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naniwatig3r · 5 months ago

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CONTOUR LINES (18+)

Mingyu x artstudent!Femreader

Summary: You’ve finally broken up with your boyfriend Mingyu. Ignoring him has been hard, but you were finally at peace. But he had other plans, as he shows up to the figure drawing class you T.A…. And as the model.

Warnings: Unexplained breakup (im lazy lol), angst, cute fluff sometimes, art school stress, public nudity, public unprotected penetrative sex (no one is around though!), quickie

a/n: this was a idea i got while messing around with my friend who has a thing for mingyu, lol.

Word count: uhhh, around 7k ? I can’t remember 😅

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Another miss call.

Great, you thought, the tenth missed call from your ex boyfriend Mingyu this week.

It’s been about a month since you broke up with your ex, Kim Mingyu. It was an odd pairing in the first place. You met him coincidentally in the quad the beginning of the year, as you sat at the edge of the school fountain. Your sketchbook open, as you drew the scenery and people around you. A normal activity you did as an arts student.

You were clearly in the zone, drawing the fold in a random college student’s arm, before a voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa, you can draw.”

Your eyes snap up, seeing a towering figure, completely blocking your view. No shit, you thought.

“Yeah, I guess.” You say plainly, hoping your short answer would deter this guy. But then the sunlight is back on the page you’re drawing, and you feel his warm presence sit right next to you. Maybe he’s just sitting down to sit down, so you try and finish your life drawing of the current student, but they were gone. Probably going to their next class.

Huffing, you still for a moment to put your pencil down.

“I wish I could draw like that,” You hear, as you glance to your side. Furrowing your eyebrows in irritation as the man leans over to stare directly into your sketchbook. “You’re a really good drawer.” He says in awe.

“Yeah, uh, thanks.” You say curtly, as he continues to stare at your sketches like he’s at a museum. These sketches were nothing compared to a Degas or something, yet he stared at them like it was, his brown eyes flickering around in interest.

He clears his throat, as he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles, a toothy one where you notice how sharp his canines were. Cute.

He pulls his sleeve up from his wrist to his elbow, holding his large hand out, “Mingyu. Kim Mingyu.” He says, introducing himself. You nod, reluctantly shaking his hand, his grip tight and strong.

“Y/n.” You say back shortly, eyeing him, wondering how long this tall man was going to bother you.

He lets go of your hand, as he adjusts his position to turn more towards you. One leg over the other, leaning forward. His bangs falling so perfectly across his eyebrow, that it made you narrow your eyes. It’s crazy, people like this seriously exist huh?

“Do you do art or something?” No shit.

You nod, “Yeah, I’m a fine arts major.” You respond, giving him a strained polite smile. It felt like you had to, the way this guy has been beaming at you like a puppy as you give the driest replies.

He grins, “Whoa, no way. Thats cool,” He praises, “I’m—“

The rest of the meet cute didn’t matter.

After this, you kept bumping into him, coincidence you thought at first, but thinking back… he had no reason to be near the art school area of the campus.

He always asked to see your sketchbook, or whatever was in your portfolio folder as you tried to get to your studio. Even helping you carry your supplies and folders inside, and once he learned where you worked he came with iced coffee when he could.

At 3 am, he’d lay on the floor of your messy studio, watching you as you mix another color on your palette. Your sweatshirt pushed to your elbows, paint on your hands and face as you work on the gigantic canvas for your final.

“You don’t have to be here, you know,” You say a bit softly, your eyes tired despite your multiple energy drinks. “It must be boring to watch me throw paint for the last few hours.”

He shakes his head, sitting up as he looks at you with his puppy like eyes. “No, I like it. You’re so focused…” He trails, “I didn’t think art would be this hard.”

You glare at him for that remark, making him immediately tread back. His mouth gaping open and closing like a fish, “Ah! Not like that it’s easy — just that you’re so passionate you know?” He explains, throwing his hands around.

Rolling your eyes, you put your brush back into the muddy cup of water. “Why? Engineering not doing it for you?” You ask lazily, as you pull your claw clip out of your hair. Massaging your scalp from the tension.

Mingyu’s eyes focused on you, his cheeks slightly flushing. Eyes roving over how strands of your hair effortlessly frame your face. He clears his throat, “Uh, no. I like it. I’ve always been good at studying, and I get the material so,” He says, as he scratches his head.

“But I guess, it’s different watching you. Your eyes are different when you’re drawing, painting, sculpting. Whatever.” He says quietly.

“Different?” You muse, standing up to stretch your legs. Mingyu following instinctively, his tall frame dwarfing you.

He nods, “Mhm, yeah. I thought art was just a major for people who didn’t want to do anything, but getting to know you…” he says, as he follows you to your studio table. As you open the most recent energy drink you got from the vending machine. “You just don’t stop. Like you’re meant to do it.” He breathes.

His genuine words make you raise an eyebrow, turning to him. You give him a small smile, making his heart rate jump. “Yeah? It’s like you, I think.” You say, taking a sip of that battery acid of a drink. “I’ve just been doing this since forever. Natural to keep going.” You say nonchalantly, but Mingyu looks at you like you’re a living genius.

“Thats whats so cool,” He gushes, “You’re just made to do this.” He says, as he glances at your current work in progress. A large canvas with pleasing colors, his eye being drawn to the right areas. The beautifully rendered figure, framed with all the right strokes.

He looks back at you, with such an adoration you think it’s hallucinations from doing so many allnighters.

“Ah,” he starts, as he moves his long legs to shuffle through his bag, pulling out some tupperware. “I forgot, I was making uh, some dinner earlier and I had leftovers.” He lies, knowing full well he made it for you. He turns around, opening the tupperware to reveal a lunch box of different side dishes and protein. It could rival any meal inspo on pinterest, as he even carefully cut out seaweed to make cute faces.

You snicker, making Mingyu’s cheeks pink. “Leftovers huh?” You say, as you grab the lunchbox from him. Your fingers brushing over his, a welcome warmth from the cold air conditioning of the studio. “Thanks, I appreciate it. I was just gonna make some ramen.”

“Yeah no problem,” He strains, smiling. “You need energy to keep on going right? At least eat well if you’re gonna sacrifice your sleep.”

You take a bite, and even though it was cold, you nod in approval at the taste. The annoyingly large man could cook. Your reaction makes Mingyu grin, as you can see shamelessly how much that did to his ego.

“Still, you should go you know?” You say, as you remember Mingyu talking about his week a few days ago as you painted. “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow?”

Oh? He doesn’t focus on the fact that you’re asking him to go. Only that you remembered his schedule. He grins, “You remembered huh?”

You roll your eyes, “Of course I did. You told me.” You say, your own cheeks reddening from how embarrassed you felt from Mingyu’s reaction. Why was he so excited?

He shakes his head, “It’s fine, I was reviewing earlier. It’s in the afternoon anyways.”

You finish the lunchbox, washing it down with your energy drink before going to pick up a new large paint brush. “Fine by me then,” you sigh, not bothering to argue with him. It was weird the first time he accompanied you on an allnighter, but Mingyu’s presence became a normal occurrence since then.

And there he was, sitting obediently like a dog next to you as you continued painting. Your playlist ending hours ago, as the only sounds are the strokes of your brush, and the breathing of both of you.

It was like this for a while, until near the end of the year. This time, you were running out of steam.

Maybe it was all the all nighters the whole year, or the fact you got sick right before finals, but you were stuck in your studio once more. Slaving away as you work on your third painting of the night, trying to get your exhibition finished before sunlight.

You hear the sound of the door opening. He had his own key now — you copied one at one point since he always was knocking. Mingyu coming in with late night take out in one hand, clad in grey sweatpants and a hoodie, ready to tackle the night with you.

You don’t even bother looking behind you, his familiar presence and cologne already telling you who it is. “Hey,” He says softly, putting the food down as he notices your tired state. It was like you were running on fumes, the amount of empty redbulls and monsters around your studio telling him all he needed to know.

You grunt, “Yeah, hey.” You say tiredly, as you wipe your face with the back of your hand. Paint smearing on your cheek. Mingyu comes over with a napkin from the takeout container, huffing as he wipes your cheek with it.

“Whens the last time you took a break?” He asks, a bit worried. Despite hanging out with you for so long, he wouldn’t say he knew anything about art. But he knew you. And the way your wrist movements against the canvas were sluggish, and the way your eyebrows furrowed as the strokes didn’t land and look the way you wanted… he knew you were at your limit.

“Doesn’t matter, I have another painting after this.” You say roughly, “Fuck, I’m such an idiot. I should have painted when I was sick. At least worked on the concepts and colors so I didn’t have to figure it out right now.” You rant, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

Mingyu frowns, “No, y/n. What about a fifteen minute break? I got burgers, it’ll help.” He says, but your face isn’t budging, like the strict deadlines for the paintings.

You curse, “God, Mingyu, I can’t stop. All the fucking pieces look like shit, if I stall any longer I’ll never finish this ass of an exhibition.” You say shakily, as you haphazardly throw your brush into the water cup, the muddy water splashing out. You grab another brush to pick up a new color.

He looks around the 10 other pieces littered around the room drying, he doesn’t get it, and he never would. They all looked great, cohesive despite your protests. “Y/n, they look great. You gotta take a break you know? Maybe it’ll help. Maybe your eyes will like, reset or something. You’ve been looking at this painting for hours.” He says, trying to reason.

You don’t listen, as you flick your wrist harshly to create a quick line of color.

clack!

You wince, dropping your brush to clatter on the floor. Your wrist acting up at the worst time, as you curse under your breath. Mingyu’s hands go up instinctively to hold your wrist, holding it still.

“God, now my wrist is flaring up too. Great, just what I need!” You curse bitterly, your head down.

Mingyu holds your wrist gently, despite your angry state you don’t push him away as he gingerly inspects your wrist. “Hey, come on. Lets take a break, and then we can wrap your hand alright?” He says softly, trying to coax you.

He leans down to see your hidden face, and it breaks his heart. Hot tears welling in your eyes from stress, frustration, and the impending deadline.

He doesn’t think twice, leaning down to hold you into an embrace, pulling you off your stool into his arms. Tight, the tips of your shoes barely grazing the floor. You can’t help but cry into his shoulder, “God, why am I so bad? I can’t show anyone any of this,” You sob, as Mingyu rubs your back. His grip tightening around you, holding you close as you basically collapse into his arms.

“Hey, y/n, you’ve just been working too long. Lets take a break alright? It’ll look better once you rest your eyes a bit, I promise.” He coos, “I’ve got some burgers and sweet potato fries, even convinced them to give me extra —“

“Mingyu, why are you always here?” You ask bluntly, choking back your tears. Through the whole year you’ve been tolerating him getting closer. First, random conversations when you bumped into each other on campus, then visiting the art school, coming to your studio, staying to keep you company. You never once tried to push him away, but you didn’t understand how he hasn’t been turned off yet. Your all nighters, your insecurities, the way you reject his invitations to campus parties and events to work. It was all a mystery, especially as you crash out in his arms, over some acrylic and oil on canvas. This must look pathetic to him.

His eyes are a bit panicked at the question, “I uh, do you not want me to be?” He asks reluctantly, still holding you close.

You sniff, your hand against his chest, gripping the fabric of his hoodie into your fist.

“No, I just... Thank you.” You say quietly into his chest, and Mingyu felt his head spin. You could definitely hear it, he thought, the way his heart was pounding out his chest. How you relied on him, telling him to stay. If it wasn’t for the fact you were leaning on him to stay up, he’d probably melt into a puddle on the floor.

Mingyu takes you to the table, helping you sit down on one of the comfier chairs. A foldable one with a pillow he brought at one point, so he could watch you comfortably. He boasted once — y/n look! Found this by the dumpster!

You let out a deep sigh as you sit down, Mingyu bending down to his knees to look at you eye level. A hand to your cheek as you close your eyes tiredly. “Hey, you okay?” He asks, searching your face.

You nod, “Yeah, um, sorry,” You sigh, “I’m just — I’m just stressed. I didn’t mean to have a breakdown in front of you.” You say apologetically, embarrassed by it. But he shakes his head, not affected by it. In fact, it probably caused him to fall harder, seeing how hard you work.

“Don’t apologize,” He says, pushing strands of your hair back. You look up at him, straight into his brown eyes. The way he looks at you so fondly, worried, that his bottom lip juts out slightly as he observes you. The way his fingers felt along your cheek, how he’s warmed you up in the cold room, brought takeout for you.

Fuck, how his hair is tousled under the hood, and the fact his face was a sight for sore eyes after looking at your paintings all day. Something with actual 3d planes staring at you, instead of flat canvas. Maybe it was the all nighters, the fact you’re on multiple energy drinks on an empty stomach, or that Mingyu is there for you.

You lean forward, shutting your eyes shut as you push your lips against his.

It’s warm, soft… might even get lost in it if—

You pull back after a second, as you see Mingyu’s wide eyes.

Oh fuck, did you read this wrong? Shit, at least you can blame it on lack of sleep—

A pair of lips crash into yours again, this time, you part yours as Mingyu’s warm lips mold into yours. Its warm, and comforting and everything nice, as you grab his collar to pull him closer. Making him stumble forward as he holds onto the edge of the chair to steady himself close to you.

You let out a soft breath as Mingyu snakes his free hand around to the small or your back, pushing you close as possible to him. Mingyu compensating for your lack of energy with his, as he kisses you deeply, something he’s always wanted to do. Every since he watched you draw random people at that campus fountain.

He pulls back as you pathetically try to chase his lips, as he kisses you chastely before speaking. “Y/n,” He breathes, “Fuck, you don’t know how long I wanted to do that.” He confesses, as he holds your face in his large hands.

You smile softly, “Mingyu, I—“

The box of charcoals clatter, as you accidentally drop it right next to the table of supplies. Sheepishly you bow at the students in class, not meaning to disrupt their focus.

You bend down to pick up the charcoal. What are you doing? It may be the third figure drawing class today, but dropping a box of pencils as you recount your days with Mingyu was horrible. Terrible.

Especially when you boasted to one of your friends as you shared a meal, Ah, Kim Mingyu? Thats over. Lets just focus on grad review.

You sigh, standing back up as you slide the box of art supplies on the table. Checking the time, you slide the notifications of Mingyu’s missed calls away. It was five minutes before class started, where the hell was the model?

And as if on cue, the other T.A. comes skitting towards you, pushing her glasses up as she avoids the boxes of supplies around the room. “Ah, Y/n—“ She starts, talking quietly to not cause alarm.

She stops in front of you, as you furrow your brows. Today the professor wasn’t in. As the consistent T.A., she trusted you to handle today with no substitutes. It wasn’t anything hard. You just helped set up the drawing horses and supplies, adjusted the lights and made sure the models were comfortable. It was easier especially when another T.A. was assigned to assist you today.

“Hm? What?” You ask, as you dust your hands.

She takes a deep breath, “Um, well, the model got food poisoning.” She starts. Leaning in so other students didn’t hear. “I just learned this right now, she’s like in the bathroom in the main hall throwing up like crazy.”

You frown, “What? Is she okay?” You say, straightening up, walking towards the front door grabbing your jacket off one of the stray art horse chairs.

She follows clumsily, “She’s fine! But she can’t model for this class. I know you’re in charge, but I panicked and just called whoever was on the emergency model list.”

You stop, causing the other T.A. to bump into your back, with a little squeak. A small what should have been insignificant memory flooding back.

“You’re TAing now? Seriously?” Mingyu asks lightly, as he fiddles with a loose strand of your sweater, the rough pads of his fingers pulling on it.

You slap his hand away disapprovingly, causing him to pout. “Yeah, just for figure drawing. I want to make a little money anyways, but working at the campus cafe is too time consuming.” You respond, as you continue to draw in your sketchbook. Outlining the foliage in front of you with your pen.

“Hm, what would that mean?” He asks, leaning forward to wrap an arm around your shoulder. Careful not to disturb your drawing, as he rests his chin on your closer shoulder. Watching you draw was his favorite past time nowadays.

“Just like, setting up, taking care of the figure drawing models. Things like that.” You respond absentmindedly.

“Models? Like, thats a job?” He asks, making you crack a smile. You forget how normal people knew nothing about art. You’re just glad he was openminded about basically everything.

