#nine percent fanfiction

[allthedamnlove]

AQUAMARINE: RAFE CAMERON X SOFIA FANFICTION: CHAPTER 1

Wordcount: 4k words

Prologue

Radio for this chapter:

18 MONTHS AGO

Sofia's POV

I, Sofia Ramirez, never really thought that in my twenty years of life would end up as a bartender in a fuck all country club where I hear gringos talk about stuff that doesn't even matter at the end of the day. Every time I go near a table to get their finished “whiskey neat” “Old fashioned.” cocktail glasses with fingerprints imprinted as if they were on a crime scene, I have invented a guessing game of “What are these greasy old white men talking about?”

I have a set of permutations and combinations: 

How much will this deal pull through?

Man, crazy that those Pogues own that land; we should get a lawyer to annex the shit out of it.

My wife has been slacking, man. Not fucking me good anymore or worse, says, “I’m not in the mood.”

God, I need a drink. Or a cigarette

If it was women, it would go like 

Ohhh! I really want that new Van Cleef, but Daddy ended up buying that Cartier bracelet for me.

Ugh, bestie!!! I wanted that new Rhode smoothie, but there are no fuckass cute cafes, even on the Kook side.

I think my boyfriend’s cheating on me (this is valid, and they probably deserve to run men through a tar road)

Girl, I need a drink.

First world problems, lemme tell you.

You might ask, what about me then?

Well, I wait tables around here, as you probably would have known. I also bartend if the boss asks me to. And I clean the floor and the tables and sometimes take care of the register.

At this point, I am running this bar like the Navy, but nobody wants to talk about it.

Is the pay worth it? Nope, absolute-fucking-not. I work for nearly nine hours a day and get paid only two and a half dollars per hour. I don’t get extra sick days except for the allotted 12 days a week, and half of the tips go to the owner officially….wink. And I smell like yeast every day after my shift.

Yay. I am so happy.

 Bullshit.

At least I get to see mid to okayish-looking white men. Occasionally, other races, but hey, who am I fooling here? Most of the people frequenting here have zero percent of melanin. 

It was a slow day at the pristine country club, with its tall false ceilings and fancy glass upholstery and lighting, a huge white marble counter encircling the veranda with shell white and pastel green chairs and tables fit snugly on the granite floor which I clean every day that I see my own reflection. 

Which I am doing right now. 

My feet were gliding on the slippery wet floor as I saw myself scrubbing the white tile which was stained with “your finest Bloody Mary please!”  the blood-red stain laughing in my face. I am tired and exasperated and I need a drink. That I didn’t make with my own hands. I looked up as the summer breeze made my stray hairs encounter my eyes; my vision blessed with one of the most picturesque sunsets I have ever witnessed after settling in Outer Banks. The golden Sun was muted orange now, glistening as the white tufts of clouds were colored inside by the marine blue sky. For a moment then, everything felt right.

“SOFIA, GO DOWNSTAIRS TO THE INVENTORY AND GET ME A BOTTLE OF THAT OLD RUM”

Spoke too soon. 

I turned towards the source of the source and there he was, my boss.

Benjamin Alexander Portridge. Long name. I know. Everyone around the town calls him Mr. Portridge. But all of us working in the bar called him Benny Bitch behind his back. He is the textbook definition of a schmooze. Five feet tall, unnaturally thin with his pinstripe pants and suit and an eerie gold pin with a bear engraved on it resting on his breast pocket that he wears every day like a magician at a circus, if you are a Kook with some cha-ching on your purse he would snag, grab and treat you like you are his next wife or something. He would “warmly” welcome you with a “Good evening, gentleman. How can I help you?” with him trailing over them like a hawk. Then he would sweet-talk them, talking about “da birds and da bees” and switch over like a chameleon; slowly collecting all the dirty laundry of Kooks who smile and make small talk with him. 

It's too bad he doesn’t air it out to us. He just zooms around and pierces you with his look while you’re pouring drinks and most importantly when we collect money, his snake eyes follow the line of money. And he screams out orders when no one is around. 

I wobbled and carefully stood on the floor, slowly placing the “Don’t Walk, Slippery Floor” sign, I saw a fuzz of blonde walking right into the area, her hot pink headphones bobbing along with her strawberry blonde bob, navy blue skirt swaying as she strutted with no care. I can hear Ayesha Erotica blasting through her phone.

“MISSY, DON’T WALK INTO THE WET FLOOR”

“WHAT, SOF, WAIT, OH-”

Her right foot dramatically went up in the air while she scrambled to keep her weight steady for a hot minute, failed miserably, and fell with a soft yet powerful THUD.

“OW!” she let out a small yelp as she was rubbing her bruised hands on her uniform, her butt still planted on the wet floor. I slowly walked near her, careful not to fall flat on my ass, helping her stand steady and taking her near to the bar counter. 

“Sofia, girl why didn’t you tell me you were cleaning? Oh, my ass, my ass.”

I threw my head back, exasperated. I literally put up a sign that wrote “SLIPPERY FLOOR” in black, bold letters” in front of her eyes. And I told her exactly that.

“Missy, look in front of you, there is a sign called ‘WET FLOOR’”

“Fine. I heard Benny Bitch call for something, that’s why I came back from my cig break” she said in her airy voice, dusting off any ashes from her white polo uniform. Lia “Missy” Robinson is a character, alright. A loud, boisterous, chain smoker, changes her hair color based on the weather (this is true, she even explained her mechanism once on a break) and is a “proud Gemini” because “Gemini’s are crucified everywhere and I, for one, think that’s bullshit” (her words, not mine), Missy was the first person I met when I came to work here in the fine establishment (I am baring my molars when I am saying this, by the way) of Pelican Bay Country Club (I mean who even names a club like that?) two months ago at Outer Banks. Benny told me that I needed a mentor when I started out and he “appointed” Missy, (whatever that’s supposed to mean) and all she did was, flick her cigarette on the floor and said 

“Olives may be stale but those idiots don’t know that so don’t hesitate to give them that. If anyone comes at you for making the drink wrong, just put extra tequila on it. If a fight happens, see if they start to punch each other and if you see blood, then call Benny. And if you want to smoke, there’s a basement room right next to the inventory. Finally, welcome to hell. And I like the bangs. Keep it.” she motioned towards my hair.

She’s cool and doesn’t take shit from anyone which I like since sometimes my shy self can get flustered whenever some customers get a bit unsavory and try saying, “I CAN NOT BELIEVE WE ARE LETTING POGUES TO MAKE US DRINKS, YOU ARE SHIT AT EVERYTHING YOU DO” 

“No, he asked me to get rum from downstairs.”

“Well damn, I fell on my ass for nothing then. It’s fine, I’ll go get it for you. I came all the way from sexting my neighbor for this, might as well make myself useful.”

Oh, I forgot to tell you, Missy is synonymous with Too Much Information. 

Even though I really don’t want to go to the basement for the tenth time today, I am a bit unsure about letting a “butt-hurt” Missy get hurt again or worse, get her hands cut by dropping the bottle.

“Are you sure, Missy? I don’t mind”

“Positive”

“Ok, then….but take the one from the top shelf. Otherwise, I’ll be the one staying late having another “mixologist” revision.”

She struggled to get up from the barstool so I helped her up again and she ambled her way to the basement; leaving me alone with only Jeremy on the bar. He works with me on the counter during my shifts, we are not friends or even acquaintances but we just wave at each other and relay messages to each other during work.

That’s the definition of a colleague. And I just realized that. 

It’s not that I don’t want to be alone with him, it’s just that it gets so awkward when we are alone in between shifts or when cleaning the place. He doesn’t know anything about me and I don’t know anything about him except the fact that he owns a pet tarantula named “Gary” from some crocodile hunter in “Animal Planet” (he mentioned it to me when an old Kook spotted a spider outside the club and screamed, “OH MY GOD, THERE ARE BLOOD SUCKING HEATHENS HERE!!! I AM NEVER COMING BACK TO THIS CLUB.”)

And it’s way too overdue to ask him about his life and vice versa. So we just work in silence or I blast my headphones high to avoid the tension. There’s no such thing as comfortable silence when you’re with people. 

Begrudgingly, I passed by the uniformly arranged chairs and made my way to the lockers located way inside, past the attached kitchen which serves “elevated bar food” in the evenings. As I went inside the stuffy room resembling the gym locker room minus the stench with its seafoam green walls, I saw my other “colleagues” and janitors standing in pairs of two to four, gossiping and applying light makeup to their faces. Their heads swiveled towards me as I came in, everyone collectively saying “Hi, Sofia” and then going on with their lives. After chirping in a squeaky “Hello!” back, I reached my locker, its rusty blue door littered with photos of all the people I hold close to my heart: a family photo of my mamá and papá standing in front of a cathedral in Mexico; that was them on their wedding day; an old photo of my abuelas posing with my thirteen-year-old self wearing a baby pink tutu and a polaroid of my two hermanas Isabella and Alejandra and my brother Theo smiling at the camera holding our cat, Mishmish. I smiled looking at their pure laughs spilling from the photo and opened my locker, taking out my face wash and towel from my cherry-red handbag.

I gave up a lot for them. It doesn’t mean it stopped hurting when I stopped dreaming but the fact that I am able to help my ma put food on the table or at least try to lessen her burden is more than enough for me. All I can do is get through every day, hoping that I can stop surviving and start living. 

My introspections got cut off as my ears caught onto two waiters gossiping in the common washroom, my eyes closed and hands automatically washing off the suds of my face as I half-heartedly listened to them. 

“No way he is back”

“Yes way, Tammy told me that she saw Rafe Cameron at Tannyhill when she was walking Mrs. Daisy’s dog”

Oh, I have heard of him. 

Rafe Cameron. 

