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artisxan · 2 years ago

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[ID: ArtisXan's logo, a brown circle with a digital drawing of a sunflower inside of it. Written on top in white script font reads "ArtisXan". /id]

Welcome To ArtisXan!

About:

ArtisXan is a small business owned and operated by queer, disabled, neurodivergent, trans individuals. We sell a wide range of items, including discreet and fun chewlrey made of body-safe silicone intended for use by teens and adults.

Xan has been crafting since they were in middle school. They shifted focus from knitting to digital art. The chewelry business started when Xan found that having a body-safe silicone necklace was a great way to help them stop biting their nails, but could only find bulky designs that stood out. They used their own style to start assembling necklaces that were subtle and matched their aesthetic while still providing the physical stimulus of the larger designs. Since then, they have expanded from necklaces and bracelets to keychains, zipper pulls, and pens.

Quick Links

Find us on other sites!

Linktree

Etsy artisxan

Patreon ArtisXan

Instagram @artisxan

Tiktok @artisxan

Discord

Meet the Makers!

Xan (they/them)

Cas (he/him)

Examples:

This chart shows just some of the beads we have! The Squish and Durability chart is a good way to determine what bead is best for your fidget style. The higher the durability, the better the bead holds up to biting.

[ID: An illustrated chart showing lineless art of a range of beads in rows on 2 scales of 1 to 10. The first scale is labeled "Squish Scale", with a box reading "1- Most Squishy 5- Medium Squish 10- Most Firm", and the second is labeled "Durability Scale" with a box reading "1-Least Durable 5- Medium 10- Most Durable". /id]

Our themes and bead designs include:

Nature

Mushrooms

Leaves

Flowers

Moon and stars

Animals

Moths and butterflies

Fandom themes

Our Flag Means Death

Pride

Pride flag patterns

Rainbows everywhere

They, He, She, Ze, Fae, Fey, Ve, Ey, Zie, and custom pronouns

Disability

Disability pride

Neurodivergant/mental health

Autism acceptance

Rare condition awareness

Accessibility device compatible decor: stickers, clips

Water bottle reminders

More!

Books

Music

Video Gaming

Self love and acceptance

Magic and Fantasy

Seasonal

Geometric and abstract jewelry designs

FAQ

Who is this good for?

These are especially useful for people who need items to fidget with, pick at, chew, squish, pull, or stretch! All the chewelry is made using materials that can be cleaned and are body-safe. Any item can still be a choking hazard, so these are not intended for young children or individuals who may be at risk for swallowing objects.

Are these chewable?

Yes! All of the beads we use on the fidget chewelry are made from food-grade silicone and can safely be chewed!

Where can I buy these?

You can find all of them on Xan's Etsy store! It is under the same name as their TikTok and Instagram (ArtisXan)! Their work is also in physical stores in Wisconsin.

Can I use these even if I'm not diagnosed, or am not neurodivergent?

Absolutely! Chewelry is not limited to any specific need or diagnosis. You can wear it just because you like the way it looks, or feels!

Do you make the beads yourself?

With two exceptions, our beads come from other suppliers. We don't have the facilities to make our own beads. We buy them from a combination of distributors and also directly from manufacturers. However, we did run a kickstarter to make two custom beads in collaboration with an artist who works with body-safe silicone! These are the morel mushrooms and the moon phase beads.

Are the other designs yours?

Yes! The stickers, art prints, pins, and other items are designed by Xan!

Can you make custom pieces?

We can customize some of our items, yes! We are happy to work with people to make pieces they'll be happy with, such as personalized pronoun chewelry! We are restricted to the beads we have and the prices may vary but we will always do our best to find what works best for you!

Will you ever make [insert bead shape here]?

We work hard to find pieces that suit Xan's brand and what people request! But we can only make things that manufacturers have created so we have a somewhat limited scope of options. However we are always looking for new beads and frequently find ones that hadn't been out before!

Why is [insert piece] more expensive?

Some of the beads we use are more expensive than others and so to offset the price we have to adjust the price a bit! We do our best to make sure that all the pieces are still within an affordable range for as many people as possible! And we do weekly giveaways to give more people a chance to get pieces even if they can’t afford them.

Can you make it without the small bead at the bottom or string it differently than shown?

Absolutely! Feel free to leave a note when you purchase to let us know you'd prefer a knot at the end, or for the main bead to be strung sideways without a knot or bead below it!

Why are are some of the pride necklaces different than the flags?

Some flags use so many colors, or so many shades of the same color, that we can't get enough of the beads to make the flag exactly, or to make the flag at all! For the Sunset Lesbian Pride and Aromantic pride, we have not been able to find body-safe beads that match the rest and come in different shades of orange, pink, and green, so some colors get combined for those designs. We keep an eye out for bead colors though!

Why don't you have a pride flag/pronoun necklace for [blank]?

Either we haven't had anyone request them, no one bought them when we did sell them, or they are ones we can't feasibly make. For example, we love the Progress Pride Flag but if we tried to make it we would run out of space for all the colors and it would be way too expensive for people to buy! (We do have a Progress Pride focus bead though!)

You can always contact us if there is a pronoun you want to use, or to ask if we could make a flag. We are willing to try!

What kind of bead should I get?

It depends what you want to use it for! The higher durability beads are best for biting and can take more heavy-duty fidgeting. Squishy beads are better for twisting and pinching. Textured beads are good for picking and rubbing.

How often do you make new designs?

We release new items and themes on a regular basis. Patreon and Discord users can get previews of what is coming out soon, and even suggest ideas. The chewelry depends on what we can source, but we continue to look for new beads. Xan designs stickers and other art frequently, and now that we have had a successful kickstarter we are open to the idea of making more unique beads.

Just a few of our items for sale:

Pride Fidget Jewelry Necklace (Currently 27 options!)

[ID: Photo of 9 necklaces in pride flag designs. The beads on each necklace are in order of the stripe they represent. From left to right, top to bottom is lesbian, gay rainbow, polyamourus, bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, Sapphic, aromantic, and asexual. The polyam flag necklace has a golden star bead at the base. The bi-, pan-, and polysexual necklaces have a black star at their bases, and the Sapphic necklace has a white flower base bead. The sunset lesbian and aromantic pride necklaces have multiple shades represented by one bead. /id]

[ID: Five pronoun necklaces lined up. From top to bottom the necklaces are "THEY/THEM, SHE/HER, HE/HIM SHE/THEY, HE/THEY" A circular black bead takes the space of the slash. The letter beads are white cubes with black letters. /id]

[ID: Four styles of morel mushroom items on a marbled background. From left to right are a pen, a key chain, a zipper pull, and a necklace. The morel bead is a pale base with a warmer tan to create the textured mushroom cap. The brown pen has a morel and a sunflower bead above the grip. The keychain has a sunflower, a light green leaf, and a morel on a black cord. The zipper pull has a morel by itself, and the necklace has a morel and a round black bead base. /id]

[ID: Eleven moon phase design items. Clockwise from the upper left are keychains in silver, gild, and blue, necklaces ins silver gold, and blue, a pen in silver, three zipper pulls in blue, gold, and silver, and a holographic silver sticker in the same design as the focus bead. The focus moon bead is circular, with a stylized sun at the center, surrounded by the moon in eight phases. The keychains have a black crescent moon and silver star on either side of the focus bead. The necklaces have a round silver base bead. The pen is black, with a silver star, a black crescent moon, and a silver focus bead above the grip. /id]

[ID: Photo of a hand holding a sticker of a leaf-patterned yellow water bottle with a black top. Black text over the bottle reads "Emotional Support Water Bottle" /id]

#artist #neurodivergent #queer owned business #small buisness #chewelry #Stickers #queer artist #actually adhd #disability pride #Queer #Trans #artists of tumblr #disabled creator

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stingslikeabee · 2 years ago

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❝ were you looking for something? ❞ — [ @withthedoubleg ]

The Mask of Zorro starters . accepting . @withthedoubleg

It was a bit past two in the morning and the Killer Queen was eerily silent - without the chatter of the usual patrons, the girls taking orders and even the busy routine of the kitchen, it was almost as if the bar transformed into an entirely different establishment. Except for the soft humming of the freezers and the occasional dripping water from a leaky faucet somewhere (and which Melissa couldn't be bothered to check at the moment), the barmaid herself was the only one making noise.

She was behind the counter, out of Randall's view and moving some boxes and containers off their places while searching for something. Huffing, Melissa stood up with a frustrated look on her face, hands running through chestnut locks to pin them up in a sign of telltale disbelief - she wasn't going crazy, right? Her car was parked outside, she had driven to work so the keys...

"Were you looking for something?" Randall's voice interrupted her train of thought and the recreation of her entire routine earlier, the smile on his face offering pure innocence while his index finger twirled something metallic without a care in the world. He paused - and the object, no longer propelled in circles, became visible: it was her keychain alright (a black crown which once contained a few cheap stones that fell off over the years), attached to the very same keys she had been looking everywhere for.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" her voice came out funny right then; a mix of a whisper and a higher-pitched tone than the usual from Melissa, showcasing her evident frustration to the man, "Very funny, David Copperfield," the barmaid rolled her eyes, even if Randall looked entirely at peace while handing her the keys with a small flourish that was incredibly dramatic in itself, even more so without an audience (and as if he was some sort of savior when he clearly had hidden them earlier).

"Delighted to be of assistance," he quipped with the same smooth tone and Melissa sighed, her own time to add a little flair to the gestures while she grabbed her purse and moved from behind the counter, locking things behind her as she went and motioning for him to follow. As the lights were turned off and she saw the back door was properly locked, the two of them walked over to her car in momentary silence, but that was eventually broken by sudden laughter coming from Melissa.

"I don't know how you did it, but Randy... I swear to God, if you take my keys again I'm not giving you a ride to whatever place you need to be. I will leave you here, stranded, and no uber will come fetch you this far out of town."

"Noted."

"I will also learn that damn trick," the brunette promised, unlocking the car and getting behind the wheel while Randall installed himself on the passenger seat. In many ways - their entire exchange was out of the ordinary; Melissa did not usually allow customers to linger after closing, gave them rides or acted this nicely towards them; she had been doing this long enough to know most of her regulars were up to no good.

Randall decidedly was part of the shady bunch - and yet... She couldn't figure him out. Even if that was not his real name (and many people came with undercover identities to the Killer Queen), his requests were infuriatingly diverse. Most of the times, the woman could guess what someone else did for a living - dirty cop, mercenary, agent of a foreign government agency... But Randall?

He was a question mark and any theories she had were just as absurd as the notion that he could do 'real magic' as he sometimes claimed; yeah, right. The barmaid would freak out the day he turned the water into wine or multiplied fish; hiding car keys was nothing.

At any rate, it kept Melissa pretty damn interested in trying to crack an enigma she likely had no business trying to solve - but it was no fun to auction intel if she couldn't have a little bit of entertainment herself.

"So, where am I dropping you off today?" the woman asked while the engine was brought to life and Melissa took them out to the road close by, giving him a look that was meant to be annoyed but ended up being just too fond to convey any real ill intention, "I'm going to start to charge for this, you know. Even if you're not horrible company to have while going back to town."

#withthedoubleg #v: Killer Queen #the mask of zorro starters #replied #I set this at a point #where they're friendly but #she still doesn't ~believe~ the tricks #(in other words: no screaming _yet_ at his abilities)

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sohcah-toa · 3 years ago

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Teyvat Blossoms - a series *ೃ༄

Masterlist + Prologue under the cut ⤵

synopsis

you're the owner of wangshu inn and you have a group of hot handsome men working for you.

there's a special event about to happen and everybody's busy. apparently, not busy enough for one thing.

❀ smut, fluff, angst (all depends on the character, see under the cut for more details), genshin men x f! reader

❀ thank u so much for 1.8k followers ily all!! 🌹

❀ tip or donate at ko-fi

Prologue: Get to work!

You just got off a phone call. You've been selected as a host for the upcoming big event of all time: Teyvat Blossoms. Last year, it was held in Inazuma. It was fun, but now is your time to shine.

You immediately called all your main workers in the meeting room, "We've been chosen for the event Teyvat Blossoms! So I need ideas!" you basically yelled, grabbing your pen and paper.

Thoma raised his hand and said "I'm thinking we could all design the rooms, you know? Everyone from all over Teyvat is going to come in here, the rooms are going to be packed"

You nod while he talks "Yeah, yeah, that's a good idea. Design the rooms, it'll be your job then?"

"For sure!" Thoma said, enthusiastic, he's the housekeeper of Wangshu Inn, actually, the only one but he always, always get the job done, you don't have a lot of customers anyway.

"Well, as the Bartender of this inn, I'll make sure to make drinks related to all Teyvat flowers" Diluc said, still pondering "You can trust me on this one"

"You know I always do, alright. How about the food?" You look at your chef, Childe.

"That'll be easy, just leave it to me" He said, giving you a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes.

You sigh "Make sure" you glare at him "You always slack off with that Kaeya guy" then Diluc made a tsk sound "Anyway, just make sure"

"Yeah 'boss'" Childe snickered "And we only hang out when there are no other customers, for your information boss" he chuckled. You just ignored him or else you're going to combust, in a bad way. You've always had a love and hate relationship with Childe, you've known each other for a long time. You worked together before starting your own business.

Itto was awfully quiet, so you look at him and saw that he was falling asleep, so you cough "Arataki Itto!" he was startled, drool flowing down his mouth "Any ideas, guardian of wangshu?" you glare at him.

"What?" he asked "A parade or something" he suggested, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

You actually think it's a good idea "Huh, I thought you were stupid or something but that's actually a good idea"

"I'm offended" Itto joked "Can I go? Oh wait, there's one more person who haven't shared their idea" he looked at Zhongli.

Itto knows about your past with Zhongli because he was snooping around in your office and saw your photos together. Zhongli is actually your ex.

You cough, changing the subject "Any ideas, Zhongli?" you asked him, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

"Zhongli!" Childe shouted in his ear, causing him to shrug and get surprised "Boss asked you if you had any ideas"

"Ah yes, actually, what if we gave all the customers some small souvenirs if they check in or bought something? Some flower pins or something else" he said, still thinking in the middle of his speech "Keychains?"

"Old man actually has some good ideas" Itto snickered "I dig it"

"Flower pins are actually cute" Thoma said, being as adorable as ever "I'll do my best to help you guys"

Diluc then asked, changing the subject "How much time do we have? And the budget?"

"Oh about that, well, we have a two months or so. All the money is going to be handled by the officials so we can go crazy!" You said, kind of unsure "I'm sure we'll get it done! I'll help all of you, don't worry!"

"Okay, I'll start now" Diluc said, leaving the room as cold as ever but he's actually pretty sweet once you get to know him.

Almost everybody left, except for Zhongli "Um, Zhongli, dismissed" you told him.

"You never actually told me if you approve of my idea" Zhongli said, standing up and walking closer to you, asking "Do you need other ideas?"

"Oh right. Apologies, it was a good idea and I'll for sure help" You tell him "Alright, then, let's get to work!"

To be Continued 💮

Masterlist ❀

➸ Chapter 1: Would you like a drink? [Diluc]

smut

➸ Chapter 2: Who's better? [Childe & Kaeya]

smut, threesome

➸ Chapter 3: Good old days [Zhongli]

smut

➸ Chapter 4: Giving new memories [Itto]

smut

➸ Chapter 5: Old friend [Xiao]

angst

➸ Chapter 6: Cleaning up [Thoma]

smut

➸ Chapter 7: Pages always turn [Albedo]

fluff

➸ Chapter 8: That one mean guy [Scaramouche]

smut

➸ Chapter 9: Choose one 𓁋

fluff, you just gotta choose one of them

➸ Chapter 10: Teyvat Blossoms! ❀

celebrating the event with him: smut or fluff

for diluc: end [smut]

for childe: end [smut]

for kaeya: end [smut]

for zhongli: end [smut]

for itto: end [smut]

for xiao: end [fluff]

for thoma: end [smut]

for albedo: end [smut]

for scaramouche: end [fluff]

#teyvat-blossoms❀

ppl who asked to be tagged: @stygianoir @yay-its-tj

@atsukawolfcat @e7t3 @dainsleif-when-playable @nookiesposts @emperatris-rinaka

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sisterspooky1013 · 4 years ago

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Damsels, Chapter Five: Work That Gameboy

By SisterSpooky1013 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Rated E / Read previous chapters here

Mulder arrives at work early, looking longingly at Scully’s car in the parking lot. Approaching it, he peers in the windows looking for…he isn’t sure what. Her car is, as usual, neat as a pin with no indication of where she went or why.