You turn to look at him, “Yeah, the school hires people to pose for drawing. Its for studying.” You respond, as you tap your pen against the tip of his nose, where his beloved mole resided. Making him scrunch his nose, the corners of his lips turning up.

“Actually, I should write the emergency contact list. The professor updates every semester of models to contact if theres no shows, and the et cetera. I should just do it now so I don’t forget —“

“Add me on there then.”

You blink.

“Huh, what?” You say confused, looking at him with raised brows.

He straightens up, “You heard me. Add my number to that list. It sounds interesting,” He defends, his tone light.

You shake your head, smiling. “Mingyu, you don’t get it. You have to stand there naked, and do different poses every five to thirty minutes. Its not an easy thing to do.” You say, dismissing his words as nonsense. Sometimes he was too eager to try things just because they existed in your world.

Mingyu doesn’t falter. “Yeah I know. I just, it sounds cool. Also having a bunch of people drawing me, I don’t know… sounds nice. Also its like emergency contact right?” He says shrugging, “It’s not like it’ll actually happen. I know you’d never call me if it was an emergency, but just add me on it. If all models decide they’re not feeling it that day.” He suggests lightly.

You stare at him still in disbelief, narrowing your eyes. He scoffs, leaning forward to lean his forehead against yours as a challenge. A little goofy smile on his face, “What? Come on. Just add me to the list.”

The rational side of you knew this would never actually happen. Mingyu had no qualifications, and besides, there was a dozen other numbers to call before him. So you suck it up, sighing, writing his name down. Just for the sake that he’d shut up about it.

“Okay, fine.”

Your heart beats, eyes wide as you try to calm yourself. You didn’t want to release your anger against this girl for trying to fix the situation. It was your fault, really, in the first place to put his number on there. But this never was something that has happened before.

“Which number picked up?” You ask calmly, clasping your hands together as you focus on not exploding on your fellow T.A.

“Uh, just called the first one. He said he was on campus so he was down, and we only have five minutes till class—“

“Jesus, his name please?”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Oh fuck. Fuuuucckkkkk.

Mouth wide, and panicked eyes, you start to speak, before you hear the opening of the classroom door. You turn, and your face practically goes pale.

There he was — Kim Mingyu, just in a simple coat and pants. His eyes immediately landing on you. Its only been a month, but he cut his hair. Slightly shorter than you remember, as you tilt your head.

Stop it. You have to act normal.

You take a deep breath, trying to act professional. There was no time to question why the hell he’d even pick up and walk all the way here. Or why your heart was beating so fast, just looking at him.

“Um, escort him to the dressing room area.” You start, prying your eyes from Mingyu to the other T.A. “There should be a clean robe there too.” You inform, patting her arm as you beeline straight away from them.

You find a haphazardly stacked amount of newsprint, focusing on making all the edges match as you calm your heart. It’s fine, it really is.

For some reason Mingyu was interested in figure drawing modeling before. Maybe he just wanted to cross that off his bucket list, and had nothing to do with you.

The other T.A. comes back to stand beside you, “Is he comfortable?” You ask.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Just seems a little inexperienced,” She responds, scratching her cheek. “He asked if he had to take all his clothes off, and I was like, huh? Yeah? But other that that—“

“Yeah, alright.” You interrupt dryly. “Thank you. I’ll just take over after this.” You say, as you grab the timer from the table.

You walk towards the center, clearing your throat as the art students look up. “Right, hi. Professor Kang isn’t here today, but don’t mind. Today will be quite an easy day.” You start, crossing your arms.

Your eyes immediately follow to the ruffle of the dressing curtain, as Mingyu walks out in a fluffy robe. Brown eyes meet yours, and for a second you think this will be fine. Until the corners of his lips turn up, into a toothy grin only you knew so well.

That motherfucker. Bucket list my ass, he said yes just to mess with you!

You turn away sharply, focusing back on the class. “The model today is Kim Mingyu.” You say shortly, before stepping off the small platform.

You gesture for Mingyu to walk to the center, your face stone cold as you watch him step onto the platform.

He clears his throat, “Do I take the robe off now?” He asks cluelessly.

Great, just show everyone you have no clue what you’re doing. If this was a few months ago, it’d be cute. But Mingyu standing hopelessly waiting for instructions was annoying you, to say the least.

You nod, and immediately, he undoes his robe and lets it fall to the floor.

You can’t help but stare. Your lips pressed into a thin line, your body tense. Stop stop stop! You couldn’t give him a reaction. As an artist, it was normal to see naked bodies. It wasn’t a sexual thing, especially in figure drawing. But Mingyu wasn’t just an old man or something. He was a conventionally attractive, tall, well built man. In more places than one.

“Oh shit, he’s hot.” The other T.A. whispers to you, covering her mouth. You bite back your embarrassment, as you just send her a glare for her unprofessional reaction.

It doesn’t help that other people around the room are pleasantly surprised by Mingyu, as I see pink dusting around people’s cheeks. It was infuriating, to say the least.

“Holy shit, a hot model. Is this real?”

“I thought we had a middle aged woman today. Bro… score!”

“I’ve never stared so closely.”

“Alright, warm ups. Ten one minute poses.” You say plainly, holding up the timer and pressing down on it. Immediately, Mingyu nods, springing into action.

His poses were something else. They were a bit awkward, as he stood there. First putting his hands on his hips, staring at the ground.

But he started getting more comfortable. After the ten one minute poses were up, the other T.A. Adds a stool to the platform for Mingyu to sit on.

“One pose, 15 minutes.” You say, setting the timer again.

This time instead of looking at the ground, wall, or ceiling, he stared straight at you. His eyes unwavering. The sight makes your mouth go dry, as the studio lights enhance Mingyu’s features perfectly.

His face framed by the little curl of his bang, light bouncing off his tanned skin as the definition of his muscles are on display. The way his large shoulders balance his proportions, and his skin smooth and tightly wrapped around his toned torso. He always was working out, and it seemed like he kept that up, as your eyes trail from his abs to his bottom half. Your cheeks flushing as he’s so unabashedly bare in front of the whole room.

But it only propelled your anger. How could he? Just step into your domain — the art school wing — and just come here? Posing like a gangly weirdo, riding on his looks so none of the students complained. Staring straight into your eyes as a confrontation. So much it felt like he was telepathically speaking to you.

Why aren’t you returning my calls? Or, how does this make you feel? It was infuriating.

And as if satisfied in your attention on him, he smirks, like he won some imaginary battle. This idiot.

The timer rings, making you flinch against the supply table. Your cheeks flush slightly, as you clear your throat. “Another 6 poses, each 2 minutes.” You manage to choke out, pressing the timer.

As the figure session goes on for the next hour, Mingyu’s confidence was starting to irritate you to no end. At first what was awkward, was now overtly dramatic. His poses of showing off his muscles, flexing his back, it was too much. People were here to draw, not ogle.

You decided to play, not wanting Mingyu to have the upper hand. As Mingyu goes to pick up the robe off the ground, you yell, “Stop right there!”

Mingyu freezes immediately, mainly out of confusion. His eyes drifting to you, a slight furrow of his brows.

“Now, the model will stay still. Do you see how the arm connects to the shoulder blades? Please turn to a new paper and start focusing on that area.” You say, stopping Mingyu in an uncomfortable position in the name of education.

You eye how his leg starts to shake from holding it, but it only fuels you. “Now focus on the thigh muscle, we’ll hold this pose for another 3 minutes.” You say, a little glee seeping into your voice.

Mingyu’s eyes shooting up to glare at you, as you cock your head and smile.

You push Mingyu to do crazy things, like pretending to do a lay up for 10 minutes to talk about line of action. Or when you asked the students to move in closer to draw his face, having twenty people at once hyper fixate on his expression. Now, the class was fun. You completely turned it around.

The timer rings. “Alright, lunch break.” You say, as it’s half way through the 6 hour class.

Theres a collective sigh of relief, as students massage their wrists, and Mingyu putting his robe back on, but loosely. Letting his chest peek out through the fabric, as he walks around the room.

You watch as he circles, smiling and complimenting others.

“Wow, thats really good.”

“Whoa, really love how you drew that one.”

“Is that how I look? I’m flattered! Thanks.”

You huff, looking away as you catch a glimpse of him leaning over a pretty girl’s shoulder as she shows her sketches. Purposefully letting the loose robe drape his exposed chest as he examines the drawings.

Students get up to stretch their bones outside, getting lunch during the break. The other T.A. goes to check on something, leaving only you and Mingyu in the figure drawing room.

You stand, ignoring him as you walk towards the platform, readjusting the power of the studio lights. “Next part of the class is long poses,” You say, twisting the knob. “So it’ll be harsh lights. you just have to sit there, it’ll easy.”

You turn back around, Mingyu looking at you with a small smile, barely a yard away. His hands on his hips, as he looks down at you. “You know,” He drawls, his voice low. “This was a lot more fun than I thought.”

“Is it?” You respond bitterly, “Well I’m glad. Because you’re not gonna be paid for this.” You inform him, as Mingyu isn’t a real model signed with the school.

“Thats okay, I’m getting what I wanted anyways.”

You sigh, as you cross your arms. Deciding not to beat around the bush.

“What are you doing here, Mingyu?” You ask tiredly, finally looking at him straight, your brows furrowed. You boldly looking into his playful eyes.

His smug expression softens, almost reminiscent to how he would look at you before everything. He takes his bottom lip under his teeth, chewing as he looks at you.

“You seriously need me to answer that? Like always?” He says quietly, but with only you two in the studio, he could whisper from across the room and you’d still catch it.

“What, like you actually answer me with anything that makes sense?” You respond back tightly. Sighing, you relax your shoulders, biting your cheek as you glance away from him. A student’s messy pencil case catching your attention, albeit forced.

A deafening silence falls. Mingyu never really liked to fight anyways.

“You’re, you’re difficult, you know that?” He starts, as he ruffles his hair with his hand, as if that would release his pent up frustration. “When I got the random phone call that you guys needed a last minute model, I thought for a second it was intentional.”

He takes a step closer, “But of course not. You looked like you saw a ghost when I walked in.”

You gulp, “Well, to be fair, thats what you are now.” You say quietly. Avoiding his eyes.

“Oh? So I’m just dead to you?”

“No, that would be easier.” You snap, finally looking back to face his eyes. Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his eyebrows knitted, trying to figure you out like an abstract art piece.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as he lets out a disappointed huff. “y/n.” He starts firmly, in a tone he barely used.

But of course, directed to you, making your skin crawl in the overly air conditioned room.

Hands on his hips, as he takes a long breath, his head facing down as he hides his expression. “For an artist, you’re really shit at expressing your feelings.” He sighs, his bangs hiding whatever you could gather from him.

“Fine.” He concludes, looking up, his shoulders more relaxed. “I’ll stop bothering you about it, since you’re so sure.” He says throwing his arms out. “On one condition.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, wary of whatever condition he was gonna propose. Mingyu could be unpredictable when you pushed him, making the hair at the back of your neck stand.

“Draw me.” He says finally. He glances at the clock on the wall, “They still have that lunch break. So just draw me at least once, before everyone comes back.” He proposes, turning around to walk casually to the platform, as if he’s assuming you would just do it.

Is he serious? You weren’t even together anymore, and yet he wants a free commission from you? Thats crazy, like you’d ever —

“Fine.” You say curtly, “Since you’re so desperate for my attention anyways.” You quip, walking over to the supply table, making sure your shoes stomp against the hard floor. You swipe some spare paper, clipboard, and some charcoal.

The second you were at an art horse in front of Mingyu though, your fire waned slightly. The dead silence of the room was deafening, as you adjust your clipboard. The sound of the metal clips thumping against the paper, the feet of the art horse squeaking as you adjust sitting on the worn wood.

When you gaze up at Mingyu, it was obvious. He really was getting what he wanted, and it was your undivided attention.

Once ready, the charcoal in your hand, Mingyu sits down on the stool, eyes steady on you as he grips the already loose tie around his robe with his large hand. Letting it fall, as he exposes himself once more in the bright lights you set up yourself. He kicks the robe away off the platform, set on you drawing him like this.

You blink back any feelings that threaten to show on your face, readjusting the charcoal in your hand as you avoid Mingyu’s eyes, pressing down to finally start a line.

Its been a while since you last drew figures, and it usually took an hour of continuous drawing before you really found your pace in figure drawing sessions. But it was different this time.

Your heart beats in your ears, a silence of the room highlighting the sound of your charcoal smearing against the newsprint — the sounds of your breathing and of Mingyu’s, as time passes. Agonizingly slowly, yet a focus every artist aches for.

Your hand moves accordingly. Outlining the contour of his silhouette, the way his neck slopes, the soft lines that shape his abs he always was working on. Pressing for pressure with your charcoal as you indicate the weight of him sitting on the stool, hands in his laps loose as you capture his likeness with ease.

But the focus doesn’t last for long, especially when you flicker your eyes back to his. Already flicking a stroke to mimic his right eyelid, before you still. Pressing the tip of your charcoal into the paper, crumbling against the grain as you stare into his large brown eyes.

Fuck. What are you even doing?

Why are you drawing him so intently, when you vowed just a while ago that you never wanted to see Mingyu again?

Your breath hitches, as you raise your arm, flickering back to your drawing. Charcoal in the air, swinging to run a huge line through your figure of him, to smear it, to destroy it, to —

Your wrist stops mid air, as you feel a warm grip tightening around you. Eyes wide, you unfocus on the paper, to look up. Somehow in your tiny melt down Mingyu got down from the platform.

He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. Jaw tense, “You were just gonna ruin it, weren’t you?” He asks you quietly.

You can’t help but knit your brows, a pained expression forming that matches the one in his eyes.

The charcoal clatters out of your hand, landing on the floor in broken pieces.

Tears start welling in your eyes, your bottom lip trembling. “You’re right,” You start shakily, “I don’t know… how to address anything unless I’m drawing.” You say weakly.

Mingyu’s eyes soften slightly, swallowing hard as the bright lights highlight the contour of throat bobbing. “Yeah, seems like it.” He replies carefully. You expected him to use this as a told you so, maybe give you a smug smile, like, I knew you weren’t over me.

But Mingyu was never like that anyways. No matter how much he craved your attention, he also wanted your peace of mind. A hard thing to ask from an artist like you.

His grip on your wrist softens, as he kneels down, getting eye level with you as you still sit on the art horse. Holding your hand in his, rubbing a thumb over the veins on the back of your hand gently.

“I miss you.” You finally muster, your eyes focused on his.

“I miss you too.” He responds back, before cracking a small smile.

You strain your brows into a furrow, blinking back the warm tears you naturally formed from the vulnerable moment. A shaky huff also coming out of you, as you decide to lean forward.

Inching your face closer, until the tip of your noses brush, Mingyu stiffening slightly as you shyly graze your lips against his lips. A small breath escaping his lips, fanning over yours before you finally part them.

Your lips against his — it was like home. Finding your way back after such a tumultuous and useless road. The warmth of his lips seeping into you, Mingyu as relieved as you are. His hands finding its way to the sides of your face, pulling you impossibly closer.

It only escalates, as you open your mouth wider to push your tongue against his, making Mingyu groan out as he meets you with similar enthusiasm.

He pulls you forward, off the art horse. Taking you down to the ground, maneuvering you until your back is against the hard floor. Covering you with his large frame, his weight pressing down on you in ways you were having such a hard time admitting you missed.

It was fast, and albeit messy and rushed. Like trying to make up for wasted time as you pull him close, hands wrapped around the back of his neck as your lips go numb, your teeth clashing.

You let out a whine, when Mingyu pulls away with a heavy breath, fighting against your attempts to pull him back for a kiss.

“Y/n — fuck, can we?” He asks hurriedly, his voice breathless. A look of want in his big eyes, but there was also a little responsibility.

First of all — anyone could walk into the studio any second. There was only a lunch break, sure, an hour. But at least half of it has passed.

As you take your bottom lip under your teeth, chewing at your swollen lip as you think. And Mingyu knows exactly what look you were giving him, and he wasn’t going to reject you. Not now.