I vaguely remember his dad’s name coming up on the news some time ago or maybe my dad told me about him sometimes passing in a random conversation. The notorious Kook Prince. Never seen him though. I only know of him through other’s opinions of him and safe to say, that nobody likes him. Not from what I heard anyway. 

“Oh, but his dad is dead and he and his family disappeared off the face of the Earth and now he’s back…after two months…that’s suspicious as fuck”

“You know him, that cokehead must have done something. Too bad, looks hot as fuck but truly a wasted potential”

I wanted to eavesdrop more but then stopped myself. I have a shift in ten minutes and I hate inserting myself in other people’s business and plus I don’t want to hear Katya talk about her periods as she stopped talking about drama altogether. Who knows, maybe I’ll see this infamous guy one day and see for myself if he’s “fuckable or not” (again, not my words)

Oh, if only I knew. 

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

The club was packed tonight in spite of its spacious open space floor; a sea of beiges, pastel shades, and tan pants flooded my senses; my eyes and feet dizzy from the dim lighting and my feet haphazardly dancing on the granite, palms barely holding onto the huge wooden plates containing a plethora of drinks and poisons of all sorts: you name it, I have it my hand and I’ll probably drop it on some Kook’s head if I don’t get a break. 

Such is the life of an underpaid bartender. God, I need to go home. 

Exhaustion pushed me as I slowly went inside my safe space, on the other side of the counter. I mean, it’ll still hurt but I don’t have to look like a circus elephant running on a ball when I am just pouring drinks and manning the counter. Jeremy came barrelling towards me, sweat and all silently screaming, “You take care here, I’ll go serve the drinks”

I gotta hand it to him, no matter the awkward glances. He’s running this place like Benny is going to give him the keys to the bar next Saturday. And I respect him for that. Everybody calls him a weirdo but he’s always been reliable to the T. Helping me with the accounts, serving customers at lightning speed and sometimes he stays until I leave my shift which I always felt was sweet. Or maybe it’s creepy and I still don’t know how to take cues from strangers. But all I said was a small, “Okay!”

So here I am, serving the nth Long Island Teas to a throng of women adorning body-con dresses chatting up about the next big party happening in the Bahamas and how they should totally look up all the restaurants in the cruise. The back of my hand swept across my sweaty forehead, a pristine fake smile plastered on my face, and deftly moved my shaker as I made another Cosmo for another customer. My hands were gangly, ready to give out but I kept saying “Just 30 mins more, just 30 mins” like a mantra as I broke the ice from the icebox into a perfect rectangular cube, dropped it on the sherry glass and swiftly poured the drink from my shaker and twisting an orange peel on the rim of the glass, my hands shaky as I gave the drink to the lone woman scrolling Instagram chirping, “One Cosmo Ready”

As she graced me with a polite smile, I recognized that the bar rush slowed down; leaving with only a bunch of people standing around. My lungs caved in peace, and finally some rest. 

Or so I thought. 

You know the infamous trope where your eyes meet someone, you know that they are going to change your life forever, well I felt that was an anomaly, maybe it’s true but I feel that’s just attraction you know, or infatuation, but life-changing?

I don’t thi-

I didn't meet the love of my life in some grand fashion, like dancing in the rain or dropping my books onto his feet or the classic colliding on each other’s shoulders. I met him as I was dying my hands on a dish towel, hearing a loud call from a distance screaming, “RAFE CAMERON IS BACK BABY”

I turned around and there he was in his six-foot glory, the man I knew from whispers. 

Rafe Cameron. 

He walked over languidly, with Topper Thorton hand’s resting on his bicep like a loose branch; his arms and entire body swinging as he welcomed his supposed friend with loud, rumbling cheers. Topper was clearly inebriated or the folks say, pissed as hell.

But the first thing my eyes caught on about Rafe Cameron was his eyes. 

They were eerily blue. 

No, not just blue.

They were Aquamarine. 

The pair walked over my direction, to the counter, Rafe sporting a small smile as his unsteady feet went back and forth, his mouth mumbling nonsense as he stopped right in front of my eyeline. Now that I can see him in all his entirety under the blinding warm lights, my brain conjured so many miniscule details about this perfect stranger like the small mole on the back of his left palm, the million freckles that littered his face, short blonde buzzcut ending just inches from his nape, broad shoulders sporting a navy blue and white checkered shirt, grey linen pants with those black Oxford’s; the smell of cigarettes and fresh mint gum on his breath, fingers drumming up on the marble counter in a non-uniform staccato; aquamarine eyes holding a tornado of emotions that I can’t even grasp. And that damn head tilt he graced me as he said to me, 

“Hi, can I get an old-fashioned?”

Fuck, Naya was right. He looks gorgeous. 

“Coming right up” Now that I think about it, I didn’t even recognize that my voice reached that high when I squeaked that response.

He just smiled at me, nodding in understanding. I tried to be nonchalant, not making eye contact as my body mechanically reached up to the whiskey cabinet behind me. As I tipped over to reach the Jack Daniels Bottle, I could physically sense his eyes on me, scrutinizing my every move. My stance faltered, hands more shaky than usual as I gripped the glass bottle with all my strength, moving right back to my initial position. I can mix an old-fashioned in my sleep at this point, but for some reason, I was not feeling my mojo today. Instead, my feelings were having an out-of-body experience of being…shy for no reason. As I bent down the counter to get the muddle, I heard him say, 

“I have never seen you around here before, you new here?”

I shot right back up, muddle in my left hand and my heart in my other. 

“Umm...depends on how you define new. I started working here around two months ago.” I replied, trying not to meet his eyes. 

“Oh ok, then you are new here. I haven’t been here for three months so yeah, that’s why I didn’t recognize you….Miss?”

He was nearly crowding the counter now, hands on the marble and his face fairly near mine. His eyes wandered to my chest and I was going to have a heart attack at that very moment. Then I realized what he was doing. 

He was looking for my name badge. The badge I forgot to wear today. 

Shit.

“Sofia” 

“Well, Sofia, I am sure that you know my name…” 

Of course. The cokehead, fuckup, nepo-baby of Outer Banks. Bad News. But I didn't tell him that. I just played along with him.

“Oh, I mean I have heard about you but I don’t know for sure if that’s what your name is…I don’t wanna presume, you know”

He was full-on smirking now, “No, no, tell me what you think my name is, I don’t mind being misnamed” 

I tilted my head a bit, putting my fingers on my face, feigning deep thought, “Is it…Ralph, or Rocky or I don’t know, Ryan?”

His mouth went agape and his hands clutched his chest laughing, “Nope, I think you know my name, and by the way, do I even look like my name would be Ryan? God, that would be a disgrace” 

“Sorry, Mr. Rafe. I thought you looked like a Ryan. My deepest, most sincere apologies for the wrong assumptions” I was measuring the bitters now and pouring it into the drink. 

“Hmm…apology half accepted ‘cuz I’ll see if I wanna grant you my full apology after I judge your drink” 

I let out a breathy chuckle as I broke the ice, again, gently stirring the drink, “We’ll see” 

His attention was centered on me now, his focus zeroing on my hands and the way they twisted the single lemon peel around and twirled it on the rim of his glass. I was trembling inside, hoping to God that he wouldn’t catch my countenance stumbling and falling under his gaze. With steady hands and a frenzy heart, I gave the whiskey glass to the blue-eyed man, his hands feathered over my fingers as he took it from me. My hands felt a zap as if I touched lightning with my fingertips. His fingers were not baby-soft like most Kooks since their palms have never touched anything that makes them sweat or even work. His fingers were slightly calloused, my hands feeling the slight ridges of skin peeling off just from a moment of touch.

Fuck, why am I hyper-ventilating. 

This feeling is so unlike my usual range of emotions about Kooks from passivity to anger to slight envy about their riches, shiny gold watches, and their airiness about life that comes with money. And he is the wealthiest of them all. It’s not like my heart is beating like I need to marry this guy tomorrow rather like a wave of curiosity and a lick of infatuation encasing like no other. 

The side of his mouth turned to a slight smicker as he downed the first gulp of my drink, faking a deep thought for a minute as he replied, “Not bad, Ms.Sofia. Not bad at all.”

I was trying to look busy, looking at the blank screen of the bar computer and clicking any buttons as I said, “Told you. Now, can you apologize? Mister Rafe…”

“Cameron. And I do apologize Miss Sofia…?”

I still don’t remember why I said that whacky reply as I looked straight up at stuttered, “Cameron”

Now why did I say that? He was full-on smiling now, clutching the glass in his hands as he said, “Sofia Cameron, sounds like I should have known before ‘cuz you have my last name too.”

I was fumbling so badly, “NO, NO. It’s Ramirez. I’m Sofia Ramirez”

He was slowly shaking his head as he extended his hand to me, “Ok then, Sofia Ramirez. I take your apology in full payment. Shake on it?”

I looked around from side to side, hoping that Benny Bitch wasn’t near me as my hands snaked onto his for a firm handshake, feeling his rough yet delicate hands on mine. Fuck, I need to calm down. 

I was crashing out as I chucked, “You know this is bullshit right. What are we even doing right now?”  

“I don’t know, I thought I was trying to chat up the new bartender of the country club.”

“Well, you should stop 'cause my shift ends in like” I glanced at my imaginary wristwatch as I said, “Now. It’s nice to meet Rafe but I gotta clock out. Hope you have a good night…drinking.” 

He turned around while sitting on the barstool, raising his glass in response, “I will, Miss Sofia. Good night”

As I rushed towards the small outdoor from the counter with my satchel in clutch and my battered white Keds hot on the floor, I could feel Rafe’s eyes hovering over me, gazing at every movement I made, every breath I took. I felt pink with all this attention on me. 