In his restlessness the night before, he’d thought a lot about why it bothers him so much not to know where she is or what she’s doing. If the roles were reversed, he would expect her to wait it out and trust him to take care of himself, but for some reason he’s struggling to do the same for her. He thought at first that it was her tendency to get hurt or need help, but by comparison he needs her help just as often as she needs his, so that doesn’t track. Then he thought maybe it’s that he doesn’t trust Skinner to do what’s in her best interest, but Skinner has shown a tendency to be protective of Scully on numerous occasions (and in fact Mulder strongly suspects his feelings for her go beyond the bounds of strict professionalism), so that isn��t entirely logical either. Skinner may have left him out to dry with the New Spartans, but he doesn’t believe the man would stoop low enough to treat Scully in the same manner.

In the end, he realized that it’s pretty simple; he’s just crazy about her. His protectiveness doesn’t have anything to do with how capable she is, or the situations other people might put her in, or even situations she might put herself in. He misses her, and cares so much about her that not even knowing where she is feels wrong. It feels like a piece of him is missing, and he’s not allowed to know where it is or when he’ll get it back.

After pretending to work for an hour, he sulks up to Skinner’s office and asks for a few minutes of his time. Skinner is immediately irritated, though Mulder doesn’t realize that it’s in response to him and not a preexisting condition. He stands in front of Skinner’s desk, looming over him.

“What do you want, Agent Mulder?” Skinner grumbles, not looking up from the document he’s reading.

“I’d like to know where Agent Scully is, sir.”

Skinner sighs heavily, dropping his head to his chest.

“Get out of my office, Agent Mulder,” he says in a low, menacing tone.

“Sir, I’m not asking to contact her, I would never compromise her case, I just need to at least know where she is. What if something happens and I need to find her?”

Skinner stands, looking Mulder in the eye with an intensity he’s seen on very few occasions, none of them fond memories. “Agent Mulder, Agent Scully explicitly asked me not to tell you where she is, or what she’s doing. Even if she hadn’t, I STILL would not tell you, however I hope that if you don't respect the direct orders of your superior, you might, at the very least, respect Agent Scully’s wishes. Now get the hell out of my office and do not bring this up again, understood?”

Mulder glances down and notices Scully’s keys on the desk near Skinner’s nameplate, her Apollo 11 keychain easily identifiable. He leans forward, putting his hands on the desktop, one covering the keys.

“Sir, if anything happens to her, I’ll-“

“You’ll what, Agent Mulder?” Skinner challenges him, stuffing his hands in his pockets in a show of bravado.

Mulder straightens, palming the keys as he stands, and leaves without another word.

Scully arrives at the club just before 2 pm, wearing shorts and a tank top as Angel had instructed. After stuffing her purse into a locker, she finds Angel and Tibet on the floor, which has returned to its daylight state of clean and quiet. Queenie restocks the bar while Ben fiddles with the sound system.

Tibet is up on the stage while Angel sits at the tip rail, offering pointers on a new dance Tibet is working out. Scully immediately notices that Tibet’s hair is cropped short and worn in its natural curls, and realizes she’d been wearing a wig the night before.

“So I was thinking that I could either take my top off just before or just after the first chorus, tell me which looks better, okay?” Tibet says to Angel as Scully enters and takes a seat beside her.

“Benny! Hit me with the music!” Tibet shouts, and then repeats her performance twice, revealing her breasts at a different point in the song each time. When she’s finished, she sits down on the edge of the stage in front of them and asks for their thoughts, her breasts still uncovered.

“I think the sooner the better,” Angel says. “They come here to see your body, so show it to em!”

Tibet nods. “What do you think, Desi?” She asks, stretching a smooth brown leg out to her side and leaning into it.

Scully suddenly feels entirely out of her league in terms of providing an opinion. “Uh, well, generally speaking I guess I’d say wait. You want to build some suspense, right? Make them work for it?”

Angel looks at her suspiciously out of the corner of her eye. “You don’t fuck on the first date, do you?” She asks with a haughty grin, and Scully’s eyes go big at the question. “I’m just messing with you, let’s get to your training!”

“Alright,” Tibet begins as though she’s done this dozens of times, tugging the straps of her shirt back over her shoulders. “So, have you ever given a lap dance before?” she asks plainly, and Scully’s cheeks flush.

“Well, kind of I guess. In college, though more as a joke than anything else. I would definitely consider myself a beginner.”

“Got it, got it,” Tibet responds. “Well, for the most part dancing is about creating a sense of intimacy. It’s fake, obviously, but the more your customer feels like you actually care about him, want him to look at you, like that he’s appreciating your body, the better you’ll do. Your stage set is just about showing yourself off and getting them curious about you. The real money comes from lap dances and VIP, and the more you can draw attention with a really great stage set, the more customers will want to spend time with you afterward. Angel is a beast on the pole and she can teach you all those tricks, but I consider myself the lap dance expert around here, so I’m gonna teach you that part.” She smiles and jumps down from the stage, pulling a chair away from one of the tables and gesturing for Scully to sit in it.

“Oh,” Scully says, and sits as instructed.

“Sometimes, when you’re on the floor, customers will flag you down or ask for you, and that’s great. But you also have to approach people, because they’ll be too shy to ask. So you might come up and do this.”

Tibet saunters towards Scully with a secretive smile on her lips, stepping so close that her thighs thread between Scully’s knees. Next she leans down, placing her hands on Scully’s shoulders and bringing her mouth to Scully’s ear.

“Would you like a dance, Baby?” she asks in a syrupy voice, and Scully feels a shiver run down her spine. Tibet backs up. “Okay, now you try.”

“You want ME to do that?” Scully clarifies, and while just asking someone if they want a lap dance should be the easiest hurdle to clear, she’s finding that it’s still an uncomfortably high one.

Angel turns her head toward the bar and calls out, “Queenie! We need some liquid courage over here!”

Queenie walks over with a bottle of tequila and three shot glasses, pouring them wordlessly before returning to her task.

Angel holds her glass up, Tibet and Scully following suit. “To new career paths,” Angel says, and Scully smiles thinly, clinking her glass with theirs and throwing back the shot with a grimace.

Three weeks. She’s been gone three weeks, and not a word from Skinner. No update, no information, though he’s stopped by a couple times and asked, drawing increasing amounts of rage from his boss. He’s finished all the paperwork, re-organized the files, cleaned and rearranged the office (only to immediately change it back) and spent hours upon hours imagining where Scully might be right now.

He kept her keys, just in case, but knows she’d be unhappy with him invading her privacy by snooping around her apartment. That’s why he waits three whole weeks before he finally does it. He has a key to her apartment and could have gone there at any point, but her personal keyring also holds the keys for her gun safe and her mailbox, which may prove helpful. After work on a Thursday, he drives by and lets himself in, the warm vanilla smell of her immediately invading his nostrils as he opens the door. He sighs deeply, pulling her into his lungs; it feels like coming home.

First he waters her plants, which are looking half dead, and makes a mental note to use watering them as the reason he came here if asked. Next he opens her gun safe, and is struck to find her service weapon holstered and tucked neatly inside with the safety on. She doesn’t have her gun? What the hell kind of assignment is this? He brings in her mail, which is no help at all, and leaves it stacked on the counter. Next he lays down on her bed, shoving his face into her pillow and breathing the smell of her shampoo for a few minutes before he has the thought to look for her overnight bag.

Scully has a go bag in the trunk of her car for emergencies, but given the opportunity she’ll use her overnight bag and pack for the weather, situation, etc. Opening her closet, he finds it on the floor near her laundry hamper, empty save for a travel size can of hairspray tucked into a side pocket. In her bathroom, he finds all her toiletries accounted for, including her toothbrush. The more he sees, the more confused he is. Even when he’d spent time undercover with dangerous individuals, he’d been allowed to bring his own toothbrush.

Moving to the hallway, he picks up her landline and dials.

“Dana?” Maggie Scully’s voice answers on the second ring.

“No, sorry, Mrs. Scully, it’s Fox Mulder.”

“I saw Dana’s name on the caller ID, is she with you?” Her voice carries worry.

“No, I’m just here at her apartment watering her plants, sorry to confuse you. Have you been in touch with Dana, Mrs. Scully?”

“No, Fox, I haven’t heard from her in weeks. She told me she had an assignment that would take her away for a while and that she’d be unreachable, but I’m a little concerned that she hasn’t contacted me yet.”

Mulder closes his eyes. “I wish I had anything to share, Mrs. Scully, but I’m in somewhat of the same boat. A.D. Skinner isn’t concerned and it does sound like he’s in touch with her, but I was hoping she might have called you.”

“I’m afraid not,” Maggie replies sadly.

“What did she tell you when she left? Did she share any information at all?” he asks hopefully.

“Um, let me think. She said she was going on an assignment and that she’d be out of touch for a few weeks. And she said she’d bring me some Tastykakes when she comes home,” she adds.

“Tastykakes, what are those?” Mulder asks, his investigative senses tingling.

“They’re a treat we always get when we go to Philadelphia; little packaged snack cakes. The kids always loved them.”

“Are they only available in Philadelphia?” he asks, heart pumping.

“I’m not sure, but that’s where we always get them,” Maggie says hopefully.

“Thank you, Mrs. Scully. That’s really helpful. I’ll let you know if I track her down, okay?”

“Thank you, Fox. Take care.”

Setting the phone back on its cradle, he does a little victory dance. It isn’t much, but it’s something. Scully is just a few hours away in the city of brotherly love.

Three weeks. It’s been three weeks of practicing stage sets and lap dances in the afternoon, serving drinks in the evening and well into the middle of the night, and then sleeping until noon. Her arms and legs bear fading bruises from her acclimation to Paul the Pole, the crooks of her elbows and knees sporting slight calluses that help her get a good grip (with an assist from the grip powder Angel has instructed her to use). She’s given Tibet and Angel dozens of lap dances each, the other standing by to coach her on making sure one foot stays on the floor. After three weeks, she found that her barriers were mostly in her head. Once she was able to let go and just move, she’s actually pretty good at it.

That day she arrives in pink cotton shorts and a white tank top, now so used to being scantily clad that it no longer makes her self-conscious, and prepares to do a full dress rehearsal of the routine she worked up with Angel’s help. Queenie and Ricky sit down to observe what is more or less a test of her readiness, and one she intends to pass. Where she would have expected to feel nervous, she’s excited, ever the eager student motivated to impress and exceed expectations. Ben kills the daytime lights to make it look and feel like it would if they were open, and her set begins.

Moving onto the stage, she can barely see her audience with the bright lights trained on her. She quickly gets lost in the movements she rehearsed, feeling graceful as she circles the pole and hitches an arm around it, spinning in a feathery arc. When the point in the dance comes to remove her shirt, she does so as a well practiced step in a strategy, without any feelings of exposure. Soon enough her bra follows suit and she is left with only her tiny pink shorts, nipples hardening as they graze the pole. The undulation of her hips, the pop of her booty out towards the audience, the slip of a hand down the inside of her thigh; they’re each a part of the method. Precisely planned and executed in much the same way as she might dismantle and clean her gun, or prepare a slide for the microscope. It isn’t much different than performing an autopsy, she had reasoned. Except instead of: Y incision, open rib cage, remove organs, examine stomach contents, collect specimens, examine brain, it’s: arch back, grasp breasts, spread legs, thrust pelvis, rub thighs, grind on the pole. She’s always found her strength in taking a clinical, detached approach to difficult tasks, and that turns out to be just as effective on the stage as it is in the lab.

As she finishes, her small audience erupts into applause, standing in ovation as Ben brings the house lights up halfway. Scully smiles shyly, stepping down to join them on the floor as Ricky approaches her and slings an arm around her bare shoulders.

“That was fucking fantastic, Desi. Sexy as fuck. Let me see you do a lap dance now.”

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #case file #case fic #x files fanfic

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gojos-sidepiece-69 · 4 years ago

Text

Tokyo Tech Training- Chapter 3

The realization that you were completely exposed and standing between two extremely intimidating men (well, one man and one thousand-year-old curse) made you shiver. They were both tall, and had a perfect view of everything. “Didn’t even spare her underwear, huh?”

Gojo asked Sukuna as he nodded towards your scrapped uniform. “Come on, I had that one custom made! They’re expensive, you know,” he whined, before taking a couple of strides toward a pile of corny “I Heart Tokyo” sweatshirts knocked off of their rack. Gojo crouched over and chuckled as he eyed an aggressively hot pink one, flinging it towards you.

You scrambled to slip it on, grateful that it at least covered you down to your quads; you really hadn’t thought this far ahead. What the hell was going on, though? A flip switched immediately in your brain as you reverted back from primal instinct to logic, finishing your ride on the wave of pride that came with knowing Gojo got hard watching you. But was he really jealous, though? It kind of felt like he enjoyed watching me...and why didn’t Yuji switch back with Sukuna immediately after exorcising the curse? As if he read your mind, Sukuna said from behind you, “I want to offer you a deal, Satoru.”

He brushed past you and looked down at Gojo, who was still crouched down. “I’m getting bored existing within that useless boy Yuji. I don’t feel as though I’m having any...fun,” he said slowly as your sensei straightened up. “It’s getting hard to curb my cravings, and if I’m pent up in there for long enough...I might just slaughter every man, woman, and child I see the next time I take over this body.” Gojo still said nothing, folding his arms and letting Sukuna propose his deal. “If you let me have my way with this girl once a week,” he turned his head and pierced his eyes into yours, “I might not kill everyone I see.” Your eyes widened. That was definitely not what you were expecting.

You wanted to call his bluff, because you know he was too violent to ever stop killing needlessly. But before you could even open your mouth to speak, Gojo asked, “How do I know you won’t just kill her yourself? You’ve always had a thing for killing ‘women and children.’” “Because,” Sukuna started, “I find using her body...more than satisfying.” You shivered at how these two were talking about you as if you weren’t there.

But you couldn’t deny that somewhere in the back of your mind, the idea of Sukuna handling your body, touching you where he wanted to, making you scream...turned you on. “Fine. If it’s for the greater good, my moral compass points to yes. I’ll just have to keep close tabs on your interactions myself to make sure you’re not injuring my favorite student. If you do, you’re done for,” Gojo stuck out his arm to seal the pact. Sukuna shook on it, and offered some parting words to you: “The Itadori boy’s room on Thursday at 11 PM. If you’re late, you’ll be punished however I see fit.”

The black tattoos plunged back within the surface of Yuji’s skin, and the young boy opened his eyes. “What just happened?” He looked around frantically, scratching his head. “Y/n, where’d your uniform go? Did I eat another finger?” But before you had a chance to breathe, Gojo steered Yuji out of the shop and promised to explain later (but before he left, your teacher snatched up two tiny Mickey Mouse keychains as “souvenir gifts” for Megumi and Nobara). The three of you left the abandoned mall and piled back into the black BMW. Gojo climbed in after lifting the black veil from the sky. It was weird to see that it was still morning, even if it was a cloudy day. “Well...you both did a pretty shit job at fighting the curse. Good call bringing out Sukuna to finish it off, though. Both of your combat skills need work, but other than that, great first mission!” your teacher gushed happily.

Great first mission? Sure, it was successful and you had exorcised a curse and retrieved the finger, but...great? You almost died and then found yourself part of a binding contract with the king of curses as his...personal toy? The world of Jujutsu was proving to be much more complicated than you could’ve imagined. How could all of this have happened within an hour...you shouldn’t have let your emotions cloud your judgement. But what’s done is done.

Your teacher once again continued his habit of jolting you out of your thoughts by slapping his hand on the radio. Baby Got Back blared though the speakers, and you groaned the second your two least-favorite ass men started screaming along. Gojo sped 20 above the speed limit all the way back to Tokyo Tech, burning rubber as he screeched to a stop outside. Him and Yuji fist-bumped each other up, and Yuji hopped out with an enthusiastic, “see-ya, Sensei! Today was awesome!” You turned to exit after him, but Gojo stopped you. “Nope, not yet,” he said. You sighed exasperatedly and dramatically slumped into the backseat. “I’m exhausted. What do you want?” “You’re not done for today. I’ve still got one more lesson to teach you today, but this time you’ll really just be observing,” he said quietly, his hand left hand gripping the wheel tightly, while his right shifted the gear to back into drive.

You secretly knew you could trust your sensei, and you were far too tired to question where he was taking you. However, you slowly grew impatient as he took a route that was all too familiar. Your suspicions were confirmed when he parked outside of an expensive-looking skyscraper. “Care to tell me what we’re doing at your place?” You sternly said to the back of his head. He didn’t turn back around when he said, “Just stop asking questions. I told you already, you’re going to observe.” He got out of the driver’s seat calmly, opening your door. You hesitantly climbed out and followed him inside, a few paces behind him. After a silent elevator ride up to the 38th floor, you entered his apartment after him.

