. You figured within the two hours that you would still be asleep, she would write back, perhaps express an appreciation for it.

You woke up with a buzz, a smile on your lips, and emotions fluttering with anticipation. Until of course, you flipped your phone over, the smile fading as you scrolled through the notifications then desperately opened your messages only to see that it had been read two minutes after she woke up, but there was no response. Your roommate had described the look on your face as the single most heartbreaking expression they had ever seen. Yet you pushed on with the relationship through to after graduation.

Wednesday had gone off to college studying forensics in pursuit of becoming a bloodstain splatter analyst, you followed willingly as neither of you had even made the slightest indication that your relationship had ended. The Addams family had purchased a cabin for the two of you not too far off from her school.

With Wednesday focused on her studies, you cared for the home between your projects. You had made a comfortable name for yourself as an artist, you were thankful that there was a spare room for you to work in. Living together brought back the small oxygen-choked flame, you woke up together every morning, shared every meal, bathed together, and spent your spare time together sitting on the couch in the living area with classical music floating around the wooden building.

It was one of those very evenings that Wednesday had pulled your hand out from under the confines of your heavy blanket and wordlessly slid a ring onto your finger and lifted her hand to display her own. “Forever” she whispered as she captured your lips in a chaste kiss. That was enough to reel you back in, not even the way she dismissed a proper wedding at your questioning as “a ceremony to display our affections in front of family members who will only discuss our undoing with a facade of goodwill at our cost” could damper your mood as you brought her closer to you for the rest of the night and you melted at the way she allowed you to.

You took to being a spouse well, you decorated the house in her light, and held hour-long phone calls with her parents to learn of any customs you had been skipping out on and recipes they knew she loved. You lived for the slightest look of approval in her eyes as they scanned over a new decoration and the smallest of upturns on the points of her lips at the taste of a childhood dish.

It did enough to satisfy your craving for her affection for the first year of the promised forever, but there were only so many decorations you could find in her style and only so many recipes you could master until her well of approval and curved lips ran dry. Your anniversary had passed silently, your celebration being a warm bath together in silence with a glass of wine apiece.

Morticia had called the morning after to ask about it, always interested in her daughter’s love life knowing she could squeeze more from you than she ever could from Wednesday. The two of you spoke as you sketched a piece, you spoke of how you were struggling to find new things that your wife would like to see on her walls and recipes from the family cookbook you had borrowed.

“Oh darling” Morticia sighed softly as she read through the laugh you had let out after your comment hoping to mask the pain, “while I’m sure Gomez would approve of your complete devotion to making everything about Wednesday, it is your home as well and you deserve to leave your mark on it just as much as she does,” she said sadly as she met your eyes through the crystal ball and watched as your composure cracked ever so slightly, holding just enough for you to dismiss yourself with an excuse of needing to meet a deadline, stumbling over your words.

It was the worst thing you had ever heard, a confirmation from someone else, someone who knew more about love than anyone else ever would or could no less, that you were a ghost in your own home. Your presence was invisible to anyone who did not know you lived there.

It broke you.

To the point that you spent the rest of the day sobbing into your bare pillow, you had messily removed its pitch black case as you did not need to be reminded that Wednesday’s mark was the only thing in your home, your thoughts focused on which of the many things you had not hung up or had not cooked you would do first.

Until you heard the gate alarm ring and you stood, wiping your face and walking downstairs to greet Wednesday at the door as you always did, and your heart stung as she paid no mind to your puffy eyes and disheveled hair, simply dragging her hand across your hip in passing before she walked upstairs.

The next few months were an intense one-sided struggle. As you did your best to place your mark on the house, one day you would put up a decoration of your chosen theme but due to her passing glare of disdain, it would be gone the next day and you would watch intensely as her eyes shifted to where it was and while she would say nothing you could see the pleasant look within her dark orbs. One night you would cook a meal you had grown up on, excited to share a meal of your culture with her until she ate it as if she was just going through the motion, paying no mind to the story of how it became one of your favorites, the leftovers were thrown away and you were left feeling embarrassed.

The time spent together after her arrivals faded during that time as well. What was once nights sat next to each other on the couch became nights where she would go to sleep early and leave you alone on the couch stewing in your thoughts until it no longer felt right to sleep, instead you would pour your heart out into your art and sleep while she was gone during the day.

None of that had pushed you passed your breaking point. It all hurt but there were still moments you could clutch on to, it was not until she broke a promise did you completely collapse.

Your birthday and Valentine’s Day had passed with little fanfare and your anniversary was quickly approaching. The two of you were out to town to meet her parents for dinner, window shopping as a way to kill time before the reservation. Your hands were linked one of the things that kept your hope alive if this were years ago the two of you would walk side by side barely brushing against each other.

You had come to an abrupt stop outside a craft store you had never visited, as most of your art supplies came from the same place they did when you first got serious about your work, like most artists you had a trusted process and had no interest in changing it. Yet there was something so alluring about the watercolor palette on display in the window that you were convinced it would be worth the risk, nearly marching into the store before you felt a tug backward. “Come love I would like to get this evening with my parents wrapped up sooner rather than later, I will get you the palette for our anniversary,” she said as she attempted to walk away.

You stubbornly stood still, lips downturned in a frown as you held up your pinky expectantly. There was that smile you yearned for forming on her lips as she closed the gap between you, linking her pinky with yours and leaning in to kiss your neck softly with a promise whispered against your skin.

You were positively giddy throughout dinner, happily sharing stories of your work while you held hands with Wednesday under the table the whole time.

Like all the things that had recaptured the hope for your loved one to cherish you, it was fleeting. The day of your anniversary came and you could not help but go all out, two years into forever you thought to yourself, there was improvement on the horizon you swore as you prepared. You had put on your favorite attire, carefully wrapped your two gifts to her, cooked her favorite dish, and set the candle-lit dinner with a skull centerpiece before she got home.

You heard the alarm gate and like the conditioned lover you were, you excitedly stood by the door, greeting her with a kiss on the hand, as you whispered happy anniversary against her pale skin, yet you felt her muscles tense as her eyes scanned the dimly lit house. Black rose petals littered the floor, candlelight emanated from the dining room, and she could not help but tense as she knew she was in the wrong, walking into this beautiful dutifully crafted evening empty-handed.

You both knew she was in the wrong as you sat across from each other wordlessly eating, your polite smile doing well to hide the aching of your heart and the cracking of your spirit. You both knew she was in the wrong as you followed the petals up the stairs and into an awaiting warm bath. You both knew she was wrong as she opened the first gift you had gotten her, it was a human skull albeit a fake one that you had hand-carved a raven and the Addams family crest into. You both knew she was wrong as she read the accompanying letter that spoke about how glad you were that she was yours and that her family had welcomed you in seamlessly. You both knew she was wrong as she opened the second gift, it was a portrait of the two of you in gothic clothing, you were sitting down in a chair with a trademarked Wednesday glare painted on your face, and she stood with her hand on your shoulder, the other holding your heart. You both knew she was wrong as she read the second letter that explained the painting, you wrote of how you did your very best to adopt her mannerisms and anything else that would make her comfortable and about how she would always have your heart.

You

Both

Knew

And yet it was only eating away at you.

So you stood after you didn’t receive a thank you or an apology, and marched down the stairs tears starting to moisten your cheeks with each step of descent. You hid inside your studio quickly, stripping off your fancy attire in favor of overalls and you slid down the walls releasing a heart-wrenching sob followed by a broken laugh that echoed in the room around you.

Wednesday took her time to follow you, sat on the bed looking at your gifts and at your letters silently until her vision blurred, salty tears sneaking their way out of her eyes. When she finally stood from her spot yearning for your presence she looked for it everywhere.

You were not present in the bedroom, its appearance had her name written all over it. You were not present in the decorations that littered the walls, no, there was no color, no happiness, just small collections of bones, preserved black flowers, and diagrams. You were not present in the smell of the house, no it smelled only of the family manor she grew up in and it sent a chill down her spine, how could you have lived here for two years and be a ghost to all of her senses.

When she entered your studio, she watched as you flinched away from her, not able to stop the sobbing or wrenching laughter spilling from your lips. This, this is where you contained all your presence she noted, paint littered the floor, house plants grew proudly in their pots, and projects lined the walls.

There right above you, she took great notice of a series of pieces. Self-portraits. There you were in your Nevermore uniform, eyes shining brightly with a toothy smile. There you were in your graduation gown, hope swirling in your eyes and you smiled wide. There you were at your first art gallery, she frowned at that one, your eyes held pride but there was hurt lacing them, and the small businesslike smile confirmed it and she remembered that look from when she told you she would not attend. Then finally there you were or what was meant to be you was there, she could only make out your eyes and lips, both downtrodden.

It only hurt more when she realized the reference picture that was under each one, she had broken you down over the years and there it was painted and captured in photos,

Forever.

“I will never be like my mother” a phrase she repeated often when it came to love, floated around her mind as she slid down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders with a sob of her own.

If only she knew she would be so much worse,

Forever.

—

Part 2

#wednesday #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #angst #i'm sad #wednesday imagine

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pavlovianfuckery · 2 months

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lets be mean to dream 2: electric boogaloo

i can't be the only one who has wanted to hook Dream up to an e-stim unit and zap him until his galaxy-brain turns to mush, right? bone apple tea, i guess?

3.3k of filth under the cut, enjoy!

The way he trusted you would probably never cease to amaze you. Not blindly or without the occasional teasing remark but he did, even if you sometimes treated him a little bit like a science project, especially in the bedroom. Lately one of your favorite pastimes had been introducing him to what one might call the many wonders of modern living. Morpheus himself however seemed to prefer calling it "your inexplicable fondness for lewd objects". But since he was in turn fond of you, it usually worked itself out.

At the end of the day you were just glad for the moments he'd spend with you, both in and out of the bedroom. Here in this little bubble you share, he doesn't have to carry all the weight of who he is. All he needs to be is yours, nothing more or less than that. And if for those small snippets of time he could relax a bit and just feel, all the better. Gods knew that if anyone needed a break, it was him.

You weren't sure how he'd react this time, but you were equal parts eager and nervous to find out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It takes a few days until you see him again, so by the time he visits you in the Waking you've half forgotten about the unassuming black bag on your nightstand. You'd been debating with yourself how to bring it up, or if you even should. While he'd yet to refuse you, what you had in mind this time would push him, perhaps a bit too much. The decision is soon out of your hands because he notices it the minute he enters your bedroom. He doesn't ask what's inside though, simply giving it an apprehensive look.

"You are in a gaming mood tonight, I see."

There's not much point denying it, so you wrap your arms around his waist and give him a quick kiss.

"Maybe." You grin at him, though inwardly you're still not quite sure about this. Maybe going out and buying those extras was putting the cart in front of the horse? "I wanted to try something a bit different tonight."

"You know that I would deny you nothing, my sweet."

That nearly makes you wince, because he clearly has no idea what he's in for.

"Maybe don't make me any promises just yet," you laugh, taking his hand. "Come to bed?"

He follows you so eagerly, it almost makes you feel a bit bad. Only almost though, because this could potentially be fun. Not wanting to get ahead of yourself you sit down and pat the covers next to you.