I practically sprinted my way to the main reception as I went up to Maria, the receptionist; signed my name on the register, and reached my beat-down cherry-red Pontiac, Betty. I shut the car door so fast, that my stray hair went flying up to my eyes. God, this is the second time this happened today. 

The car roared to life, as I put my feet on the gas; the radio blasting a random tune. I cranked it up high, not really ready to ruminate over everything that just materialized minutes ago. I heard a pop song playing on the FM, not knowing what specific song it was 

“A very humble apology to talk mid-song but I just wanted the very good evening to all the lovely Outer Banks listeners, this is Bianca Richardson from XOXO FM 207.34. On this fine Wednesday night, I wanna call all the Swifties to sing along to this fine-ass tune so enjoy listening to Gorgeous by my favorite, Taylor Swift”

I hate the cruel play of time. 

“Ocean blue eyes 

Looking in mine

I feel like I might 

Sink and drown and die”

As the song went with only the late July breeze keeping me company, I was naively unaware that my life completely changed that night. As I caught a glimpse of the coastline beside the straight road through the side view mirror, my mind lingered on the color of the waves crashing on the beach. 

They were as blue as his eyes.

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

Chapter 2

Author's Notes:

HEYYO, Long time no see!!! I am so sorry for the very late update. Life kicked me several times so I needed a long nap. Well here we are, with the first official chapter of the fic. Please please let me know how's the chap cuz I want to improve my writing as much as I can.

By the way, l wanna switch pov's and see what works best but for this one, I chose Sofia's pov. AGAIN LIKES, COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE SO SO APPRECIATED, but seriously every time you guys say anything I genuinely feel fireworks in my heart, thank u for your support.

This is just the beginning, you guys are in for a LONG RIDE. I am taking an hour every day for this fic so I'll be trying to update the next chapter as soon as possible even though I am very tight with college and life.

Byeee. Love youuu :)))))))))))

Please lemme know if you wanna be on the tag list.

[witchyleehibernates-fics]

Of All The Things You Could Have Done (Why?)

Summary:

Techno absolutely refused to pick up the child. He came into the room like Philza had pleaded, he met them, he wanted to go to his room and debate his life… intimately… maybe he would move out, let Kristin deal with her eccentric husband while Techno’s life went back to normal. But what was normal? Waking up, going to work at a nine-to-five to just barely make rent of an apartment? Nevermind trying to feed himself? Techno was bulkier, especially in the chest-shoulder’s area from his highschool years. He took in calories like a bodybuilder, though Techno was a measly librarian at an elementary school. He felt another wave of that buzz again, a glance telling him that Purpled was still trying to get Techno to pick them up. Techno picked up his book instead, one hundred percent intending to ignore Purpled.

Content Warning's/Trigger Warnings: Surprise adoption! Cryptid Philza, alien Tommy, alien Purpled, Technoblade contemplates his life choices, fluff

Characters: Technoblade, Philza, TommyInnit, Purpled, Kristin

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,868

Status: Complete

Fanfic Links:

|| Ao3 || Fanfiction Net ||

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Techno sometimes had to stop and think to ask himself ‘What is my life?’ nearly four times a day. Though, maybe four was an exaggeration, because while his life was… certainly interesting, living with a Goddess of Death and her Angel of Death Husband.

Kristin was lovely, and well adjusted to human life, which Techno was thankful for. She often talked with him about art, and Techno knew that she was interested in going into either college for art and teaching… or politics.

Techno would amuse himself by pondering what the world would look like with a Goddess, known or not, as their leader. Especially the Goddess of Death, who really wants people to stop dying for ‘stupid ass’ reasons.

Techno had to agree with her.

But then there was Philza, who was once human and should have been the well adjusted one between him and his wife… However, Philza often forgot, or nearly forgot, to hide his wings. They weren’t in the Void, which was his wife’s domain, therefore Philza absolutely had to hide his wings. Techno knew the winged one hated it. Something about it dampening his connection with his wife, which Techno didn’t understand in the slightest.

And that was just the start of it.

There were things that Techno never thought he would have to tell Phil, or remind him of. Examples included, but not limited to, were: “No, you can’t use coffee in replacement of milk… No, don't use water either!” and “Phil… Phil… No, taking an unattended child is called kidnapping and we could get in serious trouble.” were the most often Techno had found himself saying.

Surprisingly, “Philza… Laws exist for a reason. No you cannot speed, and flying isn’t allowed either. Killing is called Murder, not a phone call to your wife while she’s doing her deity things.” was one that he was surprised about having to tell Philza, someone who was all about rules… apparently to an extent if he thought they were particularly stupid or dumb.

Techno sometimes regretted befriending ‘Angel’, as Techno would call him when he was particularly annoyed with Philza, at times. Other’s he was just thankful, because the amount of people thinking he came from ‘old money’ and thus have tried to rob or mug him was nearly reaching triple digits. Philza had a way of ‘teleporting’ or something to Techno the moment he felt that Techno was in danger.

It would have been amusing had it not also startled him every damn time Philza just appeared while Techno was cornered to some degree. He once thought that Philza stalked him when he was out of the house, but no.

Techno didn’t know which he would have preferred.

Though, Techno wondered if the ‘icing on the cake’ of instances that Techno wondered what life choices had led his life to becoming so… chaotic was definitely a word for it… Despite knowing exactly which one… Would have been the time Philza had brought home a child that was most definitely not of the human world… or the deity side of things either.

How Philza had found an alien baby, much less two, was beyond Techno.

“Phil.” Techno stopped as he stared at the two… toddlers… sitting in the living room. Techno hesitated to call them toddlers, given that they seemed a tad bit younger than even a year old, and the antennae coming from their hairline definitely made Techno weary even thinking about going near them.

The two ‘toddlers’ also both had tails and seemingly fang like teeth, at least the one had two fangs poking out from their mouth. Techno was sure the one had claws that looked too sharp for going anywhere near, while the other had razor sharp feathers seemingly protecting their ears.

If that one grew wings, Techno was absolutely never letting Philza leave the house ever again. If he wants to stretch his wings, he can absolutely go visit his wife instead of just flying around the property that Kristin had helped Techno purchase. Something he refused to ask her as to how it happened.

And his friend was casually playing with the both of them like they were human. Cooing at them, which did earn him giggles from the two children. Though, Techno’s voice had attracted the attention of both children, who looked nearly identical… other than the aforementioned traits Techno had already picked out earlier.

He was unnerved by their eyes, both of which were glowing in the now dimming light of the house.

“Techno! Mate! Come here, come here!” Philza brightened up when his eyes landed on Techno. Techno made a face as he looked at Philza, electing to ignore the two… babies… Techno would call them babies for now.

“Philza.” Philza pouted at Techno, probably sensing that Techno was not as thrilled as he was. “What-how-Why?” Techno ran his hands over his face; exasperation and fondness fighting to be the main emotion that Techno was feeling. “Philza.”

“Techno, come here.” Philza uttered again, “Come meet them!” Techno only continued to stare with a deadpan expression, and his friend continued to pout. Techno didn’t know if it was the fondness for his friend, the other thousand crazy situations that Techno had ended up in because of his friend, or the cooing of the babies… but he sighed as he started walking forward.

Philza’s expression lit up, and Techno sighed as he moved to his chair, the one piece of furniture that Techno had reserved for only him. He was the only one allowed to sit in it, which Kristin and Philza both respected.

“This is Tommy, and this is Purpled!” Philza introduced the babies, both who were staring unnervingly at Techno. Neither were blinking, either. Techno stared back at the two of them with a raised eyebrow. “Tommy, Purpled,” Both babies looked at Philza when he said their names. Techno pretended that didn’t unnerve him as much as it did. “This is Techno, a very good friend of mine.”

Techno wondered if maybe, for their species, they were much older than Techno thought. Because it almost looked like the two had communicated somehow before looking back at Techno. The one with purple eyes, Purpled, moved to crawl towards him. The one with blue eyes, Tommy, fell back and giggled when Philza caught him, a hand having already been moving out to catch the swaying baby.

Techno, feeling a small and utterly tiny hand on his ankle, looked down, sighing internally as he saw that Purpled had crawled their way to Techno and was touching him hesitantly. It seemed that they didn’t quite know what to make of Techno; which was a shared sentiment.

There was a mental buzz that Techno felt, and he could have sworn that there was some sort of voice ushering Techno to pick up Purpled. He figured that’s how they communicated, maybe that was how they communicated with Philza. Techno ignored the voice, and Purpled got teary eyed, leaning against Techno’s shin.

Techno absolutely refused to pick up the child. He came into the room like Philza had pleaded, he met them, he wanted to go to his room and debate his life… intimately… maybe he would move out, let Kristin deal with her eccentric husband while Techno’s life went back to normal.

But what was normal?

Waking up, going to work at a nine-to-five to just barely make rent of an apartment? Nevermind trying to feed himself? Techno was bulkier, especially in the chest-shoulder’s area from his highschool years. He took in calories like a bodybuilder, though Techno was a measly librarian at an elementary school.

He felt another wave of that buzz again, a glance telling him that Purpled was still trying to get Techno to pick them up. Techno picked up his book instead, one hundred percent intending to ignore Purpled.

The wave of absolute sadness had a deep sigh escaping Techno through his nose, even as his eyes darted to Philza. Why hadn’t Philza said anything recently? Techno was annoyed to find Philza just… not there. Neither was the other child, which told Techno it probably had something to do with the other child. There was, seemingly, a sniffle of some kind from Purpled, and Techno could absolutely not believe he was being manipulated by a baby.

“What is my life?” Techno sighed, glancing down at Purpled. He set his book back off to the side, reaching down and picking Purpled up by the back of their onesie, when had Philza had time to go baby clothes shopping? Techno swore that if Kristin had anything to do with that, Techno would riot. No more cooking for them, they would have to figure it out themselves.