He shut the door almost too softly, and pinned you against it before you could flinch. His tall figure leaned down against you, and his hands pressed into your sides, keeping you still against the door. You could feel his cold breath tickling your ear. “You thought you could make me jealous? Thought you’d have fun making me watch Sukuna cum all over you? And you thought you were going to get away with that,” he whispered into your ear and laughed when you recoiled.

“Just couldn’t help yourself, could you? Had to open your legs real wide for him, just because you wanted me to hear you moaning? You haven’t been a good girl at all. I’ll teach you what it feels like to be jealous, because it’s what you deserve.” He firmly grasped you by the arm a little too tightly, and pulled you back into his bedroom for the second time. To your surprise, there was already someone in there waiting. It was the beautiful cashier that you saw in the bakery only a few hours earlier, and she kneeled on Gojo’s bed wearing a short, black silk robe. “Y/n, this is Juni. Isn’t she a dime piece?” She was silent, but you could see what she wanted just from the gleam in her eyes.

Gojo forcefully pushed you onto a small couch directly facing the bed, and then turned to this other woman. Your sensei peeled off his navy uniform top, and your heart rate picked up at seeing his ridiculous abs and bare chest. He was definitely one of those people who looked better without clothes on, and he knew it. His slender fingers wandered over to untie her robe, and slipped it off of her carefully, hands trailing over her exposed skin. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath, and you could see right away that she was well-endowed.

You felt a sharp twinge in your chest when you took her in with your eyes. Her chest was much bigger than yours, and Gojo seemed to be having the time of his life pushing his face against her tits. You wondered if he thought you were lacking in that department. You were confused by the mix of emotions your brain presented you with, just as the natural arousal at seeing two attractive people touch each other came flooding in. Gojo, as if he could sense this, made blindfold-contact with you and said, “you like watching us, huh? You’re so dirty, getting wet while I touch her. Go ahead, get yourself off.” He turned back to the cashier and pushed her down onto the bed.

Your eyes stung when you realized that they were about to fuck on the same spot you and Gojo did two nights ago. You didn’t want him to touch anyone the way he touched you, but you would never let him know that. If you were just a side piece to him, then he was the same to you. So you swallowed your rage, ignored the strange pains in your chest, and continued to watch them.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Gojo groaned as he entered the other woman. Hearing him moan was one of the most delicious, lustful sounds you had ever heard. You could feel yourself getting more slick, and the urge to put your hands on your cunt and relieve yourself was slowly building up. “That’s my fucking girl. You feel so good, you’re taking me so well,” he cooed, and your heat started throbbing almost painfully. You almost felt a surge of sinful pride when you realized that he still had his blindfold on, and wasn’t about to take it off for this girl. You’d show him you weren’t jealous, and you didn’t care that he was deep inside someone else. Your confidence mounted as you removed the stupid novelty sweatshirt from over your head. You were completely nude, your juices spilling onto Gojo’s small, soft couch.

You put your left hand over your dripping cunt, while your right hand played with your own breasts. Thanks to your competitiveness, you wanted to put on as much of a show for that cocky bastard as he was for you. You caught his attention by moaning lightly. As he looked over at you, a grin stretched onto his face. He wasn’t expecting the delightful surprise of seeing you without any clothes on, pleasuring yourself to him. You licked your lips and started rubbing small circles around your wet clit with your thumb. The sight prompted him to move into Juni faster, needing to relieve his mounting arousal quicker.

“I knew you were a little whore the first time I saw you,” he turned to you. “Always making sure your skirt was short enough for me, always bending over for me during training. You acted like an innocent tease, but you’re really a dirty little slut. I bet you’d open your legs for anyone, as long as they asked you real nicely,” he growled.

His dirty talk brought you closer to your destination, but you wanted to one-up this fool and have a grand finish after he did. So you slowed your pace, panting. Your face heated up at the fact that even though he was fucking another woman, all of Gojo’s attention was on you. He continued to watch you and groan a few more times before saying, “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Waiting for me to finish? Ladies first.” You were about to respond when Juni finished right then and there. You were slightly irritated to see her cum dripping down and sliding onto Gojo’s cock.

“See? She knows how to follow directions. I guess that’s something I still have to teach you,” Gojo commented while stroking the woman’s hair. He turned back to you and frowned. “So disobedient. What’s taking you so damn long?” You wanted him to fold, so you tried to make him weaker however you could. You opened your legs wider, allowing him a nicer view.

His mouth opened slightly, and you could see him lick his lips. “Fuck,” he panted, as his thrusts grew uneven. He pulled out and threw his head back as he moaned and painted the woman’s torso with his cum. After he caught his breath, he pulled his pants up and climbed to sit directly across from you, his legs reaching the floor. He leaned back and crossed his arms, long legs still spread. His coy grin grew as he realized the effect he had on you. Your legs started shaking when you realized he was watching you closely, and you started rubbing your clit faster. You helplessly bucked your hips against his spoiled couch in order to gain any friction you could. “Seems like you’re still waiting for my instructions? How pathetic. Just cum already,” Gojo said.

You wailed loudly as you finally released, creaming yourself all over his couch. He laughed at you as he stood up. “Look, Juni, she couldn’t help but make a mess out of herself.” The woman laughed tiredly and put on her robe once again. “Well, I’m taking a shower. Care to join me, Gojo?” She said sweetly to her lover.

“I’ll be there in a second,” he called, as she departed to the bathroom. You pulled back on your dumb sweatshirt and stood up. “Did you have fun? I hope so, because I didn’t learn a single thing about jealousy,” you said as you walked towards the door. He sucked in air between his teeth as he watched you leave. He didn’t know how you did it, how you hadn’t cracked yet. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his mind off of you, and he needed his hands on you...soon.

🌹

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru #gojo sensei #jujutsu kaisen #jjk anime #jjk smut #anime #chapter 3 #long fic #fanfic #writing #fanfiction #series

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rocketfm · 3 years ago

Text

2021 GIFT EXCHANGE.

Morning, Roswellians! Thank you so much for participating in the 2021 gift exchange. We had a great turnout, and we hope everybody enjoys the gifts they were given. The lists of muses and their partners will be revealed on the 26th: all gifts are under the cut!

FROM THE MOD SQUAD: whatever you celebrate, whether you participated in the gift exchange or not, whether you are a new member or you’ve been here since the beginning, thank you for making Roswell so special. We have been re-opened six months now and can’t wait to see what the future will bring. We couldn’t do it without you all! Have a lovely holiday period wherever you are in the world.

TO ELLE ROGERS:

TO ADAM DAWSON:

A plane white envelope, no markings in particular except its addressed to Adam Dawson. Opening it up reveals a generic Christmas card that could be found at any gas station, but the card contains a $30 gift card to a stall in Hatch foodcourt, more accurately a chicken wing stall. There is no message inside the gift card being meaning more than words.

TO CYRUS PHOENIX:

Because everyone needs a toy on Christmas, especially an old 90's one! I figure the book's something you'd appreciate. - From Santa. Gift icludes: - 1000 Record Covers book & a Tamagotchi.

TO ALEV ÖZBERK:

Secret Santa has gotten a five pack of anti-slip socks, attached is a note: "Trust me, they'll change your life."

TO JUNIPER GREEN:

For Juni, because every new mom deserves some time to relax. Happy Holidays! -From Santa x

Basket includes:

Truffles, camomile tea, scented candle, a couple of bath bombs, face mask, sleep spray, coupon for a massage at Solar Flare Beauty Salon to be claimed within the next six months.

TO NAO CHIBA:

TO CALLA HENDERSON:

you might be stuck in roswell for now but you’ll be back exploring the world once again.

TO ADRIENNE GANO

no additional message or card, just the perfume in a little gift bag.

TO WYATT MOORE:

surprisingly delicately wrapped with a small note attached that reads, "It's one of my favorites, and I didn't see it on your shelf. - signed, King of the Naughty List"

TO SEBASTIAN ORTIZ:

all i can say to this is: it’ll make sense when the partners are revealed.

TO ENDER BAPTISTA:

with a note that says: you deserve a little pampering in your life, after all. - signed, sugarplum fairy.

TO SIMBA GANO:

two custom made candles, one's amber musk based scent and the other's spices and leather based scent.

TO GRACIA GALLARDO:

the gift includes a book of new york illustrations, a cancer zodiac keychain and a ‘good luck’ crystals kit, featuring aventurine, tiger’s eye, citrine & new jade. there is a message that reads - “for luck on your travels, because you’re going to make it one day. signed, your spooky santa.”

TO JAY SEONG:

the piece of art is accompanied by a bottle of gin and a note that reads, "a certain small blonde birdy gave me the idea for this one, so you can thank her." with no signature to be found.

TO SPARROW MOORE:

so you can enjoy your melancholy in the comfort of your home instead.

TO ZEFERINO AYALA:

FOR WINTER CARVER:

a “saturday night basket” which involves a bottle of tequila and a box of condoms placed nicely in a wicker basket with tissue paper

TO ELIJAH PARKER:

a book of dad jokes, and a small wireless touch speaker.

TO GUNNER DUNN:

call this your work survival kit - a football stress ball for the moments where technical difficulties get too much, a toy car for some relaxation and, if it gets too much, whiskey to drown your sorrows. the best of the best, for a liquor connoisseur.

FOR WESTON DAVIS:

Secret Santa has gotten a small booklet called Ikigai. Several passages have been underlined, especially about how to seek fulfilment.

TO MEI LIU:

a large hand-loomed cotton blanket!

TO LEONARDO AMORETTO:

old possum's book of practical cats by t.s. eliot, pen and disappearing ink, some cute enamel pins.

FOR JADEN LAPOINTE:

Secret Santa has gotten him a large double layered box of individually wrapped Mithai, a sweet dessert made in parts of India and Pakistan. Every piece of Mithai looks different and they're clearly hand-made.

FOR SOPHIE HART:

a loaf of homemade sourdough bread and an apron that says “Sophie’s Jams” on the chest part

FOR TOMÁS ROJAS:

with an additional card, written messily: “merry xmasssss !!! i had a lot of fun picking out this present for u. hope u love it as much as i do mwah <3”

TO AVA GARCIA:

along with a note that reads: i'm not great at gifts but this one looked like it went with your wardrobe, so... merry christmas? - unsigned

TO ROSE ANONG:

For Rose, I heard you're big into pink, so I hope you enjoy these festive pink treats! -Love your Secret Santa xxx

Gift includes: A pink reindeer stuffed animal, a selection of pink retro candy from the UK, pink & gold reindeer hair clip.

TO EMILIA HERRERA:

a handmade talavera (mexican pottery) tequila shot glass set, with tray + salt shaker!

TO SKYE HENDERSON:

TO SURAJ DAS:

i don't really know you but i figured this would be a good gift for an aspiring filmmaker.

FOR FLETCHER LIU:

with an additional card, written: “saw you working out at the gym a couple of times and thought this would be funny. hopefully you haven’t gotten yourself an ugly sweater to wear yet!”

TO EMMETT LAVOIE:

the manga and the movie wrapped up in a little bow with a note that simply says: i know you like anime and the title was ridiculous so i had to give it to you. - signed, mrs claus

TO MIA SEONG:

an at-home spa day kit.

#roswellevent #roswellexchange

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cybertronian-cupid · 4 years ago

Note

For requests: how about tfp Optimus, ratchet, and wheeljack reacting to their so coming out as trans

Trans!S/O!⬜Gender in disguise! ~Gregoria🏩

....................... ....................... .......................

Optimus

Sees this is a big deal for his s/o, even if he is confused by humans and their customs

He listens intently, and is patient with them while they find their words.

After they're done, he asks his s/o to clarify if they thought this would somehow change his feelings or perception of who they are as a person

You bet he's going to pay special attention to make sure they feel loved and cherished if they feel anxious about coming out.

Prepare for him to glare at anyone who misgenders his s/o. Fowler is not excluded from this and better get with the program fast.

The cups in his cupholders when he picks them up the first time after they told him, hold a bag of pastel candy in baby blues and pinks and whites. "These… Made me think of you."

Ratchet

He looks at his s/o, his face set in a scowl

"Miko was saying something about you 'Transing your gender'. Is this it?"

He is honestly not sure if it's a prank by the kids his s/o decided to get in on, or if humans can actually change their genders when they feel like it.

When he gets an explanation he is even more confused and, depending where the two of them are and what he's doing, he'll either pick his s/o up, grumbling about humans and kiss them, telling them he loves them and that they will explain this to him as soon as he's not so busy.

Or he is going to sit there with them and ask them to explain what it is and why this means so much to them. Is adding the things they tell him to a seperate file in his processor so he can do some research on his own.

Will probably start researching hormone therapy and grumbling about how confusing the process of removing/enhancing an organics chest piece is. Consulting June and asking if she has any medical experience with transgender people

He doesn't mention his research unless s/o mentions they were considering it.

"It's your body. I didn't fall in love with it, I fell in love with the spark inside of it. Change it all you want, as long as you get regular checkups!"

Wheeljack:

"That's cool", and that's it.

He doesn't really feel like there's more to it, he still loves his s/o, they are still the same person he fell in love with.

He does check if they're still cool with the nicknames he used for them before they came out.

Comes up with new and better ones if s/o isn't comfortable with the ones he used for them before.

Will make a joke about them just needing an altmode and voila, they too are now a Transformer.

Is gonna get Miko to help him get something really cheesy with the trans flag or colors. A patch or pin in the colors, or a keychain of somesort.

They all switch to prefered pronouns and name/nickname without missing a beat, and the rest of the base does as well, aside from asking about it if their friend is open about it and wants to talk.

If not, the internet provides a good place for conversation starters, and lots and lots memes that have all humans laughing up a storm.

#Tfp #Transformers prime #tfp optimus x s/o #tfp optimus prime #tfp ratchet #tfp ratchet x s/o #tfp wheeljack #tfp wheeljack x s/o #trans!reader #transformers x trans!s/o #anon

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septiembrre · 4 years ago

Note

Physical affection prompts! 21! 25!

Prompt: accidentally knocking your head into someone’s chin + playfully biting someone

Established relationship. Beth and Rio try couples yoga. An injury ensues.

Side note: This is the first time I’ve ever attempted writing from Rio’s POV. Augauahgah!!! I feel like all the straight Mexi-boys I know are mad sappy about the ladies in their lives so… this is Big!Soft. Don’t hate.

On Ao3

A Bit of a Stretch

It goes like this.

Three months ago, a yoga mat shows up in the car. It’s purple (her favorite color), and Elizabeth probably thought it inconspicuous, neatly rolled up and tucked away in the back. But Rio’s only gotten to where he is in life because he’s got a meticulous handle on the details. So he notices, and it makes him pause -- the reminder of who he is these days.

And he likes to think he’s a smart guy, evolved and shit. But, he’s got to admit he likes the thought of it -- his girl, Aphrodite trapped in suburbia (or was it Athena?), rolling up in the Wagon to some bougie yoga studio. Elizabeth would swing ‘round the back to grab her mat, doing that walk she does when she’s feeling herself as the other PTA chicks’ jaws drop. He likes the security of his second pair of keys in her hands, on her keychain.

What did it say about Elizabeth’s hold on him that he fuckin’ delights in this daydreaming?

And it’s complicated -- ‘cause on one hand, when did he become this guy? Actually, he knows. Three years, eight months, and two days ago. He’s not overly-obsessed with his relationship or anything, but a counter runs in his mind -- how long he’s been with her. So much so that he’s been thinking of getting the date of when she robbed him (the first time) on the inside of his wrist, a complement to the bracelets she’d bestowed him, to drag out as A Move during sex or to embarrass her in front of her friends.

And on the other hand, it’s like... damn, it’s been too long since they fucked in the car.

They cohabitate now -- them and all their kids. They still had an absurd amount of sex in public places (and shit, since when had that been his kink?). He still takes great delight in pushing all her buttons and getting her to unspool around his cock, on his mouth, and in his arms.

But, they were a lil’ calmer now, less feral. They had partially domesticated what this was and had fun in doing so. They shared a bed now, were crate-trained as it were.

She and hers are his family.

But, fuck, he’d been a strict no-strings-attached, hit-it-and-quit-it type of dude for years -- all of his adult life. It was what came with his job.

He had tried to do his best by Rhea when he had gotten her knocked up. But, looking back on it, the exercise had been doomed. When Marcus was born, Rio was in his late 20s rocketing to the top of the food chain. It had been a time when all he could do was keep his head down and do the work -- running in the streets, scheming, consolidating power, and ultimately, he had to make a choice.

Was he going to be a boss, a father, or a husband? To be honest, he only had time for one, but he did his best to make fatherhood fit.

It’s what it was all for in the end, right?