He leans back in, crashing his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, breath hot against yours, before moving to your jaw. Leaving open mouthed rushed kisses down your neck, as you move your hands down his back. Feeling the muscles you were forcing yourself to look away from during the whole first half of class.

Touching Mingyu was way better than just drawing him from afar. You’re sure on that.

He moves his hand down, to push your midi skirt up, bunching the fabric to your hips. Your legs exposed to the cold air of the studio, as he wastes no time to slide your panties to the side. Already wet and damp from the heavy making out, and partially to the adrenaline of being in such a risky place.

“Damn, already?” He says, with a slight tease to his voice, making you pinch his arm. He lets out a pained chuckle, before placing his thick fingers against yours core, a gasp escaping your lips.

It helped that he knew you so well already, your legs squirming around the sides of him as he runs his fingers through yours wet folds, his thumb circling your clit as he inserts two fingers in, stretching you out as you gasp, Mingyu attacking your neck with messy kisses as he gets you ready for him.

“Fuck, Gyu,” You whine, your eyes rolling back in pleasure as he curls his fingers, hitting the spongy flesh that makes you arch your back off of the floor.

You weren’t the only one worked up, Mingyu being bare this entire time. His dick pressing up against the inner of your thigh, hardening at the sounds of your pleasure.

Your hand shoots down to grab hold of him, helping him get hard as he lets out a moan, as you tighten your grip. Pumping him a few times, lining him up to you as he removes his hand from your entrance.

You both let out soft gasps as you hold his dick to swipe against you, coating him in your arousal, his tip leaking with precum.

He doesn’t even ask, he just knows, as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch. The friction from your pulled to the side panties, to the tight warm walls of your pussy, making him feel lightheaded with pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight baby,” He breathes, without even adjusting, he ruts into you roughly. Bottoming out as he knocks the wind out of you.

A whine escapes your throat, as you hold tightly around his shoulders, as Mingyu doesn’t slow his pace.

Its rough, its fast, and overall — desperate. The lewd sounds of flesh colliding echoing in the empty studio. Your mind going dumb at his fast pace, only focused on how he goes in, out. In, out.

The smell of his sweat, the way your hands run down his exposed body, all for you. He did this all for you. To get your attention, to get you back. God, does he even know how that makes you feel?

“Fuck, fuck,” He whines, burying his face into the crook of your neck. Already feeling a little fatigued from abusing your pussy so fast. But it was just too good, he missed it so much. So, so much. And he made it evident, as he pushes the back of your thighs higher to your chest, getting deep as he can. And fucking you like his life counted on it.

You feel the familiar build up of your orgasm, your walls tightening as you grip Mingyu’s shoulders. “Gyu, Gyu, I’m —“ You manage to choke out, as he moves his face from your neck to yours. Catching your cry with his mouth, drowning it as he kisses you messily.

You shudder, squirming under him as you feel the familiar high. Your body tingling with sensitivity and pleasure, as he overwhelms you with what can only be love.

He follows soon after, not being able to maintain his mouth to yours as he lets out a shaky grunt. Spilling inside you, his cum warm and filling, making your cheeks flush in contentment and relief.

He slows, stilling as you both catch your breaths. Pulling out of you with a reluctance. Pushing himself up, to lean back to sit. You follow as well, adjusting your skirt back as you push yourself up to your elbows.

Mingyu was a sight, as he always is. His tan skin glowing with a layer of sweat. The way his toned chest rises from catching his breath. The way his bangs are sticking to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with a rush of blood. A satisfied look on his face, as he sighs, licking his bottom lip as he looks at you.

You can’t help but smile, a warm one. As you gather yourself.

“Lets get you cleaned up before the second half. Where did you throw your robe?”

“Oh fuck. I don’t know. You got any other ones?”

#seventeen #svt #kpop #seventeen smut #kpop smut #kim mingyu #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #svt x reader

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dreamesamu · 11 months ago

Text

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. akaashi keiji x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, (super, like-) long scenario

warning(s): none, i think so? except for clueless keiji and not proof-reading

author’s note: akaashi is just a major green flag in this (every haikyu!! boy is 😭) i feel too bad to write them red-flag-y.

choose your character: m. atsumu | k. akaashi

you’ve known akaashi for quite some time, starting from your last year of fukurodani academy and then serendipity brought you both ended up being each other’s classmate at a same college/university. bokuto kotaro was your best friend, the little owl introduced his favorite setter to you and the friendship of three gradually become established, and as if it can not be any more inevitably, you eventually developed a secret admiration for the pretty setter when you three have been closed enough. however, graduating separated ways, kotaro pursued his journey to become professional in volleyball while keiji, once said to you he wanted a place in the literature department.

truth be told, even if you promised each other you would still keep in touch and plan every weekend friend group meeting online or offline, you’ve never expect you would share every class in higher education life with your crush, the akaashi keiji. the great thing is you both are paired up for an presentation assignment in the major you and him pursue, you do have plenty of time to stay close and grab his attention from making gestures that he usually failed to realizes.

here you are again, happily humming your favourite song while carrying a box wrapped with a small detailed towel, some big rolls of assignment paper stuck underneath your arm as you make your way back to where you both planned to finish the project - the library.

“keiji, i’m back!” you set your things respectively on the table, and akaashi nods with a smile on his face in acknowledgement.

“oookay, so here’s your today’s snack, I hope you’ll like it” you grin, tapping on the box before pushing it to his side as he receives it and casually opens it while speaking.

“hmm? are those sketches of our poster? you can always edit them on the computer, why the effort?” he chuckled softly before completely unwrapping the bento box.

“I’m not good at designing and stuff. I may draw as I like and you’ll be the one to edit it on the computer.” you puff your cheek out, hands resting on hips as you watch his reaction to your delicately decorated sweets in the box made for him.

“this looks amazing.” he smiles upon seeing the pastries you made, decorated beautifully with different kinds of fruit as each pastry has different flavours, you probably did not stay up so late last night just to make all kinds of flavours for him to show how much you like him. yeah, probably not.

"oh, it's nothing, I just hope it doesn't taste bad" you chuckle nervously while scratching the back of your neck, letting his praise send you up to cloud nine.

your actions falter when you see akaashi put back the box's cap on, set it aside as he leans over to reach the posters you drew.

"now then, can we start working on the project?" he spreads out the piece of paper, glancing at you as you stand there awkwardly, prefer him taking a bite to look through all of your efforts than just shrugging it off and go straight to the main part of your study session.

"what...? oh- um..." you trail off, a bit embarrassed. "wouldn't you like to try one out? it won't hurt to just have a taste of it..."

"maybe later, y/n. we have other things need to be done right now." he merely states, eyes study the poster in front of him, unknowingly sinking your heart.

"yes, right." you shift slightly, taking the sit by the opposite of him, trying to catch up with him on the progress.

you let your mind wanders off how many times you've lost count already while akaashi quietly focused on scribbling something in his notebook, every thoughts you have are always about keiji, your feelings and the stare you give him thinking it's discreet. what's stopping him from trying my tarts out? and how does he feel being around me? or is that his way of rejecting something without making that person feel bad? flooded your mind.

"y/n?" you realize his faint voice ringing somewhere "y/n..." the voice becomes clearer. "earth to y/n, you're staring." awh, snap. right.

you blink, startled before clearing your throat, mumbling a small apology as you try to get yourself busy with the work underneath you once again.

but akaashi just chuckles, his voice calm and reassuring.

"hey, you seem off today. it's lunch break, please make yourself comfortable." you fumble at his words, it's noon already? as he collects his books and tidy it up at one corner of the table before speaking again.

"yuri satsuki is inviting me to have lunch with her. would you like to also join? i think she wouldn't mind." he kindly offers, probably not knowing the words struck you shocked.

you know satsuki-senpai, she's a year older than you and has been a social butterfly ever since you set foot in student life. she is a nice person, you conceived, but not until you found out that she has a huge crush on your akaashi keiji, her behaviour in your eyes became somewhat annoying. in return, she did realize she had a rival to win over him, you acknowledge that through the smug look she gave every time akaashi was around her instead of you, that is how the tension gradually builds up between you and your pain-in-the-ass rival.

and now she's even invited keiji for lunch? you feel an uncomfortable twist in your belly, screaming that if you do not take further actions, you lose akaashi to her. but his way of discarding your hard work, also known as an attempt to get his attention earlier discourages you hastily. this comes to a realization: ever since he start hanging out with satsuki-senpai, he has never touched one of your cooks once.

"no, i'm fine staying here. you go" you force a smile waving him goodbye. he hesitates upon seeing the downward trend of your mood as well as the strange attitude every time he brings up yuri.

"what are you waiting for?" you scoff, trying your best to make it sound not so bitterly. he nods quietly before ruffles your hair, thoughtfully remind you to get something to eat before start working again, and he'll be back with you soon.

you groan for the nth time in thirty minutes since his last leave, deciding not to eat anything at all after you laugh bitterly to yourself seeing the bento box laid cold by his stuffs which corrects your thoughts that he is not going to appreciate what you did for him.

the chair scraped the floor when you stand up, attempting to compose yourself when you feel your brain need a break from overthinking such situations.

on the way out of the library, your eyes meet yuri satsuki's, assuming that keiji is just somewhere around here as his lunch break partner is the person you least excited to bump into.

"well, well. isn't that the girl whose best friend choose to hang out with me instead of her?"

excuse me?

"don't get too ahead of yourself, satsuki-senpai. just a friendly reminder" your tone evidently irritated as you flash her an unamused smile, trying to avoid her as soon as possible.

but the radio scene of her voice replayed all over your head, your mind goes muddy despite the fresh air you're trying to take in, you let out a shaky breath, tears brimming out.

maybe, he doesn't quite noticed the things I did for him after all...

---

"you're back. where were you?" akaashi worried tone surprises you after a quite fine time of trying to find you because your study desk in the library was empty.

"i was... out for fresh air. why?" your voice is off and he noticed that. he always knew when something is bothering you, and right now he definitely know that something is wrong.

"after i finished my lunch i got yours, 'cause i know when i'm back you would still hadn't eaten anything." his brows slightly furrow seeing your avoiding attitude.

"thanks, keiji." you said briefly, take the package from his hand and sit down on your seat, never forget to notice the pastry box still intact.

your strange attitude didn't just stop there, it confuses akaashi for a more couple of days of your avoidance, he dislike the way you put a small distance between you both in study sessions, you flinch and tense around him more often, your answers and conversations are brief and sometimes awkward as you seem to be more preoccupied and attentive rather than to communicate with him.

"good morning, y/n." he smiles, your state has been bothering him for days as he is paying attention to your fade grin and a small "hey" as a greet back.

then he fumbles. something is missing...

oh. but then, realization sets in him quite quickly: you didn't bring any homemade sweets today.

"y/n..." he hesitates, meeting your eyes as you lift your head up from the notebook you're scribbling on. "does your home perhaps... out of ingredients or something?"

you are stunned for a moment, knowing exactly what he was trying to imply, scared to look at him directly in the eye as you shift your gaze elsewhere, pretending to have forgotten.

"oh... you mean the pastries... I forgot to do it. I was busy yesterday"

lies. he see through it, you know that, but you can't just blurt it all out that you're heartbreaking because of his indirect rejection that never says he doesn't like you, but makes you feel like it did.

"hey... i know something is wrong, can you tell me what it is?"

there it is - the worried look on such handsome face that never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know, that is just his nature of being an attentive and thoughtful person, not just for only you, but for everyone in his orbit.

so his question remained unanswered.

akaashi has been extremely distracted due to the sudden lack of your affection on him. it's just doesn't feel the same. even if he refuses it but deep down, he misses your midday snacks, your bubbly laugh around him and that flushed cheeks you wear every time he caught you staring. it has been a whole week since, and the fact that you didn't join the friend group video call with bokuto last sunday was his last straw.

he misses you, dearly. and if he doesn't do anything now before your project is finished, he might find it difficult to approach you even when you are his best friend.

and then, on an another lovely morning in the college's campus, an emotion he thinks he's aware of stirring in his stomach at the scene of you handing out a bento box wrapped with the same detailed towel, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as the other boy laughs lightly, scratches his neck, sending regards with a polite bow before making his way back in the classroom, akaashi doesn't like what his eyes have witnessed, so when he met yours, the bitterful look sends shivers down your spine.

you turn away, begin to walk, you do not want to deal with your bothered heart right now, not if it has anything to do with him, with that thought, you choose to neglect it because it is just your one-sided feelings for him.

but you hear footsteps behind, next is a small "wait" escaped from his lips when he managed to catch up and hold gently on your arm. that stopped you midtrack.

"please. can we talk?" he pleads.

---

you find yourself trapped by his presence in a corner of the school's library. there's no point in avoiding now.

"i'm sorry." he states. "i like you, i should've known."

your eyes widen. why- all of a sudden?

akaashi glances at you, softly sighs before bring your hand up to his face and kiss your knuckles gently.

"i understand now, i was clueless, you have the very right to be mad at me." each sentences he speaks crack your heart, but at the same time, they give you hope.

you neither know how to react, nor what to say, you just stand there, completely speechless, it encourages him to continue his speech of pursuing you.

"the last time i went to have lunch with satsuki, she confessed to me." he stopped, watching your expression. "but i turned her down, then, she got angry and started to brag about you. i did not like what she said, so i got quite defensive and... that was when i realised."

"i didn't know when it started. i just knew that i didn't feel very comfortable seeing you bringing your pastries that was meant for me to someone else, and more it's because i didn't appreciate it."

he squeezes your hand, afraid if not, you'll slip from his grip and become somebody else's apple. he certainly dislikes the thought.

"i want your pastries back, i love them as much as i love you. please let me correct such a terrible mistake."

---

"yes, hello. i've received the box, thank you, my love."

akaashi spins his office chair slightly, softly speaking to the phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder with a smile while unwrapping a huge warm box of freshly baked tarts.

"keiji, bad news, i'm out of powdered sugar after that batch." your voice echoed on output, he chuckles.

"are you free after work? we can visit the supermarket to purchase some. i'll drive, consider this a date with me, 'mkay?"

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nhmkhnh · 2 months ago

Text

heartbeats & half-court shots.

pairings: jock!ellie x brainiac!fem!reader

preface: when a jock can’t help but fall for the quiet genius across the campus, every game turns into a play for love.

author's note: alright I'm back, with another typical dynamics haha! enjoy!

wrn: lowercase, messy.

navigation.

ellie williams wasn’t a literature major, but she swore the girl sitting two rows in front of her in psych 101 had rewritten the entire definition of beauty. and intelligence. and everything that made ellie forget how to talk like a functioning human being.

she wasn’t even supposed to be in this class. joel had told her to pick up something “easy” to pad her gpa, but she had taken one look at the course registration and slammed “psych 101” the second she saw your name on the roster.

you weren’t flashy. you didn’t talk much unless it was to ask questions that had the professor raising his eyebrows like he wanted to write down your words. but you had that quiet charm—the kind that drew eyes without asking for them. and ellie? ellie had been down so bad since week one.

so today, when you walked past her table in the campus café with an armful of books and your laptop tucked under one arm, ellie stared just a little too long. which meant she saw it—your favorite pen—slip off the top of your stack and clatter onto the floor behind you.

ellie was on it like a hawk.

she snatched it up, barely resisting the urge to sniff it like a weirdo, and jumped up from her chair like she’d been called to serve.

“hey—uh, you dropped this!” she called, jogging after you.

you turned, and she almost tripped. god, that soft smile you gave her should be illegal.

“oh,” you said, brushing hair from your face, “thanks. i thought i heard something fall.”

ellie handed it to you. but she didn’t stop there.

“you dropped this… queen,” she added, a sly grin crawling onto her face.

your brows lifted, but instead of laughing at her, you actually smiled wider.

“smooth,” you said, gaze flicking down to the pen, then back to her. “did you come up with that on the spot?”

“born ready,” ellie lied.

you chuckled. “i’m impressed.”

you said it so casually, but ellie nearly exploded. blood rushed to her ears. she shoved her hands in her hoodie and nodded like she wasn’t dying inside.