Knowing Kristin, she probably already knew how to cook too.

“Only this time.” Techno muttered, letting the baby lay on his chest as he reclined in his recliner, barely reaching behind him to grab the blanket to drape over the both of them. Techno could feel that Purpled was feeling smug, and doubting the ‘only this time’ from Techno.

Techno ignored the wave of emotions he could feel from Purpled, letting the baby settle in the crook of his arm, a blanket just about holding Purpled in place with the crook of Techno’s arm. Techno moved and grabbed his book again. He had been wanting to read this book for several months but something kept interrupting him every time.

He’d successfully gotten one chapter in the last attempt, but Techno started over and quietly read out loud to Purpled. He wasn’t sure if Purpled would understand the story, or half the words, but Purpled settled down, and at some point, fell asleep.

“Aweh, mate!” Techno had just reached the end of the chapter, so he glanced up at his friend and raised an eyebrow. Standing just behind him was Kristin, who was holding Tommy and smiling softly at Techno.

“I have three,” Techno paused, checking how many chapters he had left. “I have four chapters left of my book. Go away.” Techno waved the two off, glancing down at Purpled who was sleepily blinking; one hand was raised and resting on Techno’s chest, clutching at Techno’s shirt.

Kristin snorted, even as Philza’s jaw dropped slightly.

“Techno, Purpled needs to eat.” Kristin told him, Techno paused from where he’d tried to start reading again.

“And currently he’s napping, so therefore I am reading the book that I have been trying to read for nearly five months. I have four chapters left.” Techno told them, restarting the chapter and deciding to ignore his friends. Purpled sighed, his hand relaxing from how tightly he’d been gripping Techno’s shirt.

Faintly, he could hear Kristin laughing as Philza sputtered.

“He didn’t even want to enter the room before!”

“Seems like he likes Purpled, though.”

Techno slouched a little further in his chair, sighing slightly as he flipped a page in his book.

Techno could and would complain all he liked about his friend and his eccentrics’. But Techno would never ask Phil to change… much. He cherished his friend, and he cherished his friendship with Kristin. Techno wouldn’t change any-much, Techno wouldn’t change much about his life.

[crystalgastles]

After the flesh

so, this is the revised first chapter and the second chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction, I'm trying to get it posted on ao3 but i have yet to receive an invite email to create an account. read my jeff information post before this to get a feel for his personality. love, Alex

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold gray of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore. 

The remnants of last night's events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse. 

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

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Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker? 

I never know anymore. Lines blur, the faces are warped, people look  like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man. 

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood. 

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease. 

The diners' bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups. I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them? 

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure of it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a schoolgirl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room. 

Someone else could clean it.

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself. 

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone. 

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while  I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak. 

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort. 

Politician. I killed a local politician's entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up.  Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back. 

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because of the accident they caused. Not the server. 

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower. 

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

My keys clinked on the glass of the entryway table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen,  a glowing green blob that I could barely make out read 9:15. 

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not waking up, going to work, smoking a cigarette, shower, watching tv, checking the landline for messages that my mother still sent me,  begging me to come home. I can’t. 

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t-shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in. 

Tap tap tap 

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door. I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for at that moment. 

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open. 

She forgot to lock the door. 

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what I could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine there next. 

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter. 

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood,  my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so I could have some semblance of safety. 

A deep gravelly voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.” 

What the fuck. 

I tried to think of something, anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs are still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach” 

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life” 

,

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood,  my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so I could have some semblance of safety. 

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly. 

--------------------------------------------------

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand. 

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced. 

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed  inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server, stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child 

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.” 

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friend's name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me 

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money 

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart” 

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back made me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him. 

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle” 

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong” 

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when I could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees. 

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants. 

I saw the tv on the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home. 

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound, surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I reached up, grabbing this person's wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that I could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries. Can't go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states. 

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me. 

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board. 

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep” 

----------------------------------------------------------------

I crawled away into the corner of my room, hands and knees bruised from fighting. I grabbed my lighter off the windowsill. I flicked it, the flame sputtering for a moment and then burning out as I held it out towards him in a feigned attempt to scare him away with the threat of burning him. He slowly removed his hood, long black ,wet hair fell over his shoulders, one of his eyebrows seemed to be burned off halfway with a Glasgow smile scar that looked to still be healing , taken over by burns running up to where the tail of his eyebrow should be. Burn scars covered half his neck up to his jaw. I recognized his hands, his hair and sharp features. I served him coffee earlier today at work, nothing else. He tipped me with a 20 dollar bill before he stormed out of the restaurant. He was going to kill me, he followed me home from work and waited until my roommate wasn’t home to do god knows what to me and then leave my body in a dumpster, torn apart. Or cut me up into little pieces and serve me on a silver platter, and keep my head in the freezer or bleach my bones and wear them as a necklace or turn my hair into a wig and dance around pretending to be me or- My mind kept running in circles of every horror movie trope I had ever come across and just stood and watched as he looked at me as if waiting for me to say something. I dug the hand that wasn’t clutching my lighter into the shag of my carpet. Feeling the soft fibers while I tried to think of a way out. I screamed as he slowly moved towards me as if I were a stray feral cat he was trying to crate and he didn’t want me to run away, I threw the lighter at him, smacking him square in the forehead with it before it fell at his feet, and crunched under the weight of his boot before he slowly pulled a large knife out of the hoodie pocket, sharp and glistening from the streetlight outside my bedroom window. I closed my eyes, preparing for the sharp burning pain of being stabbed in the stomach or shoulder but nothing

came. I slowly opened one eye and saw he put it on the windowsill, crouching down to meet my sitting position on the floor to look me in the eye.

“You should really start locking that patio door” 

--------------------------------------------------------

I crouched in front of them, my eyes locking with theirs, the rain dripping from my hair making a slow patter on the fabric of her sweatpants. While I tried to analyze their features, their eyes looked like saucers, their bottom lip quivered. Soft features looked at me with so much fear it made me start to question why I was even terrorizing her. They were staring at me, at my face, seeming to analyze me as well, specifically staring at my mouth. My scar, something from my teenage years that never seems to fully heal. I open it back up on hard nights when lights are too bright and memories flood my mind. “Fucked up right” I tried to talk, attempting to make the thick atmosphere of the room lift by pointing out what they were staring at. Picking their hand up gently and placing his fingers on the edges of the deep scar to try and show her I wasn’t going to do anything. I really needed food and a shower. Maybe a cigarette. “I did this repeatedly as a kid, you’re stupid when you’re 17.” They stared wide mouthed at me and were silent. Cracked sounds escaping their lips as if they were trying to speak but the words got stuck in their teeth. Slow uhs and ums, making me almost laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The blood, my blood on their face reminded me of the gash in my arm and hand. I needed to stitch that up, or bandage it as best I could. A small voice broke the silence of my thoughts, their hand was on my face even though I had moved my own. “Have you been stalking me” I couldn’t help but laugh, it could be seen like that. They

saw me at the diner earlier and then later the same day I’m breaking and entering into their apartment. I hadn’t been.

 “No, actually. I didn’t even know this was your apartment.” 

“Why are you here? Are you gonna murder me? 

""No. No no I’m not. I was hoping no one was here 

""Well…um can you go?” 

“I need a shower, food, a different hoodie maybe. Do you smoke?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“I was hoping you had a cigarette” 

“I do. I don’t have a lighter anymore though.” 

“Sorry about that” 

“Yeah um”

 The conversation was awkward. I backed away as they slowly unraveled from their ball on the floor while I sat on the bed, cradling my hand so the blood wouldn’t stain their bedding. They stood, keeping their eyes on me while backing towards my knife on the windowsill slowly. Not grabbing it, only standing in front of it. “Thanks for the 20 today. I uh. Appreciate it, you can shower if you need to. If you have a lighter I have reds in the kitchen.” I remembered the diner, the men. The crunch of bone and I winced. Do I tell them I killed two of the guys who tripped them? Or do I just accept their thanks and move on. Let them find out on their own. “You’re welcome.” 

The sting of the steady flow of steam and water piercing the gash on my arm made me hiss while the brown of old blood fell down my shoulders and into the drain while I dug the dirt off of my scalp. 

My hair has grown, it was barely past my shoulders when I first left home and now it reached my mid back. I tried to cut it but I never could do it properly. Only she could. All I had left of her was the silver crucifix I wore. Even now in the shower. I don’t want to risk losing it. 

Towel around my hips, I looked under the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit, my good arm feeling around the wood for anything to patch myself up. I grabbed the kit. Biting the inside of my cheek, I poured rubbing alcohol on my wounds , digging my fingers into my palm as it stung like hellfire. 

The kind of pain I knew too well , I wrapped the gauze on my arm and hand before taping it so it’d be secure enough for me to bend and move my arm. Getting dressed in the old bleach stained black hoodie they gave me I turned the gold door knob that was starting to turn silver from ware and stood face to face with them. 

“I put your other hoodie in my washing machine. I’m not sure how well those stains are gonna come out though.” 

I couldn’t understand why they were being nice to me. Maybe out of fear, maybe out of just pure indifference to the situation, or loneliness, something I could also relate to, in some sick twisted sense. 

I didn't say anything, just pushed past them with a nod. Examining the shelves of books, glass figurines and cds on the shelves of a bookcase, skeleton stuffed animals on the couch along with a ‘worlds best grandma’ pillow and so many blankets with different animals printed on the plush

fabric thrown onto a side chair. One with the face of a raccoon plastered on it, another with three wolves and a moon in the back and a few others I couldn't quite make out. 