And yet, somehow despite all and many odds, here he was toting Elizabeth’s yoga mat around in his car. Mick rolls his eyes when he sees it, and there’s the typical jokes about being pussy-whipped and what not. But, yeah -- he loves her. At this point, he can’t really deny it. So, he laughs along with Mick’s jokes, and then sends him to chauffeur their million kids around, just to make sure he knows what's what.

Anyway, after a few weeks, Rio comes home from the gym and finds her practicing alone in the house, the kids scattered to their other respective households. Elizabeth’s got a video going on her phone, and her back is arched in a way he’s only ever seen in bed and she has to realize is provocative. But, she eyes him, self-conscious and with old defensiveness, as she twists into a few shapes.

He tries to keep it chill, knows about the residual feelings she carries about her body (and Christ, he can’t believe he’s only had the opportunity to shoot her ex-husband once, he should have taken his own advice and emptied the fucking clip). So he settles close to her with his battered copy of Edith Hamilton’s Mythology from highschool that he’s been trying to get back into, and steals glances at her over the pages.

He skims the pages on Athena and then Aphrodite, and he likes the hyperbole of each but neither quite fit.

He eventually comes back to Artemis.

And, yeah, maybe.

He looks up at Elizabeth again and admires her form. He admires her strength -- that reedy cord of tenacity he’s admired for so long making itself more visible through the facade of soft as she finds new ways to hold herself up and get herself stronger. Her hair keeps falling into her face and he itches to crawl on the mat with her and pull it out of her face.

She’s fucking gorgeous.

As she continues, Elizabeth notices him watching, and she starts to get a little playful. Eventually, he lures her off the mat and onto his lap.

Yoga becomes part of her routine on the days she doesn’t feel like driving into the studio. And he gets it. He’s always turned to grounding himself in his body when he’s needed to work through things. His first love had been basketball, soccer while on family vacations (and only with his cousins from Tamaulipas). In high school, it was track, and he still loves running, but with Detroit winters he’s mostly moved on to boxing and tennis. Never yoga, though.

And yeah, he has some reservations, and yeah, it makes him feel their differences. He’s a tad judgemental about the white-owned yoga studios gentrifying the fuck out of his city. Blocks he grew up running in Detroit-propper suddenly got white people eyein’ up his tats and clutching their wallets. And shit, when has yoga ever been for guys like him?

But, life increasingly becomes more complicated.

He can still like that E’s found something that’s for her and he likes the peace it brings her. He appreciates the way it unknots her shoulders, the particular vibe it gives their day afterward when she’s able to let go of some of that stress she carries. He tries to complement it by eating her out and that special type of really good sex that comes from whatever alchemy is between their bodies. And yeah, he likes the headspace it gets her in, how it shifts the way she approaches their work, and the new depth it adds to the way they touch each other when sex isn’t her only form of therapy.

So when she gets a water bottle with the yoga studio’s branding, Rio teases her a bit but he encourages her to go for the membership. Naturally, E being E, it don’t take her long to make nice with the owners. And then Elizabeth comes home excited about how she had just committed to doing a run of the studio’s promotional swag at the store. He and Elizabeth end up with a postcard on their fridge, a color photo of the studio��s abstract mural. The other side has text that advertises an event line up at the studio that includes a fucking “gong-bath”. It takes him a week to let it go.

Actually, he hasn’t. He still brings it up.

But, then a second yoga mat appears -- a green one -- tucked away in the spare bedroom, mostly hidden under some of her crafting materials. He finds it, wonders for a split second why she needs two and has an answering inkling of where this might be going.

The next day, a lil’ custom print for a “partners” yoga event gets pinned next to the first postcard on the fridge.

And like... he loves her and all. But, does it really go that deep?

Rio pauses in front of the fridge, sipping his tea and staring at the picture of a white dude balancing presumably his Black girlfriend in a pose above his head. His eyes track to where Elizabeth sits in the other room knitting and watching the latest episode of her British baking show (he has half the mind to submit her name to the American spin-off). Considering what she’s up to, she sits with her back a lil’ too straight (on edge one might say) clearly waiting for a comment or for him to show her some grace.

And…

Nope. He’s not going to make it that easy for her.

To her credit, after her episode is done, Elizabeth FaceTimes Ruby and asks her first. Then, as if to make a point that she’s rounding out her bases, she calls her sister. And it’s true that Marks’ sisters’ relationship is as close as it's ever been -- their family criming has forced Elizabeth to trust her sister with her life. But, damn, if he knows she don’t trust Annie to do anything remotely acrobatic, much less cartwheel Elizabeth into the air.

He settles at the island in their kitchen with his tea and his work. She’s got the call on speaker in the other room, when Annie asks, “And gang boo?”

“What about him?”

Rio scoffs loud enough to be heard in the other room.

“Why doesn’t he go with you?”

E pauses, probably fiddling with the strand of her knitting yarn on the couch behind him. “It just doesn’t really seem like his thing?”

Annie snorts. “Have you asked him?”

“No,” Elizabeth sighs into the phone, as if she isn’t a few paces away, having a very audible conversation.

“Don’t people usually go with their SO’s to these things? I mean I appreciate that you think I have the upper body strength for this, but you have to know that I will never in my life be able to do a push-up.”

“It was just a thought--”

Annie continues, stuck mid-rant, “And, like there’s no way I can be your counterweight. You have so much more body than me. We’re like completely different proportions. ”

“Well, so are me and Christopher.”

“Yeah, but Christopher actually has body strength. Lots of it. “ Annie retorts. “And he’s going to love you sweaty, and sticking your butt up into the air, bendy and wearing tight clothing--”

He bites at his bottom lip and supposes yeah, he could try it once.

“Okay, fine! I’ll ask him.”

Rio waits for her to come to him as he tries to make headway on his accounting. But, E doesn’t show.

Instead, it comes later -- when they’re in bed. She’s being extra-nice, extra-smiley, and charming, cracking jokes and making him laugh. He hates it except he also loves it -- when she thinks she can get the drop on him like her dumb ass ex-husband. Except, unfortunately for Rio, she really does know her target.

She waits until right after she blows him to ask.

Elizabeth crawls up his spent, panting body, and pins him with hers. She kisses him hotly with her mouth that tastes like his come and he fucking loves when she does that. Then, she retreats to bite playfully at his chin and asks if he’s seen the flyer on the refrigerator.

And he gives her a little shit about it but…

He admires the strategy

------

The couple's yoga class is on a Saturday morning.

It’s the middle of March, and he’s fucking over winter. Detroit, so far from Mexico and so close to being the fucking North Pole.

The temperature means he’s got to get bundled up in sweats, put on his damn parka and snow boots, all to take it back off again when he gets there. Apparently, the studio is heated perennially at 90 degrees. He don’t know how Elizabeth handles it, she’s so bothered by heat. He complains to her, and she reminds him that this is just like when he goes to the gym on his own. Except this time, they’re doing something together. And she’s being all shy in a way she usually isn’t any more around him and she’s fuckin’ happy he’s coming with her.

The night before she had presented the green mat to him. He had said “Thank you” como su mamá lo enseño, and committed to stepping outside of his comfort zone.

“Show me how this goes, darlin’?”

Elizabeth had swelled up with the thrill of explaining something to him, and launched into it, “Yoga’s basis is breathing…”

She had given him the low-down and gotten him started in the basic poses. He liked her hands, soft, and prim and careful, pushing and pulling at him and adjusting his posture. He had ended up fucking her on the mat -- as a proper thank you and to give her a little something to think about in class tomorrow as they contort their bodies in a way she’s adamant is not meant to be sexual.

And he’s not trying to be a dick or ruin the day for her, but he’s dragging his feet a little bit. He don’t really want to be spending his morning off, kid-less, in a room focusing on his breathing surrounded by crunchy, white gentrifiers.

And he might be simmering a choice comment about how it’s ironic that she wants him to focus on his breathing after she was the one who fucking shot him in the lung that one time...

But, he knows she’s not thinking of it like that and he knows if he just told it to her she’d get it. But, he don’t want to make it all about him and the struggle... and he’s rich now ain’t he? And Elizabeth’s excited to have him with her while she does her thing, excited to show him off -- and that gives him enough energy to walk through the door, green mat under one arm, and her hand in his.

Immediately, they’re ensconced in a wave of warmth as they step into the heated studio, and there’s an earthy smell hitting him strong. He zeroes in on the incense lit at the check-in counter and Rio’s nose wrinkles in distaste on its own accord.

Elizabeth squeezes her hand, in a silent reprimand. Behave. Then, she moves around the counter to hug some of the people hanging out back there.

There’s a flurry of introductions, a Bridgid, a Cassandra, Bryce, Patsy, and Tiffany. Tiffany is Black and he thinks Cassandra could be Latina… He ain’t sure. They’re all revealed to be instructors or staff of some kind and E seems to be chummy with all of them. He knows Tiffany is her favorite and will move heaven and hell (and their fucking drop schedule) to make it to class with her.

He isn’t sure exactly why so many of them are but apparently, they like to hang out here? His palms itch and he feels the sweat start to drip under his thick jacket.

E starts to pull off her winter clothes, as she lingers in conversation with Tiffany, asking her about her husband and how Tiffany’s weight training is going. He blinks at his girl and the shit she can pull out of her repertoire.

“I’m so glad you get to finally meet Christopher.”

Tiffany turns to smile wide at him. “Beth has made so much progress in the past few months.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” and she’s got a friendly vibe so he tries to dial up the charm. Smiling, and playing the proper beau, “She talks about y’all all the time.”

Behind them, he clocks that instructor, Brad or Bryce, checking out Elizabeth’s ass when she ain’t looking. And sure he’s about Rio’s height and got some definition on his abs, but his jaw’s too square like it’s never taken a hit, his muscles never used in a fight.

Rio snags the eyes of some chicks looking at him a little too eager. Damn, it’s Saturday morning and these people need to chill.

And he rolls his eyes, tsking, then steps closer and loops a hand around Elizabeth’s waist, drops it down to her ass for a moment. He makes a show of leaving a kiss against her temple and then he bounds towards the cubbies, ready to shed some clothes. His jacket is about to kill him.

As he peels off of the layers, he looks around, and okay -- it’s not as white as he worried it was. There’s other POC settling in for the class, at least one other interracial couple, too. And that Cassandra chick’s sweatshirt says “Chingona AF’ on the back. She’s the same shade of light brown as him, a mid-30s willowy mujer with a queer buzzcut.

He loosens up a bit and settles into the space. This heated shit is nice.

A few moments later, Elizabeth joins him and after they’re done tucking their stuff away, she draws him over to her favorite corner. They roll out their mats -- purple and green -- side-by-side.

They settle on their respective mats and Rio takes the opportunity to give Elizabeth the same once over that asshole did. Her ass really does look great in those pants and she could fill out any shirt. Her eyes linger over him too, tracing his skin, the bar tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt that she’s seen a million times and then her eyes meet his and she gives him that small, crooked lil’ smile.

He’s not one for religion, but every so often he takes his mom to Spanish mass. All the viejitos and pious Catholic types think he’s a banger but his ma’s still excited to show him off. He sits with her in the pew and when the priest asks for the congregation to give thanks to God, he says a prayer for the riches that have come to him, the health and brilliance of his son, the vitality of the other little ones in his life now, and Elizabeth. And when he thinks of her in those moments, he sees her in his mind’s eye with this exact look on her face.

And to top it all off, the 90-degree heat is already working some kind of magic on the knot he’s been trying to get out of his shoulder for the past two weeks.

He smiles back at her.

“This shit is dope.”

“Yeah?”

He shrugs, playful. “I like the heat.”

She scoffs, still smiling, “Of course, you do. I thought I was going to pass out the first time I came.” He laughs and tallies a point. He called it. E shakes her head, “I had never sweat so much in my life.”

And it goes like that.

Right as class starts, a white guy with dreads and his skinny, blond girlfriend settle in the space next to them. The white dude turns to nod in acknowledgment, but his eyes drop down to take the ink at Rio’s throat. He tries to be subtle about it but he and the girl scoot a few inches away.

And he ain’t even seen all the old bullet wounds yet.

Rio turns to look at Beth. She’s also staring at the couple, her mouth settled in a thin line.

Then she meets his gaze.

One of the instructors starts calling the group in, welcoming them to class, and Elizabeth takes the last opportunity to gently careen into his side, and kiss him deeply.

Then she's back on her mat, listening attentively to the instructor like she didn’t just start some shit.

And yeah-- he and Elizabeth are different. They move through space differently, and she has access to things he never will no matter all the gems, rubies and diamonds, Mercedes and stacks he adds to his hoard of wealth, And Rio has wondered, worried, if there will ever be a day when they look at each other and decide they don’t fit anymore.

But, damn if she don’t make him feel alive like nothing else.

So as the instructor has them sit back-to-back and leads them through an opening meditation. It’s corny as shit and formal meditation is not really his thing, always having relied on sports (and fights and hits) as a substitute in the past.

But, he tries to settle here, in this room warm like a blanket, next to Elizabeth.

The class itself is pretty fun. The instructors are hands-on, demonstrating, and walking them through everything. It’s easy enough to pick up with them (and Elizabeth) giving him adjustments, and he likes the excuse to get his hands on her in a different kind of way.

He helps Elizabeth through some inversions, smirking down at her with this particular view of her cleavage. She gets a few, sneaky passes at him, and he don’t know who she thinks she’s fooling surrounded by a room of people, and a whole team of instructors circling them.

In one particularly nice sequence, Rio curls down into the mat in the child’s pose, Elizabeth had shown him as she stretches on top of him, her whole weight settling along him like a cocoon.

Damn, he’s going to make them take another class like this ain’t he?

The class eventually shifts into what the teachers call aerials.

He lays on his back and lofting E up into the air over him. It takes a little finagling to fully adjust to the distribution of her weight, she’s obviously top-heavy. He stares up at her -- her gorgeous, sweaty face smiling down at him -- and looks over the particular arc of her cleavage. And despite how much time he spends palming at Elizabeth’s tits, he underestimates how much they must hurt her back.

No wonder she needs this shit.

‘Course that’s when Bryce or Blake comes over to “check on their form” and is this guy really going to try to check out his girl’s ass again? Right, the fuck now?

Blake/Bryce pushes at Elizabeth’s shoulders trying to adjust her position and she maintains very apologetic eye contact with Rio. Huh. So, she’s aware.

Then, It all happens real fast. Her balance shifts and her hand, sweaty with the heat, slips across his palm and out of his grasp.

The realization hits him-- She’s gonna fall.

And for a brief, terrible moment, her face freezes above him skewed with panic and fear, and then, as if in slow motion, she floats closer, down to earth.

And he knows better. He fucking knows better from all his fucking years of boxing, the previously-mentioned lifetime of playing sports. But he clenches his damn, fucking jaw just as the crown of her head collides with him.

And there’s a sharp, bolt of pain spearing through his chin.

And in this room, this heated blanket, incense-burning, crunchy, granola room…

He’s knocked the fuck out.

-----

Well, then it’s a fucking show.

In the familiarity of Elizabeth walking into the studio, they hadn’t asked him to sign a liability waiver. Someone procures ice, and he cradles it to his chin as Bryce apologizes and asks if he can call an ambulance.

For a concussion.

And he’s pissed the fuck off but it’s still kind of funny? Because the only thing that had ever put him in a hospital had actually been this girl standing next to him (tal pesadilla when she put three slugs in his chest). But, he has to stop laughin’ because it hurts his jaw and they’re all looking at him like he’s nuts.

Elizabeth grips his free hand like a vice, and he’s nursing a hell of a headache, as he has to swear a million times that he ain’t gonna sue anyone. Then, finally, blessedly, they’re allowed to walk out.

Elizabeth insists on helping him into the car. Tiffany and Cassandra accompany them, helping Elizabeth carry all of their shit.

They stand at the curb watching, concern etched on their faces as Elizabeth reverses out of the snowbank and drives off. And Elizabeth drives because he most definitely has a concussion. And she drives them straight to the fucking ER.

They spend half an hour fighting parked in the lot outside. But, he knows concussions and he knows his limits.

He convinces her to take him home.

-----

The first twenty-four hours of the concussion are the most important. He’s not supposed to look at screens, not supposed to work. He knows his shit but Elizabeth reads at least ten internet articles on her phone as she lies in bed curled next to him.

They spend the childless afternoon with the curtains drawn, lying in their bed, not fucking.

But, the cuddling is good, too.

Elizabeth strokes up and down his arm and talks to him about little nothings to keep him company. She periodically gets up to grab him glasses of water and more ice. And this sucks, but all things considered, this might be the nicest concussion he’s ever had.

Eventually, they wander to the kitchen to figure out food.