“see you in psych,” you added, and turned away.

she stood there for a solid ten seconds after you left, staring at the pen-shaped gap in the air where you used to be. then she whispered to herself:

“…holy shit, it’s working.”

ellie was not failing psych 101. but she was not acing it either. not like you.

it wasn’t that she didn’t study. she did. in the locker room after practice. at the dining hall with one airpod in. she even tried those dumb tiktoks that played frequencies while you read. none of it stuck. her notes were 60% doodles of you and 40% semi-legible chicken scratch.

so when the professor casually announced a pop quiz next week and you groaned under your breath—ellie saw her moment. god had opened a door, and ellie was sprinting through it.

you were sitting on the quad, earbuds in, textbook open, a coffee cup tucked beside your knee like it was a limb. the sun hit your face like some kinda romcom filter. ellie nearly choked on her protein bar when she spotted you. but she wiped her hands on her sweatpants and approached like it was nothing.

“hey, einstein,” she greeted, shading her eyes and squinting at you. “studying for the quiz?”

you pulled out one earbud. “unfortunately.”

“cool, cool. you wanna quiz me?”

you blinked. “huh?”

ellie cleared her throat, then flopped onto the grass beside you, cross-legged like she belonged there. like this wasn’t the most nerve-wracking thing she’d done all month.

“you know,” she said, nudging her knee into yours. “i figured…you’re smart, i’m hot—we make a good team.”

you looked at her, head tilted slightly. “you’re hot?”

ellie grinned. “so people tell me.”

you laughed, soft and warm, and ellie felt it hit her like a wave to the ribs.

“…fine,” you said, flipping a page and scooting just a little closer. “what’s the difference between operant and classical conditioning?”

ellie stared at you blankly for a beat.

“okay, maybe we need to start… a little further back.”

you burst out laughing, the kind of full-body laugh that made people turn their heads, and ellie felt like she’d scored the game-winning goal.

“oh my god,” you wheezed. “you’re hopeless.”

“nah,” ellie said, cocky again. “just giving you an excuse to keep talking to me.”

you gave her a look. “you don’t need an excuse, ellie.”

she swore her heart dropped right out of her chest.

it started with a hoodie. not ellie’s. yours.

she’d been sitting at her usual bench after gym—drenched in sweat, headphones around her neck, sipping some godawful green smoothie—when she saw you across the courtyard, shivering under a tree. wind tugged at your sleeves, and you kept rubbing your arms like you’d forgotten how not to be cold.

ellie’s brain? gone. her legs? moving before she could stop them.

she bee-lined it to her gym bag, ripped out a hoodie that definitely still smelled like her deodorant and training sessions, and speed-walked to you like she was delivering a care package to the pope.

“hey,” she said casually (read: breathlessly), holding out the hoodie. “you look like a sad, cold baby bird.”

you blinked. “what?”

“i said—uh—cold,” she repeated, cheeks pink now. “here. take this.”

you stared at the hoodie, then at her. “won’t you be cold?”

ellie shrugged. “i’m built different.”

that got a smile out of you. you took the hoodie—hesitated—and then slowly tugged it over your head.

ellie blacked out a little.

it swallowed you. her name on the front. her scent everywhere. you were literally drowning in her, and somehow you still looked ethereal.

“how do i look?” you teased, turning your head to the side.

ellie pretended not to choke. “it’s giving… girlfriend behavior.”

you raised a brow. “oh yeah?”

“uh-huh,” ellie said, smirking now to cover her panic. “like… you borrow all my clothes, steal my fries, beg me to carry your bag—classic girlfriend shit.”

you tilted your head. “you want me to be your girlfriend, ellie?”

silence. ellie.exe stopped working.

you were grinning, teasing, but her whole body short-circuited like you’d just confessed to marrying her tomorrow.

“only if you’re cool with dating a sweaty gym rat,” she finally managed, voice cracking at the end.

you laughed, stepping closer until you were eye-level.

“i’ll think about it,” you whispered, before walking past her, casually, like you didn’t just end her entire career.

ellie didn’t move for five minutes.

she told jesse she saw god that day.

it started off innocent. ellie just needed help. you were a genius. easy math.

except it wasn’t math. it was psychology. and ellie didn’t want help—she wanted you. but asking you out felt like skydiving without a parachute, so she did what any emotionally repressed jock would do.

she called it a “study session.”

“you free tonight?” she asked casually after class, nudging your arm with her elbow.

you glanced over, already suspicious. “for what?”

ellie cleared her throat. “y’know. studying. the quiz is coming up. i could use a little… tutoring.”

you snorted. “you want me to tutor you?”

“hey, i’m coachable.”

you hummed, pretending to think it over. “fine. my place?”

ellie almost choked. “y–yeah. sure. cool. no big deal.”

it was a very big deal.

she showed up to your apartment looking like she’d rehearsed it five times. hair down. flannel open just enough to show a sliver of collarbone. two coffees in hand. (one was yours. she spent ten minutes texting dina about your starbucks order to get it right.)

“thanks,” you said, taking the drink. “you’re sweet.”

“only for you,” ellie replied before her brain could catch up.

your eyes lingered on her a second too long.

you sat cross-legged on your bed with your laptop open. ellie sat beside you, very aware of how close her thigh was to yours. she tried to focus. she really did.

but you smelled like coconut shampoo and lavender lotion and you kept leaning in to explain concepts in a soft little voice and every time your shoulder brushed hers she nearly blacked out.

“ellie?” you said after she hadn’t answered in a full minute.

“huh?”

“you’re staring at me.”

“i—i’m trying to understand reinforcement schedules,” she lied.

“really?” you asked, turning slightly, resting your cheek on your hand. “because i’m pretty sure you’ve been looking at me for the last twenty minutes.”

ellie’s soul left her body.

she opened her mouth. closed it. considered jumping out your window.

you laughed softly, then nudged her foot with yours under the blanket.

“it’s okay,” you said. “i don’t mind when you stare.”

ellie forgot what a textbook was.

ellie was not in her right mind today. she hadn’t slept. she’d had an energy drink the size of her head. and you were wearing that outfit—the oversized sweater, the cute little skirt, the lip gloss that made her want to bite a desk.

so naturally, she did what any sleep-deprived jock with a hopeless crush would do:

she walked straight up to you and dropped the dumbest pickup line known to mankind.

you were at your locker, swapping out books, earbuds in. ellie tapped your shoulder like she had something urgent to say.

“hey,” she said, breathless. “emergency.”

you blinked, tugging your earbud out. “what?”

“i just—i need you to know,” ellie panted dramatically, “i have two brain cells. and they’re both in love with you.”

you stared at her.

she stared back, hands on her knees like she’d just run a mile.

silence.

then you burst out laughing.

like, hands-on-the-locker, eyes-scrunched, full-body laughter. students turned their heads. ellie grinned like an idiot.

“ellie, what the hell was that?” you managed between giggles.

“peak rizz,” she said proudly. “did it work?”

you didn’t say anything. just looked at her with that same amused, sweet stare and then leaned in—real close—and whispered:

“maybe i’ll let one of your brain cells take me out sometime.”

ellie made a sound that could only be described as feral.

she fist-pumped the air the second you turned away and accidentally hit a locker so hard it echoed through the hall.

jesse texted her 0.3 seconds later:

“yo?? why did i just hear a whole concussion outside chem lab??”

ellie was pacing. in the dining hall. like a psycho.

she saw you sitting alone with your little fruit cup and your leg bouncing and your airpods in like some perfect, unattainable indie movie girl, and suddenly all her usual rizz evaporated. she had nothing.

not a single brain cell willing to help.

so she did what any disaster lesbian would do.

she googled pickup lines in the hallway.

jesse watched her from afar like he was witnessing a slow-motion car crash. “you’re insane,” he said. “i’m in love,” ellie hissed, typing “funny but hot pickup lines lesbian” with one hand.

ten minutes later, she marched up to your table like she wasn’t about to risk every ounce of her dignity.

you looked up. smiled. “hey.”

ellie slammed her tray down and sat across from you, eyes wide, breathing like she’d just run suicides.

“do you—do you believe in love at first sight,” she blurted, “or should i walk by again?”

you blinked.

ellie blinked back.

“…you okay?” you asked slowly.

ellie pointed at her chest. “heart. yours. take it.”

you snorted into your drink. “ellie.”

“i’m serious,” she said, leaning forward. “i’m already planning our future. we’ll have a cat named mozzarella. we’ll fight about paint colors. you’ll win.”

you tried not to laugh. “i think you’ve had too much caffeine.”

“i think you’ve had too little me.”

you died.

right then and there. full-on laugh, head thrown back, fruit cup forgotten. ellie had never felt more victorious in her entire life.

and then—then—you reached over and plucked a grape from her tray.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” you said, popping it in your mouth.

ellie stared, slack-jawed. she didn’t even like grapes. but now they were her favorite fruit.

it was game day. ellie was locked in—fully focused, headphones in, cleats on, pacing like a wolf in the tunnel. until—

you walked in wearing her team colors.

not just any colors. her number. on your cheek. in glitter. and her name on your back. in bold black letters.

she actually stumbled. tripped on air. almost faceplanted into the locker door.

you smiled all innocent. “hi, captain.”

ellie grabbed the wall. “you—are you trying to kill me?”

you twirled once. “do i look good?”

“you look like my future wife,” ellie muttered.

“what?”

“you look good,” ellie shouted a little too loudly. “like—very. very good. like i might forget how to play soccer and run in circles kind of good.”

you laughed, stepping into her space. “maybe i wanted to distract you.”

ellie narrowed her eyes. “that’s foul play.”

you smirked. “you gonna card me?”

“i might have to bench myself instead,” she muttered.

and then—god help her—you tugged the collar of her jersey.

“next game,” you whispered, “let me borrow the real thing.”

ellie blinked. “the—my jersey?”

“or your last name,” you said sweetly, then walked off like you didn’t just set her whole soul on fire.

ellie just stood there.

a full minute later, the coach walked in, slapped her on the back, and said, “jesus, who turned you into a tomato?”

ellie didn’t answer. she was too busy texting jesse:

bro. she wants to wear my LAST NAME. i’m gonna throw up. she’s gonna marry me. this is it.

it was quiet.

dead quiet.

and ellie? ellie was suffering.

not because of the exam. not because of the overdue essay. no—because you were sitting across from her in the campus library, hoodie falling off one shoulder, lip tucked between your teeth, reading with those cute little glasses on.

and every time you looked up, ellie would pretend to be writing something. she wasn’t. she was drawing hearts in the margins of her notebook like a 13-year-old at a sleepover.

you glanced up again. caught her. again.

raised an eyebrow like, you good?

ellie immediately held up a random flashcard to cover her face. it said: "operant conditioning is…" (she did not know what operant conditioning was.)

you giggled.

she peeked over the top. “i—uh—i’m studying,” she whispered.

you smirked. “really? because you’ve highlighted the same sentence three times.”

ellie looked down. the page was glowing yellow. “okay maybe i’m… distracted.”

you leaned forward across the table, chin in your palm, voice soft: “what’s distracting you?”

ellie’s brain fried like a cheap toaster. “you. it’s you. you’re distracting me. you’ve been distracting me since the first time i saw you laugh in bio and i can’t focus on neurons when all i want is to hold your hand in the student union.”

…

you blinked. ellie blinked.

that was supposed to stay in her head.

“oh my god,” she whispered. “i—i blacked out. did i say that out loud?”

you nodded slowly. “every word.”

ellie pushed back from the table, fully ready to fake a fire drill just to flee the building.

but then—you reached out.

touched her hand.

and smiled.

“meet me here tomorrow?” you asked. “same time?”

ellie swallowed. nodded. nearly choked.

and when she got back to her dorm, she texted dina in all caps:

BRO I ACCIDENTALLY RIZZED HER IN THE LIBRARY IT WORKED?????? SHES COMING BACK I THINK THIS IS WHAT TRUE LOVE FEELS LIKE

group projects were hell.

ellie hated them. she hated presentations, she hated color-coded slides, and she really hated wearing a button-down shirt like some kind of presentable human being.

but you?

you were thriving.

all calm and smart and perfect, typing fast on your laptop and explaining things with that teacher voice that made ellie want to combust. you even said “we should keep it concise for flow,” and ellie nearly proposed on the spot.

so naturally… she picked a fight.

“i mean,” ellie said, sprawled across her chair with a lollipop in her mouth, “we could do it your way, or we could do it the cool way.”

you didn’t look up. “is the cool way the one where we fail?”

jesse snorted.

ellie pointed her lollipop at you like a sword. “ma’am. i’ll have you know, my cool way once got me a c+.”

“that explains so much,” you muttered, typing.

ellie leaned in. “okay, you wound me. but that’s fine. i like a little pain. makes me feel alive.”

you looked up. finally. raised an eyebrow.

“do you flirt like this with everyone you disagree with?” you asked.

ellie smirked. “only the ones i want to marry.”

jesse audibly choked on his coffee.

you blinked. slowly.

ellie blinked back. stared. gave you the most stupidly confident look known to womankind.

you tilted your head. “if we were lab partners, you’d contaminate the whole experiment.”

“if we were lab partners,” ellie shot back, “i’d mix our dna.”

you stared.

ellie licked her lollipop and winked. “mitochondria’s the powerhouse of my feelings for you.”

you pressed your palm to your face, but you were laughing. and red. like so red. and when you handed her your notes later, there was a tiny heart next to her name.

ellie stared at it for twenty minutes.

she kept the paper in her backpack. still has it. probably framed it.

it was raining.

hard.

the kind of rain that turned sidewalks into rivers and drowned out every thought in your head.

you were standing under the bus stop awning, soaked through, breath fogging in the cold. and then—you heard her.

“hey!”

you turned.

ellie sprinted up, hoodie plastered to her skin, chest heaving, soaked curls sticking to her face like she’d run through the whole damn storm just to get to you. (which she had.)

you stared. “ellie?! what the hell—”

“i need to say something,” she cut in, voice too loud, too urgent.

“ellie, you’re drenched—”

“i like you.”

you froze.

“i—no—i’m in love with you, okay? i tried the whole chill thing, i tried being smooth, i tried pickup lines and study sessions and pretending i didn’t stare at your mouth like it’s the only thing that makes me believe in god—” ellie was rambling now, hands flailing, voice breaking. “but it’s you. it’s always been you. every time you smile at me, i forget my name. every time you laugh, it’s like my entire brain just short-circuits. you’re—fuck, you’re everything.”

you stared at her, breath caught.

ellie swallowed. “and i know i joke a lot, but i’m serious. if you told me to walk across this whole campus barefoot just to hold your hand, i’d do it. i’d run. i’d run faster than i did just now, and i nearly ate shit in front of two frat guys and a goose.”

you blinked. “…a goose?”

“irrelevant.” ellie stepped forward, eyes shining. “all that matters is you. so, please. just—say something. or kiss me. or slap me. i’ll take anything.”

a pause.

the rain roared.

and then—you stepped into her chest. pulled her by the soaked strings of her hoodie.

and kissed her.

hard. soft. all at once.

ellie made a sound like she'd just flatlined and came back to life. her arms locked around your waist like you were the last solid thing in the world, like she could finally breathe. your fingers curled into her hair, and she just melted into you, every part of her soaked and shaking and alive.

you broke apart, gasping. foreheads pressed.

“i like you too,” you whispered.

ellie blinked.

then laughed.

then kissed you again, grinning like an idiot.

and when jesse passed by ten minutes later and saw you two making out under the storm, he just shook his head and muttered, “goddamn. finally.”

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU TO ALL MY DARLING GIRLS ATTENDED TO MY TED TALKS TODAY!! LOVE U ALL! <33

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #tlou

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jesswritesthat · 11 months ago

Text

Atsumu Miya: Second Choice

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~2.2k, fluff

• You were never first choice, so it comes as a surprise when he notices your presence before anyone else.

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

It was always the same, you'd watched as people flocked to beauty, straight past you every time. In reality when you became friends with Sachiko it was because she had a great personality, you couldn't have possibly predicted she'd become the most beautiful and popular girl in school by the time you'd reached Inarizaki High.

Regardless of her sparkling status, she remained your best friend and you'd usually be found together throughout the school premises along with anyone else who joined you at the start of first year.

When the Volleyball team grew more intoxicating, it was Sachiko who'd excitedly dragged you along to one of their home training matches. It's where you first laid eyes upon the famous Miya twins, a vicious team of spiker and setter with a serve worthy of award among them. Already they had personal fans and the cheer squad screaming their praises, you're surprised they didn't get mauled in the hallways.