"Well?" He looks at you expectantly as he joins you there, lips twitching into a small smile. "It is not quite like you to be this secretive." His eyes are full of mirth as he continues, "Should I perhaps be worried that you have planned something nefarious?"

That's one of the things you love about him, the way he knows exactly how to put you at ease with nothing but a few words. You take a deep breath and let it out through your nose.

"That's not the word I'd use, but maybe it's better if I show you." You scoot back a bit and grab the bag, placing it between you. It's quick work to get it open and lay some of the items out on the covers.

"Is this what you were worried to show me?" He picks up some of the cables and frowns in what for him is very apparent confusion. "Pieces of string and..." He picks up another part and turns it around in his hands, "a box?"

Oh, this will be fun.

"It's not just any box, "you're tempted to waggle your eyebrows at him as you continue, "it's a magical box."

"A magical box."

Between his deadpan delivery and obvious scepticism, you can't quite hold back a snort.

"Ok, it's not magical. It can make you feel really good though." You shift on the bed, already imagining all the things you want to do to him.

"And you wish to use it on me, I assume?" He doesn't sound disinterested so far, which makes your stomach fill with hopeful butterflies.

"Yeah. Kind of a lot. If you want, of course." You inwardly cross your fingers as he considers it.

"Very well." He eyes the items laid out between you again and continues, "Though I am afraid that I am quite at a loss as to how you would use most of these items."

"You don't need to worry about that part, let me handle that." You lean forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, smiling as you hook a finger in the neckline of his shirt and give it a small pull. "The clothes need to go, though."

You don't think you'll ever get bored of watching him undress. Even here in the Waking he could simply magic his clothes away, but he barely ever does, preferring to take his time. Just the sight of the lean muscles of his back flexing as he pulls his t-shirt over his head is enough to make your mouth water. He doesn't usually deliberately put on a show, he doesn't need to. But he must be in a particularly good mood because he really takes his time today. Especially when he bends over to pull his jeans off his legs, making you choke on your own spit. You try to keep your cough discreet, but it doesn't work very well.

"Are you quite alright, my sweet?" His tone is airy and nonchalant, but you know that he knows exactly what he's doing. One of these days he very well could be the death of you.

"I'm fine," you clear your throat, "absolutely fantastic."

Finally, he joins you on the bed, the very picture of leisure as he stretches out on his side next to you. For a moment you almost forget what the plan was, he's that distracting. Right. Less ogling, more setting up. As you rifle through the bag you have a thought.

"Can I tie you up, too?" You hastily add, "Just a little bit?"

"Why would you need to do that?"

You debate how to respond to that but settle on something that's very nearly the truth.

"This is easier if you stay still, so things don't move too much."

He seems to take exception to that and scoffs.

"I am perfectly capable of staying still, I assure you."

"Well..." You tap your lip thoughtfully, "It's not that I don't think you can't, I just don't want you to, I don't know, roll over and make me zap you by mistake or something."

"I see." He watches as you wrangle the cables. "How would you have me then?"

"On your back is fine." You swear under your breath as you hit a knot and start picking it out, careful not to break anything. "There are a few parts to make this work, so I hope you can indulge me for a bit."

"As opposed to my usual uncharitable disposition?" He's clearly teasing you, but he's got a point.

You finally manage to get the cables straightened out and connected to the right channels.

"There we go, that's that done. So now I'm just going to connect these here..." you grab a couple of plain rubber rings from the collection scattered on the bed, "and then..." You rifle through the box until you find what you're looking for. "One of these."

The plug is modestly sized, the only thing setting it apart is the shape, with a sweeping curve and bulbous tip.

"You should be able to handle this one, right?" You're sure he can, but you figure it's only polite to ask. When you show it to him, he looks less than impressed.

"As I am sure you can recall, you have had me with larger before." It's not quite an eye-roll, but it's not not that, either.

"That isn't why I'm asking, but I see your point." You connect it too, then put the box to the side for the moment. Giving the bag another rifling through, you come out with what looks like a small syringe, sans needle. "This next bit can be a bit messy, but bear with me for just a bit longer?"

Thankfully, filling the syringe up with conductive gel is a much quicker process, and in a minute you've got it ready, giving his hip a poke with your finger.

"Turn over a bit for me?" He obeys readily enough, letting you slide the slim instrument into him easily. When you press the plunger down, he gives a little hiss. "Sorry, that's cold, isn't it?"

"By some miracle, I am sure I shall survive," He responds dryly.

That earns him a pinch on the backside as you pull the syringe out.

"The cheek of you! Watch the attitude or you might be sorry in a minute."

That catches his interest.

"Oh, will I now?" He turns over and props himself up on his elbows, eyes gleaming.

Definitely.

"Maybe." You retrieve some padded cuffs from one of the drawers of the nightstand and dangle them in front of him. "Do these meet His Majesty's approval?"

"They do. What is your wish?" He lays back, arms above his head and crossed at the wrist, "Like this, perhaps?"

"Almost. Let me." You attach the cuffs to either side of the headboard and guide his wrists to where you want them, pressing a tender kiss to each one before strapping him in. Making sure that the restraints are tight but not overly so, you stroke his hair. "You good?"

"Yes."

That's good enough, so you start lubing the plug up as he watches you with interest. When you're satisfied with the amount, you tap the side of his knee. "Lift for me."

Sliding the plug into place makes his eyelashes flutter, his breath speeding up by the tiniest fraction as his cock stirs to life. You can't quite resist lapping at him, sucking him into your mouth until he grows fully hard there, throbbing on your tongue.

Sliding the rings on him is a bit fiddlier but eventually you get them in place, one going around both his shaft and balls, the other nestled right behind his tip. It's the first time he's let you do something like this, and the sight of his cock this way is mesmerizing.

"Still good?" Applying more of the gel, you make sure there are no dry spots under the rings. When he still doesn't respond you trace your finger around his tip, just barely touching but enough to make him pay attention.

"...Yes."

"Great!" You turn the box on. "How does this feel?" Turning it up to the lowest setting, you watch him carefully.

"Different, but...not unpleasant."

You turn it back down and fiddle with the settings for a few seconds, setting it to a slow wave pattern before turning it back up, a tad higher this time."How about this?"

That gets a reaction, his brow furrowing and his mouth falling open.

"That is...good."

He lets a quiet groan as you turn it up a bit more, his cock starting to ever so slightly throb in time with the pulses, a bead of precum forming at his tip. You settle in next to him, just watching him for a few moments. This might be the most vulnerable you've ever seen him, and you're enjoying every minute of it. Running your hand across his chest you consider turning it up some more, but decide against it for now, instead gently circling one of his nipples with your fingers. Rubbing the pad of your finger across it rewards you with a small moan.

"You like that?" Without waiting for a response you do it again, watching it stiffen under your touch. Every time you rub him he lets out a small gasp, but he seems too focused on the sensations to reply. You flick your tongue over his nipple and blow on it gently, watching the goosebumps erupt all over his pale skin. "Hello? Earth to Dream?"

"Do that again."

"Do what again? This?" This time you do turn the power up and watch as his cock throbs even more, leaking freely now. "Or did you mean this?" You make your tongue broad and flat, dragging it over his nipple before gently sucking the rosy little nub into your mouth.

That makes him grip the sheets, knuckles white. Despite his earlier confidence, he isn't very still at all, hips starting to arch off the bed. Not ready for this to be over too quickly you dial the power back down, but not turning it off. As he eases back down you kiss his shoulder, admiring the blush slowly creeping across his skin, all the way down his chest.

"You should see yourself right now," you sigh, stroking his hair, "you're so beautiful like this, so perfect. You want more?"

Rather than respond he simply leans into your touch, breath heavy.

"I'll take that as a yes, then." This time you turn it up a smidge higher than before, making him arch off the bed again. Watching his cock throb, you count to ten pulses before turning it back down again. You give him a moment to recover, then do it again, this time counting to twenty before turning it back down, leaving him squirming. For a while you simply repeat the process over and over, up, down, ten, twenty. You’re not sure how long it goes on for, but for every cycle he falls apart a bit more, until he’s nearly vibrating off the bed. "Still good, or do you want me to stop?" You eye his dribbling cock with something like pity. “We can take a break, if you want.”

"Don't..." His lips are red and a bit swollen where he's been worrying at them with his teeth, his voice breathless, "Don't stop, not yet."

"Think you can come like this?" You watch as he rolls his hips, his legs opening and closing.

"I think...I..." He swallows and frowns, "Perhaps, I want...I...."

"Want to try?" You're pretty sure you've never seen him struggle for words before. Usually, he's the one picking you apart until you can hardly speak, not the other way around.

"Yes," he nods, almost panting, "yes..."

You turn the machine up again, higher still. Glancing at the display you can see that it's only at 45% power so far, but he's already chasing it, his almost frantic movements leaving the bedding in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed. This time you get count to thirty, but he can't quite get there, collapsing back against the pillows in a frustrated heap, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

"I can't," he gasps, "I want, I can't...please..."

"Shhh, relax, let me help you," you kiss his cheek, tasting his tears. "Tell me what you need."

Feeling a bit evil you sneakily keep your fingers on the dials, slowly increasing the strength as he tries to speak, making his words come out in fits and starts.

"Again, your mouth, I..."

The meaning is clear enough, but you watch him struggle for a few moments more just because you can. When you put your hands on him his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and the taste of it floods your mouth as you suck his nipple into your mouth again and swirl your tongue over it. Giving the other one some attention as well, you hear his whispered pleas turning louder, growing more urgent as you give him a little pinch.

It's mostly a litany of please, making it clear that for once he's completely lost in sensation, no other thought in that pretty head of his except for pleasure. It doesn't take long for his breaths to become uneven, the 'please' turning into oh, more drawn out for every pulse until he lets go, scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he finally comes, his release drawn from him in thick bursts. You regret not being able to see him properly, especially when you feel a few stray droplets hit your cheek, because that’s just plain impressive. When his orgasm finally starts subsiding, you reduce the output down to zero, but not turning it off.

"Still with me?"

"I...yes." It's hesitant and a bit breathless, but that's probably to be expected.

"That's good," You brush away a few stray hairs sticking to his forehead. "Look how well you did, love."

Taking a few moments you kneel between his splayed legs and pat him dry with a soft towel as you check the connections, adding some fresh gel to ensure that there are no hot spots. "By the way," you give the base of the plug a few experimental wiggles, rocking it into him a couple of times, "did I tell you my favourite thing about this machine?" Grinning at him you fiddle with the controls, changing the pattern from a slow wave to an alternating pulse, without turning it up just yet. "It's probably better if I show you I think."

When he catches on to what you're doing, he starts fighting the restraints.

"You..." As you start increasing the output he falls back against the pillows again, eyes a bit unfocused as the current bounces between his prostate and his still sensitive cock. "Oh, you cruel creature..."

"That's not very nice," you tut, stroking his thigh. Craning your neck, you can only just catch a glimpse of the base of the plug moving as he contracts around it.

"Release me," he groans, but there's no real force behind his words. Those aren't even the right words, anyway. He could end this at any time, and you both know it. Instead you slowly turn the power up, watching as his soft cock twitches and leaks all over his pale stomach.

