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not-krys · 3 years

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Wip Wednesday: Fictober 2021

Hey Friends, it's been a while since my last post. Just thought I'd update you guys on my current what's going ons.

I'm going to be participating in Fictober again this year (3rd year, yeah!) so I thought I would post previews here of some of the stuff I've been working on thus far.

First up is a short preview of what I'm doing for Mitsuhide's bday this year.

The second entry is a preview of a longer fic (it's up to 3400 words as of this post, ahhhhh) of the events following Vincent's Dramatic End where Theo happens to find him again after 100 years (it also has my OC Abby from the Kissings WIP Wednesday). CW for preg OC for that one because I just can't be stopped sob

Next WIP Wednesday, I'll put up more previews for my other entries as I work on them.

Happy Fictober Season, Friends!

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Day 4: Mitsuhide x Fem!Reader: Fine, I Give Up

"Fine," Mitsuhide sighed, "I give up. What can I do to ask for your forgiveness, Mouse?"

To think his little mouse could be so wicked, he didn't think such a thing was possible! It was affecting him more than he had anticipated. 'The Silent Treatment', as she had dubbed it, felt especially barbarous when executed by her. The closest equivalent he could think of was like solitary confinement, yet he wasn't locked away in a lightless cell, just their shared bedroom late in the day. It may as well been a windowless prison as his mouse wouldn't even look at him. For her to impose such a torture, especially on him…

She truly was a cruel mistress.

Said mistress was facing away from him, her arms crossed over her chest. If he could see her face, he was sure her bottom lip was sticking out in the cutest way it always did when she pouted. As desperately as he wanted to kiss her cute pout away, she wasn't letting him and it frustrated him to no end.

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Day 3: Theo & Abby: I've Waited For This Theo read over the email once more, staring longingly at the attached photos. An old lady was selling her niece's husband's paintings. She'd told him over emails how they had been reluctant to sell them at first, but money was starting to get tight, so they really didn't have a choice in the matter.

It was a story he'd heard at least a hundred times, artists who thought they could make it big in the art world just by getting in touch with a dealer to sell their artwork. He'd almost deleted that first email, until he caught the preview images of one of the attachments.

Those photographs, even as just a bunch of pixels on his phone, he felt an old ache stirring in his heart, like an old hole filling with a warmth it hadn't felt in a long time.

Those familiar brushstrokes and colors… He could recognize Vincent's hand a thousand kilometers away and yet, he could hardly believe he had found his brother again, after parting over 100 years ago…

He looked at the pictures again, admiring the technique of whoever his photographer was. They were from a standard cellphone camera (not a great quality one either) but there was some skill in the presentation: good lighting, good staging, background elements weren't distracting from the subject… save for one of the last photos. The painting itself was gorgeous (as was Vincent's usual faire of works) but the last one was quite large, too big for their previous staging, almost too big for the camera to take in all of it evenly, so he could see two sets of tiny hands and almost out of frame feet on opposite sides holding up the massive painting.

He didn't really mind it (kids and pets accidentally photo-bombing client photos, though a tad unprofessional, wasn't that uncommon in his line of work) but it gave him another reason to come see what this old woman was doing with Vincent's paintings. One of the kids, (the younger one he could presume, based on his hands and feet size being smaller than his sibling's) also had part of his face peeking out. A familiar set of blue eyes stared back at the younger van Gogh. The nose and the chubby cheeks were all familiar to him too. If it wasn't for the light brown hair on his head, he'd swear he was looking at his brother as a young child, barely more than three or four. It reminded him of their youngest brother too, Cor, when he was little. Chubby cheeks like that ran in the family, after all.

With a small sigh, he clicked his phone off and put on his hat as he exited his car.

The address that the old lady had sent him was in a rural area, the field behind the house spread as far as his eye could see. The house itself was a good size, not as massive as le Comte's mansion in Paris, but decent-sized for a small family to run around in. He grinned when he saw the unoccupied painting easel on the porch with a few toys scattered about, a clear sign that at least one artist lives here, along with the kids he saw in the photo.

His ears perked up when he heard the door opening, seeing the figure of a blonde woman walking towards him. Once he got a good look at her, his breath caught in his throat. So… Vincent did find Abby again, he thought with relief.

Her eyes also widened in surprise, her hand not holding the door curling against her chest.

"…Theo?" Her voice was soft, like she never had to raise her voice in her life, the way he always remembered how she spoke.

He removed his hat, trying his best to give Abby a smile. Walking up the steps to meet her half-way, he took in the figure he once remembered from over 100 years ago. Her hair was longer, fuller. She had even ditched the oversized sweaters in favor of a white sundress that showed her shoulders and arms with comfortable house shoes. She and Vincent didn't stop at just two kids either, judging by the beach ball under her skirt. It explains being tight on money, soon having three little mouths to feed. He wondered if any of them had his sweet tooth (or will have, in the third one's case).

"Long time, no see, Hondje. Miss me mu-!"

He could barely get the words out as the woman at the door rushed towards him, wrapping her delicate arms around him, hugging him as best her body would allow. She took him by surprise, this girl that could barely look him in the eye and shook like a chihuahua if anyone so much as looked at her funny back when they all lived in le Comte's mansion… was hugging him tightly, little tears forming in her eyes.

"Easy there, Hondje." he chuckled, "crush me any harder and your puppy might be squeezed out like old paint."

That did it. She immediately released him, her face flushing pink in embarrassment. There was that girl he used to know, the one that followed his brother around so she could watch him paint, no matter what mean word he threw her way to discourage her.

He was glad she never did listen to him, for Vincent's sake.

"S-sorry," she said, "it just... I thought we would never see each other again after..."

He held up his hand to stop her.

"No need for apologies. It wasn't your fault, what happened then. It's nothing more than bad memories now. "

She nodded slowly, her hands curling into her chest, a familiar gesture even after all these years.

"It's good to see you again though, Theo." Her smile was warm and relieved.

He chuckled again. "Thank your old lady for finding me. If it wasn't for her pestering emails to sell the paintings, we probably never would have met again."

Abby laughed.

"It was strange she suddenly wanted pictures of Vincent's paintings. She can be a shrewd crone sometimes…"

"You weren't looking to sell them?"

"It was half to prove that he can make money off his art so he can support the family and half to clear the number of his paintings that are in the attic. And the garage. And the basement… the closets… our bedroom… the room that's going to be the new nursery…" She brushed some of her hair behind her ear in embarrassment, her voice quieting the more places she mentioned.

"Oh!" She said, "Would you like to come inside? We don't have to keep talking on the porch like this."

"Sure," Theo said with a grin, "show me what you've got in your kennel, Hondje."

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