“You have a lot of things”

“Oh. yeah I guess”

“Who is the world's best grandma”

“Oh um, it's an Inside joke”

“I have a lighter in my pocket, if you want to smoke”

“Sure”

I liked them. I liked the shortness they expressed with me, I wanted to dig, find that personality I saw in the shelves of their bookcase. Dissect every Part of their brain, study it and look it over again. 

The flick of the lighter, the inhale of smoke and a sweet flow of nicotine grazed my lungs. I reached out tilting my head as if to tell them to come closer so I could light theirs. They stood four feet away from me but came closer when I held out the flame “come on I’m not gonna bite” 

As they blew the smoke into the darkness of the night air I saw his shoulders relax the orange of the burning paper illuminating her fingers as they took another drag. 

 “I killed the guy who tripped you”

“What?’

“I killed him and the guy who sat beside him” 

“I, um”

“Not for you. But I thought you’d want to know” 

“How’d you do it?” 

I raised an eyebrow at the question. She was so nonchalant in the delivery it almost made me question if they believed me at all as they inhaled more of the smoke, I did the same. 

“Curb Stomped the guy who laughed the hardest, turned the other one into minced meat”

“Do you think they deserved it?”

“I guess, do you think they did?”

“Yeah. But I also think you should be in prison”

“I have been, when I was 17, shoplifting and property damage.”

“Huh”

“They made me do drag, was the only one in there with long hair” 

“I guess you don’t want to go back then” 

“I wouldn't enjoy it , no”

I didn't enjoy talking about my youth. I wanted to make them more comfortable with me being there rather than keeping a distance, having a place to stay where I felt welcomed would be refreshing. The burning tobacco finally reached the filter and I put out the rest of the paper on the glass ashtray resting against a glass table and turned to them as they took a final long drag and did the same. Their arm reached over me, and grazed

my hair when they put out their cigarette and I felt as if I were making progress in cracking that shell. 

“I don't know how i feel about you being here but, it's better than what i usually do and I don't think you will leave ,even if I ask again”

“You’d be right”

“Can you not find anyone else”

“I don't want to.”

“Genuinely why, what is so intriguing about my house” 

“You’re letting me stay, you did my laundry, let me shower and gave me a cigarette, do you rescue stray cats a lot?”

“No.”

[koifishart]

I want to be Your Koi Fish - Nine Tails

Warning: +18 content, criminal underworld, intercourse, strong language - and so on

Fanfiction based on: "Baki" by Itagaki Keisuke

>19<

*chapter dedicated for godly talented Moo0n_k, who gave me permission to use Hanayama's outfit she drew.

She had seen it no other than to get rid of the tiring drone once and for all, and the most appropriate punishment in this case was the Viking blood eagle. The spec, as a gaijin, could not receive the honor of an honorable, samurai death, and the rest did not take it into account. Actually, she always wanted to use that particular method because she never had a chance, but she wanted to know what it was like. She has committed many murders, all of them different. For her clients, she was like a goldfish ... or rather black. They said who and how was to die, she was doing the job. Sometimes they described the method in general, sometimes they left Shiro Kitsune free to say what the delinquent had done, and some had very specific ideas. There were times that she collaborated with the military, probably only because they wanted relatively clean hands, and they were allowed to "use all available opportunities." But she never worked for the police. This case was the only and the last. Although they did not ask her to do so. about that, she was one hundred percent sure they still wanted to stop the runaway, and she had her own personal business - revenge. She remembered the condition in which Kaoru had returned to his grandfather's house, and though he was alive, she made a quiet promise to herself that if she ever found Spec, she would not ignore his presence. When he finally stood in front of her, she was not afraid, but rather trembled with excitement. The long-forgotten hunger for blood returned, rows of plans were formed in her mind, detailed how she could severely punish him for what he had done while satisfying her desires. After all, she felt almost as fulfilled as after an intoxicating night in the company of her husband, but soon after she returned to her "normal self" and a wave of moral hangover flooded her, choking her stomach with nerves and dilemmas. When she was in the murderous sequence, it did not tire that much, she just passed into the life of an ordinary high school girl, because she did not have time to sly reminder that "this is not allowed". This time she was showering in a luxurious suite, half smeared with black and green paint, sweating out dried blood with a strange weight on her heart. She let go of a fast, warm stream straight on the top of her slightly lowered head, her wet hair flowing immediately down her face. She saw colored ribbons flowing into the drain along with the crystal clear water. She barely heard the click of the door handle, for some reason she didn't have the strength to turn. Anyway, who else than her husband could she expect? He undressed, usually placed neatly folded clothes on the stool standing near the door, and joined her just as she let the air out with a heavy sigh.

- What's bothering you? - he muttered softly, wrapping his arms around her flat stomach.

- I know what you've been doing right from the start, Kaoru. - she replied, placing a small hand on the big paw. - You're pulling me away from the murdering, for which thank you very much ...

- That's not it.

- I am tired of what I wanted to protect you from. The part of me that likes to kill. - she sighed. - "That Hanabi" who amuses it, who enjoys it ... and who releases a huge moral hangover afterwards, just like she does now.

She often found herself suspecting him of something completely different from what he was actually doing. This time it was the same. He placed a hand under her jaw, tilted her head back, and kissed the pale forehead fringed with wet black hair.

- There was nothing you could do better in this case. He's a convict, with no chance of being rehabilitated. - He muttered so that she felt every breath on her lips. - And I'm proud of you.

He didn't have to add more. She smiled radiantly as she turned and hugged the muscular bear. She calmed down hearing the distinct beating of a big heart.

- You know, when I asked my father if he would agree to the wedding, he said "if he gives you happiness, you have my blessing". - she laughed, looking at him. - This is probably the most wonderful advice he could give me.

>>><<<

The mood in the family after the show she put on was mixed. Many openly argued that this was just a trick to conquer Kaoru, although in his humble opinion there was nothing to conquer. Besides, he knew perfectly well that it was not an artificial display, but if they wanted to think so, he did not correct them, guessing that life would probably weave some bloody scenario itself. Knowing Hanabi and her unmistakable fortune in dangerous situations, they would have a lot of further evidence that the boss's wife could not be intimidated, and he could have expected many to try or blackmail Hanayama to sneak in. He thought as he collapsed into the armchair in his office, staring out the window at the surprisingly busy street for this time of day. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the specification folder of a solidly built, modern car with a beautiful, shiny, pearl black finish.

- Cadillac CT5?-  he heard a grunt at his ear, feeling at the same time feeling shoulders around his neck. - Are you planning a purchase? Apparently a beast in its class.

She reached for the sheaf of documents, reading carefully. A cascade of black hair fell over his white jacket, and she immediately tucked it behind her ear, in which a row of earrings clinked. This time, in each piercing there was a golden circle, closed with a ball with amethyst embedded inside. Initially, when they met, she chose more chaotic compositions, sometimes he wondered if touching one earring would break the other, and how long it took her to put on that tangle of titanium. She also dressed much differently, and the longer they stayed together, especially after her return to the human body, the outfits became much more elegant ... but still practical. Tight skirts always had to be flexible, high-heeled shoes extremely durable and comfortable (some of them were specially imported from France, straight from Louboutin boutiques, and as soon as they arrived, he was afraid that he would be evicted from his own bed). There was no question of exaggerated ornamentation, but he knew perfectly well that she was hiding at least one pair of high heels with gold flecks in wardrobe, in case the situation required not so much impeccable appearance, but absolutely luxurious. They flashed once when he was looking for his own crocodile leather loafers, between black ankle boots and sneakers. This time, she chose a black, tight-fitting sleeveless turtleneck and a short soft leather skirt, plus high-heeled sandals wrapped around the ankle. He wondered if there was any left of this energetic, rebellious creature he had known. He sighed silently against the black patent leather shorts.

- Actually, Kizaki went to get him. - he replied finally, brushing her bright cheek. - The previous one is no longer suitable.

- Too old model for a young yakuza? - she muttered, puffing her lips a little. - You're a wasteful man, sweetheart ... An expensive toy.

- Such a charm, the clan head must present himself. - he said dispassionately, giving her a place on the armrest so she could sit on it. - Thanks to your little help, I don't have to worry too much about financial matters. Revenue is back in place.

She laughed under her breath as she pushed the chair a little inward to finally drop softly on his lap, looking like a sweet kitten demanding a caress. He put his arm around her and tickled her behind the ear, making her nestle against her massive chest, purring in his throat. The energetic being was still there, inside, skillfully adapting to its surroundings. Kizaki was right in saying that she blended in very quickly. Like a chameleon. She could play a sweet idiot, and in a moment, in cold blood, bump her head like something did not suit her. But she was invariably his queen, which seemed to suit his wife very well.

- I'm going to Meguro for the weekend. - he said softly.

- "Keep your enemies close"? - she asked rhetorically, guessing the reason for leaving.

- These enemies must have us for friends this time ... - he replied, looking seriously. - Our people sniffed a bit about the five men you got rid of in Suginami a few months ago, it turns out they belong to a family there.

- So they entered your yard uninvited, My Bear. - she said.

He remembered that situation. He hoped no one had seen the yakuza wife save some raped woman, but on the other hand, he was glad about her reaction. In fact, he did not tolerate such acts. He wasn't going to be the hero of the neighborhood, but you must have some basic respect for women nevertheless.

- Go with me.

- And I was afraid you forbid me! - she laughed heartily as she put the sheaf of papers on the desk. - Actually, where are you gonna meet?

- At Pruderia nightclub, on the border between Shinjuku and Meguro. - the deputy put in, entering the office. - Not very popular, at least with the general public. Allow myself to take your suit to the laundry room this morning to be ready, boss.

- Thank you. - Hanayama replied.

- I'm afraid you won't cross the threshold in it, Kaoru. - Hanabi interjected, sitting down a bit more comfortably. - It's quite ... a peculiar place with a special dress-code.