"Too much," he gasps, thrashing and pulling on the cuffs again.

"Does it hurt?" You hover your finger over the controls, ready to cut the power just in case.

"No," he moans, face twisted in pleasure as he all but humps the air, his words coming out slurred and messy. "Keep...more."

That makes no sense, but you get the gist. Checking the settings it's still not turned up terribly high, so you kick it up a few notches more until you've got him writhing like an eel in a hot pan, completely uncaring about the pathetic sounds running from his mouth. He doesn't get hard again but that doesn't matter because he spills for you again anyway, a pitiful sound caught high in his throat. There's barely enough to fill a thimble this time around and when you finally cut the power he sinks into the bed, completely limp.

"You alright?" You quickly get to work cleaning him up, gently removing the plug and sliding the rings off his cock before undoing the cuffs, massaging his wrists as you do so. When he doesn't respond right away you almost start to worry that perhaps you'd taken it a bit too far, but then he blinks slowly up at you.

"I...believe so."

This is probably the most relaxed you've ever seen him, and you can't entirely suppress a giggle as you snuggle in close, one arm thrown across his waist.

"Good. So," you trace the curve of his hip idly, "can I ask you something?"

"If it is in my power to answer, then I shall," he murmurs, taking your hand in his and twining your fingers together.

"Okay. So..." You twirl a lock of his hair around your finger. "Is my 'fondness for lewd objects' still inexplicable to you?" As you wait for him to answer, you trail a line of small kisses from his shoulder and up the side of his neck. When he eventually responds, it's with a deep sigh.

"Perhaps not."

#dream of the endless x reader #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #sandman x you #sandman smut #dream of the endless smut #the sandman fanfiction #my shitty shitty writing (affectionate)

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the-local-eldritch-microwave · 2 months

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Ink and Nightmare Painting idea(scenario)

so like, lets say Ink created some real nice oil painting(idk why i keep drifting to oil paintings when i talk about Ink making something but maybe that's just cause its a personal favorite artstyle of mine) and was pretty satisfied with it and all and wanting to start another one he needs to find space for the one he had just made but, uh oh! he's made a lot of creations recently and their isn't really anymore space for it unfortunately. Since he really doesn't want to throw anything away or stars forbid destroy it he looks for another place for it to go. eventually he finds a nice spot with a respectful and kind person inside it(perhaps a pawn shop or a random persons attic but either way it ends up getting into the hands of mortals) and decides to leave it in their possession as a sort of gift(cause he heard/read somewhere gods do that apparently) and that's that.

Over time this painting gets passed down through generations, passed down hand to hand through yard sales, mother to daughter, grandparents to children in wills, art professors to students, even ending up in auctions at one point because of how old it was and all because no one actually knew who made it, the only clue being an "I" painted in thick ink on the back of the canvas. This eventually catches the eye of even the guardian of negativity himself.

Now nightmare, being a sucker for collecting old, valuable, and seemingly irreplaceable pieces of work to fill space in his oversized mansion for himself(and henchmen) gets it almost on principle simply because he doesn't think that the mortals ever deserve something like it in the first place. However the more he looks at it the more he comes to appreciate it and even admire the artist careful strokes and immense patients they seemed to have had while making this painting. It almost seems too good for any normal mortal to have created it at all and when he passes by it during his many walks in his castle its often one of the only things that can make him falter in his steps, even when deep in thought. Over time it just becomes one of the many staples of his place and perhaps even gives him a sense of pride that he is the only one to own such a beautiful painting, despite the chips in the frame and discoloring in places that others may have left more, and the edges frayed as it as been moved too many times to count. It gives it an indescribable texture that un-doubtly enhances the painting even more and honestly? Nightmare couldn't be more in love with a painting then he is right now.

Now imagine even FURTHER into the future and all the sans are are in the truce and yadda yadda yadda peace and multiversal balance and nobody has to fight(seriously) anymore! yippee! now lets just say, for some reason, Ink is wondering the halls of the castle out of sheer boredom and when he passes his own painting he almost doesn't give it a second thought but then he does a double take.. and a triple take...and a quadruple take just to make sure it isn't his faulty memory, but lo and behold is his very own painting right in front of him, mounted on the wall so proudly and clearly that Ink can hardly believe it(and in NIGHTMARES CASTLE of ALL places) and as a very last double check he very carefully lifts the bottom of the canvas to reveal his signature staring right back at him.

At first his more confused then anything because why the stars would Nightmare keep something made by the hands of one of his longest standing enemies who fought against him with his own brother??? its just didn't make sense. On the other hand he was somewhat flattered; When he made things he never really made them with the intention of hanging it up unless it was something he made for a friend as a birthday gift(but those were usually pretty small projects only taking a few weeks at most if he had artblock or couldn't get something to look just right) but this? this was just something he made to pass by the time, to get his artistic juices flowing, something he made, yes with a lot of time, but time meant nothing when your were a god! a month or even a year could easily melt into the very fabric of time and next thing you know an entire century has passed(it has happened to him before) yet the more he thought about it, the more it made him wonder; If Nightmare liked something he made that much when he didn't even give it much thought in the first place then how would Nightmare react when he really put in some determination and real effort(would he like it even more or was it just luck? would he put it up too, right next to this one? what would happen if he dedicated a piece just for him??), it was starting to consume his every thought!

Before he could even think about what to actually do next a deep voice startles him out of his thoughts and he turns to his side to see Nightmare himself! Ink stared at him and then back at is own painting and then back at him and still didn't even know how to say it but Nightmare started toe conversation for him, thank the stars.

"Beautiful, isn't it? its one of my favorites too"

"oh! thats awesome!- i mean, uh, its certainly..something."

"something indeed. The art is breathtaking, I often find myself staring at it longer then i really mean to when i pass by it"

"wait- really?? you mean that??"

"what, do you not like it? I thought an artist like yourself would be able to also recognize an artists talent just as well if not better then i can"

"no no no! i didn't mean it like that, its great! really it is!! its just..I mean, i just didn't take you as the kinda guy to appreciate art like this. I kinda always thought you'd be more into writing and stuff like that!"

"mh, well a skeleton can have more then one interest, cant he? even i know a masterpiece when i see one.. a shame i never figured out who made the piece."

"..you didn't?"

"unfortunately no, although i have looked into it and tried more then i care to admit. It's as if it just appeared one day and no one even knows how let alone where it could've come from. Typical humans. Cant even fathom how you and the rest deal with them on a daily basis"

"I mean, you get used to it pretty quickly if you ask me, heh.."

"I suppose in your line of work you would have to, although whichever mortal created this must have been particularly blessed with their skills. A godsend on their people really. The Mortals were lucky to get to touch this beauty at all, let alone have it in their greedy hands and possession for so long..wouldn't you agree?"

Ink almost doesn't respond, pulled between feeling flustered from all of these compliments or embarrassed by the fact that he would have to eventually tell Nightmare at some point and tell him it was the stupid forgetful squid that painted that. Despite himself he starts to speak before his mind can even think

"What if..a mortal didn't make this..?"

Now Nightmare is fully turned towards him instead of the painting giving him his full attention and now he isn't sure if he wants to be under that gaze even more or dodge it.

"well, if an outcode really did make this, then i'd simply just have to commission another one, and, if willing, I would like to see them work."

"o-oh?"

"mhm, and i would prefer it to be around sometime next week between 4 and midnight, but only if he wants to of course"

oh.

He knows.

"okay."

and that's all he can get out before almost rushing away, non-existent heart racing because no one has ever asked for him to paint for them, at least not like that. but that's the least of his concerns because now?

Now he has to get his paint bushes and a fresh canvas ready.

#utmv #ink sans #nightmare sans #undertale au #undertale #this was way longer ten i planned it to but oh well #i love these two so much #my funky stuff #somewhat scuffed #started out as a headcanon but then they started to talk

23 notes · View notes

ahundredtimesover · 1 year

Text

Belong (4.5: Rewind) | MYG

Pairing: Yoongi x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: exes-to-lovers-to-exes-to-lovers; actress!OC x basketball coach!Yoongi; summer romance; “long” distance relationship; parallel timelines; angst, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, family drama, sport injury; dreams & moving away; allusion to depression; basketball and acting talk; 2014 and 2022 Yoongi; shy and nonchalant cocky whipped Yoongi; almost drowning, sexual content (18+)

Chapter Word count: 6k

Series Masterlist

Status: Complete

Series summary: Being an actor has always been your dream. Pursuing it meant many things - leaving the town where you grew up, distancing yourself from your family that had fallen apart, and saying goodbye to the man who made you feel what home was like. When you decide to finally return after being away for so long, you meet Min Yoongi again, and you’re reminded of the summer romance from 8 years ago with the college basketball superstar whose broken dream pushed you away. As you find yourself spending time with him, you’re left to wonder if love changes, if it gives second chances, or if it’s just another illusion that will hurt the both of you the second time around.

Listen to: Nervous by Gavin James || Playlist 🎶

3 years ago

Yoongi’s childhood home is a one-floor house with a spacious kitchen and a nice lawn. His dad had built it for their mother as a way to keep her happy. It has a lot of the things she likes, like a big common space for everyone to gather around during meals, a vertical garden outside, and some planter boxes hanging by the windows. Half of the furniture is from the antique shop, which his dad had refurbished to fit the style of the place.

Yoongi was too young when they first moved in, but he remembers many things about it, like evenings watching talk shows and the news while they all ate and cleaned up as a family, mornings of his parents talking about different topics that got Yoongi interested in watching documentaries, and afternoons with his brother shooting hoops in their small backyard.

He also remembers the weekends you’d stayed over when he was injured, the first time you saw him break down, and the last time you walked out the door. There are memories of him ignoring his dad, arguing with his brother, and that evening when he took down the basketball ring and threw it in the trash.

He spent a whole year living here after the injury. Yoongi saw how his old man remained positive despite the pain over seeing his son struggle, how he worked hard to pay the medical bills, how he tried to make the house feel like the home he lost, even if Yoongi wasn’t sure that was possible, only because you were no longer in it, and there’s really no one to blame but him.

Things got relatively better though. After he fully recovered physically and got to save enough by helping the stores in the area digitize and selling some of his prized NBA jerseys, he moved out and rented a tiny studio apartment. He continued to help his dad at the shop, expanding its services for more income stream while also doing freelance work online. It was mentally tiring, but it helped his mind be preoccupied with things. Perhaps that’s what got him talking to his friends again; it’s what got him to go out and find other ways of moving on from all the pain that he chose to carry by himself.

It’s a Friday when Yoongi visits his old house with some groceries he bought. He got a huge payout in one of the projects he worked on and he’s been slowly paying off his dad by buying the essentials and medication, as his old man insists that there’s no debt to be paid; it’s his job to look out for his son, after all.

“Hey, dad,” Yoongi greets as he walks into the kitchen.

“Hey, son,” his dad replies, scooping them bowls of stew for dinner, a routine they’ve both developed after Yoongi moved out.

They proceed to eat, with him staring blankly down the hallway like he sometimes still does. It hasn’t been a good couple of weeks and he’s just been waiting for the next big project that would help him keep his mind off things again.

“So an old friend was in town this week and we went to this local bar,” his dad says. “It’s nice. They have live music every Thursday. A-reum was the one playing last night.”