Now you'd seen them, you recognised them in school and they apparently had space to breathe aside from the odd confession here and there. You'd regularly seen that with Sachiko though, she'd often be either pulled to the side or you'd bear witness to some lovestruck soul gushing their heart out for her.

It was humbling in a way, you were the one who goes unnoticed but notices everything. Including if feelings were reciprocated, and you're certain you deducted gossip before it even became that, you'd been getting accurate in predicting things lately. However, you never predicted one of them to notice you.

Especially him.

"Hey, ya in one of my classes right?" In honesty you didn't even realise it was you this voice was addressing since Sachiko lingered by your side, not until a careful tap drew your attention to the blonde twin rather than your locker.

"Huh? Oh I think so, it hasn't been long enough to learn everyone's name yet. You're the volleyball player though."

"Ah, have ya seen me play? Like it?" His head tilted in curiosity, proud smirk upon his lips.

"You were really good, you have great form when you serve." With that you nodded to him, slipping on your shoes and walking off with your best friend quickly following in tow.

"Woah— wait up!" You didn't even look back in the swarm of leaving students. "I didn't get yer name..."

———

It wasn't until a week or so later did he 'confidently' interact with you again, this time his call far more effective in hailing your attention.

"(L/n) (Y/n)!"

Immediately you spun to the origin, finding none other than Miya Atsumu dodging a group of fangirls rather effortlessly on his way to you.

"You know my name."

"Yeah 'course. You know who I am so it's only fair." It was surefire charisma, one you'd soon extinguish.

"Miya Osamu isn't it?"

"Ye—Hey?! YA GOTTA BE KIDDIN'!"

"'Tsumu shut ya mouth!" The namesake twin glared harshly at his counterpart, quickly flashing a calmer look when you'd addressed him.

"Ah, hey Miya-san. I apologise, that was my fault for winding your brother up."

"Dumbass has control of his own mouth." Osamu politely assured, meanwhile Atsumu reclaimed your peripheral with a childish pout.

"So ya knew ma name all along and decided to be freakin' mean about it? On our second meetin' too."

"I couldn't resist, you're so cute when you're mad."

"I'm— oh ya think I'm cute?" Atsumu stammered slightly, your smirk only widening upon noting the crimson tips of his ears. Honesty leaving your lips soon after.

"I think you're both handsome, as does a majority of the school body. See you Miya-san and Miy—"

"Call me Atsumu!"

"See you in class, Atsumu." You actually looked back this time, an unfamiliar and unexpected feeling flourishing within you.

———

Part of you wandered if it’d be different this time, maybe you’d found someone who was there for you and not Sachiko. Just this once. You’d spoken more in class, studied together, traded snacks, and genuinely became friends over the course of two months.

Ironically it was the same blonde who tugged you from your reverie at the your locker where you’d first spoken.

"Yer friends with Sachiko aren't ya?"

This was it, the moment you realised he was just like all others and for the first time in a long while, you were truly disappointed.

"Yes I am, and she is amazing."

"I'm aware, could ya introduce me?" He’d spoked so casually, completely unawares of the charade you donned.

"What? Too scared to introduce yourself?" Atsumu was taken aback by your mockery, smirk growing as you persisted. "She doesn't bite y'know, that's my job."

This was the second time you'd left him speechless, slamming your locker door and disappearing into the halls with a wave.

From then on you'd see them happily talking to one another, it was hard seeing them together, amusing considering you'd only known the blonde not even half the year, yet you'd liked him more than you considered possible.

The first time you'd walked into the classroom finding the pair conversing at her desk, it was like Atsumu was desperately trying to convince her of something. It was only for a brief moment but when the setter turned to see you with a suddenly concerned look, you realised you hadn't worn a facade. You were meant to smile, instead you must've looked saddened - briskly you offered a weak smirk, and span to leave the room with additional flare as to minimise suspicion.

You’d only made it three steps down the hallway when a grasp on your wrist limited your escape.

"Hey you okay?"

"Yes? Why wouldn't I be?" Came your upbeat response, even if he portrayed a careful worrisome look on his handsome features.

"Ya... ya looked upset."

"Really? Are you sure?"

"I'm observant y'know, gotta be fer volleyball so yeah, I noticed your little slip." He was more forward this time, gesturing to you with a tilt of his head - even if he was head over heels for Sacchan, at least he still genuinely cared about you.

"It's nothing, just realised I've got a test today and that's depressing enough." You thought it was acceptably convincing, though the calculating gaze he'd locked onto yours made you reconsider.

“(Y/n) I know I can be annoyin’ but I’ll do anything I can to help y—“

“I’m fine.” You instantly corrected, reaffirmation following. “I’m fine, Atsumu.”

A gentle pat on his chest told him not to worry, and the nod you gave said you wanted to be alone. So, he let you walk away, your wrist slipping from his grip.

———

Even weirder than the smitten pair hanging out was that your conversations with Sachiko seemed to revolve around him too. Which by your deductions, meant he’d certainly made more of an impression on her than anyone else recently. Maybe Atsumu really had a shot with her…

"Atsumu is so hot isn't he?"

"I guess he keeps in shape, he has to if he wants to improve his skills."

"Uh yes... his hair suits him though, brings out the colour of his eyes~" She gleamed, searching for your reaction and once more her face dramatically dropped at the deadpan reply.

"Makes him easier to differentiate from Osamu."

"True, but I'm asking if you find him attractive?!" Her impatience had gotten the better of her, voice raised slightly out of desperation.

"Isn't that a question you should ask yourself? I haven't heard you go on about a boy this much since middle school." You quipped, raising a quizzical brow at her.

"It's not like th—"

"Oh hey! Sachiko, (Y/n), you wanna come to practice today?" Atsumus’ hollering tone interrupted the conversation, the blonde strolling into your classroom like he belonged there.

"Yes, we'd love to." Sachiko of course was ecstatic to agree, why would she say no since he’s ’so attractive’. Yourself on the other hand had replicated the Thor meme perfectly…

"Would we though?"

"Yeah ya would! C'mon~" You hadn't the chance to protest further when Atsumus' hands clamped your shoulders steering you in the direction of the gymnasium with a giggling Sachiko skipping behind.

———

When Atsumu had asked you to meet him after school before practice started toward the end of the year, you expected something food related or about homework answers, not whatever this was.

Here he stood, flowers in hand and apparently a homemade bento box offered to you with a growing blush painting his handsome features and an aura of flustering about him which was unusual in itself.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm— isn't it obvious?!"

"I have literally no idea what's going through your thick skull, Sachiko will like the flowers though." You answered honestly, crossing your arms.

"They're not for her!"

"Oh... Suna...?"

Atsumus brows furrowed at your wit, shaking his head with a huff.

"Alright ya got me, they're for Sachiko. Yer gonna deliver them since yer her best friend. Thanks and make sure ya eat some of the bento 'cuz there's stuff yer will like in it. Later!" He basically threw the flowers at you and pushed the bento box into your chest prior to storming toward the exit.

You stood dumbfounded, flicking between the two items when he placed his forehead against the door with a defeated sigh and spun on his heel.

“Go! Go on, the team are here and I don’t want ya getting hit with a face full of leather and petals.” He’d stubbornly commented, ushering you out of the gym.

Still, you shouldered your sadness, wearing false confidence like your favourite outfit as you went to find your friend (completely oblivious to the embarrassed mess whining to his teammates inside).

Sachiko squealed when she saw you, leaving her work unattended and rushing to your side admiring your haul.

"It finally happened! Oh my goodness!"

"Yeah yeah, blondie came through congratulations." You boredly spoke, placing the items down whilst she basically vibrated with pure joy.

"Congratulations indeed! Are you happy?"

"Eh. He did say we should share the lunch."

"That's... weird?" Sachikos’ prior energy disappeared as she looked to you in confusion.

"I know, that's what I thought. Apparently there's things I like in it."

"Well obviously. Atsumu made it for you."

"No, he made it for you."

A moment of silence passed, yourself and Sachiko locked in a puzzled stare off.

"Nah, let's be honest, Osamu probably made it~" You dismissively waved your hand once placing the items on her desk, although it was only you who found humour in the situation.

"No (Y/n) I'm serious! Atsumu has been asking me about you and your preferences for months and I've been super excited about it. He even wanted me to find out if you liked him or not —of course IF I found out, I would've kept it to myself— but he really likes you."

"I thought he was into you, I mean everyone is into you." You adamantly justified, as if it explained everything but Sachiko was just as passionate.

"Not him, why do you think he keeps asking you to practices or bugging you every 5 minutes?"

"To get close to you? I don't know."

"No! To get close to you!"

Widened eyes and a look of pure shock told Sachiko her words had finally resonated with you, the truth burned brightly and she could only smile as you ran.

Abandoned were the flowers as you dashed through the halls and came to a skidding halt before the gymnasium - fingertips hesitantly pausing against the door upon hearing Atsumus' cursing whines.

"I didn't even get to say! They just ran off to Sachiko!"

“Ya literally said ‘Go’.” Osamus voice maybe?

“Yeah well, I don’t ever wanna walk away from (Y/n), but it feels like they’re always walking away from me…” Atsumu trailed off, more emotion than you thought lacing his words.

"Maybe ya shouldn't have lied?" That was definitely Arans’ blunt advisory tone.

"I had no choice! They were lookin' at me with their stupid pretty eyes and askin' if it was for Sacchan and I didn't wanna disappoint 'em."

"Yer an idiot." Osamu gladly highlighted, the perfect moment to walk in and make your presence known you decided.

"I know! But—"

"Atsumu?" At the sound of your call, the entity of the team turned in your direction, the setter being the first to respond.

"Huh?! (Y/n) what are you doing here?"

Osamu and the rest of Inarizaki seemed to understand the underlying tension and were quick to evacuate the area.

"I came to tell you that Sachiko liked the flowers." You awkwardly started, Atsumu running fingers through his hair with a quiet voice.

"Oh, right."

"As did I, and I think I'd like to get you something in return."

"Eh?"

"She told me what was going on." You filled in, hands behind your back fiddling with your fingers.

"She's lying! I do not like you at all, let alone find you attractive or anything!"

Much like you predicted, he'd jumped to conclusions and had inadvertently dropped himself in it and exposed the truth Sachiko had enclosed which earned your witty reply.

"Funny, I never mentioned anything about liking me. That’s good to know~"

"Wait— then what?" Atsumu defused, utterly confused and blushing.

"And it's a shame, I was about to confess my feelings for you but I see there's no need since you 'don't like me at all'." You shrugged haphazardly, a hint of sarcasm lacing your tone but it was your statement that revitalised his spark. Enough to abruptly skid in front of you with a commendable justification when you’d started to turn around.

"You still can, nothin' to lose and all that." A half smile was sent to you, hazel eyes meeting yours. “And please, don’t walk away from me this time.”

"I didn’t want— I mean I—“ A wistful sigh escaped you, confession imminent. “I really like you Atsumu, you're both an incredible player and a cool person so I’m glad I got to tell you that.”

“I like ya too (Y/n)! So much, and I feel more confident playing when ya come and watch. Yer smile really hypes me up y’know. If yer up for it, I’d love to spend more time with ya.”

"Yeah, I’d like that."

—

That evening, he’d offered to walk you home and there was still one thing you wanted to say after all that.

“Hey Atsumu?” A hum signified his attention. “Thank you for noticing me."

"Noticing ya?"

"Yeah, I just… I appreciate it."

"No I mean, noticing ya? I haven't noticed anyone else since I met ya."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

#miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu oneshot #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu imagine #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #anime x reader #anime imagine #atsumu fluff #atsumu x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq atsumu

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sematarygirls · 9 months ago

Text

BOYFRIEND!RAFE x ACADEMIC!READER

WARNINGS .ᐟ fem!reader, unconventional study methods, fingering, lots of talking, facts about the nervous system

NOTES .ᐟ boyfriend rafe boyfriend rafe boyfriend rafe. this came to me while i was tediously taking notes for my psych class and wishing that i had a sexy rafe cameron in my bed.

You sat comfortably on your boyfriend's bed, your back pressed against his chest as you typed away on your computer, taking notes for your psychology class. His chin rested on your shoulder as he peered at the screen, reading a bunch of words he didn't quite understand while his hand rested on your thigh, his thumb drawing soft circles.

"What are you doing?" He hummed, his fingers dancing slightly higher. He knew what you were doing, but he wanted to hear you say it. He loved how excited you got and how you rambled on and on when you were telling him something you were passionate about. If he was being honest, it was kind of a major turn on.

"I've got a test tomorrow on the biological bases of behavior, so I'm just refreshing my memory on the endocrine and nervous systems," you explained, too focused on your notes to register that his touch was slowly sliding closer and closer to your clothed core.

"Oh, yeah?" He murmured, dipping his head down, his lips brushing against your skin as he began to pepper soft, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His hand continued upwards, his fingers lightly brushing you over your already damp underwear. "Tell me about it, baby."

"Rafe," you gasped softly, biting your lip. You tilted your head to the side, your eyes fluttering shut as you tried to find your resolve and tell him to stop, but you couldn't help the way your legs parted for him. "I told you I have to study."

"You are studying. Cmon, tell me all about the nervous system while I touch you, baby. You can do both," he coaxed you, his long fingers expertly pulling your panties to the side and running along your wet folds. "Tell me everything that's in that beautiful brain of yours."

You let out a breathy moan, your breathing quickening as your head fell back against his shoulder. You racked your brain for any piece of information, his touch making your mind go blank. "The brain is um-" you drew in a sharp breath as his thumb nudged your clit. "The exterior brain structures are the cerebral cortex, cereb-bellum, occipital lobe, temporal lobe, frontal lobe, and parietal lobe," you managed to say.

"Mmhmm, and what about the interior?" He prompted, his fingers slowly pushing inside of you. "Tell me every little detail, baby. I wanna know everything." His voice was low and husky as he encouraged you to keep going, his breath hot against your skin.

"Rafe," you moaned, your lips parting in pleasure as his fingers worked expertly inside you. You couldn't focus when you could feel his long fingers dragging against your tight walls.

"Cmon, my smart girl," he cooed, his other hand snaking around your waist and splaying his large hand across your stomach to keep you in place. "You know it. I know you do." He continued drawing his fingers in and out of you as his thumb rubbed your puffy clit firmly.

You did know it. You'd even forced Rafe to help you make stupid flashcards, so you could memorize the parts and all their functions. But, he had a way of making you forget everything and turning your brain to mush when he had his hands on you.

Your voice was shaky and breathless as you spoke, feeling your orgasm building low in your stomach. "The interior brain structures are the-the amygdala, hippocampus, medulla oblongata-" you gasped, your back arching into his touch when his fingers hit that spot inside you that had you practically seeing stars. You hesitantly kept going, trying to focus because knowing Rafe, if you stopped, he would too. "P-pituitary gland, thalamus, basal ganglia, hypothalamus, midbrain, and pons." You were pretty impressed with yourself that you managed to remember all that while your boyfriend was knuckle deep inside your dripping cunt.

He groaned, feeling himself grow harder as he listened to your breathy voice tell him all about your studies. "You're so fuckin' smart," he found that sensitive spot on your neck, sucking gently. "My brilliant girl."

Your walls fluttered around his fingers at his praising words. He was always so interested in what you had to say, never dismissing you or brushing you off when you started rambling aimlessly and throwing random facts his way. He listened intently, showing genuine interest that made you feel so loved and seen.

"Keep going, baby," he rasped, his fingers speeding up in a way that had you gripping his bicep—needing something, anything to keep you present. "What do all those big words do, hm?"

You let out a breathy laugh, your chest rising and falling rapidly. "Well, the um- the hypothalamus controls the pituitary gland, which releases hormones that regulate bodily functions," you explained, smiling softly at how fitting that fact seemed to be.

"Mm, like the hormones that are rushing through your veins right now, making you all hot and bothered for me?" He asked, his voice low and taunting, his teeth lightly nipping at your neck. He pushed his fingers deeper, curving them up to hit that spot that always made your legs shake.