Elizabeth pauses staring vacantly at the fridge. Then her shoulders start to shake, and now he’s wondering if she’s okay. But, her hand raises to unpin the flyer from the fridge and he hears the first snicker.

She turns to him, laughter breaking across her face, pointing to that ridiculous picture. He knows enough now to recognize Tiffany lofted in that showy, stupid af aerial pose.

He chuckles and then cringes as the pain at his chin flairs.

Elizabeth pouts but is still laughing to herself. She ambles over to him, wraps her arms loosely around his middle, and lays the softest kiss on his chin.

“I’m sorry, Christopher.”

He shakes his head, just a smidge because movement fucking sucks right now. “It ain’t your fault.”

“It was my idea.”

“It’s okay.”

She curls into him, deflating, crumbling the flyer into her fist. He gingerly rests his head on top of hers.

“I liked it.” He admits.

“You did?”

“Yeah.” The smell of her lavender-shampoo drifts into his orbit. “Liked you curled all around me. Liked touching you like that. Gave me some ideas.”

She nods below him, pulling him tighter. “I liked it, too.”

“You’ve gotten so strong now, Elizabeth.” He kisses her at her temple. “Maybe next time you should do all the lifting.”

She pinches him at the ribs. Then, “Next time?”

“I’ll tell you what.” He shifts back to make eye contact with her. “We get to do a whole lot of private practice.” He gives her a look to make it clear exactly what he means -- sex. “Then, we’re gonna go back and make sure Bryce is really sorry, ‘kay? Make sure he knows I’m still around.”

And Elizabeth beams that crooked little smile at him.

“Okay, but the next time you have to give me your hoodie or something.”

He nods, a smidge but still manages to imbue it with sage, territorial wisdom. “That would help.”

“Well, I meant more for me to...” She looks at him, eyes darting. “Claim you.”

I mean he is living for that but he frowns at her. “But, everyone there was a couple.”

Oh. Oh yes. Now he remembers.

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Elizabeth rolls her eyes. “And I don’t share.”

Her hand drifts low on his back, then lower to curl a firm grip on his ass in the privacy of this home that they share.

Unfortunately, despite all this time, Elizabeth still doesn’t know when to quit when she’s ahead.

“Though, honestly, I don’t know why they kept staring at your butt.” She murmurs, sassing him while he’s down. “There’s nothing here.”

Esta pinche mujer. She’s lucky he loves her.

Fuckin’ adores her, really.

Damn.

#my writing #i have got to stop listening to the weeknd #i blame a choice few in the fandom #beth x rio #brio #nbc good girls #ahhhhhhhhh #please don't hate my soft!Rio

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foreficfandom · 5 years ago

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Mystic Messenger - Their Favorite Gift From MC

-- Zen: Customized Bracelet --

Zen’s sort of an excessive person so he’s almost always the one giving you gifts. He doesn’t want for much and the stuff he does - like skincare products - you used to buy for him but he eventually convinced you to buy it also for yourself so you could do sheet masks together.

When you do buy gifts for him, it can be a bit difficult. His fans send him a bunch of stuff all the time, like baked goods, or fanart, or neckties. He, of course, is a lot happier when you decide to hand him something, but it’s almost never something he’s ever gotten before.

You have to outsource. So you order a custom-stamped leather bracelet from an indie crafter, something he can wear while rehearsing without worrying about it falling off. On the outside, you have ‘I love you’, and on the inside ‘Zen x MC’.

You give it to him for Valentine’s, his favorite holiday. Zen dedicates the entire day to you and him, and pushes aside the many packages from his fans for later.

You hand him a little box, and he opens it to gasp dramatically at the bracelet, immediately putting it on and exploring the texture of the leather. The lightly-colored tan matches his complexion perfectly.

First, a kiss for you, then its 904709 selfies with him proudly modeling his gift. It goes on his social media to a slight ruckus, because Zen’s never shown off any gifts he’s gotten before.

“My love is so thoughtful!!! Such a beautiful bracelet <3333″

Your name isn’t on the outside to maintain privacy, which proves to be a good idea since that picture is circulated like crazy to mixed reactions.

Zen doesn’t care, this is by far the best gift he’s ever gotten. He hugs you tightly and promises to wear it always.

-- Yoosung: Vinyl Laptop Stickers --

You like to buy knick-knacks for each other on occasion. Yoosung’s wallet isn’t packing so he can only get you stuff once and a while, and you return the favor with other little things.

And Yoosung is also kinda already surrounded by little trinkets and other stuff he’s collected on his own. Little figurines and toys from vending machines, plastic reward favors from convenience stores, character-themed pens and mugs and phone charms.

It can get a little cluttered. His backpack alone is heavily decorated with pinback buttons and enamel pins, and you know he’s home just by the jingling of the many charms hanging off the zippers.

He’s also of a romantic and ‘cute’ mind, so when you give him practical gifts of a headset holder for his gaming desktop, he’s pleased but ... he prefers it when your gifts aren’t quite so banal.

You eventually do some deep surfing for his upcoming birthday, and find this adorable pack of laptop stickers based off of LOLOL characters. These wouldn’t take up anymore of his space, and he could still carry them with him. So during his birthday dinner, you give it to him over cake and he opens it with a gasp.

“It’s ... oh, it’s so cute! It’s perfect, MC!” He hugs you tightly and immediately has you help him stick them on.

He uses this laptop for school, bringing it with him on most days, so it was the perfect gift to remember you by. Whenever he opens his laptop in the student lounge, or in class, he sees all those bright colors reminding him of his favorite pastime, but also he thinks of you and how much you love each other.

-- Jaehee: Promise Ring --

You’ve gotten her spice giftboxes for her cooking, a set of cozy loungewear for the both of you, and other cute things she absolutely adores.

But her true favorite? Her engagement ring. A dainty little band that matches yours perfectly. You had proposed to her during a beautiful evening in the park, making her tear up.

“We’re partners, now,” you said. She gave a watery smile and put her ring on proudly.

South Korea wouldn’t allow marriage between you two, so these rings promised more than a union. It promised a brighter future in the face of adversity. It promised progress in the name of love and equality.

Jaehee struggles with societal expectations for a woman like her. This ring was like a shield against the worse thoughts, or an anchor during the more tremulous times. She had chosen to pursue you against the world’s wishes, and it was the best decision she’s ever made.

You and her wear the rings 24/7. To an onlooker, it just seemed like the two of you were separately engaged people. But she knows differently. A proud little secret.

Customers sometimes make comments about them. She’d be ringing them up, and they’ll notice the brilliant white sapphire. “When’s the date?” some have asked. She stammered, “It’s in the making.” The customer nodded, and wished her a happy union.

She twists the ring around her finger, looking at you wistfully. It will be a happy union. One day!

-- Jumin: Custom-Made Cologne --

What the heck do you gift the man who could have anything he wanted? Material possessions are never a strain for him. He grew up knowing that any toy, any trinket, any new technology or experience he desired, he would get. He’d ask for ice cream and his father’d purchase an entire chain.

His current self rarely buys indulgences. He’s had years of being fulfilled already. But he definitely buys gifts for you, almost to ridiculous levels. You can see from the diversity of gifts that he has a reach for any product or merchandise, anywhere at any time.

When it came time to get him a gift, you had asked the RFA for advice. And everyone was as clueless as you were. Even Jihyun wasn’t sure; the two of them have almost never exchanged gifts throughout the long years of their friendship, since they knew the other was showered in generosity already.

“You’re gonna have to go custom. Something that can’t be bought,” Zen suggested. So when Jumin announced that he had to go to Birmingham for a business meeting, you came along with him. Which you seldom do, since it’s two days of Jumin being stuck at meetings leaving you to your own devices. But you had a plan.

You looked up a luxury custom perfumery, and with the help of an expert nez you crafted a bottle that would complement him perfectly. On the bottle was a label that said “Love Forever by MC”.

So for his birthday, he accepted his gift with grace and asked where you bought it. “This bottle doesn’t look like its from Clive Christian, is it? Maybe it’s Dior ...”

You explained where you got it, and giggled when his mouth dropped open in surprise. He opened it, sniffed, and his smile grew bigger ‘cause it was so much more special now. It was made under your hand, something that will never be replicated. His and his only.

He loves wearing it to work. It’s so wonderful to be surrounded by a smell that reminds him of you.

-- Saeyoung: Fingerprint Charm --

He’s a surprisingly complicated man to gift. Like Jumin, he neither lacks nor wants for material needs. Sometimes you’ve given him cute candies or hand-knitted mittens for winter, and meanwhile he’ll give you ridiculously advanced robot cats or he’ll bust out his packing wallet and boom, you’ve got a new Gucci clutch bag.

He kinda knows that he’s hard to gift. So whenever you shyly hand over a six-pack of gag-flavored soda for Christmas or something, he makes a big show of loving it and thanking you with kisses and nuzzles. And he does love it! He’s never had gifts before, not from V or Rika or his co-workers, and definitely not from his mother. Just the thought that someone cared enough to surprise him with trinkets is so heartwarming.

But your anniversary was coming up. It marked the day that Saeyoung’s life turned around a complete 180 for the better. A very important day, one that you couldn’t mark with an exotic beef jerky bouquet or whatever.

One day, while touring a small art fair, you found an indie jeweler who offered custom fingerprint charms. You set up a date to come in and make a mold by pressing your thumb into a block of sand, which was cast into a mold and into which steel was poured.

You gave it to him over a late-night car ride date. He took the charm out of the little bag and stared at it, you explained what it was. “That’s my very own fingerprint right there. I hope it’s something you can carry with you, and remember me by.”

He was silent for a few long seconds. You saw that his hand was shaking. So you reached over and kissed him, he embraced you tightly and said with a wavering voice, “Thank you.” A sniffle, and he was back to his cheery self. You helped him put it on his keychain, next to his car keys.

He loves it dearly. Especially when he fingers the print and feels the groves, imagining your hand.

-- Saeran: Sweater --

For a long while, Saeran couldn’t live a proper civilian life and spent many days holed up at home, stuck in an anxious and depressive slump. Any venture outside was an ordeal for him. Bit by bit, through therapy and medication, he regained his confidence.

You found this sweater online, and you knew how much he liked wearing sweaters at home. It had this quote on it that the both of you were familiar with. It had been one of the repeated self-forgiving phrases his therapist suggested. Saeran took to that phrase particularly well. He repeats it in his mind when he feels himself on the verge of a breakdown, and it helps de-escalate.

You knew you had to buy it. But keeping it secret from Saeran was kinda a challenge because he likes to tour around your internet history when he’s bored. Not for malicious reasons, he’s just curious and wants to know what kind of stuff you like to re-tweet, or what shops you frequent.

So with Saeyoung’s help, you ordered the sweater under a guise Saeran wouldn’t be able to crack without some effort, and it ended up being a legit surprise when you handed Saeran his gift.

You watched his eyes trace the quote carefully, and at his fingers tracing the screenprinted flowers. He was quiet for a long while, just exploring the sweater thoroughly.

He can’t remember the last time he’s gotten a gift. Maybe it had been never. His eyes teared up.

You hugged him close and stroked his hair like he said he enjoys. It was almost hard for him to accept this from you; he’d spent years trying to approve others under threat of violence, and he’s rarely gotten to experience true generosity.

He wears it at least once a week. It’s his absolute favorite article of clothing forever and ever.

-- Jihyun: Filled Scrapbook --

For the holidays, Jihyun had given you a beautiful set of jewelry over dinner, along with a framed photo of yourself that he had taken some time before. He rarely decides to spoil you with his riches, but sometimes the occasion calls for it.

How can you match up with his generosity? You knew Jihyun would be charmed with whatever you gave him, but you wanted your gift to mean something.

Once your anniversary began to creep up, you had an idea and began working on your project two weeks in advance - it was going to be a beautiful scrapbook of not just Jihyun’s photos, but also little momentos and decorations on every page, detailing particular moments of your life together up to this point.

You scoured his instagram, printing out copies onto photo paper and cutting and pasting. You folded within old plane, bus, and boat tickets. There were sightseeing brochures from trips abroad, old restaurant menus, stamps from envelopes he had sent you. You wrote messages and captions with multicolored ink.

Extra special were the pages dedicated to when the two of you moved into the new apartment together, and when V was officially recovered from retina surgery, and also the first RFA party he co-hosted with you. Some pages touched on more sad subjects.

Finally, you finished the scrapbook just in time for the anniversary, and it was all worth it to see Jihyun completely blown away by the effort you put into it. He spent several minutes on every page, talking them over with you and reminiscing.

He managed to hold in his tears until the last page, which you kept empty except for a calligraphy script that said, “... and into the beyond.”

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger imagines #mysme #mysme zen #Yoosung Kim #jaehee kang #jumin han #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim

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santoteez · 5 years ago

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Inferno - An Ateez Seven Deadly Sins Series (Pride)

Idol(S): Ateez

Genre: Demon!Ateez, Smut(eventually)

Part to this series: 2

Warnings: Mentions of murder, details of murder, smut, femdom, facesitting, mentions of death, assault, foul language (Sorry if I forget any! It’s a long chapter I wrote over the course of a week)

Note: This series does NOT reflect any member of Ateez or their personality realistically. This is pure fiction.

Word Count: 6,867

I’M POSTING THIS DURING RAMADAN SO I FEEL LIKE I SHOULD SAY THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR RAMADAN. PLEASE REFRAIN FROM READING AT THIS TIME (OR AT ALL) AND RAMADAN MUBARAK!

Hongjoong and the boys all gathered at the side of the office where a large armoire stood tall in the center.

“Pride, once I open the portal, just jump through and you will land in New York City. Once your feet hit the ground, time will start ticking, so make sure to keep tabs on the days.” Hongjoong said, preparing the opening process.

“Do I need to take anything with me? Just the file?” Pride asked.

“Just the file. When you arrive, you’ll have everything you need on your person. Things like groceries and toiletries can be bought once you’re there. Don’t fret if she’s apprehensive at first, I gave you a challenge for a reason. Sarina doesn’t just warm up to anyone.”

“Joong, I can get her. You don’t have to worry. After all, it’s me.” He remarked, adjusting his jacket.

“Show off.” Envy rolled his eyes.

“Who wouldn’t show off all this?” Pride asked.

“I need silence.” Hongjoong said sternly. He approached the armoire, raising his hand in front of him. He spoke, eyes shut tightly.

“Due to the nature of this task, I hereby release the Deadly Sin Pride from the depths of hell for the next seven days. On the eve of the seventh day, he is to return with his assignment. It is for this reason I will open the threshold separating the two worlds.”

The armoire doors swung open, an electrifying blue ring of light erupting from the center.

“Pride, good luck once again, and do not disappoint me.”

Pride nodded, giving the rest of his brothers a nod goodbye and walked through the portal. The light flashed, enveloping him and the armoire doors slammed shut promptly after he walked through.

“Welp, he’s gone. What now?” Sloth asked.

Hongjoong shrugged. “We wait. I’ll check on him on the 3rd day, so you’re all free to join me when that happens. Until then, he’s on his own.”

Pride felt the sensation of freefalling until his boots hit hardwood. He looked around to see he was standing in a fully furnished condominium. File still in tote, he flipped through the pages.

Name: Sarina Thomas

Age: 21

Occupation: Bartender at the Bluemist Lounge

Relationship Status: Single

Family: Mother, 2 younger siblings; Relationship nonexistent, Father deceased

Likes: Art, body modifications, trying new foods, drinking, fucking, occasional smoking

Dislikes: Men, love, fragile masculinity

Kinks: Femdom, Rigger, Ballbusting, Humiliation, Praise, Degradation, etc.

Pride squinted as the list of kinks went on and on. Hates men, huh? No wonder she was his assignment. It takes someone who’s sure of himself to get past that. He realized his pockets felt heavier, remembering Hongjoong’s talk about everything he needed would be on his person.

He dug through them, finding a set of keys, presumably from the apartment he’s in. A wallet, with various credit cards in them and an ID, all of which said the same name.

Jeong Yunho

He grimaced at the name, memories of his past life flooding back. The nerdiness and glasses, the low self-esteem, the bullying, the constant badgering, the night he snapped.

The wallet had some cash in it, along with the pins to the cards inside. The keys had a keychain with the address to the condo: 1 Park Place.

He moved to the kitchen. It was empty but fully furnished with a fridge and appliances. Pride, or Yunho as he now had to refer to himself as, figured he’d wasted enough time looking around. It was time to find his target and see what he was working with.

It was dark outside as he exited the building, the phone he found in his back pocket stated 11:30. If he left now, he’d make it to the lounge just in time for the ambiance to pick up, when people tend to move to the dancefloor, and leave the bartender alone.