At the mention of her name, Yoongi stills for a bit, only to hum in response.

“I asked her how she’s doing and why she hasn’t passed by the shop in a while. Imagine my surprise when she said that you two have broken up. Two months ago. And I was the clueless father who didn’t know that his son was going through another heartbreak,” his dad continues. “What happened, son? You both seemed happy. You looked happy.”

“Shit happens,” Yoongi shrugs, not keen to talk about how much of a jerk he really is. It’s enough that he knows exactly what caused him to fall out of his feelings for her; he doesn’t really want to share that with anyone else.

His dad looks at him with a hardened gaze. It isn’t that he didn’t know about the breakup; it’s more about his son’s reaction to it, how he’s looking indifferent to it as if it’s not possibly hurting him right now. It’s choosing again to go through all this by himself. Even more, it’s the fact that A-reum seemed good for him. Yoongi was smiling again, laughing again; it wasn’t the same as before but it was better than the closed-off, broken version of him.

“What happens?” The older man presses. “A fight that you didn’t want to fix? Remembering something from your old life and then shutting her out? Or was it because she wanted to chase her dreams and you let her leave you?”

If this was 2 years ago, Yoongi would’ve answered back. He would’ve argued that it wasn’t his old man’s place to accuse him like that, even if he has all the reasons to, given Yoongi’s track record. But instead, he just looks down, eyes sullen as he thinks of the night he told her that he no longer felt the same, and that it was better if they continued with their lives separately.

“That’s kind of out of line,” he replies, respectfully.

His dad sighs, suddenly feeling guilty about making assumptions, especially when he knows how hard his son struggled, and how he worked just as hard to be better.

“I’m sorry, son, I just—”

“It’s okay, dad. They’re not baseless accusations,” Yoongi interjects. They’re what happened with you, after all.

“I just… don’t want you to keep pushing away people who love you, who want to be there for you,” his old man says. “It’s an exhausting thing to do at such a young age. You’ve got so much life to live. You can’t be scared forever.”

“I know. It was my fault. There’s still a lot I still can’t let go of,” Yoongi explains, even if there are more reasons behind it. “But I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s hard, sure, but I can manage. You don’t have to worry. I promised I’d reach out if it gets too much.”

“Okay, then,” his dad concedes. It’s progress from before, if he’s being honest, and this is always better than having his son crying on his own and completely shutting everyone out. “How was your day then?”

Dinner continues without the tension from earlier. Both men even get a laugh in. Perhaps Yoongi’s just much better at compartmentalizing now, or maybe he’s picked up a few acting tips from you. But either way, it keeps his dad from asking more. Breaking up with his girlfriend because she reminds him so much of you isn’t exactly in the list of Yoongi’s proudest moments; he’d carry this thought in his grave if he has to.

His old man heads to the couch while Yoongi insists on cleaning up. He washes the dishes, throws out the trash, and organizes all the groceries he’s bought. By the time he joins his dad, he could already hear the snores from next to him. Yoongi lets him be, knowing it’s been a tiring week, and proceeds to watch the show that’s on TV.

It takes a while for him to register that it’s you on the talk show, along with your co-stars from a recently-concluded series where you starred in a supporting role. His dad watched the show religiously; he was probably waiting for this segment before he fell asleep.

The cast consists of mostly veteran actors and you’re the youngest of them all, and so most of the questions addressed to you are about your feelings acting alongside people you look up to and if you felt any fear going into this project.

“Any time I star on a show is terrifying, only because I’m afraid to fail,” you answer. “It means so much to me to be given this chance and I have to tell myself that I can’t waste this opportunity. I only will if I let the fear take over, and that’s like betraying all my hard work, you know? I have to remind myself that I’m meant to take up this space. My agency, my friends, my colleagues - they all helped me get here. Giving in to the fear feels like I’m letting them down, too, and they don’t deserve that.”

The host seems in awe with your answers, so do your co-stars who pat you on the back and remark that you’ve always been very mature, that you’re a hard worker as much as you’re talented, and that they didn’t feel like you were new to the industry with how bold you were.

You cover your face in amusement while they all look fondly at you. You have that smile on, the one where you’re a little embarrassed over being praised, but Yoongi can sense that you’re also a little emotional over hearing what your colleagues think of you.

It’s the first time he’s watching you get interviewed and he’s a little emotional as well, seeing you get flustered but look proud. He listened to you talk about all these things - what shows you want to act in, which actors you want to work with, the attitude you want to bring into every project. You once told him that you admired him for being brave for dreaming, but he never got to tell you the same. He thinks you’re much braver than he ever would be. You loved him fiercely and certainly, after all, and he’d been the scared one who couldn’t do the same.

He stands by his decision that letting you go meant he loved you too much to keep you suffering with him, but sometimes he can’t help but think that maybe he’d been greedy, that his love had been selfish, that his selflessness made him decide for the both of you, and that ultimately pulled you both apart. Seeing you in the same room with people you admire eases that thought a little bit, but it’s your words that hit him harder.

What’s hard work if he doesn’t get to reap the benefits? Perhaps it’s one reason why the injury hurts more than just physically; it’s hard to explain how something so devastating can rip one’s soul, especially when he’d spent years molding his life around basketball only for him to lose his space in its world.

It continues to pain him; he aches for the death of his dream. But it’s the people around him who suffered greatly because he’d given in to the fear of living life without the sport he’d loved greatly. You hurt the most because of it; his family and friends continue to see him without the light in his eyes anymore. He’d hate to think that everyone who’d supported him from when he was able, to when he was broken would think that they haven’t been enough. He’d only wanted to shield them all from how dark it was in his mind so only he gets to shoulder it; perhaps selflessness can actually be selfish, too.

His thoughts are disrupted when your name is called again. The host asks what advice you could give to young aspirants who are just starting or have yet to put one foot on the door of this industry.

“I’m just like them,” you chuckle, a little shy. “I’m still finding my way.”

“But you’ve at least done something,” the host says. “Hearing it from someone close to their age or someone they can relate with may resonate more with them than from the veterans who’ve been doing this for years.”

Your co-stars agree and encourage you to talk, so you take the mic and address the viewers.

“To the young ones in school training to become an actor, or doing this for fun, or exploring the possibility of doing this for a living, I’m telling you now, it’s not always gonna be easy nor glamorous,” you start. “It’s gonna hurt sometimes, you’ll face rejection; you might even feel like it may not be worth it. Remember that it’s all part of the ride. It’s pretty amazing most of the time, especially when you love and respect your craft. Just keep working hard and turn to the people who’ll dream your dream with you.”

Yoongi notices the way your smile fades a little, even more when you say the next words, as if they’re hurting you and giving you peace at the same time.

“But if it gets too much, remember that it’s okay to give up, too. That doesn’t make you weak nor a failure nor a coward,” you continue. “Giving something up decisively takes courage. And you worked hard. The people who love you will love you no matter what.”

A lone tear falls down Yoongi’s cheek. If he was being delusional, he’d think you meant to say the words to him. Maybe the guys still talk to you; perhaps they told you about how he’d stopped playing basketball altogether, how he doesn’t like watching or talking about it anymore, and how he’d given up any bit of dream related to it. And maybe that hurt you, too, and that’s why you’re saying this, perhaps hoping in some way, it will get to him.

He turns off the TV and walks to his room. It hits him when he looks around, the love he once displayed for the sport no longer there. The empty walls that used to be full of posters, the rusty shelf that used to house his trophies, the closet that was once filled with jerseys that he’d sold. He didn’t give it up decisively. He gave it up fearfully and helplessly, because as he looks at this place that’s devoid of what once was his dream, all he feels is pain and guilt.

He misses the sport terribly, and being without it has hurt him more than anything.

Yoongi gets the posters he’d kept under his bed. Some of them have tears in them, most are crumpled. But he meticulously tapes and flattens them before posting them on his walls again, feeling his room come alive once more. He retrieves all his trophies from the big trash bag in the corner, taking each one out and placing them on the shelves.

From inside his closet, he unfolds the 2 remaining jerseys he didn’t have the heart to sell - the MJ one that his mother left for him, and the Allen Iverson one that you got him for your anniversary. He hangs them inside, his fingers tracing the Sixers logo of the one from you, and he allows himself to remember how playing made him feel so happy and free. But more than anything, he lets himself remember the excitement he’d get whenever he watched the sport, whenever he’d talk about or analyze it, whenever he’d think about it, and then a smile graces his face.

Not playing professionally may be an unrealized dream now. He’s in his late 20s with only a college career to be proud of. He’s accepted some time ago that his knee won’t be the same anymore, but he doesn’t need that to enjoy the sport. He still loves it whether he shoots the ball or watches someone else do it.

As he looks around his room, he feels that bit of excitement once again, and all it took was an interview he didn’t intend to watch of the woman whose love he’ll always hold onto for him to realize that he doesn’t want to give all this up. It’ll always pull him back in. If he can’t let it go decisively, then he won’t do it at all, not when it’s what could get him back on his feet again, even if it’s what tore him apart in the first place.

He pulls out his phone and texts his brother.

[To: Geumjae] Are you free in the morning? Can you go to the park with me to shoot around?

[To: Geumjae] I miss it. I think I’m ready

[From: Geumjae] Of course. I’ll drive out and see you tomorrow.

[From: Geumjae] I’m happy for you. Love you.

Being back in his university’s basketball court makes Yoongi feel nostalgic. He spent 4 amazing years making this place his home. He’d had most of his best moments here, like the 3 championships he won with his team. It feels a little weird to be in here all those years later, no longer in the maroon and white jersey that he used to sport but in business casual clothes, as the team’s coach officially welcomes him to the team.

Right after he snapped out of a 3-year long pity party, he played for the first time with his brother. He definitely missed the feel of the ball in his hand and the sound of the net swooshing when he shoots. He still got it, his brother had said, and it felt good to hear it. He wouldn’t deny that he can still shoot pretty well, but he was also practical enough to know that he couldn’t sustain it. His knee still feels stiff at times - a normal occurrence as the doctor had told him - and he’d get tired more easily, but the joy came back. The fear didn’t.

After that, Yoongi went back to watching basketball again, from the NBA to the national and university leagues. He discovered the online space for sports analyses, and he got sucked into its world. He’d comment on articles constantly and make his own, and he’s glad he did because it’s what ultimately landed him this job. One of his former coaches saw what he’d been saying and was impressed; Yoongi’s basketball IQ and unique way of looking at the game haven’t changed, the older man said.

That was 5 months ago and so much has changed since then but he’s proud of how he got back on his feet. There’s a different type of drive now, as he watches the team scrimmage as part of their training. Seeing their passion and hunger for success is inspiring, and the thought of bringing home another crown for the school with them excites him. It’s a new aspiration, and he’ll work hard to make them experience what he experienced as a young player with all his hopes and his dreams. Maybe they could achieve what he couldn’t because if it wasn’t him, then it could at least be someone he helped mold.

One other change has been you, insofar as Yoongi finally watching your concluded series for the first time. His dad insisted, saying he’d watch again with his son since it’s a really good show, and not just because he adores you greatly. But Yoongi wanted his peace and chose to watch it on his own.