"Uh huh," you moaned, your nails sinking into his bicep through the soft material of his sweater. His fingers curling inside you as his thumb continued swirling around your sensitive bundle of nerves, coaxing you closer and closer to the edge.

He hummed against your skin, his tongue laving over the spot where his teeth had marked you. "Cmon, pretty girl," he whispered, feeling your body tense up. "You did so good. Let me feel you come apart on my fingers."

Your eyes fluttered shut, back arching into his touch as his words sent you over the edge. A whimper of his name fell past your parted lips amongst a sea of soft moans as you came, your walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers while he continued to drag them in and out of you, prolonging your high.

He groaned as he felt your velvety walls flutter and squeeze around his fingers, your sweet cries of his name spurring him on. He worked you through it, fingers pumping steadily, thumb circling your clit until you were a boneless, panting mess in his arms.

He peppered kisses along your jaw as he carefully pulled away from your weeping core. "Who knew you could make biology sound so sexy,"

"Technically, it's psychology," you corrected him, chest heaving. You turned your head to look at him as he brought his fingers to his lips, sucking your release off of them with a low groan. You bit your lips at the sight, his lips glistening as he pulled his fingers back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he flashed you a grin before leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself on his tongue.

You moaned softly into his mouth, reluctantly pulling back after a moment. "If you keep distracting me, I'm never going to finish."

"Hm, that's weird because I'm pretty sure you just did," he hummed, feigning confusion as a cocky smirk tugged at his lips.

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, feeling your cheeks heat up at his innuendo. His hand slid up your arm, tracing soft shapes on your bare skin. You looked up at him, seeing the way his pupils dilated and feeling the evidence of arousal digging into you from behind. "Five more minutes and then I'm all yours, deal?" You raised a brow. You figured you had studied enough over the last couple days, and your oh so patient boyfriend deserved some of your attention.

A sly grin settled on his lips. "Deal, but don't think that I'll be keeping my hands to myself during these five minutes," he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

You turned back to your computer, giggling as he dipped his head back into your neck, already kissing and sucking at your delicate skin. His hands started to roam your body, and as you tried to focus, you found yourself wondering if you would make it five minutes before you surrendered to him.

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nakidoriii · 3 months ago

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In the Middle - Part One

GeGo x Reader Mini Series

Warnings:flirting, adult themes||MDNI

Art: from Pinterest (if anyone knows who drew this please tag them)

Find the whole series here!

“Why couldn’t I just get paired with someone else?” you whine as you throw your head back.

“Just be glad you didn’t end up with Gojo. I think Utahime is the real victim here.” Shoko says while exhaling a stream of smoke from her cigarette.

“But Utahime knows Gojo, I don’t know Geto that well. Something about him makes me nervous.” You admit.

Both Utahime and Shoko stare at you in shock and say, “Geto?”

You roll your eyes at their response. Yes, Geto. The calm, handsome soft spoken guy that sits two rows in front of you in Sociology. You two have only exchanged a few words but ultimately you don’t know each other. Now you’re expected to work as his partner for your class project. You two already arranged to meet up today at 12 and it has you shambles.

“He’s just as childish as Gojo but he hides it a lot better. He knows when to cool it.” Shoko says, putting out her cigarette.

“Exactly, Geto isn’t the obnoxious annoying type unless Gojo brings it out of him so you have nothing to worry about.” Utahime says.

You take a deep breath and say, “Alright, I’ll take both your words for it.”

“Good. You should probably get going, it’s 11:55. Don't want to be late.” Shoko says, looking at the time.

“Shit,” you say under your breath “You’re right. I’ll text you both after. Wish me luck.” You quickly grab your bag and throw it on your shoulder as you take off. You check your phone to remind yourself that you’re meeting him at the water fountain in the middle of the courtyard. You shoot him a quick text to let him know that you might be a few minutes late. He responds immediately saying, ‘no worries.’

You were sure that Geto was a nice person. He never gave you any reason to think that he wasn’t. You just couldn’t read him like you could read other people. He seems more complex and closed off than the average person you encounter, that’s what intimidates you. Hopefully your fears are nothing more than that.

Once you get to the courtyard, you spot him smoking near the fountain. He wore a loose fitting sweater and baggy pants. He sat on the edge of the fountain as he puffs out plums of smoke from his mouth. You slowly make your way over to him, waving as you get closer. He eventually locks eyes on you and smiles.

“Y/N right?” he says as he puts out his cigarette.

“Yeah.” You respond quickly.

“I’m Geto Suguru. It’s nice to officially meet you.” He holds out his hand in front of you, waiting for you to grab it.

You grab his hand and shake it saying, “Nice to meet you, Geto.”

“You have a firm handshake like a general.” He says in his usual soft voice.

You slowly take your hand out of his and say, “Okay?”

What the fuck does that mean and how do I even respond to that? You two stood in awkward silence as he held that closed mouth grin on his face.

“It seems like you're thinking hard about what I just said.” He interjects.

“No, not really. I’ve just never been compared to a general so soon in a conversation.” You say honestly.

He lets out a single laugh as he stands up. You knew he was tall but you didn't realize just how much he towers over you. He had to be at least 6’2.

“Well, it was a compliment.” He says as you both start walking. You weren’t sure where you guys were headed but you followed him.

You flash him a face of doubt and say, “Sure it was. Where are we headed?

“To get food. It’s time for lunch. While we eat we can discuss the topic of our project. Is that cool?” He asks.

“Yea, of course.” You say.

You began your walk to the food court. Geto was surprisingly easy to talk to. He asked you what your major was, why you chose school in Japan, and where you used to live before moving here. He seems like he wanted to know more about you. He questioned you the entire time it took to order the food.

“And what about you? What’s your major?” You ask him as you both take a seat at a table.

“Child Psychology and Development. I enjoy working with kids.” He says as he breaks his chopsticks.

“Really? I wouldn't have guessed that. That’s amazing, Geto. You’re going to make a great psychologist.”

Every feeling of intimidation you had for him melted away the more you got to know him. He was actually so sweet and kind…that is until Gojo arrives.

“Heeyyy, I know you. You’re the foreigner that’s in our Sociology class. Did you two get paired up together?” Gojo asks as he sits down at our table

“Yea, we did. My name is Y/N by the way, not the foreigner.” You snap.

Gojo smiles and says, “Yes ma’am. Miss. Y/N ma’am.”

He salutes to you which causes Geto to hold in his laugh. Great, that’s the second military comparison you've gotten in the last hour. You roll your eyes, pretending that it isn't funny. The joke itself was stupid but you did think it was funny how Gojo and Geto think and say similar things.

“Enough Satoru, don’t pick on her. She has to like me if we’re going to be partners.” Geto says as he stares at you.

“You already know that she likes you. The way she stares at you in class is a dead giveaway.” Gojo says as he too locks eyes on you.

They were putting you on the spot. Your heart began racing as they waited for you to say something. How does he even know that you stare at him? Does he watch you in class?

“That’s a bold assumption to make. How would you know that I stare at him? Are you staring at me during class?” You say turning the tables on the white haired man sitting before you.

Geto draws his attention on Gojo waiting for him to rebuttal. He just smiles and says, “I like this girl, Geto. You got lucky. I’m stuck working with Utahime and she’s no fun unless we’re drinking.” He pouts.

You three spend lunch together, talking about literally everything else but the project. Gojo is to blame for that. Even though no work got done, you were able to get a good sense of who they are. They were exactly how Utahime and Shoko described them but you felt another vibe from them. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but they both seemed very…forward towards you. Gojo left at some point in the conversation, leaving you and Geto alone again.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow tonight?” Geto asks, snapping you out contemplation.

“No, just studying. Why what's up?”

“You should come over to work on the project. Gojo will be at Utahime and Shoko’s place so he won't distract us.”

“Sure, I’ll be there. Should I bring anything?” You ask.

“Just yourself is fine.” He states.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. I’ve got to head to my next class.” You say as you grab your things from the table.

“Have fun. I’ll text you.” He says as he places his headphones on his ears. He waves at you as you make your way to the exit.

*******************************************************

After class, you immediately text Shoko and Utahime in a group chat.

You: hey…. Geto invited me to his place tomorrow night to work on the project and he said that he will text me????

Hime: text you???

Shoko: about what???

You: IDK!! If I'm coming over tomorrow to work on the project why would he need to text me?

Hime: I think Geto is interested in you…

Shoko: yea i second that, he’s not a big texter.

You couldn't believe the messages you were reading. It’s not that you don’t think Geto would find you attractive, it just seems like all of this was coming out of nowhere.

You: I don't know how to respond to this….

You lock your phone and put it in your pocket. In this moment, you had to be honest with yourself. Are you going to be able to control yourself when you go over to his place tomorrow? Gojo was correct about you staring at Geto in class. You did think he was hot, in fact you thought both of them were hot. But you made a promise to yourself that you weren’t getting involved with anymore fuckboys because you tend to get lost in the thrill of it. You love giving fuck boys a taste of their own medcine. You’d fuck them and ghost them just like they’ve done to countless of women. However, you didn’t want to play that game with either of the boys since they are friends with Shoko and Utahime. You weren’t looking to date either considering that you are just here for school.

“Y/N!! You on the way home?” You hear someone yell from behind you.

You turn around to see Gojo walking towards you.

“Yea, I’m done for today.” You answer.

“Sweet, me too. You like boba? I was just going to get some if you wanna tag along?.” he offers.

“Ooo, I love boba. How far is it?”

“It’s like a 20 minute walk away from here.”

“Okay sure! Let's go.”

You should have said no to him but it's too late to change your answer now. You start walking off campus with Gojo.

“Do you think Geto is hot? Be honest! I won’t tell him.” He interjects.

He’s so forward!

“You didn’t answer my question from earlier about you watching me in class. Until you answer that I’m not saying anything.”

“Alright, I’ll bite. I’m an observant guy. I see everything. I’ve even caught youlooking at me from time to time but that was in the beginning of the year. You stopped once you became friends with Shoko and Utahime. Why is that?” He says staring you down through his shades.

You’re caught. Everything he said is true. Out of respect for Shoko and Utahime, your little crush on them diminished. You don’t want them to think you had only become friends with them just to get to Gojo and Geto. But Gojo doesn’t need to know that.

“I thought you two seemed cool and I like the way you both dress. I can’t help but to stare if the fit goes hard.” You partially lie. Everyone knows you love fashion so this wasn’t a bad cover up.

“You sure about that?” He persists.

“Positive.” You stand 10 toes down.

“Well, Geto and I share a lot of things. So uh, don’t be nervous to ask us for anything.” He says with a sly look on his face. “Clothes and accessories, I mean.”

What the fuck is he getting at right now?

This was a cute fluff introduction for what is to come…. And let me just say yall are in for something cute lol

Find the whole series here!

let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist in the comments ❤️

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dksfml · 9 months ago

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picture perfect - lhs

pairing: ex!heeseung x midnight rain!reader genre: angst, exes meeting again in a different circumstance, heeseung is getting married, the one that got away word count: 2.5k summary: what's worse than interviewing your ex-fiancé for his wedding while tormented by the life you could have had? especially when you couldn't stop glancing on the ring on his finger.

My boy was a montage A slow-motion, love potion Jumping off things in the ocean I broke his heart 'cause he was nice

“When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?”

The room was colder than you expected, or maybe it was the weight of the moment that made you shiver. Five years had passed since you left Heeseung behind, but here you were, standing across from him again. He stood in a pristine tuxedo, tailored to perfection, like the life he now led—polished, flawless, but distant. Heeseung, heir to a powerful conglomerate, and you, the broadcast journalist in a media uniform tasked with interviewing him for what was being called the "wedding of the century."

It had been an impossible love, one you knew couldn’t last. But that didn’t stop you from falling hard for him.

Back in college, it felt like the stars had aligned just for you two. You met by chance in a quiet library, studying late at night. You were flipping through notes, while he sat across from you, struggling to stay awake after hours of classes and business meetings for his family’s company. He caught your eye when he nearly fell asleep, knocking a stack of books to the floor.

“You alright there?” you had teased, a soft smile playing on your lips.

Heeseung rubbed his eyes and chuckled. “Yeah, just tired. Guess business majors don’t get to sleep, huh?”

That small interaction turned into late-night study sessions and shared meals at the local café, hiding from the world that seemed to have already decided your places. The more you learned about him, the more the quiet, gentle side of him drew you in—the side that wasn’t always front and center in the media’s image of him.

“Let’s keep this just between us,” Heeseung had said once, eyes soft as the two of you sat together in a dimly lit restaurant far off campus, tucked into a corner where no one would recognize him. “The world outside… it’s too complicated.”

You agreed, understanding the stakes. His family had expectations, and you were just an ordinary student. Yet, it didn’t stop the stolen glances in class or the secret hand-holding when no one was watching.

Those were some of the happiest moments of your life. No matter how fleeting, they felt like something real, something lasting.

And then there was that night—your last trip together before everything changed. The two of you had gone to a secluded beach, the sound of waves crashing against the shore the only witness to your love. Underneath a sky full of stars, Heeseung pulled out a ring, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, eyes wide with hope.

“I know it’s crazy… but marry me,” he whispered, his voice full of emotion. “I want you to be the person I come home to. The one who knows me when the rest of the world only sees… him.”

You had said yes without hesitation. How could you not? In that moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. You had both once pictured yourselves at opposite ends of the aisle—him in a crisp, white tuxedo, and you in the wedding dress of your dreams. It was this memory of him that still kept you awake at night.

But reality didn’t wait long to rear its ugly head. Graduation came, and with it, responsibilities neither of you could ignore. You got your dream job as a news presenter, but it meant constant travel. Heeseung, meanwhile, was tied to his family’s legacy, the weight of it pressing down on him, anchoring him to a life you couldn’t share.

"I can’t leave everything behind," he had told you one night, frustration evident in his voice. "This is who I am."

"I know," you replied quietly, staring down at the engagement ring on your finger, feeling its weight more than ever. "And I’m not asking you to. But I… I need to be someone too. I can’t just be… your shadow."

Heeseung had pleaded with you to stay, to make it work somehow, but deep down, you both knew it wasn’t possible. The worlds you came from were too far apart, the demands on you both too great.

When you took off the ring that night in his car, your hands trembling, the look in his eyes broke you. Heeseung had always been composed, even under pressure, but that night, he cried. You watched as his tears fell, and the ache in your chest felt unbearable.

"I’m sorry," you whispered, voice barely holding steady as you placed the ring in his palm. "I love you, but I can’t… I can’t do this."

Heeseung had tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. All he could do was watch as you opened the car door and walked away.

Now, five years later, that past stood between you like an invisible wall.

The soft murmur of crew members adjusting lights and setting up cameras filled the studio, but all you could hear was the steady, rhythmic pounding of your heart. Heeseung sat in front of you, the gleam of his dark wedding tuxedo catching the artificial light. His hand rested on his knee, the gold band on his ring finger gleaming—a silent reminder of everything that had changed.

You cleared your throat, shuffling your notes, attempting to shake off the unease settling over you. This was supposed to be just another interview—routine, professional. But the tension in the air was palpable, an invisible thread tugging at memories you thought you’d buried.

"Mr. Lee?," you asked again, your voice steady, eyes fixed on the paper in front of you to avoid the intensity of his gaze. "A lot of people are curious about your relationship with Ms. Choi. When did you realize that she was the one? That it was love?"

Heeseung shifted slightly in his seat, his eyes flickering to yours before looking down at his hands. For a moment, he hesitated, and you found yourself unconsciously glancing at his left hand again—the wedding band glinting under the lights. The sight of it made your stomach twist.

"When did I know…" Heeseung trailed off, his voice quiet, reflective. He took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still focused on his hand. "I think love can be complicated. Sometimes, it’s not about a single moment, but a series of small ones. You come to realize what's expected of you, and you grow into it, bit by bit."

It was a carefully worded response—safe, diplomatic. He wasn’t answering the question. Not really. And that tugged at something deep inside you, pulling at threads you didn’t want to unravel.

You nodded, trying to move forward, but your thoughts were slipping. "But… when did it feel like more than just expectation? When did it feel like love?"

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. Too personal. Too revealing. Heeseung’s eyes snapped to yours, surprised at the sudden shift, the edge in your voice. For a second, the air between you thickened, the unspoken past rising to the surface.