He plugged in the name of the lounge into Google and decided to catch a cab. He paid the cabbie and got off 15 minutes later, paying the fee at the door and slipping past the sweaty, dancing bodies heading straight for the bar.

There she was, wiping down glasses. Her large crown of curls adorned her face like a mane. She had a nose piercing and tattoos peppered along her chestnut arms. She had on a sleeveless shirt with slashes down the front and high waisted jeans. Yunho made it to the bar, settling onto an empty stool.

“Got room for one more customer?” He asked.

Sarina looked him up and down, observing his crisp white button-down and black slacks. He shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

“What fortune 500 company office did you stumble out of?” She asked, putting the glasses away. “We’re pretty far away from Wall St.”

Yunho furrowed his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what Wall St was, but it sounded like she thought he was a businessman. Was it the clothes?

“None, actually. I don’t have an office.” He said truthfully. “My line of work is...unorthodox.”

“Oh? Enlighten me, then.” She said, taking out a clean glass. “Also, what can I get you?”

“Jack Daniels, please. Honey.” He watched her reach for a bottle in the rack behind her. “I guess you can say I’m in charge of…very valuable shipments.”

“Valuable? Like diamonds and shit?” She asked, sliding the glass towards him. “Card, please. All cards are held as agreement to pay your tab.”

Yunho nodded, reaching for his wallet. Pulling out a black card, he slid it across the table. “Yeah, diamonds are possible. Usually whatever the boss says.”

“Someone like you, that walks like he shits roses, isn’t his own boss?”

Yunho shrugged. “What’s wrong with being the right-hand man? Besides, the boss never gets to have fun.”

“Really? What kind of fun do you have?” She asked, pouring herself a glass of Jack Daniels as well.

“Going back and forth with beautiful women is always fun.”

Sarina rolled her eyes. “Figured you’d say that. Listen, if you think I’m going to get flustered and dance into your bed, you can take that idea and shove it up your-”

Yunho put his hand up, stopping her before she went any further. “I don’t think any of that. You said it yourself, I think highly of myself. If I were trying to just fuck you, I would’ve said that a while ago. Don’t get so defensive. I’m an angel.” He smirked, taking a sip of his drink.

Sarina shook her head. “Something tells me that’s a lie.”

She had no idea how right she was.

Yunho and Sarina talked back and forth up until closing, but not before exchanging numbers. Yunho even waited with her until her Uber arrived. He made a mental note to download the app. He made his way back to the condo, showering and getting into bed in just a pair of boxers. After texting Sloth through an app he found on the phone, he decided to call it a night.

He woke up around noon. Realizing he didn’t have any groceries, he decided to get dressed and go shopping. Remembering what Sarina said, he checked to see if the closet had any clothes besides his suit he always wore back home. Opening the closet, he saw all kinds of clothing. Jeans, shorts, tees and hoodies in his size. Considering it was kind of hot when he went out last night, he opted for a black and white striped tee with jeans. He found some white converse on the floor and put those on too. His hair had fully air dried from his shower, so he left it as it was. Grabbing his keys and wallet, he headed out, googling the closest supermarket.

He took a cart from the entrance and made his way through the aisles, picking up random things. It was mainly things he could microwave or boil quickly; he wasn’t much of a cooker. While trying to decide on a soda, he noticed a familiar set of arms reaching for a bottle of juice on the top shelf. Yunho watched as she cutely jumped, but the bottle was just too high up.

Yunho came up behind her. “I got it.” He said, lowering the bottle to her reach.

Sarina sighed. “Thanks, but I never asked for he-” She paused, seeing who it is. “Hey, I know you. You stalking me?”

Yunho smiled. “I guess I should’ve led with my name last night. I’m Yunho.”

“Yunho, I’m Sarina. Everyone calls me Rina.” She said, and Yunho had to nod like he didn’t already know. “What brings you around here?”

“Well, I have zero groceries so I had to stock up.”

Sarina glanced at his cart. “Looks like you don’t own a stove either. What’s with all the microwaveables?”

Yunho smiled. “I’m not the best cook so, this is what I’m working with.”

Sarina shook her head. “Men.”

“You could come over and teach me a thing or two? Make sure I don’t burn down my kitchen?”

“Come into a man’s bachelor pad by myself? You’re asking me for a lot, Yunho.”

“Understood. A random guy walks up to your bar, strikes up conversation then pops up on you in the juice aisle of Whole Foods, and invites you to his house. For all you know I could be some serial killer that wants to skin you alive. I expect a self-assured woman like yourself to be cautious at all times. But I can assure you, I just want to know you.”

“Why me?” Sarina asked, observing his outfit. A sharp contrast from last night. Maybe not Fortune 500 after all.

“Why not? I just got to town and I can tell you’re the most intriguing one here.”

“Just got to town? From where?” She asked.

“From…down south.” Yunho quipped.

“Like Texas?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Something like that.” Yunho reached for a bottle of Sprite, placing it in the cart.

“Your answers are so clipped. You’re like a mystery.”

“Maybe if you came over, you’d be able to peel back some layers.” He answered, looking at the snacks.

“You don’t quit, do you? What do I get if I go?” Sarina taunted.

“You get to spend time with an amazing guy.”

“You’re very prideful, you know?”

“You have no idea.” Yunho pursed his lips. “So, is that a yes?”

Sarina contemplated. “That is an ‘I’ll take a chance on you.’” She said, turning her cart around to walk in the same direction as Yunho.

While online, Sarina noticed Yunho had a lot of stuff. “Did you bring a shopping cart?”

“Nope, I can carry it. It’s not too far.”

She stared incredulously. “You can put the frozen things and the soda in my cart. Don’t break your back trying to be a macho man.”

They walked back to Yunho’s building and made it to his apartment.

“For someone who does shipping, you live pretty lavish. I can tell your company ain’t no FedEx.” She walked into the kitchen. “Wow, when you said your kitchen was empty you weren’t kidding. How recently did you move?”

“Pretty recent, I’ve just been ordering food. I finally went shopping since I feel like I’m gaining weight.”

“That’s what you look like when you’re gaining weight? I’m jealous. Well, we don’t have all day so let’s get cooking!”

They spent the whole afternoon together, cooking, eating, and having fun. Yunho found out Sarina’s family doesn’t talk to her because she’s blamed for her father’s death. Common drunk trait: Oversharing.

“I had just gotten off the phone with him; it was a really nasty argument. So, he decided to drive over to my apartment. This was around the time I was in bartending school, and I lived nearby campus. He wasn’t obeying the laws of the road. Rammed straight into an 18-wheeler. Died on impact.”

“And your mom thinks that’s your fault?”

“Basically. Says that had I not argued with him or gotten him agitated he wouldn’t have been on the road that night and he’d still be here. After the funeral, she said she never wanted to see me again. That to her, I died when he did.”

Yunho sighed. This wasn’t something he missed about being a human. Whether it was Lust upsetting a girl in town by stringing her along, or Greed stealing from the neighbors for the fifth time that week, in Inferno you either fessed up to what you did or Hongjoong made you. And in the end, no one felt guilty. Not just because they were demons, but because Inferno was a shameless environment. You didn’t fear guilt because you were already expected to behave like shit.

“I hope you know that’s bullshit,” Yunho said, continuing when she just shrugged. “Everything happens for a reason. What I say next might be insensitive but had he not passed away that day, or even if you had not argued that day, death is inevitable. It would have found him eventually. And that’s not on you.” He said, taking a swig of cognac.

“What about you?”

Yunho rested his head in his palm. “What about me?”

“I feel like you’ve gotten to know so much about me, but I know nothing about you.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Something. Anything. Your story.”

Yunho sighed. “Well, I can say that growing up, I wasn’t always this confident or sure of myself.”

“How come?”

“I was a dorky little kid, brown hair, and glasses. Kept to myself and stuttered a lot, so I was the butt of the jokes. My books in the toilet, spitballs, punching, kicking, shoving. The whole package. I lived in a small town in North Carolina, and there weren’t many options to go to school, so the bullying continued all through junior year of high school.”

“What happened senior year?”

Yunho hesitated, not wanting to admit what really happened. He had already said too much. “I moved to the city. Continued my education there. Met my boss there, began entry-level in the company, errands, and shit. Made my way to right-hand man.” He shrugged, pouring himself another glass.

“Well, I’m glad you were able to overcome that. It takes strong people to come out on the other side of harassment. I’m proud of you.” Sarina smiled. “It’s so weird, I just met you less than 24 hours ago, but I feel so drawn to you. It’s like a magnet is pulling me your way.”

“Be careful talking to me that way,” Yunho muttered, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m still a man, after all.”

Sarina rolled her eyes. “That wasn’t meant for you to take that way. Be a gentleman, Yunho.”

After cleaning up, it was time for Sarina to go. She still had all her groceries with her, after all. Yunho walked her back to her building, agreeing for her to come over to his place before her shift. On his walk back, he heard a ding from his phone.

It was a message from Hongjoong. “Be up early tomorrow. Your brothers and I will video chat you in the morning. Need to know your 3-day progress.”

Yunho chuckled. “Okay, mom.” He texted back, before resuming his walk back. He went straight to bed, knowing Hongjoong would call at the crack of dawn.

Yunho’s phone woke him up at 6:00am. Suddenly, his brothers all popped up on his screen.

“Hi, Pride!” Sloth beamed.

Yunho smiled. “Hey, Sloth. How’s it going?”

“Boring. No one else hangs with me down here.”

“What’s so great about hanging out with Pride? I hung out with you last night!” Envy said.

“You sat in my room for 15 minutes and complained about all the things you want but can’t have.” Sloth said.

Envy rolled his eyes. “High standards.” He muttered.

“Yunho, how are things going with Sarina?” Hongjoong asked.

“I think it’s going great. We hung out yesterday, and she’s coming over again today. Then, from here we’ll head to her job. At this rate, I should be able to talk to her about the mission in a couple of days.”

Hongjoong nodded. “That’s what I like to hear. I believe you will complete your tasks with no errors. Take notes, gentlemen. Trust is essential in the process.”

“Rooting for you, Pride!” Gluttony asked bowl of cereal in tote.

Gluttony, I thought we agreed you wouldn’t eat breakfast during the call.” Hongjoong stated, exasperated.

“What breakfast? This is a snack!” Gluttony emphasized.

Hongjoong sighed. “Pride, before you go, I should warn you. When the time is right for you to tell Sarina the truth, your representative color will glow from your chest. This is basically a warning that if you don’t take the opportunity, your success rate drops by at least 50%. So, if you glow, start talking. The same will happen for each of you, so keep it in mind when your time comes. Pride, don’t screw this up. And most importantly, when she asks, tell her everything. I’ll see you when you get back.”

After a collective “Bye, Pride!” from the council, the call ended. Yunho fell into a deep sleep shortly after. He got up from bed a couple hours later, stretching his arms to the sky. He poured himself a bowl of cereal, checking the time. It was half-past 11, Sarina should be on her way soon. He showered after eating, changing into some fresh clothes. An hour later, there was no sign of her so he decided to cook some rice and chicken, the same way she taught him so they’d have something to eat when she did pop up. Time stretched along and still no sign of Sarina. He texted her, letting her know he was waiting. Perhaps she forgot?

More time past and Yunho got worried. It was almost time for her shift to start, and she still had not shown up. Glancing at his phone, he saw she never opened his text either. Checking the file, there were no other places she frequented besides her house, work, and the supermarket, especially at this hour. So, either something happened, or she was avoiding him.

Slipping on his shoes and grabbing his keys, he headed out of the house. He reached the curbside and stuck his arm out.

“TAXI!”

He tossed the guy a twenty and stormed into the club, completely ignoring the bouncer. He scanned the room, full of people enjoying happy hour. No sign of Sarina. Instead, the bartender was an older guy, probably early 30s. Yunho slammed his hands down onto the counter.

“Where is she?” He asked.

“Where’s who?” The guy asked although he seemed to know exactly what Yunho meant.

“Sarina.”

The guy shrugged. “Not here. She doesn’t live here, you know.” He chuckled. “Why? You got a crush?” He laughed again, halting abruptly when he saw a glint of purple in his brown eyes.

“Well, if you see her, tell her I’m worried and I came looking for her,” Yunho said sweetly, sarcasm clear in his voice. He turned around and walked out of the establishment.

He didn’t see the bartender text, “He just left.”

Defeated, he headed back to his apartment, figuring it was best to just let her rock for the night and check on her again in the morning. It’s not like they were dating, right? Maybe he was just being paranoid.

Sighing as he entered the house, he removed his jacket before locking the door.

“AH!” He groaned as he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder blade. Looking over, he saw a butcher knife lodged into his back. He furrowed his eyebrows. Was he being robbed?

“Who the fuck are you?” A hostile voice said.

“Sarina?” Yunho asked, walking into the living room.

“Don’t come any closer, I have more knives.” She said, backing up.

Yunho reached back, pulling the knife out of his back with a grunt. He threw it on the floor. “What are you talking about? I told you. I’m Yunho.”

“I figured you would say that.” Sarina balled up a paper and tossed it at him. “16-year old Jeong Yunho found guilty on several counts of premeditated murder in the first degree in a courtroom in Northampton, NC. Jeong’s victims were found lifeless in their homes with multiple lacerations and acid burns to their skulls, torsos, and legs. The arms of his victims were never found, but it is speculated he broke them before severing-”

“OKAY. Okay, I get it. Enough.” Yunho raised his arm.

“Don’t upset me more. Before I give you another gash.” She warned.

Yunho scoffed, taking his shirt off and showing her his clean, unscathed back. “What gash?”

She blinked in disbelief. “That’s impossible. That was in your back! You pulled it out!”

“Sarina, just let me explain…”

“No! This doesn’t make any sense. This article says you were sixteen in 1990. It’s 2020.”

Yunho’s chest, as if on cue, began to glow a vivid purple. The light shone brightly from his chest, illuminating the entire room. Then, just as quick as it had shone, it diminished into nothing.

“This just keeps getting even weirder. Did you just fucking glow?”

“Alright, Sarina. Listen closely because I’m going to answer your questions. In my childhood, I was bullied for the smallest of reasons. My family wasn’t as well-off as the rest of the town, with my father being the local garbage man, struggling to make ends meet. For the most part, I put up with the taunting, name-calling, having food thrown at me, drinks dumped on me. But the last straw was Daisy Krasdale. Daisy moved to town junior year. I was excited. Finally, someone who didn’t know me since I was in diapers; someone who didn’t see me as just the garbage man’s son. She actually spoke to me nicely, walked the halls with me, wasn’t embarrassed to call me her friend, sat with me in class, and lunch. I finally had someone on my side.” He smiled, reminiscing. “Until Johnny, my main bully ruined it. I was getting ready to head to the movies with Daisy, it was the first time I’d ever go. No one ever wanted to go with me, and I didn’t have the balls to go alone. I was heading out the door when I found a cassette on my doorstep. It was labeled ‘She’s not coming, loser.’ Something told me to take it upstairs and watch it, so I did. It was a sextape. Johnny and Daisy, in bed together. She was screaming for him, while he kept telling her to ‘forget that loser.’ We can both guess who the loser was. At that point, I had had enough. The only person who made me feel seen. Just ripped away from me by some bully. That was the day I changed my focus.” Yunho moved to the couch, taking a seat. “You can sit, you know.” He said to Sarina.

“Thanks, I’ll stand. Just keep going.” She shifted her weight.

Yunho shrugged. “Okay. Well, that day, I actually went to see the movie. Alone. House Party, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. It was-what was the word back then? Bitchin’. So, the next week, I went to school like normal. I didn’t talk to Daisy, no matter how many times she tried apologizing. She claimed it was a moment of weakness. I thought she was full of shit. So, I went to school, went home, then went into the basement and conjured up my own homemade hydrofluoric acid. It’s a very easy recipe, Though I’m sure you wouldn’t want to know the details. I produced gallons of it. Stored it under the stairs until Friday. I stayed in my room until 8pm, feigning a stomachache so my mother would leave me alone. She was a sweet woman, married incredibly too young. Anyways, I waited until she had gone to bed to sneak back out. My dad worked early mornings, so he always slept early. I loaded my concoction into my dad’s truck and made it to my first victim’s house. Ritchie Clark, Johnny’s best friend. Well, more like minion. Did everything he asked. He was in his room, studying. I made my way into his bedroom, shoving a bag over his head. It’s funny how quick the tough guys go soft when defenseless. I dragged him out of his house and into the back of the truck. The next guy was Max Turner, and the way I captured him was vaguely similar, but the best part? Johnny. He had just fucked another girl he wouldn’t call back and taken a shower. I was waiting for him behind his bedroom door when he came back in. I bashed him in the head with a wooden bat, before bagging and loading him up too. To this day, I don’t remember how I got all three of them out of the houses that easily. Perhaps I was too delirious to even realize someone did see me. I drove them out to the docks. No one was ever out there at that time of night, so it was the perfect place. I dragged them all out to the pier, removing their bags. They immediately became furious when they saw who it was. Calling me all sorts of insults and shouting threats, until they saw the ginormous canister I had next to me. I made sure to put my gloves on before splashing Johnny on the foot, his skin sizzling upon contact. He screamed into the night, the pier immediately smelling of human flesh. I’ll spare you the details that weren’t in that article, but yes, I burned them to a crisp, created dozens of lacerations and severings. Then, I disposed of their arms, went home, showered, and got into bed.”