He felt proud seeing you on screen. You’re made for it. Your charm and energy shine through and you express emotions so genuinely. He’d ignored his brother’s teasing that he might fall for you again, with Yoongi not wanting to acknowledge the possible truth to that.

But you’re an actual celebrity now and he’s just him. He doesn’t know how your love life has been other than the rumors of you dating some actor or model, which your agency always denied. You’d said once that most of those are just PR stunts anyway and shouldn’t be believed, so Yoongi didn’t bother spending so much time thinking if you were with someone. If any, he just hoped it’s someone who trusts and respects you, and he’d be content with knowing that you’re happy, even if in the deepest cracks of his heart, he wished it was still him.

You haven’t really left his mind, if he’s being honest. His relationship with A-reum was proof of that, so is the fact that it was your interview that got him out of his self-destructive hole to restart.

But it’s tonight out of all nights, when he pulls out the lone decent-looking jacket he has that he plans to wear to the meeting with the university faculty and sports director - which also happens to be something you got him years ago - that he thinks that maybe there’s a reason why he can’t completely move on from you. He tried and he honestly continues to, but it’s not easy when much of the happiness he remembers has you in it. You show up in his dreams sometimes, too, as if the universe is reminding him that he’s okay now, that he’s at least close to the man he once was and not just a shell of it anymore, and that maybe, you’d want to grab some coffee and see where things go.

It’s what prompts him to look up the details for your upcoming movie premiere so he could go. You worked on it the same time you were filming your series, and even if your name is one of the smallest ones on the poster as a supporting character, he already knows this is incredibly important to you. It’s your first movie, it seems, and he wants to be there to wish you luck and let you know he’s proud of you, and that if this is where your shared heartbreak led you, then he knows there’s no way he’d regret letting you go those years ago.

The woman staring back at you is someone you almost don’t recognize. Other than the glamorous champagne-colored dress that you’re wearing, there’s a smile that you haven’t seen in a long while, too. In over 3 years, to be exact. A heartbreak does that, you suppose. Your biggest supporting role in a series that wrapped up a few months ago felt too surreal for you, and you’d gone through the promotions for that feeling anxious; you barely had time nor energy to appreciate yourself nor the experience.

You do now. After the praises for your performance then and the ones from your colleagues for this, you feel that you at least deserve to smile, that you can truly claim for yourself that you’re on the way to big things, even if you know you’re far from it. You’re the most junior out of the entire cast, after all, and you’re more like a supporting role to the supporting role. You’re in the credits, at least, and you got to act alongside some of the people you look up to once more.

It’s premiere night and that calls for a big event. Jimin, your newly-hired personal assistant slash stylist, knocks on your door to say that the car is ready. You exit your room and drive from your humble apartment to the venue, feeling giddy and nervous.

“Looks like there are lots of fans tonight,” Jimin says from the passenger seat, getting news from his phone. “There’s a long line inside and outside. I heard it’s a packed cinema, too.”

“Well, it’s Song Hye-kyo. What do you expect?” You giggle. “When she’s your lead, there’s bound to be a score of fans. But that’s good for me, right? They’re there for her. I’ll just be fading into the background and no one will even notice.”

“Why would you want that?” Jimin looks at you curiously.

“You know why.”

Your unsure smile informs him of the reason and he understands. It’s gonna be tricky but you decided to not hide anymore starting tonight. You want that freedom, and you want it soon.

“But also, I’m still not used to it,” you continue. “It’s my first movie and I’m just a small part of it but it’s all still new to me. I don’t want people’s attention if it’s me looking overwhelmed, you know?”

“You’re gonna be fine, ___,” Jimin assures you. “You at least still look pretty when you look like that.”

“Hmm, that’s oddly encouraging,” you chuckle, seeing the scores of fans in the lobby before your driver heads straight to the VIP parking.

Jimin opens the door for you and leads you through the entrance. “Blow them away with your beauty, okay? I’ll see you shortly.”

You’re led towards a waiting room for the lesser-known actors, which you don’t mind. The big-name ones have their own and you’ll probably only speak with them during the afterparty later. Right now, you’re talking with your co-stars while getting a retouch of your makeup, and it helps ease your worries a bit. All you need to do is walk out to the red carpet with them and hope that the people at least cheer for you. You can worry about how you fared in the movie later on.

It’s an hour later when it starts. You walk towards the doors that exit to where the hosts and crowd are, already hearing their cheers as you wait. There’s 6 of you and cheers erupt when your names are called. You all walk out and wave at them, definitely overwhelmed by the camera flashes and shrieks of the people but you remain calm and professional, smiling the entire time and greeting them calmly. It’s more than you expected and you’re just happy to be experiencing this for the first time. It’s a moment you definitely won’t forget, and you’re glad you can at least share this with someone right after.

Your group is briefly interviewed before you’re led out to the other side to go back to the waiting room; you’ll all go to the cinema in an hour after all the actors have been introduced and interviewed. You take a detour, though, knowing you can’t really wait any longer. All the fans are inside the hall, waiting for the big stars to come out so the hallway leading to one of the building exits is empty. It’s accessible to the public but you already know that no person in their right mind would be here, so it’s the perfect spot.

You enter and wait only a few minutes before you hear your name being called. Turning around, you see him, and you feel even more excited.

“You looked gorgeous out there,” Min-kyu greets as he hugs you right away.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you giggle in his ears. “Thank you. Did I stutter?”

“Nope, you sounded great, too,” he chuckles, taking your hand. “I’m really proud of you. I’m happy I get to be here, and that we could decide on this together. I can’t have people linking you with someone else again when I’m right here.”

“You mean when I’m right here,” you tease, seeing as he’s the one always being rumored to be with some model. You place his hands on your waist as you continue. “It won’t be so hard anymore after tonight.”

“Okay. Well then, I don’t want to keep you,” he responds. “Someone might see us. But I’ll sneak in next to you in the cinema, alright?”

“Got it,” you smile giddily. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

You kiss him goodbye and assure him that you’ll see him shortly.

It’s the sound of a door closing that alarms you, breaking you out of your little bubble with the man you’ve been cozying up with for the past 7 months. It’s perhaps your longest relationship, if you could even categorize the previous ones as such. Andrew was a 3-month long fling, Ki-yong was a half-year on-off whatever, and Min-kyu has been the only one so far that you haven’t had any issues with. You’re unsure for how long it’s gonna last, but one reason why you don’t want to keep hiding anymore is because he gets linked to any woman he so much as says hi to. If whoever walked in your little PDA just now decides to do something about it before you do, then the timing wouldn’t be too far apart.

“Do you think someone saw us just now?” You ask.

“If anyone did, we’re too far for them to take any photos,” he reasons. “If they saw anything, there wouldn’t be any proof. But that won’t matter much after tonight, yeah?”

“I guess so,” you smile. “But they’re gone, so let’s go.”

You head out separately after fixing yourself, the giddy feeling from his kiss evaporating once you’re back in your world, knowing you’ll reunite with him again later. It’s a good distraction more than anything, as your mind wanders for a millisecond how it would be like if someone else were here with you, celebrating your first movie together. But that’s not your life anymore. This is. You’d like to think it’s a hundred times better than the one you left behind.

Yoongi stares at the door he’d just walked out of after seeing you in another man’s arms, something he didn’t intend to witness.

He’d seen you walk down the red carpet then proceed to the left, and he’d been too far out to catch up to you. It’s a Song Hye-kyo movie so he knows that everyone’s gonna be waiting for her, and it’s probably why the path towards one of the hallways is empty. He doesn’t know what he was thinking following you, and looking back now, he’s unsure why he thought coming to your movie premiere without you knowing was even a good idea. But after feeling stupidly hopeful that something could come out of him showing up after letting you go, he decided to come, to drive from Daegu, dress up nicely, and be swift enough to go after you before security takes him away.

He does see you. With your arms around a man who makes you laugh and clearly makes you happy. He looks like that actor who’s being rumored with a bunch of different women, but it seems like he’s locked on you. Yoongi could only hope he isn’t cheating on you or anything; that would be worse than what he’s feeling right now, and he’s feeling pretty terrible. And stupid.

Even more as he looks at the bouquet of daisies he’s holding, something that he planned to give to you to celebrate your first movie premiere. It’s probably the plainest flower out there and there are definitely more that would suit you, like dahlias and marigolds and roses - all breathtakingly beautiful and deserving of being at the center of everything just like you are.

But he’d noticed those years ago how your eyes always turned to daisies whenever you entered a flower shop. Anyone would miss it, but Yoongi’s attention is on you a lot of the time, and he’s seen your gaze linger on it, especially as they’re placed as supporting decor to a grand arrangement. He thinks it’s perhaps your way of wishing for a simple life behind all this glamor, and that somewhere in your heart, you desire someone who could give you something just as simple, perhaps someone like him.

It’s why he decided to pass by the fanciest flower shop he could find earlier and get this, so he could tell you that you could achieve whatever it is you dream of, no matter how big or small, how grand or simple. And that no matter how high you go, he’ll always be rooting for you in every way he can.

It doesn’t seem right to still be giving this to you, he thinks, but then again, it’s not like he expected to get back together just because he decided to show up unannounced on what is a big day for you. He won’t deny that he didn’t think about it, though, but he really just wanted to catch up, maybe tell you that you helped him get back on his feet. And that he’s incredibly proud of you, and that he believes you’ll just get better and bigger from here.

But as the scene of you looking happy with another man who could probably give you much more than he ever could replays in his mind, Yoongi is reminded that it’s not his place anymore, that he does not have a place in your life anymore. He made that call when he broke things off, and he doesn’t have the right to ask you for anything else after that. Even if it’s just your time.

So he walks out of the hall and into his car where he stays for a good half hour, trying to figure out what to do. He eventually decides to still give it, without the burden on you knowing it’s from him.

And that’s what he does, as he waits at your agency building lobby the next morning for the reception to clear the flowers. He’d spent the night at a hostel and was close to just throwing it and forgetting this whole thing even happened, but he braved through it until he’s unable to back out now.

“No card?” The man asks.

Yoongi looks at the piece of cardboard that he took out right before he gave the bouquet.

I’m so proud of you, ___. So much time has passed and I’m doing better. I can see that you are, too. I was in the city and thought, for old time’s sake - would you like to grab some coffee?

He slips it in his pocket and answers, “no card. But could you write ___’s name on the envelope?”

The man hums in agreement. “And who do I say this is from?”

“I’d like to remain anonymous.”

The man looks at him warily before he nods and writes your name as the only indicator that it’s for you. No other message and no trace of the sender.

“Okay, all good.”

“Thank you,” Yoongi says, walking out the building to head to his car and drive back to Daegu.

He decides to eat at a nearby convenience store, and that’s when he sees the news that confirms everything he saw last night.

Rumors no more: Actors Kim Min-kyu and ___/___ confirm 7-month relationship.

Yoongi reads the headlines over and over again, the scene from last night haunting him once more. He doesn’t know why he thought that still giving you the flowers, even anonymously, was a good idea, even more now that you’ve been dating this man for longer than he imagined.

You’ve been that happy for 7 months now. It doesn’t seem right to still insert himself like that.