"When did it feel like love?" Heeseung repeated slowly, his eyes lingering on your face, as if searching for something. His voice softened. "There was a time I thought I knew… what love felt like."

You blinked, the space between his words loaded with meaning. There was an implicit sadness in the way he spoke, a crack in the façade he’d been holding up for so long.

You felt yourself sinking deeper into the moment, losing grip on the professional veneer you had worked so hard to maintain. Your gaze dropped to his left hand again, to the gold ring encircling his finger. It felt suffocating, knowing it symbolized a future you once imagined would be yours.

Your own fingers absentmindedly brushed against your ring finger, where once a promise had been worn but was now bare. Heeseung’s eyes followed the movement, his gaze lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. His lips parted, as if he wanted to say something, but he closed them again.

The camera’s blinking red light reminded you where you were. You cleared your throat, refocusing on the script, but your mind was still spiraling.

You hesitated before asking the next question, feeling the weight of it before the words even left your mouth. It wasn’t on the script—it wasn’t the kind of thing you were supposed to ask in an interview like this. But it was the question you had to ask, the one lingering at the back of your mind since you stepped into the room.

You swallowed, feeling your pulse in your throat. "Are you happy?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Heeseung’s gaze lingered on you, and for the briefest moment, his polished composure cracked. His eyes softened, as if searching for something in yours.

He hesitated, his gaze dropping briefly to the ring on his finger again—gleaming and perfect, a stark contrast to your own bare hand. The ring you had taken off five years ago.

"I... I have everything I’m supposed to want," he began, voice quiet, almost too quiet for the room. His answer was measured, careful, like he was trying to convince himself as much as he was you. "I’ve built a life, a career... I’m where I’m supposed to be."

But then his eyes met yours again, and for a heartbeat, something vulnerable passed between you. "But happiness?" He let the question hang in the air, not answering it fully, but leaving the meaning clear. His gaze lingered a second longer, unspoken words filling the silence.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your emotions in check as the weight of what wasn’t said between you pressed down. His answer, or lack of one, told you everything.

You glanced down at your next question, but your voice betrayed you, trailing off as you asked, "Do you… ever think about the life you could have had? If things had been different?"

Heeseung’s gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. The question hadn’t been on the script. You hadn’t even realized you’d said it until it was too late. A deafening silence filled the room, every crew member, every camera operator feeling the tension brewing between you both.

His jaw clenched slightly, and for a moment, it looked like he wasn’t going to answer. But then, his voice came, soft, barely above a whisper, yet laced with emotion. "Sometimes… I think about the life I could have had. The life I almost had."

The way he said it made your breath hitch. You weren’t sure if anyone else in the room could hear it, but to you, it felt like the only thing that mattered. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a weight too heavy to ignore.

You tried to regain control, but you were slipping further, your thoughts clouded by the memories you had worked so hard to forget. "Do you have any regrets about the past?” you asked, the question intended more for your own sake than for the magazine.

Heeseung's expression softened, and for the first time throughout the interview, his voice wavered. ‘Regret... it's complicated. There are times when you make choices because you believe they’re what’s best for everyone. Yet there are nights when you can’t help but think… what if?’"

His words hit you like a wave, washing over you with the force of all the unspoken feelings between you. What if. Two simple words, yet they carried the weight of everything you had left behind.

Your breath hitched, and you glanced down at your notes, trying to steer the interview back to safer ground. But the damage was done. You couldn’t hide from the truth anymore.

You felt your eyes well up, memories flooding back of the days when Heeseung had been your world. The secret rendezvous, the promises whispered under moonlit skies, the proposal on the beach—the life you almost had. You swallowed hard, pushing the memories down.

"Two weeks until the wedding," you said, your voice hollow, desperate to pull the conversation back to the present. "Are you… ready?"

Heeseung didn’t answer right away. Instead, he looked at you, really looked at you, as if seeing past the years, past the distance, and straight into the heart of the girl he had once loved. His lips parted, but the answer you expected didn’t come.

"Are you?" he asked quietly, the question hanging in the air like a lifeline.

Your breath caught in your throat. The room felt too small, the walls too close. You blinked, shaking your head slightly as if that could shake off the weight of the moment.

The tension between you was unbearable now. You could feel every unsaid word, every lingering regret, every what-if stretching between you, filling the space with a heaviness you could no longer ignore.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Lee," you said, your voice tight, trying to wrap up the interview before you completely unraveled.

But as you stood to leave, Heeseung’s voice stopped you.

"Y/N…"

He adjusted his cufflinks, and the air between you grew heavier. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. “Do you ever think about… that time?”

You looked at him, surprised he had asked. The cameras aren’t rolling anymore. “All the time,” you admitted, the truth slipping out before you could stop it.

Heeseung nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah… me too.”

You paused, not daring to turn around, your heart in your throat.

"If I had another chance…" His voice was barely a whisper now, but it sliced through the room like a knife. "I would risk everything."

Your hand hovered on the door handle, but you couldn’t move. His words clung to you, wrapping themselves around your heart like a vice. You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall.

But you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t.

Instead, you stepped out of the studio, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on you, knowing that you’d leave this room just as you had left him five years ago—heartbroken and haunted by what could have been.

About an hour after the interview, you found yourself standing at the back of the studio, watching as Heeseung and his fiancée posed for their couple shots. He looked effortlessly handsome in his pristine black tuxedo, while she glimmered in a flowing gown, radiant and picture-perfect.

“Smile a little wider, Heeseung!” the photographer urged, and your heart ached as you watched him comply, his smile lighting up the scene in a way that had once been reserved for you.

You swallowed hard, the memories flooding back—late-night laughter, whispered secrets, and the way he’d promised you the world. A crew member nudged you, breaking your reverie. “They really are the perfect couple,” he said.

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice thick with unshed tears.

As you turned away, the sight of them—the life you had once envisioned—felt like a dagger to your heart. It was time to leave, to step back into your own reality, but a lingering question haunted you: What if things had been different?

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kenomacreature · 3 months ago

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A META-HISTORY OF ELYSIUM CORONA MUNDI

Chronicling (almost) everything we know about the development of Robert Kurvitz's quasi-sacral object complex

This post represents an attempt to gather (almost) all the reliable public info we have about the broader worldbuilding of Elysium Corona Mundi (the series to which Disco Elysium and Sacred and Terrible Air belong) and how it developed over time into one place, presented more or less chronologically and in a way accessible to fans unacquainted with the, shall we say, more arcane lore of Elysium. In the original incarnation of this post, basically every sentence was scrupulously referenced; however, referencing is a major pain in the ass on tumblr, so instead I just have a broad list of sources at the bottom and if you want to inquire any further into a specific claim you can just message me.

I'll also warn readers that the sections discussing the Torson & McLaine campaign and the (currently cancelled) sequel to Disco Elysium contain potential (albeit relatively minor) spoilers for the planned plot of that game. The creators still hope to make that game one day, so if you want to go in totally blind, you know what to avoid.

Evermier

The first serious worldbuilding project that Robert Kurvitz embarked on dates back to at least the year 1997. It was developed with his childhood friends in Estonia, including later Elysium worldbuilders Martin Luiga, Argo Tuulik and Kaspar Kalvet, and went by the name Evermier. This was a medieval fantasy setting formed around a tabletop roleplaying system that Robert Kurvitz and Martin Luiga have referred to as “bootleg Finnish Dungeons and Dragons,” but which Argo Tuulik suspects was actually a Powered by the Apocalypse framework. The vast majority of the boys’ time with Evermier was not spent actually playing any campaigns, but rather formulating the setting and mechanics (both Argo and Luiga ended up never participating in a roleplaying session of Evermier). Argo splits the time spent conceiving Evermier into two broad periods – one he dubs “Evermier 1.0,” which stuck close to traditional Dungeons and Dragons – and one dubbed “Evermier 2.0,” where no tabletop campaigns were ever actually played and all the time was spent system-building. Argo estimates this latter period lasted some 2-3 years.

Scope creep quickly hit the project, with character sheets evolving into whole character books. Luiga alleges that that “the wizard book” was supposed to have 350 spells altogether, each with at least a half-page story about the spell, in prose, and that “about a healthy third of the book got done in the end.” Argo gives a different number, stating that early estimates for it had more like 900 spells, but agrees that two-thirds of each page would’ve been reserved for “juicy literary stuff” about the spell in question while the rest of the page was dedicated to stats, and says that Luiga and Kaspar wrote a lot of excellent stuff for these spells.

Argo says there were about twenty different schools of technology (such as “metallurgy” and “optics”), at least twelve classes of mages, and “so many” subclasses of elves. There was also a subclass of dwarf that, instead of being stocky, chubby and bearded like traditional dwarves, were veiny and more like “Russian miners.” When implementing necromancers, Robert “zoned in on this soul aspect,” which later became the basis for Elysium’s pale. Argo describes these necromancers as “hobbits, but with these little lanterns that guide spirits or souls from this massive fog.” Luiga places the invention of this “fog of death with whom some could communicate” as happening late in Evermier’s development and likewise considers it a primitive precursor to what would become the pale.

The worldbuilders spent a lot of time gearing up for an ultimate roleplaying session that never ended up materializing, but their artist friend Jüri Saks drew illustrations in anticipation of it, including character portraits. Luiga’s character was a “sickle-elf” whose class was called “saint.” This saint character was a handsome elf with small pointy ears and a neat little beard, who wielded two “light swords” (possibly katanas), and a crossbow called Crucifix on his back. The character was from a “grim northern land” and was a “religious lunatic type” who believed in a “grim, monotheistic God.” Argo alleges that Luiga related to this character so much that it almost became a part of his persona; he “developed this mode that sometimes when we were drinking he happened to slip in, where he would start judging people. I would like to say that it still remained within the boundaries of normalcy, but uh, unfortunately it didn’t.”

Kaspar Kalvet at some point played an archer character named Minor Mortifer (“Small Death-bringer”), and there was also a dwarf king named Fuirum Thundergate.

According to Luiga, the name “Elysium” was suggested by someone on the dragon.ee forums, but it took half a year for Robert to start seriously considering it. This was back when the setting was still a medieval fantasy world. Luiga and Argo both agree that the historicized Elysium as we know it now was born around the time when Robert decided to get rid of fantasy races, because – as Argo puts it – “they were kind of stupid.” With this decision, Evermier underwent a modernization process of sorts, an attempt to bring the setting closer to real life, where many other fantasy elements were stripped away in favor of more realistic representations of cultures, mostly in the form of nations. Argo says that many of the fantasy races transformed over the course of this process into the nations of Elysium – the dwarves became the nations of Graad, the elves became the great desert isola of Iilmaraa (formerly Armaghast, a nod to Dan Simmons’ Hyperion, still referenced to this day with Iilmaraa’s Erg desert), the night-elves or star-elves eventually became Seol, and the snow-elves became Katla (which apparently has not changed too much since the Evermier days, and whose namesake is the dragon in Astrid Lindgren’s novel The Brothers Lionheart). Among the first innovations of the new modernized setting was the concept of floating magnet trains, later described in Sacred and Terrible Air.

After the Evermier setting had been discarded, many of its ideas ended up being repurposed into historical periods within the new historicized Elysium setting.

The Elysium tabletop campaigns

Between the years 2003 – 2007, three tabletop campaigns were played in the then newly formed Elysium setting. These all took place in Revachol during the Current Century and featured Robert as dungeon master. The first campaign seems to have been called Soul Milton’s World Autumn, the second one Riget and the final one known simply as Torson & McLaine, or alternatively the RCM campaign. The first two were played at Robert’s old apartment in the concrete block project at Mustamäe, while the third one was played in the house of Luiga's dad, which the three later lived together in following his death.

Soul Milton’s World Autumn

Of the three campaigns, Soul Milton’s is arguably the one most shrouded in mystery as it stands. It took place in Revachol and Martin Luiga played the titular character Soul Milton. The character has been described as “one of the cornerstones of the Elysium mythos” and an “aspiring world-historical person.” By the time of the campaign, Milton seems to have become an amnesiac as a result of “suppressing his own mind to protect himself from his enemies,” and in this process apparently also adopted a disguise by “putting another skin on himself” (what precisely that means, we don't know). He was “very rich” and came from a well-off family, had a complicated and possibly romantic relationship with his sister and was a “politician slash businessman” who “wanted to be the innocence of consumerism.” As it turns out, the enemies who were chasing him were the Therriers of Elysium’s final innocence, Ambrosius Saint-Miro (a major figure in both Sacred and Terrible Air and Full-Core State Nihilist, to be discussed later), who Soul Milton met at one point. Saint-Miro apparently told him that “there has never been an innocence who is also not an innocence.” This encounter places the Soul Milton campaign firmly after the events of Disco Elysium, possibly in the late Fifties or Sixties. During this campaign, Argo played Soul Milton’s horse carriage driver, a man by the name of Elroy Quint Duval.

Also associated with Soul Milton are two other characters. Before Sacred and Terrible Air was conceived, Robert had planned to tell the story of Elysium in three books; one starring Soul Milton, another starring a character named Dister, and the third a character named Dallasz.

Dister, or Marius Dijsters, was an extraphysicist and published author hailing from Oranje. He was a son of diplomats, one of them the grand ambassador of Oranje on Iilmaraa. He seems to have been a significant enough figure to have an entire strand of thought – Disterism – named after him (mentioned in the inside covers of Sacred and Terrible Air), and like Soul Milton, he had an antagonistic relationship with Ambrosius (as made apparent by an incident where he was threatened by the innocence’s Therriers at age 25). He is also apparently involved in some way with Theo Van Kok (of Sacred and Terrible Air fame), along with a Paul Messier (presumably the husband of Disco Elysium's Joyce Messier), apparently the beneficiary of such prestigious titles as "Enemy of the Press '67" and "Worst Person of the Year '67."

Information is rather scant on Dallasz, but during the making of Disco Elysium, there were plans to repurpose him into another project, a comic book named Mercurio Dallasz and the Twelve Kojkos which was going to be illustrated by Aleksander Rostov. This project unfortunately fell through, but we know the premise: a band of kojkos under Dallasz’s leadership attempt to assassinate innocence Saint-Miro. This was presumably an Inglourious Basterds type affair.

Riget

“It’s better to die in the Kingdom than live in a shithole.”

This was the tagline of Elysium’s second tabletop campaign, Riget, whose name is Danish for “kingdom” and was taken from Lars von Trier’s mini-series of the same name. Once more, the setting was Revachol, but this time it was limited to a peculiar part of it: Le Royaume (French for, again, “the Kingdom”) a vast network of dungeons and burial chambers two kilometers beneath the city, housing ancient ruins and remnants (quite possibly of the Seraseolitic civilization mentioned in Disco Elysium), along with treasures such as bioluminescent plants which have adapted to living in total darkness. The stars of this campaign were three impoverished children, all between the ages of 10-12 and members of a gang named “Earthworms,” who decided to venture down into the catacombs in search of valuable artifacts to sell. At some point, these kids somehow found themselves unable to get out of Le Royaume, supposedly trapped underground by demons who sought to use the children as vessels to escape back to the surface. When this campaign was being played, demons were still a part of the setting and haunted the halls of the underground network, along with monsters – such as the armakhaan beast, also known as Lelo Lelo, a terrifying blind and flightless hunter killer bird which was a mix between the xenomorph and cassowary. As for whether demons are still part of the setting in any way; both Argo and Luiga's statements are too ambiguous to reach any firm conclusion. Argo does note that the concept of 'demons' connotes something subtly different in Estonian than the scary red guys in popular Western culture, and are more like a primordial evil.

In the campaign, Argo played a boy named Miron, whose nickname was ‘Sneaker’, while Luiga played Joschka, a crippled boy with a bad leg. During the campaign, individual roleplaying sessions with Robert were held where the players’ stories evolved in parallel without them being kept on the same page. Each of them would get info the others were not privy to: Argo’s was that Joschka is unaware of the fact that he’s not considered a true member of the gang; in reality, he’s an outcast generally considered a weird, creepy weakling, and was only brought on for his lockpicking and mechanical skills.

Eventually, the Riget campaign got quite far into “Lord of the Flies territory.” Near the end, Sneaker and the third boy (played by another friend) conspired to kill Joschka deep underground.