- Have you been there? - he was surprised.

- Oh yes, not once. I made a few deals there. - she replied, waving her hand lightly. - I was on my way back from there when Chiharu gave me a lift to you in the middle of the night. This club is especially open to people with different orientations, as well as those with a passion for leather, latex and BDSM. Rather, they prefer darker tones of clothing. Also, do not expect loft, softly seeping music, rather dark techno or heavy-metal.

The memory flashed before his eyes. She had barely set her feet in his apartment, tucked in high lace-up high heels, and began to take off her voluminous sweatshirt. The warm light of slightly dim lamps reflecting on her body made him see every pleasant rounding on her thighs, stomach and arms. Underneath she wore a slightly shiny leather set: shorts and a top tied between her breasts, which clanged solidly as soon as she let go of the thong. He felt hot at the thought. That night, she slept next to him completely naked, even though nothing had happened. He thought. The image by the way ... but it could actually fit there like a fist to the nose.

- I'd rather suggest a black suit and a maroon shirt, plus a leather harness and a white tie - she added, probably seeing his expression change, then laughed. - You'll match my skirt.

He agreed to her proposal and he trusted his wife, also in matters of presence. The feeling was very strange, he rarely harnessed himself. Recently, he started one for school, in case any brave man ran out of weapons to fight him. He was waiting by the door as she walked over and leaned in slightly, sliding her feet into lacquered black high heels. It actually matched her skirt: it was dark as night, with a leather underbust bodice and suspenders hanging over a blood red shirt. They took all the closest people from the family with them and Sato, just in case. Hanabi was very happy to hear that. They must have liked each other a lot, even though she had knocked out half of his teeth as a teenager. Two dark cars in total, including his long-awaited Cadillac CT5, in which he was finally able to sit back comfortably. Velor armchairs with leather sides pampered the butt and finally it did not slip. Along the way, Hana sketched a bit of the club's appearance, at least for the last day she was there. If it has changed, it has changed slightly. The entrance looked like many others in the area, distinguished only by purple and pink neon lights framing the door and marking the way along a section of the sidewalk and further inside, along the entire corridor. From the entrance you could hear deep bass echoing in the chest and very loud, rhythmic, definitely dark music. It was quite dark inside, the only light were colored spotlights, especially directed towards the stages where half-naked dancers danced in various styles, from high school girls, through policewomen, to leather dominants. The entrance to the main room was guarded by a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing latex thongs, long boots, a cross-fastened harness, and a dark tie. A leather mask obscured his face. In his muscular hands, he held out a large tray of glasses filled with dark liquid in their direction. He wouldn't have benefited if it weren't for his wife. She picked up two delicate glasses on high legs, handing one over to a big hand.

- Such rules. They welcome guests with bull blood, wine imported from Hungary. - she murmured as he leaned toward her. - You should like it, sweetheart.

He took a sip. She was right, clearly noticeable blackberries, slight bitterness. Before they stood in front of the box prepared for them, both glasses were emptied and collected by another worker in leather. They sat down in front of a tall man in a black suit, lovingly leaning on the backrest, being groped by two strippers in skimpy skirts. He always wondered what it was like to wear clothes that you hardly have, but with makeup that you can barely see your face through. The long eyelashes of both women almost merged with the storms of hair, the glued rhinestones glittered on the cheekbones, and through the positions in which they "sat", he could easily count the holes in the openwork panties, puzzling when one of the absurdly high heels was on the table. he turned his eyes to the newcomers, clutching one of them in his buttock.

- Finally, I can meet you in person, the legendary Hanayama! - He chuckled, then grew serious surprisingly quickly. - I am Fujiwara Fudo, head of the Meguro family. And these two lovely ladies are Jewel and Candy. They have quite a few nice friends if you're interested.

He just snorted, putting his protective arm around his wife, to which she cuddled lightly, not ceasing to watch closely and to listen. He knew that she was looking for false notes, symptoms of lying in his voice ... she was irreplaceable in this. The things they discussed looked very standard, even surprisingly innocent, for a yakuza. Oh, a classic, diplomatic establishment of cooperation between families. In fact, Hanayama was higher up, he could just absorb them, if only by force, but that was not the point. He intended to settle the matter as amicably as possible. The family from Meguro was not very numerous, but its influence was very far-reaching. Everything was going fairly smoothly, except for a few sharp, chauvinistic remarks, some with an eloquent look at Mrs. Hanayama: how women lose their senses outside the kitchen, the best are those with firm asses, or "just touch it properly and whimper like a puppy for more." Until Fujiwara got up, rejecting his inconsolable company, and walked over to Hanabi. until nothing bad happened, he decided not to react, and she knew it perfectly well.

-By the way, Hanayama-san, we are talking about the best here, and you haven't introduced me to the treasure that you are protecting. he muttered, grabbing her jaw. - Sexiest and most feminist Mafia woman Japan has ever seen. Beautiful as a blooming Sakura, I would like to bite into that appetizing neck. 

Kaoru's hand tightened on the glass, and it clinked sadly, barely able to withstand the tremendous pressure. One look from under the rimless glasses was enough for their interlocutor to come to his senses.

- You killed my people a few months ago, right, Shiro Kitsune-san? I should repay you the same.

Long unheard name chilled his blood. How did he know? How did he recognize her? Hana seemed to be stoically calm.

- I've killed a lot of people, so it's quite likely. - she replied defiantly, drilling her pale green eyes at the man standing in front of her. - I won't admit anything. If they died, there was a reason.

Fudo released her nervously, and she didn't even rub her sore face. She didn't want to give him the slightest satisfaction for anything in the world. Hanayama watched him sit down.

- But since we're going to cooperate, I'll let it pass by the way. - the man waved his hand. - Haha, I'm not rememberable!

- You know a lot about me, Fujiwara-san. - she muttered, not taking her eyes off him.

- Oh, please, you are married to the one and only Hanayama, it's hard not to know you! - he chuckled, hugging the two strippers again. - Your reputation from before your marriage was also very far, Hanabi-sama. It would be a stain on honor if I hadn't heard of you.

He didn't like the fact that those around him knew more about his wife than they expected. Fudo, however, seemed to lose interest in the woman, and they returned to business topics.They returned home in silence, each absorbed in thought. They sat down in the office, along with Kizaki pouring half a glass of alcohol to each of them when Hanabi finally spoke up.

- What do you think? - she muttered, reaching for her pot, gently, almost reluctantly taking a sip. - Except he's slippery and slimy.

- Something's wrong. First of all, he knows too much about you. An interest in murder was hardly a reason. - He replied calmly, whirling the whiskey in the glass. - We don't have enough information to suspect anything specific. Time will show.

- You're probably right ... - She replied, resting her back comfortably.

- What were the reasons your victims died? - he asked finally, changing the subject.

Kizaki swallowed loudly, but did not show that however he was stressed by the question. But he glanced with one eye at Mrs. Hanayama, waiting for her reaction. She, however, as if nothing had happened, giving the impression that she was to tell the plot of the newly watched series, crossed her leg and sighed.

- I received various orders. Sometimes a simple revenge, because someone slept with someone else's wife, sometimes some unpaid tribute ... - she replied quietly. - But I always checked who was on the list and if the "accusation" was true. I never liked to kill for nothing, and there were so many orders that I could easily choose. Most often they were embezzlers, debtors with a bad conscience, rapists ... and pedophiles. Rarely, very rarely, women, mostly men.

It did not surprise him. She had every right to pick and choose. It even seemed that she was doing it very meticulously, perhaps to silence the screams of conscience at least a little.

- I remember one very particularly. You see, every time I had to blend in, I wanted to catch the guy red-handed. - she continued, looking at the slowly declining contents of the glass. - I was 17. This man ran his own, quite prosperous, Maid Cafe. The reason mentioned in the contract were debts, but ... I found something that motivated me more. The guy especially "trained" the female employees to be maids. They were supposed to be very submissive to the guests, from which he drew additional funds. I was wondering how it was possible that such a place spun so well ... I worked there for two weeks, talked to the former workers girls. They were afraid to leave. He had them on his fork.

- What do you mean? - he asked, guessing what it was all about.

- He carefully scrutinized each of them, watched, and finally ... spied on the Internet and more. He knew everything about them. After a month, they got a call to his office, and there was a threat file and a "customer service training" with the information that if the Lord of the House demanded the most expensive dish on the menu, he was to be invited to a special room in the back room. ... I could only guess.

- Hanabi-sama, is it ... - Kizaki interjected, agitated.

- Yes, he had a hook on me after a dozen or so days. - she replied reluctantly. - I stayed last, locked the coffee shop and cleaned up after a day, flipping through cupboards for hidden cameras he used to peek up into skirts or something equally suspicious. He noticed and not so much threatened as intended to rape me. Didin't make it. The next morning, the body was found in his office. Police have pronounced suicide for unknown reasons.

- That's why you helped her then. - Hanayama replied as he finished the Wild Turkey.

- You think I could have done otherwise?

______________________________

* Outfit from Moo0n_k from: https://twitter.com/Moo0n_k/status/1428324608495685642/photo/1

**Master/Mistress - tittle used in Maid Cafes for greetings guests;

[saltyfishdream]

Let's say that I was glad I didn't discover AO3 until the summer before I went to secondary school, or nobody would ever know how tainted I would’ve become due to excess consumption of fanfiction from a large variety of animanga fandoms.

Since I was a kid, I tend to be full-blown obsessed with nearly every single fandom I stumble upon, so for a few months you’d see me having my personality revolved around some anime series— until the series ended on TV and a new one was aired. Then I’d just quickly move on with a new (un)healthy obsession on the new series, and repeat the procedure until literally the end of time if the TV didn’t break down when I was in fifth grade. I definitely did not scream or stomp or cry or throw tantrums to my parents for weeks on end then (before my parents introduced me to something that took me into the world of fandoms, that was another long story).