He rushes towards the agency again to try to retrieve the bouquet and take it all back. He’s at the end of the street, a sprint away from the building but then he stops at the sight of you exiting. With the flowers in your arms.

There’s that crinkled smile of yours that he’s missed so much. You’re looking at the daisies with such softness, like you’re truly appreciating it, and Yoongi’s heart melts at the sight. You may not know it’s from him and perhaps that’s the best part, but it’s the thought that you seem to really like it, especially when a blond-haired man stands next to you and hands you a bouquet of roses, which you smell and smile at before returning it to him. You cradle the daisies, shrugging when you try to retrieve a card that isn’t there, and Yoongi’s relieved that of all the stupid things he’s done the past 12 hours, leaving the card out was the smartest thing he did.

A car arrives and you enter, leaving Yoongi still at the end of the street to watch you drive away, perhaps out of his life for good, at least until your next premiere where he’ll probably give you the flowers again.

He hopes that with them, you get to feel the care he has for you that never withered, that on your lowest days, you think of the admirer who believes that your love for daisies is something that matters.

Your car disappears from his sight. He resigns to this next new life without you - the one where you’re happy where you are and he’s trying to be. He’ll admire you from afar until he gets to move on from you completely.

Series Masterlist

Permanent Taglist: @sherlynxx @di0rgguk @thequeen-kat @fan-ati--c @cravingforhotchocolate @adoraminie @helenazbmrskai @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @gukssunshine @nch327 @kookxin @petuliii @yoursthv @libra04 @fancycollectormoon @twixxxpie @ignoretheskies @ohmydarlin-g @bids97 @minyoongiboongi @bangtansmauyeondan @bora-bae7 @investedreader @petalsofink @moonchild1 @jvngkooker @starbtslove @jungoomoles

Series Taglist: @wobblewobble822 @shydestinyyouth @nk01119888-blog @ktownshizzle

#yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi #bts suggestive #yoongi series

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angelasscribbles · 8 months

Text

Sunday Six 09.17.23

I know I haven’t posted a chapter in a couple of weeks. I’ve posted extras, character boards, memes, links, cleaned out most of my asks, etc. But no story updates.

Rest assured that it’s simply because I have so much on my plate. Sometimes I get fixated on one story and you get regular, frequent (maybe too frequent) updates on that one story, while the others can sit untouched for months. Other times, my interest, and my attention, bounce around like a damn volleyball and while I’m still writing regularly, I have multiple projects I’m running between so many things are getting closer and closer, but nothing is actually ready to go yet.

Throw in that both the school year and volleyball season are back in full swing and I am underwater with projects, obligations, and events in real life as well.

No promises on the when of any of the below, but I wanted to give a little update about where I am with all the things. So without further ado…..

Spoilers are under the cut:

ONGOING SERIES….

Heir Apparent Chapter 21:

In the months following the press conference, things settled considerably with Liam. He had stopped pushing the idea of a Cordonian Arrangement and had been nothing but solicitous and courteous with both Drake and Riley.

All of them continued with therapy and progress had been made. Liam and Drake gradually fell back into the patterns of their lifelong friendship as the tension between them eased.

Riley and Drake agreed to relocate temporarily to the palace as they awaited the birth of Cordonia’s heir. While things had calmed between the three of them, the press had only ramped up their frenzy over the impending birth.

Riley couldn’t go anywhere without being set upon by the paparazzi, so she stopped going out. Everything and everyone came to her. It was both a perk and a restriction of being the mother to the heir apparent to the throne.

The baby was doing well, they had collectively decided to wait and find out the gender at birth. They had learned to do a lot of things collectively, everyone was settled and happy, or at least content with the way things were.

Then all hell broke loose.

Savage Love Chapter 35:

Leo

I shifted nervously as the car pulled up in front of the small, clapboard house on a quiet residential street in a working-class neighborhood. We had opted for a sedate sedan rather than drawing undue attention by pulling up in a limo.

If Max was right, she was here. If Riley’s intel was correct, she was in Hidar. But even if she wasn’t home, perhaps the woman that raised her would be and I could get some answers. If she was home, then I was about to meet my sister for the first time.

My sister.

The Dark Kingdom Chapter 6:

She took a step sidewise, away from Drake and toward the door, “Maybe I should leave. Coming here was a mistake-“

“Riley please!” Drake’s hand shot out to stop her, but he halted his momentum as he watched her flinch away from him. He drew his hand back and then held both of his arms up in front of him, palms open, “I’m sorry! I understand what you’ve been through, and I would never do anything to-“

Her gaze swung wildly from Drake to Liam, “You told him?”

“No!” Liam looked aghast, “I mean, not exactly…not like you think!”

“What other way is there? Either you told him, or you didn’t!”

Liam met her eyes with equanimity, “You told him… when you told me.”

“I…don’t understand….”

Drake’s gaze bore into her, but he didn’t attempt to grab her again, “Please give us a chance to explain!”

Unexpected Chapter 7:

“Besides that, I’m pretty sure there’s something going on between her and Beaumont.”

Liam’s head snapped up, his brows furrowing, “Bertrand?”

“No,” Drake snorted, “Maxwell.”

Liam sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers and bringing them to his lips, “Why do you think that?”

ONE-SHOTS

(Titles are just working titles and will most likely change)

Four (Bad Romance):

The air was thick with anticipation as the door to the royal apartment closed behind them.

“Would anyone like a drink?” Liam asked, suddenly a little stiff. He had very little sexual inhibitions. By any standards, he was pretty adventurous. He was both a voyeur and an exhibitionist, he liked to watch, he liked to be watched. He was pansexual, the attraction was about the person, not their gender. His relationship with Riley was open sexually, they both indulged in the occasionally meaningless hookup. He was no stranger to group sex. Being part of a committed throuple, threesomes were common enough. Bringing a third, or fourth person in had happened on a few occasions.

None of that was the problem.

His eyes slid across the room surreptitiously as he poured thirty-year-old bourbon carelessly into four tumblers while taking in his best friend’s nervousness.

At least he wasn’t the only one.

Drake was the problem. The man was gorgeous but straight. Liam had put any unrequited romantic or sexual feelings in a box and locked it long ago. They were friends.

Best friends.

Their relationship had survived falling for the same woman but their arrangement, up until now, had kept their respective sex lives with her separate.

The memory of Drake naked in the shower after their last workout flitted through his mind and his dick twitched.

Shit.

Leo Smut (A Bad Romance Prequel Story):

Leo Rys, former crown prince, and current international playboy made his way leisurely through the crowd, searching for prey. The BRIC Celebrate Brooklyn Music Festival was one of his favorite New York events. All summer long, free, outdoors, and full of eligible, hot women.

He had been at loose ends since he abdicated the throne. Sailing around the Mediterranean on a cruise ship had been amusing for a little while. Until he’d gotten his heart handed to him. Again.

He knew he should be doing something with his life, but he didn’t know what. Not yet. He would give himself a couple of years to have fun, then he would get serious about something.

Meanwhile, he was on the prowl for his next good time.

He spotted her next to the stage. The lead singer was eye fucking her, and she wasn’t exactly discouraging it.

She was wearing a crisscross tie-dyed halter top, her hair spilling down her back in luscious dusky waves as she undulated her body seductively while keeping her eyes locked on the singer.

His focus narrowed. Target acquired.

NEW STUFF/COMING SOON(er or later)

Cordonian Royal Airlines

Insurrection Chapter 2

The long-awaited follow-up to King Breaker. I really wanted to post a snippet, but almost every line is a huge spoiler so just know that it’s in process.

Queen of Hearts:

Premise: Crown Princess Riley Rys has no interest in marrying any time soon but she’s not above taking advantage of the diversions offered by the endless stream of hopeful young noblemen that are paraded in front of her by their ambitious parents. But what happens when someone a little more…common catches her eye?

Format: A possibly open-ended series of the ongoing adventures of Cordonia’s untamable princess. (Still deciding)

Credit to @karahalloway for the series title.

Disclaimer: I know I’m not the first or only person to flip Riley into the role of royalty and I’m sure I won’t be the last. This is simply my take on it.

A/N: While I’ve made Riley the princess, I have not flipped Liam into the commoner role (that role belongs to Drake), but I have, instead, made Leo and Liam members of the Cordonian nobility.

Board:

#angelasscribbles #sunday six #the royal romance #trr #the royal romance fanfic #trr fanfic #trr fandom #choices

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finn-writes-stuff · 2 years

Note

Hello friend! Could i request a Mumbo Jumbo x reader who is very ant like? Very very small, very very strong, probbaly can carry Mumbo with one hand, likes sugar very much. But also very very weak to Mumbo and would melt whenever he carries them

A Helping Hand

I love requests with a fun specific thing. It’s never what I expect to be writing. Also, take this piece with a grain of salt? I havent written for Mumbo before.

Mumbo Jumbo x Reader

Fandom: Hermitcraft

Format: Oneshot (438 words)

Warnings: N/A

Gender neutral reader

Hermitcraft Masterlist

Commission info

“Mumbo! You missed a piece of red stone in here!” You called out, leaning out between the blocks of his latest invention. You’d been chatting with him while he built, so when it didn’t turn on as it was supposed to, you’d offered to see if you could spot a problem.

There were plenty of benefits to being so small, and you used them often to help out the other hermits. Given that the last time you’d helped Mumbo, he’d offered to build you an automatic sugarcane farm, you were more than willing to help him out again.

Perhaps that wasn’t the only reason you were so willing to help him. Over the time you’d known him, the two of you had forged a strong friendship. It was never a surprise to the hermits to see you sitting on his shoulder and listening to him explain a new project, or to see you chatting to him from his jacket pocket.

“Thank you, dear! I can’t believe I missed that.”

And of course, he could fluster you with the simplest of pet names. It definitely didn’t help when he scooped you up so he could fix his machine, holding you close to his chest with one hand. You were thankful he wasn’t looking at you, because you could feel your face burning.

“There we go, let’s see if it works now! Would you like to do the honours, love?”

He set you down next to the lever that controlled the contraption. Despite it being practically bigger than you, he let you push it by yourself, knowing you’d have no trouble.

That was one of your favourite things about him. He was an incredibly helpful person, but he wasn’t overbearing. He knew when to step back and he didn’t underestimate you like so many people did. It was a refreshing change of pace.

And when the machine kicked to life and he lifted you back up into his hands, you couldn’t complain. It gave you a better view of his wide grin.

“Fantastic!! Oh what would I do without you?” Mumbo said, practically buzzing with excitement.

“Spend a lot more time rebuilding your inventions from scratch, I’m sure.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but smile. His joy was infectious, you’d bottle and sell it if you could.

“That already how I spend half my time! I’d have no free time at all.”

He set you on his shoulder, beginning to explain why he’d built this new machine and you let his bright voice wash over you. Here, simply spending time with him, you had all you could ask for.

#finnwrites #hermitcraft x you #hermitcraft x reader #mumbo x reader #mumbo jumbo x reader #life series x reader #x reader #oneshot #mumbo jumbo

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enigmatictypos · 1 year

Text

Unenticing Hours (Mikage Reo/Nagi Seishiro)

One where stress, overwork and a bad stomach bug leaves the Mikage heir in tatters. College AU

Sometimes Reo wondered if everything he did was even worth the actual effort he put in. Over the past few months, since the beginning of semester, he’d been getting less and less sleep, his hours extending from early morning classes and stretching into evening practice and subsequently all nighter assignments and projects.