Torson & McLaine

The worldbuilders continued to refine the roleplaying mechanics they were working with for the campaigns. By the time of Riget, the basics of the Metric system had been introduced, with the now familiar INT, PSY, FYS, and MOT. But according to Argo it was the RCM campaign, known principally as the Torson and McLaine campaign, which was “the first mature cycle of Elysium storytelling.” It took place, once more, in Revachol – this time in a ghetto called Jamrock, named after a Damian Marley song, and was focused on the goings on in Station 51 (renamed Precinct 41 by the time of Disco Elysium), the RCM’s lone precinct in Jamrock. The campaign took large amounts of inspiration from the TV series The Shield and its depiction of corrupt police officers and the intermingling of gang warfare and state-sanctioned violence. A central concept was: the cops are a gang, and the gangs are cops.

The RCM campaign began on a sort of prologue session, wherein Argo and Luiga played characters named Antwone Novak and Trinidad Tranquile respectively, two junior officers newly recruited into the RCM. Antwone was a “petit bourgeois type,” whereas Trinidad was a young communist who had recently been given time off work due to excessive violence. Luiga describes him:

He worked at a meat shop that belonged to Carson Torsson, Mack Torson’s dad, and had a system of stealing from work in order to ‘adequately compensate for his labour’. He also liked to practice a crude type of critical theory in the vein of ‘this building has been made that large to humiliate me, to show off with a power greater than me, to scare me into submission’. And he had a system of smoking no more than five cigarettes per day to cut down on smoking costs — Kim’s single cigarette habit might be a distant echo of that. He had, I think, a 7 in PSY (at least 5) and 2 in INT and mediocre physical stats, the core system was pretty much set by then.

At the end of this prologue session, Station 51 became the target of a terrorist attack. We don’t know much about the perpetrators beyond them being “Church of Evil type guys” in Luiga’s words, but the dice was rolled badly and Antwone and Trini both ended up dying in a “horsebombing” attack, falling onto the bridge outside the station.

Map of Station 51, located in a repurposed steel mill.

Going forward, Argo and Luiga had to find new characters to play, and they ended up going with ones they had earlier conceptualized, half-jokingly, on one of their many walks around Tallinn from parties and other events, since public transportation was notoriously unreliable. These characters were Chester McLaine, played by Luiga, and Mack “the Torso” Torson, played by Argo. Torson was derived in half from Vic Mackey, the protagonist of the Shield, and half from Argo’s own personality. Argo says that Luiga put his own personality into Chester as well, but isn’t sure where the other half of that character came from.

The main plot of the campaign centered on a revenge operation against those who perpetrated the attack on Station 51. In the second session of the campaign, Torson and McLaine are involved in a church raid; though Argo takes care to mention that he doesn’t think this is the church raid mentioned in Disco Elysium, and that it’s not a Dolorian Church but rather the “Armed Church of Saint-Michelle.” Among the tasks of Torson and McLaine were gathering “guns and drugs” for the “big revenge operation.”

Mack Torson was an idiotic body builder, an admirer of Lieutenant John “the Archetype” McCoy, the Station’s resident mass murderer, and altogether “way too stupid to concentrate on the main plot and politics of the police station,” focusing his attention instead on matters like “how to get it on with the captain’s secretary and tattooing the word ‘Jamrock’ on his body hundreds of times over.” Chester McLaine was a little more perceptive, wondering about things such as “what the hell is going on with the armour maker or Nix Gottlieb,” but was still an all-around uncritical person who put a lot of stock into “loving the captain” and “being a communist memebot.” McLaine was also “a sword guy,” since at this point in the worldbuilding swords were still viable weapons, with guns being slow to reload. Torson and McLaine lived together, along with two other cops, Sundance Fischer and Elfboy Williams. “Elfboy’s thing was being the dexterity bro, in which he continually lost to McLaine, and Sundance’s thing was having a fat ass and cleaning his guns all the time.” Torson had a wife named Tessa Torson, and later in life both Chester and Mack would apparently raise adopted daughters, Tessa and Triss (whether these Tessas are separate characters or represent the same character at different stages of development is unclear; Argo and Luiga seem to contradict each other, unless there's something very weird going on).

Torson and McLaine both regularly abused their powers, as RCM officers in general were prone to do, and in their heads they were justified in doing so. A highlight of the RCM campaign had been sessions dubbed “the Ballad of Chad Tilbrooks and Émile Mollins,” centering on two junior officers who were ritually abused and exploited by the older members of their station, including Torson and McLaine. At one point, Torson and McLaine were also involved in an interrogation of a local religious figurehead which devolved into mutilation torture, which only the “bullet-lobotomized” officer Damien “44” Latrec called out for what it was (enthusiastically). The interrogation ended up being ineffective as the religious leader simply “retreated into a happy place inside his head.”

The Captain of Station 51, Ptolemaios Pryce, was immensely respected and glorified by its officers, whereas the station’s lazareth Nix Gottlieb, while also respected, was generally resented and found hard to tolerate for being “an absolute horrible cunt.” In spite of this, Nix Gottlieb was known to have a curious friendship with Pryce, talking alone with him in the Captain’s office long into the night. This fact regularly perplexed the officers of Station 51.

Eventually, at some point in the campaign, Torson and McLaine would come to the focal point of the story, when they make a shocking discovery: the reason for Pryce and Gottlieb’s strange friendship is that they are both members of the top-secret underground anarchist organization the Ultra, and not only are plans underway for a national liberation movement freeing Revachol from Coalition control, known as THE RETURN, but the two have set their sights on a much larger goal: world revolution.

The novel cycle

No more campaigns were played in the Elysium world after 2007, when the boys stopped playing the RCM campaign (with the story unfinished). Robert Kurvitz instead shifted his attention to writing a book in the Elysium universe. Eventually the plan became for it to be the opening to a cycle of novels, totaling eight altogether. We have the English titles of each book and their epigraphs, along with the order of the series, from a post by Kurvitz on the dragon.ee forums.

They are as follows:

#0 A SACRED AND TERRIBLE AIR My heart will not rest until it rests in you. - St. Augustine

#1 THE COUNTERMEASURES What am I searching for in your dreams? I am not searching. I am merely cleaning up. - Christian Emmerich

#2 NO TRUCE WITH THE FURIES Man-kind, be vigilant! We loved you. - Julius Fučik

#3 MADRUGADA It must be lit as dreams, by lightning flashes only. - Witold Gombrowicz

#4 TWO HUNDRED AND TWENTY NINE DAYS REMAINING Evening brings the child back to the arms of the mother. - Sappho

#5 COALITION WARSHIP I don’t want to be in no indie shit. I want to be in the big ones. I want to be in the ones that matter. - Mickey Rourke

#6 WE ARE THE WAITING What remains, is longing for something completely different. - Luis Althusser

#7 INDIFFERENCE A great silence, some low pressure front is forming. - Arvi Siig

Sacred and Terrible Air was eventually released in Estonian back in 2013, and after the success of Disco Elysium plans were made to translate the book into English. Rumor goes that this translation was very far along or even finished, but unfortunately all plans for releasing this translation to the public have been halted with the ongoing legal dispute.

Fortunately, dedicated fans have taken it upon themselves to translate the book into English for those particularly interested. The most successful translation by far is the one by Group Ibex, which still receives updates to this day.

Read it here.

Full-Core State Nihilist

Many don’t know that Sacred and Terrible Air is actually not the only written work predating Disco Elysium. Before even Sacred and Terrible Air was released, Martin Luiga wrote a short story later given the English title Full-Core State Nihilist, which was uploaded to the old ZA/UM blog. While obviously not as meaty a text as Sacred and Terrible Air, it deals with some overlapping themes and gives us our first proper window into the nation of Mesque, so important to the broader narrative of Elysium.

Full-Core State Nihilist was later heavily edited and uploaded to nihilist.fm, another blog site which many of the ZA/UM members were active on.

Finally, in 2022, Martin Luiga translated the Estonian story, basing his English version on the original ZA/UM blog version, and uploaded it to Medium. This translation itself could be seen as a third edit of the story, featuring new references to Disco Elysium.

(As it happens, I have also arrogantly taken it upon myself to create my own translation of this brilliant story, which combines elements from all three versions, and is an attempt to render the prose in slightly less idiosyncratic English, closer to the “house style” of Disco Elysium, while remaining heavily informed by Luiga’s own translation.)

You can find Luiga’s translation here and my version here.

THE RETURN

In 2014, Robert Kurvitz pitched an idea to his friend and associate, novelist and businessman Kaur Kender, to turn the Torson & McLaine roleplaying campaign into a full-fledged video game for PC. The pitch proposed a 3000 EUR investment to produce a vision document, with design and artwork handled by Aleksander Rostov and Juri Saks, detailing the setting, plot, game mechanics and art style. In 2015, this document was finished, and by this time a provisional name for the project seems to have been settled on: THE RETURN.

This vision document reveals that the game was once planned to feature turn-based tactical combat. The plan was also for the player to create their own character from certain “archetypes,” each with different personalities, talents and appearances. Over time it became clear that these plans were too ambitious; by 2016 the archetypes had been narrowed down into a single character – the “disgrace to the uniform” Harry du Bois – and the prologue chapter of his story, set in Martinaise, was split off into its own game. This smaller project received the title that originally was given to the third novel in the planned cycle (which was almost certainly anticipated to center around the story of Precinct 41 in the year ’51) – NO TRUCE WITH THE FURIES.

No Truce became Disco Elysium and the rest, as they say, is history. But unlike many fans who view Disco as a singular statement that needs no further comment, the developers were far from done with the world they had created. The dominant internal view, especially among the original worldbuilders, was that Disco Elysium was merely a minor project to get ZA/UM’s foot through the proverbial gate. Work on the true game – the one they had wanted to create all along – could finally begin now.

As far as we know, the plot of the game would’ve stuck fairly closely to the events of the Torson & McLaine roleplaying campaign. The game was to open with an attack on Precinct 41, and the rest of the game would’ve been a revenge story of sorts. Players would assume control of Harry again, and this time his primary partner would be Jean Vicquemare, although there would be an assortment of other potential party members. The map would be at least four times bigger and set in Jamrock.

Plot points which would be explored in the sequel had already been set up in Disco Elysium – among these are Pryce and Gottlieb’s revolution, Le Royaume, Edgar Claire, and La Puta Madre. Cuno and Cunoesse would’ve featured as returning characters; not much is known about how Cuno and Kim would’ve been integrated into the game given how variable their endings in Disco Elysium are, but Argo says that he would’ve insisted on Cuno returning. X7 – the now-cancelled DLC project which Argo worked on for the remainder of his time at ZA/UM after Robert, Rostov and Helen were ousted from the company, would’ve featured Cuno as the protagonist. Meanwhile, Cunoesse was planned to reappear in THE RETURN as a leader of a gang of kids in Le Royaume, according to Martin Luiga.

Obviously, the characters of Precinct 41 would've featured heavily, and we'd be introduced to many familiar names which we were already given glimpses of in Esprit de Corps checks in Disco Elysium. One of these would be Lt. Berdyayeva, a superior of Harry’s, whose daughter is Jean Vicquemare’s ex. A character we know nearly nothing about except for the fact that he was conceptualized back in the tabletop days as a sort of joke character, but survived all the way into the planning stage for THE RETURN, is “Marivald the Merry Butcher” – what his role might've been, your guess is as good as mine.

Pryce and Gottlieb’s goals in the game might've involved an attempt to unite several diverse groups with a common interest in an independent Revachol; this would’ve included the besmerties, the West Revacholian crime syndicates mentioned in Disco Elysium. Prominent among them would’ve been La Puta Madre, a Mesque gang leader and drug manufacturer, a man of such immense power that he has RCM officers tending his poppy fields in terror (his influence also seems to survive past the events of the game; he gets a mention in Sacred and Terrible Air). The Madre would’ve apparently been an attractive feminine-presenting man, impeccably dressed and wearing beautiful makeup; his gender-nonconformity a way of projecting power over the traditionally macho culture of Villalobos. The rival gang, Ahura Mazda, led by a gangster known as the Mazda, would’ve presumably also featured prominently – Rostov recently released old concept art depicting one of their gang members.

There were more plans for the sequel that only came along after the development of Disco Elysium itself. Robert has talked about wanting to double down on events like the Mercenary Tribunal, handling big action scenes within the more closed literary format of the FELD dialogue system, hopefully allowing for even more variation than was possible in Disco's big confrontation. Another infamous idea was the inclusion of a second protagonist – a pregnant woman, about 5 months along. Kurvitz has mentioned this idea in interviews, saying that it would be "an incredible writing challenge" within Disco Elysium's internalized skill system: "It would be unbelievable to use our skill system to speak about the bodily sensations of having another organism inside of you, while you're in the setting and talking to another person." That said, the addition of an entire new protagonist is very ambitious indeed – it's not clear whether the idea would involve alternating perspectives of some sort, or a choice in the character creator of which one to go with, but Kurvitz made it clear that these would be entirely different characters, unlike many games which offer only a superficial choice between male and female playable characters. Kurvitz expressed some doubt about being able to include this in the game, but at least expected it to be integrated via an expansion post-release if not.

Miscellaneous info

Argo and Robert have both hinted that there is a metatextual element to the overarching Elysium narrative. Whenever presented with readings or theories that contextualize the game as some sort of story-within-a-story, they act coy and refuse to give any clear answers. Argo outright offered an interpretation of the pale which presents it as what happens as the narrative starts “leaking out” of the head of a reader or audience member no longer actively absorbed in the world and said that “Elysium is a fictional world that is aware that it’s fictional.”

Apparently related to this aspect of the narrative, according to Argo, are the three satellites in orbit above the world of Elysium – Iikon, Zenith and Shakermaker – which have been there since “before the 8,000 years of recorded history” and before “the Polycarpeum event.” The satellites have only been mentioned in niche corners of the currently published materials, and the innocence Polycarp has only been mentioned in secondary materials, such as the artbook and the inside covers of Sacred and Terrible Air, leading to speculation about him being involved with the pale and the memory of his reign being wiped from history.

Also related to the metatext, again according to Argo, is a character known as “the Man Behind the Black Sun” – he gets one mention by the Paledriver in Disco Elysium, but curiously she seems to refer to it as the title of a movie that was released in Mesque during the revolutionary era, potentially a boiadeiro picture starring the actor Gabriel Buenguerro.

The magical elements of the pre-Elysium fantasy world morphed over time into what is called “extraphysics” in Elysium. The innocences, the pale, and “plasm” all testify to this supernatural aspect of the setting.

At some point, Ambrosius Saint-Miro apparently constructs nihilist death camps, which Triss and Tessa (the adopted daughters of Torson and McLaine) end up in and eventually escape.

"Magpies" are not a real thing and were never a part of the original plan for the Elysium narrative. The concept artist who made the image from which the term was popularized has gone on record saying that he invented this idea himself and that it was taken from his own worldbuilding ideas. There is nothing to suggest that this was integrated into the game; Argo and Luiga reacted with confusion at the mention of this concept.

Kurvitz had an insanely ambitious list of projects he wanted to make in the Elysium universe before he was ousted from ZA/UM; "The last one I want to make, when I'm 50 or 60, that I want to absolutely go crazy on and throw out all commercial considerations and get this as conceptual as possible, is the tabletop setting. The working title for the tabletop setting is You Are Vapor. It will be a really, really, crazy pen-and-paper game."

List of sources:

All parts of Argo Tuulik's Human Can Opener Podcast episode.

Martin Luiga's Human Can Opener episode.

Martin Luiga's Medium account and other blog posts: Interview, 8 years ago..., Hello Fellow Worldbuilders, Correction, A Policeman In Revachol, Fuirum Thundergate (Substack)

Tweets by Martin Luiga: 1, 2, 3, 4

Tweets by Argo Tuulik: 1

The dragon.ee post about the novel cycle

"Welcome to Revachol" on the devblog

"Outro" by Robert Kurvitz, featured in the official Disco Elysium artbook.

Disco Elysium, Sacred and Terrible Air, and Full-Core State Nihilist. Obviously.

Possibly more that I'm forgetting. Feel free to ask.

#elysium corona mundi

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