“Yunho, where did you put their arms? No one’s ever found them.” Sarina asked, wanting to run but couldn’t move.

“Really? All that info and that’s your question? Well, does it really matter now? It’s been 30 years. And I haven’t even told you the best part. The next morning, Northampton was in for the shock of their lives when three young bodies were found by the water, burned beyond recognition. They began asking around to see who were the last people the boys hung out with were, trying to create a timeline. Of course, I was never thought of. We weren’t even friends. Until it clicked. Who would want these boys dead more than the kid whose life they made impossible? They did a comparison of the tires of my dad’s truck to the tracks found at the pier and sure enough, they were a match. The police stormed into my room, expecting me to be standing there with an assault rifle or something. I was just having a burger with fries my mom made. They read me my rights, blah blah blah. I didn’t deny it. Didn’t flinch, didn’t cry. I just asked to be able to finish my burger. They didn’t have anything like it where I was going. I was taken to the local precinct awaiting trial, where I was tried as an adult and sentenced to death. I spent the next five years on death row in a maximum-security facility. My case was highly televised, so inmates knew of me and left me alone for the most part. It was the most peace I had felt in my life. They questioned me for years over those damn limbs. Bribing me with the chance to get off of death row if I helped them. Bunch of pigs, all of them. They thought I’d help them after all my reports of assault and harassment fell on silent ears? I told them to go fuck themselves. So, they pushed up my execution date.”

“So, how did you escape?” Sarina asked, her hand still tightly gripping the knife in her bag.

“That’s the thing, Sarina. I didn’t. Two days before my 22nd birthday, I was strapped to a chair, in front of a room full of people. The families of the deceased, my parents, random kids I went to school with, and Daisy. Sweet, friendly, foolish Daisy. She mouthed ‘Why?’ to me as I was executed by lethal injection.”

“Yunho, listen to yourself. You’re crazy. How can you sit there and tell me you were executed when you’re sitting right in front of me?”

“You really don’t get it, do you? What pissed the town off so much wasn’t that I killed those guys. It was the fact I didn’t regret it. Not once did I feel shame or remorse for what I had done. In fact, I was proud of myself. I laughed as I felt the poison infiltrate my veins. I woke up in this really hot place. For a second I thought I dreamt the whole execution and was shipped off to Texas. Until a guy picked me up off the floor, took me to his house, bathed and fed me, and gave me a new name.” Yunho stood up, walking towards Sarina. His eyes glowed purple like his chest, and his veins lit up like a motherboard.

“I’m Deadly Sin Pride, the Fiend of excessive self-confidence.”

“Yunho, I said stay AWAY,” Sarina said, piercing him with the knife in her hand. She lodged it into his left pec.

“Ouch. That would hurt if there was still a heart there.” Yunho pulled the knife out and, just like before, the wound closed up, leaving no mark.

“What the fuck?”

“NOW do you believe me? If I had wanted to kill you, don’t you think I would’ve already done that? Why go to your job, get to know you, invite you to my house, by yourself, for hours? Harming you was never my intention.”

“Then why? Why go through all this trouble?”

Yunho sighed, his eyes softening back into the dark brown Sarina was used to. “I’ve been assigned a mission.”

“To do what?”

To take you back home with me.”

“So, your brother, who’s literally the ruler of hell, sent you back to Earth to get me, bring me back to hell, in order to help the imbalance of the sexes?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Yunho shrugged. After hearing him out, Sarina decided to stay. Despite hearing all he had done, she realized he wasn’t the same guy as before, and that he acted out based on circumstances. She may not agree with it, but she can look past it considering how long it had been, and technically, he paid for his crime.

“But I’d never be able to see my family again.”

“Not to literally play devil’s advocate, but you’re on Earth right now, and you don’t see your family.”

Sarina rolled her eyes. “You know what I meant.” She pondered it. “If you complete two conditions, I’ll go.”

“Which are?” Yunho asked.

“The first one,” Sarina said, leaning into him, “You let me dom you.”

“Dom? Like in sex?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, in sex, stupid. You’re so full of yourself, so calm and collected, I wanna see you lose control just once.”

Yunho sighed. Well, if it meant getting his mission completed, he could let her take the reins.

“Okay.”

So this is how Yunho found himself in Sarina’s bed, tied to the headboard, wearing nothing but a blindfold and a cock cage, panting heavily.

Sarina climbed on top of him, kissing him, her kisses leading down to his neck and chest. Yunho groaned as he began to harden, his cock feeling the restraints of the cage.

Sarina climbed up further, her thighs on each side of his face as she lowered herself gently. Yunho’s lips found her clit expertly, devouring her pussy with fervor.

“Mmm, you have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this. You underneath me, tied to the bed, with a face full of pussy.” She said, grinding onto his face as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

Yunho wanted so badly to reach out and grab her, but she tied him up so well he was unable to budge. He alternated from circling her clit to sliding his tongue deep inside, keeping her on edge. Sarina’s fingers weaved into his hair, tugging slightly, causing Yunho to moan. The closer Sarina got to orgasm, the harder Yunho got and the more restraint was put on his penis.

Sarina’s legs started to twitch, her hips stuttering. “Shit, baby. Stick out your tongue.”

Yunho obeyed, and Sarina bucked her hips against the wet muscle, lost in her arousal. Sarina panted heavily, “Yunho, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum on my face,” Yunho said, his voice muffled by the current predicament.

Sarina’s eyes bolted shut, her knuckles going pale from gripping the headboard. All her actions halted suddenly, her body spazzing as she gasped loudly. “Oh shit, shit, shit.”

She groaned when Yunho continued sucking, causing her sensitivity.

She slid back down, kissing Yunho again. “You did so well, baby. I think you deserve a reward.” She smiled so mischievously, Yunho pondered if she was the deadly sin in this pairing.

He gasped as she removed the cock cage, his cock springing loose and growing harder sans restraints.

“Shit…” He muttered as he felt Sarina take him into her mouth, the lack of sight only heightening his other senses. Sarina bobbed her head at a steady pace, finding her rhythm. She gripped in her hand what couldn’t fit into her mouth.

She sped up as she heard his groans increase. The room filled with Yunho’s pants and the obscene slurping noises from Sarina. She edged him on until she felt his cock twitch. She released his member with a pop!

“Mmm, Baby, don’t cum yet. We haven’t finished.” She said sweetly. Positioning herself on his cock, she slid down, sighing as he stretched her open. They both moaned as they bottomed out. Once she was adjusted, she bounced up and down, the temperature in her body rising as she neared her next orgasm.

“Fuck, you feel so good, Yunho. I’m gonna cum.”

“Rina. I wanna see you.”

Pausing momentarily, Sarina took off the blindfold. Meeting his gaze, she saw how fucked out he looked, and she could only imagine she looked the same. She decided to untie him too, only to be flipped the minute he was cut loose.

Sarina was now pinned to the bed, her thighs in a tight death grip by Yunho, who was hammering into her mercilessly, his head in the crook of her neck.

“You’re so fucking tight, baby. I can tell you’re about to cum. Cum for me, I know you want to.” He said, reaching between their bodies to rub the sensitive bud.

Sarina’s back arched as her mouth fell open, her whole body shaking like a washing machine. Her orgasm triggered Yunho’s, who pulled out just in time to cum onto her stomach. Ropes of white essence painted her stomach like a mosaic. There was silence for a while, both parties catching their breaths.

“You just couldn’t sub the whole time, huh?” Sarina said after a while.

“Shut up, it was long enough.” He said, getting up from the bed. “One condition down. What’s next?”

“You said your mother married young, right? Well if she was as young as you said, she would still be alive. So, the last condition is that you go see your mother, granted we find her.” Sarina said, walking to the bathroom, leaving a very shocked and confused Yunho standing by the bed.

The pair stood outside of Elmhurst Senior Living, with Yunho very much not happy to be there.

“C’mon, let’s go in!” Sarina pressed.

They walked up to the reception desk, greeted by a short, young girl.

“Good Morning! How may I help you?”

“Hi! We’re looking for a resident here, Heeyoung Jeong?”

“Oh yes! Wow, she hasn’t gotten a visitor in years. She’ll be so excited!” The girl beamed. Sarina noticed Yunho wouldn’t look up, feeling guilty for the first time since he ceased being a human.

The girl led them to the elevator, handing them a map of the facility. “Keep in mind, her memory isn’t what it used to be, so it might take her some time to remember you, and don’t be discouraged if she doesn’t! She just hasn’t been the same since Mr. Jeong passed. Make sure to return the map after your stay. Enjoy!”

Sarina thanked the woman as they got on. “What are you thinking?” Sarina asked.

“My father is dead and my mother is all alone. I haven’t seen my dad, so I know he’s most likely in the upper world. Not surprised, he didn’t have a bad bone in his body.”

They arrived at their floor and headed for room 308. A small lady with white hair was sitting in a rocking chair staring out the window.

“Mrs. Jeong?” Sarina said.

The lady turned. “Yes?”

“My name is Sarina, and there’s someone here that wanted to speak to you.” She nudged Yunho.

“Hi mo- Ma’am.” He stuttered. “I was a friend of your son’s, one of the few, and I wanted to say that despite his crimes, he truly did love you. He always thought about you, and what would happen to you when he passed. He would be happy to see you so well treated. I had a few words for his father, but seeing as he’s no longer with us, I’ll just say he wanted him to know he was sorry. For everything. He felt like he failed him, but at the same time couldn’t help what he had done. His only regret was leaving you behind.”

Heeyoung nodded. “And he told you all this, while in cells?”

Yunho nodded. “In the cells, and at lunchtime. We spoke often.”

“Okay, well, thank you for your kind words. I assure you I feel much better after hearing them. Please, come give me a hug, dear.”

Yunho hesitated but eventually embraced the small woman, who whispered into his ear, “I’m old, not stupid. I love you too, son.” She pecked his cheek before pulling away. “Go back to where you came. I’ll be alright here.”

Yunho nodded, whispering “Bye, mom.”

They exited the facility and found themselves in the middle of NC.

“So, what now?” Sarina asked.

“There’s something I have to do first.”

They caught a bus to Northampton and headed for Yunho’s childhood home. It had been foreclosed and boarded up, but it was still standing.

“Come, there’s a back door.”

He and Sarina made it inside the house, which looked just as abandoned as the outside.

“Yunho, why are we here?”

“Downstairs.” He said, heading for the basement.

They make it down the stairs, and Yunho lifts a dusty tarp. Out fell decaying bones.

“They’re still here. I never told the police where they were, and neither did she.”

“A mother’s love knows no bounds?” Sarina shrugged.

Yunho and Sarina stood at the closet back in the NYC condo. Sarina had a small bag with her, while Yunho simply had the file. Yunho looked at her one last time.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go?”

She nodded. “My conditions were met, and like you said, I have nothing really going for me here. Maybe a little hell is just what I need.” She smiled.

“Okay, here we go.” Opening the closet, he pulls the lever he found in there the first day he landed. There was a spark and a portal whirred to life, so strong it caused a great wind.

“Grab my hand, and don’t let go until you feel your feet on the ground!” Yunho shouted.

Sarina nodded, holding his hand tightly. They walked through the portal, immediately descending. When their feet hit the ground, they arrived in Hongjoong’s office. Hongjoong was sitting at his desk, filing paperwork as usual. He looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Pride, back so soon?” He asked.

Yunho nodded. “The mission is complete, brother.”

“I see. Hopefully, you weren’t forced or coerced into coming here?”

Sarina shook her head. “I wanted to come. Hoping it’s a fresh start?”

Hongjoong smiled. “Fresh starts are always welcomed here. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hongjoong, or who the humans know me as, Dante. Welcome to Inferno. You’ll meet the rest of the Sins later, but right now I’m sure you want to rest. Pride, take her to your room then come back to the office. I will summon the council to advance to the next level of the mission.

“Brothers, see how Pride successfully completed his mission, and Sarina is now one of us. This is how it’s done. Keep in mind, you don’t have to come back in the same time Yunho did. Don’t make this a competition. Every one of these women are different and they all require different approaches. The next stage of the mission is effective immediately.” Hongjoong opened a new file. “Samiyah Harris.” He said, approaching one of the boys. “Greed, you’re up.”

“Good Luck.”

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the-good-noodle-kf · 5 years ago

Text

Redacted (First) Impressions

My Saiou Winter Exchange Gift for @evil-muffins

Prompt: Pre-game fic, angsty w/ a side of fluff

Hope you like c:

Life has no meaning.

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“My name is ******* ***. My audition number is three-hundred fifty-one.”

“I’m… always looked down on and.. I probably deserve it. So, I thought, fuck my memories huh? It’s not like I care about anyone. Just… I don’t want to be weak anymore. I want to be rewritten as someone less weak. Maybe I could be someone to look up to, like a leader. But, it doesn’t matter what I am; I’m desperate, and isn’t that what you want from people? People so desperate that they’ll willingly offer their lives away to become part of a killing game?”

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Every day is a string of bland pointless blurs that bleed into the next like watercolor paint.

So, why not make life as interesting as possible?

Kokichi Oma stares blankly. He presses down on the lit power button of his computer monitor, effectively shutting it off. It’s done. That’s it. The chance that they’ll consider him is low, but maybe they - Team Danganronpa - will find value in him that no one else has. He barely got a submission number. It took hours of staying awake, eyes peeled, staring at the stinging blue light of the screen until he requested an audition as fast as he possibly could. Even still, he ended up with number three-hundred fifty-one. He wonders how someone could possibly get the first audition.

Applying for Danganronpa has become much more… commonplace, ever since they began using simulation technology. As strange as it may seem, not everyone is exactly willing to stake their lives on a show, but for some, their memories are a small price to pay for becoming a part of the show. Though it might also have something to do with the prize money, Oma doesn’t care much about that. He’s omniscient enough to know that he definitely doesn’t have a very high self-worth… or self-preservation for that matter, but it’s not like he can change that just from being aware of it.

II.

School is boring.

Each additional day of school he's feeling more tired and drained, regardless of how much he falls asleep in class. What is the point of working if he has nothing to work towards?

III.

Shuichi Saihara.

It’s the name of his new coworker… the one he’s supposed to be training. Oma’s worked at the place for not even a year, yet his boss says he’s qualified to teach the boy that was hired just a few days ago.

“Thank you for shopping! Have a great day!” He repeats his response, with his cyclic forced smile bridging his cheeks. It’s almost robotic, in how habitual and automatic it’s become after saying it to every single customer once they’ve paid. He looks to Saihara once the little bell on the door rings, signaling the exit of the customer, and he’s back to his normal expression. It’s not a frown, but it’s definitely not a smile either. “And that’s it. Did you want to try?” he offers, not really sure himself.

Saihara’s staring at him closely, like he doesn’t know what to make of him, but yet he still startles at the response. His brows furrow together but he does nod, so Oma moves aside and lets Saihara stand in front of the register instead. Saihara mumbles as he looks down at the keys, “I wonder why...”

Oma tilts his head at the unfinished sentence as he assesses Saihara. He’s taller than him, and he seems nervous. Oma can also see that he’s good looking, but he probably isn’t a very popular or outgoing person, judging by his mannerisms.

IV.

Working is… habitual for Oma. It’s not that he particularly hates it, and he does make money, but he only does it because he knows that he’d otherwise be doing legitimately nothing, and doing something at least makes him feel a little better about himself. Regardless of how much he dreads being a functional human being in general, he has to - he has to because he’s terrified of what will happen if he stops.

“Ah, Oma-kun,”

Oma looks over with curiosity at the other as he restocks shelves. It’s only the two of them right now. There haven’t been many customers because of the cold, dreary weather. It’s also a Monday, so people are too busy working or at afterschool activities to have any need to stop at the relatively small convenience store.

“Your cheek…” Saihara trails off, scratching his wrist, and Oma reflexively lifts his hand and brushes his fingers over the scrape, reminding him of it with a slight sting.

He lifts up the corners of his cheeks, walls raising, “hmmmm?”