That said - he did enjoy football practice, and he did love the courses he was taking at university.

Sometimes though, he found himself desperately wishing that the twenty four hours of a day were to either slow down or just extend longer than they did - something that would give him the leeway to just take some time away from the field or his study table and actually take a breather.

Which is what he did as he rested his head against the cool top of the desk next to his notes in class. The lecture was particularly tedious and covered a topic which Reo had already gone over with his father. Ideally irrespective of that, his eyes would be ever strained on the digital board at the front of the lecture hall, fingers scribbling down notes quickly and neatly, but today, something was different.

With the throbbing pain radiating across the inside of his skull, paying attention to his professor’s words seemed to get harder and harder with every passing minute. He finally ended up giving up around five minutes ago, his head dropping into his arms as he shielded off the glaring lights in the room as an attempt to ease the steady pounding behind his eyes.

There was only a couple of minutes left on the clock before the end of the class, so hopefully the teacher wouldn’t mention anything crucial to the semester. Plus, even if it did, hopefully the white haired individual sitting next him would have noted down something (even if he essentially scraped through this class by leaching off Reo’s notes).

Operations Management was the only class Reo actually shared with Nagi. With their university majors being pretty different, it was perhaps a stroke of luck that Nagi ended up choosing this among his optionals, while the class remained one of Reo’s integrals. That said, he still ended up seeing a lot of his best friend given that they were both among the only three freshmen who’d been called into the first string for the team.

Speaking of practice, Reo almost physically let out a groan. He wasn’t entirely sure why but a deep seated ache had been gnawing across his body since he woke up this morning and the notion of having to work his muscles while already sore was never exactly appealing, no matter how much you like a sport.

Not to mention his headache didn’t seem to be easing up any time soon either…

Maybe he was coming down with something. The thought occurred to Reo as a particularly nasty throb had him wincing - there had been a flu virus going across campus. Only last week Chigiri, his roommate, had come down with it so it would make sense if Reo managed to catch it from him.

The realisation though wasn’t very pleasant.

Midterms were approaching fast and quick and there wasn’t exactly any spare room of relaxation in Reo’s current itinerary. For all his academic brilliance, keeping up with the number of classes he had was in itself a superhuman feat, something which even a few hours less would impact. So actually coming down with something was a risky ordeal for him.

He’d just have to swallow his symptoms down with medicine and water he supposed, if it was indeed what he thought it was.

“Ne Reo-” a small, soft voice spoke up next to him, breaking him out of his thinking spree. Raising his head from his arms, Reo realised that he’d probably completely zoned out, since he’d somehow missed the class concluding and the teacher leaving the room. Nagi, who'd already gathered up the few stuff he’d actually lugged to class, was gazing at the purple haired boy with a look Reo couldn’t exactly put a label on.

Perhaps it was confusion. It would make sense - after all, Reo was usually the one nagging at Nagi to not fall asleep during class. His questioning looked to remain unanswered as Reo’s mind suddenly went blank, another flash of pain vibrating through his skull, triggering a new sensation of discomfort in his stomach.

Yup, definitely something wrong with him.

“Yeahhh,” he mumbled out, “I’m fine, just a bit off colour today, don’t worry.” He however, didn’t raise himself to his feet just yet, the cool sensation of the desk feeling far too comfortable against his unknowingly burning forehead. The silence from Nagi surprised him a little but then to be fair with their very recent patch up after a relatively big falling out, they were still playing on eggshells around each other.

It suddenly struck him though that the next hour was an off period for him - with his Statistics Professor having been invited to an All-Japan-Analytics Meet, the class had been suspended for a week, today being the fourth of the seven days. Which meant that he’d probably have time to catch a quick thirty minute nap back in his dorm room if he rushed.

With newfound zeal in his limbs, he stood, only to have his hands shooting out, fingers clutching against the desk as a wave of dizziness slammed into him, strong and disorienting. Unlike a headrush though it didn’t clear immediately, leaving Reo with his eyes scrunched shut, knuckles turning white with how he was holding the desk to keep himself from falling over.

The swirling sensation of the ground beneath his feet was just more than enough to promote his former sensation of discomfort to an actual defined sense of nausea. He felt a hand on his shoulder, cool fingers wrapping around the exposing skin where his shirt looped around his neck - familiar yet hesitant in the touch. Perhaps it was even more concerning that Reo’s instincts didn’t immediately have him moving away, them still not having reached the physical affection phase after their last argument.

Great, now of all people Nagi knew something was wrong with him.

Drawing in a breath to steady himself, he slowly opened his eyes as the nausea and dizziness both slowly ebbed away. He cast a sheepish grin at the white hair who was now looking at him with pointed concern. Nagi didn’t voice his questions, so it was left up to Reo to analyse the obvious question in the gaze, enquiring whether Reo was alright.

Had it been anyone other than Nagi, his pale face and near-keeling over episode would have been enough ground to establish that he wasn’t in fact alright. But despite all his genius, Nagi was far too gullible, especially in front of Reo, who basically intended to make a living out of white lies and smiles.

“I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he said, which wasn’t far from the truth, “Just stood up a bit too quick there.”

Reo dealt Nagi a lot of bold faced half-truths and this was yet another one of the same. Nagi’s grip on his shoulder loosened hesitantly as he removed himself from Reo’s personal space, allowing the purple haired boy to breathe a bit easier. He looked suspicious but knowing him, he wouldn’t press into a matter (just how bad had he looked that Nagi hadn’t accepted what he said at face value?)

“If that’s what Reo says…” he mumbled out, taking a few steps forward before stopping, an obvious notion for Reo to join him.

That reminded him that Nagi too had an off period every Thursday. With them hardly having talked in the past week, they hadn’t been able to plan anything out (which in hindsight was a good idea since Reo didn’t exactly feel upto socialising right now). Nagi’s notion, though, probably implied that he thought that they’d still be spending the hour together, probably just sitting together in silence on the roof, while Nagi clicked away at whatever new video game had interested him.

An appealing invite if his painkillers hadn’t been in the bedside drawer all the way in his dorm room, a fair walk away from the main building, and his body screaming for well, his bed in general.

“Ahh,” he said, once again feigning innocence as he started gathering up his stationary, “You go on ahead today, Nagi, I have to go work on something in the library.” Yet another lie, but a selling one since never in the years they’d spent together had Nagi ever joined him on his library adventures, no matter the bribe.

Nagi nodded at that - to be fair, the argument was believable since Reo had spent quite a few free periods and even lunch hours on study work this semester, trying to keep up with his own good grades. Whether those additional hours were good or bad was something only time would say.

“Are you sure you’re alright though?” Nagi voiced, eyes moving down towards Reo’s hands, where he himself hadn’t realised they were trembling. Fisting them and stuffling them into the pockets of his loose beige flannel shirt that he’d unconsciously dawned upon his lilac t-shirt this morning.

Reo nodded quickly, probably far too quickly for it to be nonchalant, but then if he was hiding something from Nagi, the white haired boy knew better than to try to poke it out of the Mikage. Those attempts never worked well, and the effort was probably quite misplaced. So with a nod of his own, and a small half handed wave, Nagi turned around and left the room, leaving Reo to collapse back into his seat, thoroughly confused on how even standing up had been exhausting.

***

Whoever had come up with the notion that sleep made you feel better was an absolute lying bastard and they would not live to see the next morning if Reo managed to find out who it was.

That said, with his current disposition he almost doubted he’d make it to the next morning.

If he’d left bad this morning, everything seemed to have heightened over the course of his “nap”. Which he’d conveniently slept right through his alarm and missed out on every other class of the day. In hindsight though, if he’d felt even a fraction of what he was feeling now he doubted he’d have been able to spend even a second in a crowded classroom.

His skin felt like it was on fire, sweat poured down his body in gallons to the point where his inner t-shirt was absolutely drenched. His head hurt pounding fit to burst, each throb sending waves of intense nausea through his body which had him stumbling out of the bed and barely making it to the bathroom, before he was violently heaving over the toilet.

He didn’t bring anything up though except mouthfuls of saliva, his chest and stomach in agony from the convulsions of the dry heaving. It left him panting and breathless, tears gathering in his eyes from the effort, frustration bleeding into every inch of his existence. Exhaustion creeping in Reo leaned his head against the edge of the porcelain bowl, sanitation temporarily forgotten as his body seemed to want to wring him out in a matter of hours.

Another wave of nausea went over him as he was once again sent over the bowl weakly gagging, a thin stream of drool dropping out of his parted lips. Right since he was a child, Reo never had an easy time throwing up. Even when he knew that losing his stomach would probably make him feel better. Sometimes he’d spend entire hours hunched over the bathroom with either Ba-ya or his mother sitting beside him rubbing circles on his back.

He most certainly missed them as yet another violent retch sent him bending over the toilet, unproductive yet ostensibly more painful. This round seemed to be particularly rough, heave after heave seemingly ripping his body apart in pain and exhaustion.

Leaning back against the wall once that bout was over, Reo drew in a sharp breath, hand raising itself to his face to wipe off both the perspiration and the tears. A part of Reo knew it was natural to get unwell from time to time, the other part was so irrationally upset that he just wanted to curl into a ball and sob himself to sleep.

The nausea had begun to take a backseat, the top concerns being replaced by his concern of whether or not he was fit enough to attend practice. Once again his brain found itself torn between rational and irrational - rational knowing well enough that he'd just worsen his own condition by even walking out of his dorm room while the irrational screamed in panic over how his position on such a top tier team could very well be shaken up over him suddenly missing practice.

Maybe that was just the fever reigning his mind as he stood up, using the sink as support as he leaned over, turning on the tap as he just stood there, letting the cold water run over his fingers. Chigiri would probably have yelled at him for wasting water if he were here but Reo couldn't really bring himself to care - not when the cold water seemed to bring a, though minimal, relief to his burning body.

It took him a few minutes of water running along his fingers and splashing into his face to regain a semblance of clarity. Looking into the mirror, he noted that his appearance had worsened since morning. His pallor was almost ashen, other than the feverish blush on his cheeks. His usually well maintained purple hair was an absolute mess with some parts sticking up and some parts matted down with sweat. To top it all off the dark circles under his eyes were probably dense enough for him to shrug them off as some variety of eye makeup.

He sighed to himself, running his hands through his hair, the simplistic movement itching further at his deep boned exhaustion. Opening up the cabinet beside the sink, he quickly dry swallowed a fever reducer and something to help with nausea, hoping fervently that the pills didn’t sit heavier in his stomach, while simultaneously thanking heavens that Chigiri labelled the bottles for symptom management because he was not even in a place to attempt to figure out which medicine helped what.

In hindsight, actually trying to go to the five pm practice in this condition was ostensibly dumber than Reo could physically even begin to imagine himself as.

They’d barely even started warmups and Reo felt his vision swimming dangerously, peripheral range zooming in and out. His nausea had returned to full swing, the stomach calmers doing absolutely nothing to help there, as the organ writhed angrily under his skin. The turf under his feet felt far too unsteady, strong chills working down his spine, despite the fact that he was sweating profusely.