In first grade I was obsessed with Yowamushi Pedal and the first arc of Tanken Driland: Sennen no Mahō. That was when I had my first ever anime crush that everyone who knew me would’ve called me “delulu” if the word was invented in 2014. Yes, you heard me Mom. I will finally admit that I had a crush on Onoda Sakamichi back when I was six years old so you can never tease me about it again. (inserts villainous laugh)

In second grade it was Haikyuu and the second arc of Sennen no Mahō; Pokémon throughout the whole third grade as I was obsessed with Pokémon Go that year, while I watched some reruns of other series I had watched before; and Digimon Universe (with a healthy mix of Haikyuu if I remember it correctly) in fourth. I also remember watching two or three shojo anime series and a gajillion more sports anime but none of them left a deep enough impression on me to remember.

I thought my obsession levels were quite normal back then, at most rushing back home by 5pm on Thursdays and Fridays so as to not miss a beat of that 20-minute episode (with ten minutes of ads) and throwing tantrums when I was late for an episode but there was no way I could immediately turn on a TV to watch it. Or solely talking about that one series I was watching back then and never other topics— and if my friends didn't watch the same anime as I did, they weren't my friends at all.

But then a few months ago I decided it was about time that I wanted to experience some first-hand cringe nostalgia myself by reading all my writing homework back when I had extra English classes. To my surprise, ninety-nine percent of them were fanfiction. Most of that portion consisted of Pokémon and Digimon Universe as I only had sufficient vocabulary to write decent enough stories starting from third grade, but I did spot a few Haikyuu and Yowamushi Pedal references from earlier works. And my teachers back then did not care. Maybe they weren't interested in what I watched that they didn’t even take note of the Japanese names I used for the characters.

Boy, I am sure that I could've been the youngest fanfiction writer on AO3 if I discovered the site earlier. Like, imagine, when most people started writing in their early teens I would’ve been on there since I was eight. My parents said that I was literally addicted when I asked them about my history with anime as a kid.

However, my obsession did help me as a coping mechanism then. I would say that I was a happy kid in primary school, although my experience getting along with other kids and my teachers suggested otherwise. The details were already blurry, but I’m quite sure it was nothing close to good. I guess I would’ve gone insane or became depressed if there wasn’t a thing like anime that could anchor me to life. Then I realised that I wasn’t stupid back then to grow oblivious to my mistreatment. I was just escaping. Anime was a safe haven to me as a child. And I never knew it.

Everything took a turn for the better for the past few years of secondary school. We got a new TV after moving house, but I stopped watching anime after having a few new friends and a brand-new obsession with Percy Jackson. Nothing went terribly wrong. I may not be the most popular kid on the block, but I at least have friends. My grades are quite decent. I became the vice chairperson of a club. I should be happier than I was in primary school.

Sike, no. Everything went crashing down as my mental health hit rock bottom over the summer. To put it down to three words, I was hopeless. And in the nick of time I remembered one of my friends recommending an anime series— Blue Lock to be exact— to me right before everything in my mind was going to be worse than ever.

So that night I binged a few episodes, just to distract myself from my feelings long enough to hold out to the next morning.

Then— BOOM— I was staying up until 3am, reading every single fanfic I could comprehend on AO3 and spending every waking moment dedicated to the fandom instead of studying for that very important test a few days later.

You can say that it's just a hyperfixation from my autism, but some things just never change. I don't want it to change.

[saebaragi]

me, watching the wind shake the leaves of the tree in front my room's window: it looks like is dancing :DD!

my brain: that tree will literally fall rn right on top of your house making your rooms roof fall and smash you, and you'll die immediately while you're there drinking that coffee and reading nine percent fanfiction, like a fool, you really want that to be the last thing you've done in life? useless bastard.

me: 🙂🙂 well, if that isn't a happy thought...

[staryinghao]

aw ty!! 🩷

1. zhu zhengting: my favourite person 🩷 i could probably recite his entire history as a trainee/idol, i love him sm

2. chinese -> english translation!! especially in songs!! chinese is such a different language from english with such different nuances and music is such a good medium for that, because it gives sm room for complexity that prose doesn't really achieve

3. idol producer/nine percent/NEXT, including all the drama 😞 a sign of being chronically on weibo

4. blahaj (ikea shark)... my life has shaped itself around blahaj and i will never be the same

5. fanfiction tropes: this is a sign of chronically being on tumblr and ao3 but i enjoy it <3 i'm a sucker for a good romance what can i say

tagging @stella-ex-inani & anyone else who wants to do it!

Five topics tag, tagged by @jjongolese thank youu 🩷

rules: list five topics you can talk about for at least an hour without any preparation.

1. Taylor Swift, I know too much about Taylor and I have so many things to say (honorable mentions:Lana Del Rey, Doja Cat & Trisha Paytas.)

2. Hair, I can talk about coloring, hairstyles everything forever.

3. Tsunamis, I very easily fall down a wormhole.

4. Ghosts/paranormal/witches, I can go for hours.

5. Dolls, you'd have to stop me from giving the full back story of my dolls.

I tag, @simply-elegantly-kai @karetahana @hopeticket @hyuckieslove @vanillacupcakefrosting

And anyone who wants to do it.

[chxseungyoun]

Fan Chengcheng ♡ 》 Why Can't I?

Pairing: Boyfriend! Chengcheng x Girlfriend! Reader

Genre: Fluff

There is nothing more Chengcheng hates than Zhu Zhengting.

There is one sole reason for so.

See, you and Chengcheng had been dating for only a few months.

You and Zhengting however had been best friend for ten years.

Now back to the reason why Chengcheng hates Zhengting is because he forbids him from doing anything with you.

Or he at least limits it.

He can't take you out in the evening, he can only go on dates with you during the afternoon.

That means you can only date during weekends.

You two can't go hugging out in public. The respectable distance is one meter.

But the rule he hated the most was that he can't kiss you.

He would rant out to his best friend Huang Minghao on how he was so annoyed with these rules.

Truthfully, you found the rules funny.

You knew Zhengting was doing it on purpose.

Zhengting was very protective of you because he was like your big brother growing up.

So when he found out you were dating.

He wanted to make sure that you were going to be treated like a princess.

Chengcheng proved to have done so.

But Chengcheng was at the brim of his patience with him.

So he deviced a plan with Minghao.

They decided to have the whole group go to an amusement park.

Of course, it was always you, Chengcheng and Zhengting who rode in the three sitter rides.

Chengcheng would act all normal and this left you and Zhengting suspicious of why it was so.

Chengcheng was very outspoken so he tends to act his thoughts out.

This time??? No.

It was nearing the evening and you all thought that the best ride to go on during that time was the ferris wheel.

Which just happened to be for two people.

So everyone teamed up.

You and Chengcheng.

Justin with Zhengting.

Zeren and Quanzhe.

Wenjun and Xinchun.

Finally, it worked.

Zhengting couldn't complain since he did not wanna offend Justin who chose him instantly as a partner.

During the ride, Chengcheng finally pulled you close to him by draping his arm over your shoulders.

A bold move which caused you to blush.

"Finally." He said as he looked at you with his goofy grin.

"Finally?"

"I have wanted to spend alone time with you and even it it just took three turns for this ferris wheel...I think that'd be enough." He said honestly.

This made you chuckle, you gently laid your head against him.

This made him a blushing mess.

Bold moves basically causes you both to get shy.

"Zhengting likes you...don't get the wrong idea, okay? He can just be a little too overprotective of me..."

"He is way protective with all these rules he had been setting." He frowned and his reflection on the glass window only caused you to laugh at him.

"Are you saving me from the Zhengting then...? My prince." You dramatically clutched on your chest.

He rolled his eyes at you but then he realized something.

"If I'm your prince then that means I should be giving you true love's kiss, right?"

"I..." you were about to say something but was distracted when Chengcheng's lips landed on your cheek.

From the cart behind, Chengcheng knew he was in deep trouble.

He heard Zhengting scream and his phone had been bombarded with messages from Justin saying 'TROUBLE. TROUBLE.'

Chengcheng knew he had to run with you as soon as the ferris wheel ride was over.

It was all worth it, though.

He got the kiss from his princess.

[vicccwrites]

Hate Me Now?  - Lin Yanjun

(A/N: I swear this was supposed to be a Zhangjing fic but my biased ass switched it to Yanjun halfway through... oops? Anyway, this is for the sweet anonnie who requested a hogwarts au! with Yanjun ^^ I hope you enjoy~)

Masterlist

- Picture Source: Google -

You and Yanjun were the Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter of your year

He was the Gryffindor Golden Boy; and you were the Slytherin Princess

The two of you had always been rivals, competing in everything from academics to quidditch

We all know who won though *cough* you *cough*

Ok... but actually, you had always hated him for as long as you had been at Hogwarts

You hated his careless smirk, his effortless charm - and most of all, those infernal dimples of his

Now that you were in your sixth year? Those feelings hadn’t changed one bit

You were still mortal enemies!! and content to ignore the other’s presence whenever you weren’t taunting each other

Until one fateful charms class

...where Professor Flitwick partnered the two of you up for the big project of the year

You had actually been looking forward to this project - since it entailed you having to come up with your own spell - but that excitement was lost the second you heard Yanjun would be your partner

Like seriously?? Of all the kids in the class, you get stuck with Yanjun??

“Even the other Gryffindor dweebs would be better than him!” you complained to your friends after class

Because of course they had been paired with their crushes or other decently tolerable people

eyyy flitwick playing cupid here we go

You were convinced that your professor was out to get you or something, because no matter how many times you requested a switch in partners, he refused

Much to your (and Yanjun’s) annoyance, it seemed that you would be stuck with each other

For the next SIX MONTHS while the class worked on the project

Just the thought made you want to fling yourself into the depths of the black lake

You figured that you might as well just get the project over with, right?