“W-wait, I have-” Saihara cuts himself off as he runs off into the employee’s only door. It’s a little room with a few tiny lockers that Oma throws his school bag in on the days he comes straight from school. Saihara comes back with a bag of his own and huh- Oma didn’t expect Saihara to have so many Danganronpa pins, or any really; there’s a little Monokuma keychain hanging from one of the zippers too. He raises his eyebrows and even smiles a little bit at the thought of someone else liking what he likes, but it’s smothered by the fear of being known, of showing who he really is, and Saihara is oblivious to all this as he tugs a band-aid out of the front pocket and hands it to Oma.

It’s like his mind fizzles like a burnt-out lightbulb for a second when Saihara, instead of just handing him the band-aid like a normal person, envelops Oma’s hand with his own and deposits the band-aid with the other. Oma’s sure that’s not normally how people give other people band-aids, or anything, but the feeling of Saihara’s shockingly warm hand is gone as quick as it arrived when he releases him and smiles. Oma’s even more embarrassed because he actually briefly considered if Saihara was a warm or cold hands person, which isn’t normal, because who does that? Who thinks about their co-worker’s hand temperature - who he doesn’t really know, but seems really nice, if handing him a band-aid could be considered a point of reference.

Oma’s not even sure what tangent his mind is going off on this time, so he looks down in his hand at the band-aid and sees that - huh, it’s got Kyoko Kirigiri on it. He must’ve mumbled her name aloud because Saihara gasps and has an expression that almost reminds Oma of a dog wagging its tail. “You watch Danganronpa?” Saihara grabs his hands again, and Oma knows he can’t blame his blush on anything else but Saihara if questioned.

He squeaks out an “mhm,” and tries to look back at the band-aid that’s now fallen on the floor after Saihara grabbed his hands, and he ends up just looking at their hands. Why is he so focused on Saihara holding his hands?

Saihara lets go and runs to put his bag away again, at least, that’s what Oma assumes. It gives him a moment to pick the band-aid up off the floor and come to realize why, in fact, Saihara handed him the band-aid in the first place. ...Does he… expect me to put this band-aid on my face?

...But, it would be rude not to. So he opens the band-aid and sticks it on his face, approximating where he puts the cottony part over the place on his face that’s stinging the most when he brushes his finger over it. It wasn’t even bleeding, but Saihara practically beams when he comes back, and the rest of his shift goes by like a fog. He’s not really able to focus on anything after experiencing that - he was completely unprepared.

VI.

Oma isn’t sure why he keeps thinking about Saihara. He’s ashamed of himself. Why does he keep going back to the feeling of Saihara’s hands on his? It was completely… platonic? Except Oma doesn’t think that word works either, because there’s no way him and Saihara are friends, even if they’ve spent a total of fifteen hours together total since he met Saihara three days ago; he’s known him three days, and already, he has some dumb, crush, or something. He doesn’t know what to do with it, and having not had any physical contact that wasn’t bodily damaging with someone in as many years as he can remember, isn’t helping him. He groans aloud as he face-plants into the open textbook on his mattress. He wouldn’t call it a bed, since it has no sheets and sits on the floor instead of being sandwiched between a bed frame.

He peers over to the side of his resting place where his little trash can is and of course, there’s the band-aid that he peeled from his cheek immediately after getting back from work last night - not home, he’s never “home” when he’s here - and of course everything he looks at is reminding him of the boy.

He’s not supposed to do this - to want to be held; he’s not a damn child. He definitely can’t count the number of times he’s thought about Saihara hugging him on one hand. He’s not supposed to do this.

For one of many times, he wonders why he’s like this. Why is he like this?

VII.

Oma’s something of a… target, at school. He fits the parameters perfectly; he’s small, short, effeminate, generally weak, quiet. It’s nothing dramatic like being beaten up within the school, luckily. It’s the little things, like being tripped in the hallways by an upperclassmen’s ‘conveniently’ outstretched foot and then snickered at, having a book of his be hung high above his head, out of his reach, by another student until he repeated whatever idiotic thing they wanted him to say, the occasional mockery, his belongings getting stolen when he’s not looking, being chosen as the designated monkey in the middle as his belongings are tossed between two guys that think they’re the absolute pinnacle of comedy, and various other meaningless things he deals with.

School is something he can handle, though.

VIII.

“Oma-kun.” Saihara ducks his head as he pushes his phone into Oma’s hands. It’s open on the contacts screen, and Oma stares at it for a second, the unfilled contact info, before realizing it’s Saihara’s roundabout way of asking him for his number. He smiles a little and Saihara’s eyes widen, his expression becoming pretty serious as he takes in Oma’s grin.

Oma doesn’t realize he’s smiling until Saihara points it out, “You’re smiling.”

Even though he’s a little self-conscious now it’s been acknowledged, he still nods, and smiles even wider; he hands the phone back to Saihara, his number in place.

IX.

He wishes he could handle being home as well as he can handle school.

Saihara texts Oma a lot.

He’s constantly sending messages about anything and everything, especially Danganronpa. As Oma reads through he wonders if Saihara just texts him every time he thinks something. It doesn’t bother him though; every time he gets a new message he smiles in a way that he would deny if he were face to face with Saihara.

It’s a little weird, but hearing Saihara’s thoughts and theories and opinions is so interesting. Oma really hopes Saihara doesn’t get discouraged by his own lack of response. He doesn’t ignore him, but his replies are far and few between - things like little smile emotes and one-word responses. He doesn’t exactly know how to reply otherwise.

He can’t help but feel hesitant. Talking about his own opinions makes him feel self-centered and narcissistic, and he wants to be anything but that. What if Saihara thinks that he turns everything around to make it about himself? Saihara probably doesn’t want to hear what he has to say anyway… Oma’s come to accept the fact that people don’t want to hear what he has to say, so he stays quiet.

That doesn’t stop him from reading all of Saihara’s messages over again and grinning secretively under his blanket.

XI.

Saihara invites him over the next day. It’s Sunday, and neither of them is scheduled at work, so Oma accepts.

Getting ready is nerve-wracking for Oma, because he can’t remember the last time he had a friend to hang out with. It’s such a “normal people” thing to do - leisurely spend the day with friends. It’s a thing that feels so out of the ordinary to someone like Oma. He puts on a long sleeve shirt but then changes out of it after his nervousness makes his body temperature rise, and the sleeves feel a little too tight and warm. He puts it on again because of how bare his arms feel in a T-shirt and maneuvers around the floor and out the door before he can change his mind or before his aunt notices his presence.

The first impression Oma has of Saihara’s living space is that it’s quiet. It’s also pretty neat and ordinary, and Saihara makes no mention of any parents or relatives which leaves Oma feeling a little curious.

The day is surreal. He and Saihara talk and watch some of the earlier seasons of Danganronpa while eating some artificial tasting junk food, and it’s fun. It’s so fun. He’s shocked about how natural it feels, spending time with the other boy. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so content, ever had a true, genuine smile on his face for so long - ever had someone else have such a genuine smile on their face in return.

Saihara asks him things and he answers them, because if he’s asked, then he can talk about himself. Oma’s glad that Saihara wants to know about him just as much as he wants to learn about Saihara.

He wants it to last, and there’s a twisting feeling in his chest because he’s already convinced that it won’t.

When Oma gets back, it’s late enough that he has to sneak in through his window - the apartment is on the ground floor, and the screen already has holes torn into it that make it easy to reach in and remove before placing it back and latching it in. The brass latch reminds him of the color of Shuichi’s eyes as he locks it - Oma’s not sure when Saihara became Shuichi - and he’s so caught up in Shuichi, and talking to Shuichi, that he jumps when a door slams, shaking all thoughts of his day out of his mind.

XII.

Oma doesn’t know what to do. The day after visiting Saihara had been one of the worse ones recently, and Shuichi catches onto it through his messages somehow and asks him if he’s okay of all things.

And Oma replies, “why?”

Oma doesn’t know what to do when Shuichi Saihara sends him the five-word message, “because I care about you…”

No one cares about him. That’s just how things are. There’s no way Saihara actually cares about him. Why would he?

XIII.

If Shuichi cares about him, then why couldn’t his parents?

XIV.

He’s not exactly sure when he and Shuichi became friends, but he supposes it happened somewhere between Shuichi making it known that he was generally concerned for Oma’s well being, (that’s never happened to him before; have someone be concerned? About him? The ridiculous idea rolls around in Oma’s head like an optimistic interposition), Oma realizing that on his days off, he’d long for Shuichi’s presence, and their countless messages to each other that make the longing a little more bearable.

It’s new to Oma. He’s never… craved the company of another. It makes him feel pathetic, but also… kind of lonely.

It makes the moments when he’s around Shuichi all the better.

XV.

He becomes Kokichi to Shuichi. Being addressed by his given name, despite giving Shuichi his explicit permission, makes Kokichi feel giddy.

XVI.

School isn’t so bad… especially on the days that Shuichi takes the train over so they can walk home together.

Side by side.

Hand in hand.

XVII.

He wants to kiss Shuichi.

XVIII.

Kokichi’s room is a less depressing place when he has Shuichi to sneak in. The two of them waste time by watching movies on Kokichi’s computer or playing board games that Shuichi carried in.

XIX.

Shuichi speaks up from behind the register when the store is devoid of customers. “I noticed…” he starts, scratching at his wrist, and Kokichi looks up to make eye contact “at first, you always had this smile on, but it was just pretend…”

Kokichi doesn’t have time to react before Shuichi’s continuing his train of thought.

“But when I asked for your phone number, you had a different smile for the first time. It made me really happy to see that I made you smile for real…” Shuichi fumbles with his hands, but Kokichi doubts that Shuichi’s more embarrassed than he is after hearing something so… sentimental.

XX.

Shuichi’s favorite thing about Kokichi may be seeing him smile, but Kokichi’s favorite thing about Shuichi is feeling his warm arms enveloping him when they hug.

Kokichi’s feelings have escalated so much that he’s drowning in them, and he doesn’t ever want to come up for air.

XXI.

Oma’s long sleeves usually hide the finger-sized bruises on his arms, but he can’t hide the ones around his neck.

Shuichi goes on high alert as he shuts the door behind them. It is the first time he’s seeing where Kokichi lives - besides when he snuck into Kokichi’s window with snacks to watch a movie on his computer - but it isn’t the time to take notice of the dilapidated state of the furniture and wallpaper. All he can focus on is the alarming marks on Kokichi’s neck that look like someone shoved him up against a wall and didn’t let him breathe for who knows how long. “What happened?" Concerned, he reaches a hand out to gesture and Oma flinches.

Oma wants to tell him, “I forgot to lock the door, so my aunt got mad,” because, she didn’t want him to begin with, it’s not her fault she got stuck with him after his parents left. He wasn’t wanted. At least he had somewhere to sleep, his aunt would tell him, and Oma thought she was right.

But he can’t tell him that, because that would mean seeing the look in Shuichi’s eyes as he realizes Kokichi is a burden to him too.

“It’s nothing,” he deflects.

It’s silent as Saihara mumbles, but in a way that’s loud enough to hear, “I knew something was off when we first met. When you got so guarded about how you got that scrape on your cheek. I thought maybe someone was bullying you at school, but after we started walking together, I knew that wasn’t the case.”

Oma shrinks back, but Saihara keeps going.

“I didn’t push it at the time, because it was none of my business, but… was it… your guardian?”

He says “guardian” because Oma hasn’t spoken a word to him about his aunt. But the silence is Shuichi’s answer.

“Kokichi, you have to tell someone- you can’t just let them-” let them what? Give him what he deserves? He’s a problem child. A burden. A -

“I can’t.” Saihara doesn’t understand. Oma doesn’t even have it that bad. It could be so much worse, and he can stick it out for a few more years, can’t he?

A failure. “It won’t get better if you don’t report this!”

Oma avoids his eyes. “Shut up.”

A mistake. “I’m trying to help,” he says pleadingly, desperately.

“Maybe I don’t want your help! I’m not some problem that you have to solve Saihara!”

Saihara’s lips thin and when Oma expects him to retaliate he just - leaves. He turns around and runs off, shutting the door behind him.

It’s only after he’s gone and Oma is standing in the middle of the quiet, empty room that Oma is encompassed in the feeling of absolute dread.

XXII.

Saihara doesn’t show up for work the next day. Oma feels guilt gnawing at him during his shift, because it’s all his fault. He shouldn’t have pushed Saihara away. He texts him “sorry” and “can we talk?” through budding tears and hopes Saihara can forgive him.

XXIII.

He hasn’t texted him back anything in the past forty-eight hours, so Oma sighs and lets his feelings pour out in a long message when Saihara doesn’t answer his call. He tells him that he’s sorry, and that he doesn’t want Saihara to hate him.

XXIV.

The water cup he filled the night before has an almost stale taste to it in the morning, but Oma drinks it anyway because his throat is dry, and he can’t summon the energy to get up even though he’s been sleeping for the past thirteen hours. He’s still tired once he sets the cup down so he scrolls mindlessly through his past messages to and from Saihara before staring at Saihara’s last message to him, before their fight. He hasn’t said anything since.

He doesn’t go to school; he’s already sleeping again by the time it starts and he’s too preoccupied to care.

XXV.

With no reply, Oma gets worried really quickly. It’s unlike Saihara to completely… cut him off. He at least figured Saihara would reject his apology upfront instead of hiding away and giving him the silent treatment.

His chest makes that twisting feeling again and he feels unbearably nauseous when he goes to Saihara’s apartment and no one opens the door. There’s not even the telltale sound of footsteps towards the door to signal someone checking who’s there.

It’s like no one’s home.

He sits curled up in his blankets and practically spams Saihara with messages of “please answer me” and “tell me that you’re okay” but Saihara answers none of them. He’s sweating, and heaving, and he doesn’t care if Saihara hates him, he only wants him to say something. Oma needs a reply so he doesn’t keep panicking like he is now, thinking something happened to Saihara; he feels sick, and he can’t stop thinking about it.

XXVI.

Oma tries to rationalize. Saihara doesn’t have any family, and after Oma shut him out, maybe he simply… left. Just because he disappeared doesn’t mean something bad happened.

But, Oma thinks, what if something bad did happen. What if Saihara was abducted - or - or - killed? The thought of Saihara being dead makes Oma so uncomfortable; his throat feels like it’s closing up and it’s hard to swallow his own saliva. He’s growing more and more anxious each day he shows up to work and Saihara isn’t there beside him, despite being scheduled.

XXVII.

The metal of the buttons and zipper on his clothes feel especially cold against his skin as he gets ready for school. He probably looks terrible, but he can’t find it in himself to worry about that.

He has more important things to worry about.

Saihara is more important.

XXVIII.

Oma remembers sending in his Danganronpa application and thinks, this would be the perfect time to forget everything I’ve ever cared about, but then, what if Saihara comes back?

He wants Saihara to come back.

He wants to say sorry for shutting him out when he shouldn’t have.

He wants to have more long conversations about whatever comes to mind.

He wants to see Saihara smile at him again.

He wants to sit next to Saihara and watch movies for hours on end.

He wants to feel Saihara’s hands on his like that day when Saihara gave him that stupid Kirigiri band-aid.

He wants Saihara to forgive him.

XXIX.

His aunt makes him feel worthless.

XXX.

He should’ve kissed him when he had the chance.

XXXI.

Oma lies in his unmade bed, staring up at the ceiling, phone in hand.

It’s been over a week.

Why hasn’t Saihara replied to him? How can he fix this? Did Saihara forget about him like everyone else has?

His eye sockets are weighed down by a combination of depression and sleep deprivation.

His phone speaker blares through the silence - his alarm - his mind supplies through the ever-unchanging headache. He turns it off, already awake, and forces himself out of the temporary comfort of his blanket’s embrace, and gets dressed for work. Because he has to. Because he doesn’t know what else he’ll do if he doesn’t.

Because he hopes Saihara will show up.

(He doesn’t.)

On his walk home from work, he’s approached and pulled into a car, hearing the engine and looking out at the silent street as he falls into panicked unconsciousness. The initiation for the fifty-third killing game commences.

Ouma hesitates as he comes to the memories section of the contract. Even after everything, the participants won’t get their memories back... he won’t remember ever meeting Saihara; he won’t remember falling in love. He’ll know of nothing but whatever backstory Team Danganronpa cooks up for him.

But...

Saihara’s gone. As hard as it is to think about, Ouma doesn’t think Saihara will be waiting for him once the simulation ends. No one cares about him anyways, so he might as well make things interesting, right?

...right?

Ouma’s nose is tingly; his lower eyelids are about to spill over as he signs the contract, signing his past and present away.

Two doors down, Shuichi Saihara does the same.

Life has no meaning.

I also posted this on my Ao3 Account (More A/N there)