He bent over, hands on his knees, eyes closed as he finally finished one of his workouts, understandably slower than his usual pace. His breath came short and gaspy, despite him attempting to draw them calm and deep to quell the nausea in his stomach. He felt a hand on his shoulder, coaxing him to look up.

A familiar head full of long, vibrant red hair invaded his vision, concern flooding his roommate’s red eyes.

“Reo-kun,” he said, voice attemptedly made gentle, “You’re clearly unwell, you need to stop pushing yourself,” Chigiri spoke, fingers squeezing tighter around the purple haired boy’s shoulder. The realization that Chigiri hadn’t needed much more than a look at him to say that he wasn’t holding himself up at all, was probably testament to how bad he was feeling, given that he was usually quite the reasonable and convincing actor.

“I’m fine,” he forced out, between gasps. Curt and short, “It's just a cold.”

Just a cold, my ass. Reo couldn’t help thinking as he spoke the words, back straightening up again as he gazed around the field, pointedly avoiding eye contact with Chigiri. The redhead was perceptive, much more so than Nagi, who had been the only other person to enquire about his condition today, and he knew that his lies were already falling short for this one. Ostensibly the fact that his eyes were likely to glaze over wouldn’t really help his case.

“Reo,” Chigiri continued, as the hand left the taller boy’s shoulder, “Nagi of all people noticed, and Rin’s been giving you these odd looks and the captain is obviously angry. I don’t think you even begin to realise how you’re looking.”

Reo’s hands ran along his face, a sigh escaping him, as he pressed down on his eyes, almost in an attempt to smother his face if possible. A small blush crept onto his cheeks which wasn’t directly associated with the fever, but more so the embarrassment that almost the entire team had been seeing through his facade. As a stab of pain once again reverberated through his skull, he didn’t bother to suppress the moan.

“... my head hurts a bit,” he admitted, revelling in the fact that that was likely to be the understatement of the year. Chigiri’s look conveyed that his thoughts probably resonated with Reo’s own. The redhead’s hand moved down from his shoulder to settle along his arm, an offer for support that they both knew Reo wouldn’t take.

Unless he actually passed out, his pride would probably make him walk out of the turf on his own, even if he had been sporting profusely bleeding stab wounds all over.

Chigiri didn't, however, let go as the two made their way over towards the benches where the rest of the team were trying awfully hard to pretend that they weren’t looking in their direction. The attempt though was absolutely horrible. Their captain Sae had a pointed look on his face, which wasn’t exactly angry or malicious but held an odd sense of understanding. Then again, Reo assumed that with Sae’s own levels of dedication to the sport, it was quite possible that he too had ventured onto the field in a similar condition.

Isagi and Bachira were both talking with each other, casting very unsubtle looks at Reo and Chigiri as the two of them made their way over, Chigiri helping Reo into one of the chairs, offering him a bottle of sports drink. While Reo accepted it, he didn’t really move to drink it, knowing that putting anything in his mouth right now would probably send him into another retching and heaving fit. Something which was probably inevitable at this point, but much preferred in the solitude of his dorm bathroom instead where the entire team could see him.

“Reo, you weren’t alright earlier.” A familiar voice filtered through the haze that was his mind, as he looked up to face Nagi. The white haired boy wore his usual neutral look, but the emotion was evident in his round orbs as he spoke. Reo’d spent years with Nagi, enough to be able to gouge exactly what Nagi was feeling right now. A part of him was disappointed that Reo had lied, while the other part… probably was nervous about whatever Reo would say next.

It wasn't a concern, because Nagi was likely not capable of actually feeling the amount of concern which would cause him to leave behind whatever he was doing and ask around. Or that’s what Reo told himself in the moment, the sudden emotion in the latter’s eyes, hitting his own, almost making him tear up. He bit his lower lip, head pointing down at the plastic grass of the turf once again.

Sae came to stand in front of him, beside Nagi, voice holding the same contempt he seemed to always speak with.

“Can you walk on your own?” He asked, a question Reo didn’t want to answer, because at this point he didn’t know if he could walk all the way back without passing out or throwing up or both of those. He didn’t voice that to the older boy though, simply giving him a sheepish nod.

Sae wasn’t one to unnecessarily poke either so with his nod to match Reo’s he continued, “Then go get some rest before I’m convinced that you’re attempting to start the zombie apocalypse or something.”

Getting to his feet though, proved to be another challenge as the moment he stood up, the ground shifted beneath his feet, sending waves of nausea and dizziness washing over him. His knees folded without much warning, as a whine escaped his lips. He’d probably have fallen to the ground if it weren’t for both Nagi and Sae’s reflexes as they both grabbed him by his arms, steadying him enough to keep him on his feet.

Sae let go though, allowing the white haired boy to support most of Reo’s weight. And even in that fever-addled, upset condition, he was hyper aware of how close he was to Nagi, a form of contact that he hadn’t exactly willingly initiated. He closed his eyes, burying his face into the boy’s shoulder blade, letting himself feel that moment of weakness. He’d already lost the image he’d been attempting to uphold, why make himself suffer further?

“He’s burning up,” he heard Nagi’s monotone speak, albeit it wasn’t exactly a monotone, when the slight spike of worry was evident in the boy’s tone. Who was he kidding? Obviously Nagi was worried about him. Maybe not to the extent Reo would be if the roles were switched, but he cared enough that Reo’s pain would make him drastically concerned.

“You don’t need to leave practice,” Chigiri said, presumably not to him, “I’ll take him over to our suite, I need to get myself a hair tie anyways.”

When Reo’s head finally stopped spinning, he moved himself out of Nagi’s grasp, his hand moved towards Chigiri who despite his shorter stature, quite comfortably draped his arm around his shoulder, the other arm moving to support him by the waist. There was a certain level of jostling though that seemed to set off fireworks in the young Mikage’s stomach, making him swallow down the saliva that flooded his mouth almost urgently. They’d barely reached the edge of the field when Reo realised he was fighting a losing battle.

“Chigiri-” he managed to rasp out, before bringing his hand up to his mouth, pressing down in an attempt to coax his brain into not immediately triggering his gag reflex.

But when did the universe really listen to him?

With a violent retch, Reo tore himself away from the redhead, stumbling a few feet away. His fingers wrapped around the fencing of the field as he sank onto the concrete, knees being too unsteady to hold his weight as his stomach worked to expel all of its contents.

For the moment, everything around him seemed to blur out, except the burning sensation of something thick and slimy crawling up his throat, as he helplessly gagged, a sour, rancid mixture of whatever he’d put into his stomach, pouring out of his lips in a gush. It was like a dam had been broken within him. He retched once again, the painful noise scraping his throat raw as another rush of half digested food made its way out of him, bitter and hot to the taste.

It was probably the texture and smell which made his stomach turn worse, as it heaved and heaved, not even giving the boy the time to breathe between retches as each movement brought about small amounts of the slurry, which splattered against the concrete. Tears freely flowed down Reo’s eyes, a building panic growing in his chest, as spots danced in his vision.

His body sagged further downward, his loose arm wrapping around his stomach in a desperate attempt to alleviate some of the agony he felt, but to no avail. The knuckles of the hand gripping the wire fence turned white as he heaved for what seemed like the umpteenth time, this time only bringing up burning stomach acid and bile, the liquid being painful enough to send him into another fit of tears.

It was when he was finally reduced to simply dry heaving once again, stomach wrangled out and empty that he registered the two people on either side of him. Chigiri’s gloved hand was holding his matted hair out of his face as he kneeled beside him, now simply holding his head up, keeping him from face planting into a massive puddle of his own puke.

On his other side stood Nagi, who was bent over, hand rubbing circles on Reo’s back. While the supposed massage didn’t do much to help Reo’s pain, the contact was what melted him, as he let his exhaustion get the better of him. His fingers uncurled from the fence, as he let out a pitiful sob. Turns out his position and his hand holding him up was his only source of support as his body tilted sideways. He probably would’ve hit the ground if it weren’t for a pair of arms steadying him.

Through half closed eyes and his own panting breaths, he could hear a familiar voice speak.

“I’ll take care of him,” it said, distant almost as though Reo was listening to someone speak through a wall of water, “He’s my…”

The rest of whatever the person was saying mellowed out as the darkness in Reo’s vision expanded. The last thing he registered was the same pair of hands lifting him off the ground, and the sense of temporary security he felt.

***

Reo woke up feeling as though he’d been hit by a truck.

It took him a moment to gouge his surroundings. He was… not in his room, that was for sure if the white ceiling in contrast to his own violet was anything to go by. The next thing he took in was that the room was rather dimly lit. Which was certainly a relief since his head was throbbing fit to burst. Did he end up getting a concussion during practice?

“Ah, Mikage-kun, you’re awake!” a slightly high pitched voice spoke up next to him, making him wince at the decibel as he moved his line of vision to the side, to catch sight of the dark haired boy with glasses break into a smile, “We were getting concerned that we’d have to get you to an actual hospital.”

… Yukimiya Kenyu.

One of the only pre-med students on the football team who basically had the additive job of poking and prodding over any injuries or illnesses that the players came down with.

“Yukimiya-kun-” he spoke, wincing as he realised how scratchy his own throat was. Bringing his hands up, he attempted to push himself up into a sitting position, only to have a rush of nauseating dizziness slam him right back into the mattress. Yukimiya invaded his direct vision again, face scrunched up in concern.

“Hey, hey, take it easy there, Macho Man!” he called, “You’re severely dehydrated so don’t go making sudden movements, you will keel over.” He however, didn’t leave Reo the way he was, helping the purple haired boy into a sitting position, helping himself back up against the back of the bed to support himself. The exhaustion in his body was deeply embedded, but now that the memories from what had perspired began returning to him, he realised he was probably feeling a bit better. Still thoroughly and completely ill, but at least he wasn’t throwing up and passing out on people anymore.

Speaking of people… it was then that Reo noted the mop of white hair which had its head buried in Reo’s sheets, asleep in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. Especially with how tall Nagi was. He had pulled himself a chair and used the bed as a headrest - but knowing Nagi’s ability to sleep anywhere he wasn’t surprised to hear the soft snores emanate from the boy.

Hesitantly, he reached out to run his fingers through the messy white locks, a small smile playing on his lips.

Nagi had stayed by his side.

Taking in the tenderness in Reo’s expression, Yukimiya chuckled, “This guy here, gave me quite the fright when he came banging at my door at two in the morning. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so worried,” the older boy recalled as his own gaze went over to the now asleep Nagi, “Apparently you weren’t able to keep anything down and you were speaking worrying things in your sleep.”

“Ah…” was all Reo could say to that as he retracted his hand from Nagi’s hair to massage his own temple. The ever lazy Nagi had hung around to look after him when he was in such a bad condition, huh? Maybe all his doubts over the boy’s dedication towards him were moot after all. Yukimiya seemingly reading into his line of thought merely chuckled along.

#blue lock #blue lock fic #sickfic #mikage reo #nagi seishiro #chigiri hyoma #yukimiya kenyu #nagireo #vomiting #emeto fic #fainting #chigiri hyoma and mikage reo roomies

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