Yanjun apparently didn’t agree

He blew you off every time you tried to approach him to arrange a meeting outside of class

And ignored you for the duration of class more times than not

“Can’t - I’ve got quidditch practice”

“Let’s just work on it another time”

“Come on, we have like six months for this thing! Why do you even want to get started so early?”

He was really starting to get on your nerves

Didn’t he know that the whole reason they had so long for the project was because it was supposed to be incredibly difficult? 

So while the rest of the class was already moving onto the research part of the task, you and Yanjun still didn’t have a single clue on what you wanted your spell to do

Eventually, one day you just snapped out of frustration and cornered him in the hallway

Basically forcing him to meet you in the library after classes to brainstorm

You would think that you had sufficiently threatened him to show up, but 2 hours after classes that day and you were still sitting alone in your little corner of the library

You were about to give up and head back to the common room,,,,

But guess who saunters in like he owns the place?

Lin Yanjun.

As much as you wanted to scream at him in that moment, you knew that would get you kicked out of the library, so you settled for glaring at him instead

Because he shows up 2 hours late to a meeting you had been trying to get him to arrange for weeks and doesn’t even have the decency to apologize? 

What an ass

“Glad you finally decided to appear, Yanjun. Let’s get started then...”

And that’s how your project starts, about 3 weeks late

Boy, you had a lot of catching up to do

In other words, you were all but screwed

However, the meeting ends up going better than expected, and you were surprised to find that Yanjun actually had some good ideas

You resigned yourself to the fact that you would probably be doing most of the work when he was named your partner, but shockingly enough, he doing his fair share of the project

After a productive couple of hours, you two agreed to meet in the same place the next day and split up for dinner 

This pattern continued for a couple of weeks or so, until you had more or less caught up with some of your classmates

It was pretty impressive that the pair of you had essentially done 2 month’s worth of work in a slightly under a month

Begrudgingly, you had to give some credit to Yanjun, because you could definitely not have done it alone

The daily meetings in the library continued, and you slowly realized that you were growing to enjoy Yanjun’s presence beyond the stimulating discussions on your research topics

Oh boy y/n,,, what have you gotten yourself into this time

It terrified you at first, since he had been the one person who you had always hated

So now that you not only tolerated, but actually liked him to some degree? That didn’t really sit well with you

Throughout this emotional turmoil, the project had steadily continued

And - dense as he was - even Yanjun could tell that something was up

In the beginning, he figured it was none of his buisness

It was your life, after all, so why should he care?

However, it progressively started to become more and more distracting

Until it had started getting in the way of the project, which is where Yanjun decided to draw the line

Fuck it- he had developed feelings for you over the course of the couple of months that you had been working together

So, one day, he cornered you after charms and all but forced you to meet him in the room of requirement instead of the library that day

Look at how the tables have turned

Which confused you?? Like, was there a problem?

Or worse, had he finally figured out that you no longer hated him? 

The rest of the day seemed to pass by in a blur, with you barely able to concentrate on any of your other classes

Your friends teased you mercilessly for it

“Hey, maybe she’s finally gotten her shit together and realised she likes Yanjun!”

Your dear friend got a stinging hex for that one

You most definitely did not like Lin Yanjun

....right?

Finally, classes ended and you ran up to the room of requirement

Yanjun had somehow gotten there first though, and the room was transformed into a cozy sitting area, sort of reminiscent of a common room 

It instantly put you on edge... just what was he up to?

“I like you.”

What? He what?  

You just stood there, blinking at him

“That was... direct,” you eventually spluttered

And there goes your attempt at being eloquent

So, you two stared at each other for awhile, the tension in the air so thick it was practically suffocating you both

Did you like him back? You thought back to all the late nights spent researching, the hours spent in each other’s company, the mindless chatting about who knows what while struggling through your mountains of essays

...maybe, just maybe, you did

Just as he was about to apologize for making the situation really awkward, you flung all caution to the wind and pressed your lips against his

When you broke apart for air, he whispered a question into your ear

“Hate me now, y/n?”

You shut him up pretty quick ;)

[cookie-sheet-toboggan]

No, if 90%, NINETY PERCENT, nine zero per cent of the fanfiction you read is terrible, you are in a young, novice fandom with kids, teens, and young adults.

In a place like fandom (as a whole) you will never have a dichotomy of terrible and die-worthy writing because that's not how learning a skill works. It's a spectrum that you move through and it looks more like:

terrible → bad → okay → good → great → die-worthy

Again, if 90% of the fanfics you're reading are terrible, you're in a fandom of children and teens who are starting out in their writing endeavors.

"90% of fanfic is terrible and written by angsty teenagers."

Ma'am I'm begging you to log off Wattpad and join the rest of us adults on AO3 in the big girl fandoms

[nognong-blog]

with the fire that you started in me (2/?)

requested: no pairing: chen linong/cai xukun, wang ziyi/cai xukun rated: 13+ (abuse, depression, cheating) genre: angst

the hallways are quiet; to be expected at five in the morning. linong passes the classrooms and lets his hurried feet lead him all the way to the third floor—up the staircases, past his classroom, the physics lab and the small gate leading to the school balcony garden—to the student council office. he knows he has no duty today. he already finished all the paperwork he had left when it was saturday; even the ones he could’ve just done some other time. but linong is there. his back against the door, his breathing resounding against the lone hall. he didn’t know if it was from jumping over a few stairs as he climbed up or if he was so nervous his lungs had caught wind of his palpitating heart and decided to follow suit. but he’d soon held his breath. stopped it altogether. he needed to.

linong knew, even before he ran for recording secretary, that cai xukun was always first to the student council office. if linong were to recall it, and he really can, he’d see the sprouting of new leaves on dead tree branches, the sun burning through clouds and asphalt melting the soles of his shoes. it was nearing summer, during his freshman year. cai xukun was a junior. xukun still had his bangs up to his eyelids, and linong could barely make sense of his face from under the obscurity, but linong knew xukun would be pretty, either way. it was also the same hour and minute as this. five in the morning, but it had looked like twelve in the afternoon. the sun had already risen so high and it was ready to sink so low. linong needed to go to school early for punishment; he’d been texting in class, and its equivalent was to help the janitors clean classrooms before school started.

linong had just dragged his body everywhere, holding the broom, sweeping the floors, wiping windows. but he didn’t feel too empty when he was watering the flowerbeds. watering them felt like he was giving out his heart, and this was enough to make up for an entire morning spent in sweat with damp hands. when he was about to finish, he decided to clean one last classroom. it was at the very far-end of the third floor. ‘student council office’, it flashed onto its placard, taped and re-taped many times on the top part of the doorframe. linong had let himself in, a bucket and a mop in his two hands, and cai xukun looked up from the papers he had in both of his two hands. and linong couldn’t breathe, just like now, but he’d still managed to mop the floors. he had still managed to survive it. and that was that.

linong hears something from inside the office. it’s soft and it’s quiet; almost invisible, if linong hadn’t been so alert. it sounds of xukun’s voice, and someone else’s, humming deeply against xukun’s echo. there was hard breathing, and the breathing would suddenly stop and continue again. linong moved, knowing quite well what it had all sounded like. he didn’t know why he moved. he didn’t want to, but he does. the window right next to the door had been left open. linong slowly pushes his right shoulder down, hunching his back to make himself smaller and smaller, and peers through the gap between the glass.

xukun and a taller man were by the very corner of the office. linong squints; he recognizes the man. for a moment, all linong could see were their lips locked together and xukun’s hands gripping the hem of his blouse until his knuckles faded white, but his mind buzzes and he is left looking at the face of the man that had xukun’s shaking shoulders in his hold.

it was wang ziyi, a senior that graduated last year.

deep into the kiss, xukun is the first to separate. between their lips, linong hears xukun’s shaky breath. and linong sees more. more bruises, more scratches, more red, black and blues on his face, and they are fresh, unlike those from saturday’s that looked like wounds over wounds over wounds; a month’s worth of them.

wang ziyi leaves through the other door on the side far across where linong was, and xukun sits, and he looks over his papers, and he fills every blank line—he does not wipe away the teardrops that smear the ink all over, and he does not give himself time to catch his breath even when his cheeks and lips had been drained of their color—xukun does his duties as the vice president. and that was that.

[coldimplord]

Spilled Coffee - Chapter 12

Author’s Note: 

Hello again.. 

Yes, it’s been almost one and a half year.

Yes, it’s been a long time. 

And yes, there is still more. 

Please enjoy.

Sincerely, 

Lu & Jess ♥ 

~Masterlist~

[crystalgastles]

After the flesh

This is a very rough draft of the first chapter of my Jeff the killer fanfiction please spare me if you find any grammar mistakes

Trigger warning for normal Jeff the killer stuff

Rain pattered outside my window, the cold grey of the morning stinging my eyes as the dull feeling of a headache began to brew at the bottom of my temples. My teeth felt sore.

The remnants of last nights events began slowly moving to the forefront of my mind and the reminder that I had to work a nine hour shift was threatening to make my hangover worse.

The coffee in my hand was bitter and the cigarette that graced my lips as I pulled from its burning embers was hot on my lungs. I should have stolen more sugar packets from work.

I could work up the courage to call out, use an excuse that no one wanted to ask more about but I need the money, rent was over due and I’m two weeks away from having the water and electricity cut out. Another drag out the cracked window, another sip of the coffee I don’t have cream or enough sugar to make bearable.

——————————————————————————

Another sip from the bottle, and a shit attempt at washing off my clothes in the river behind the house of a well off family. Father was a Lawyer I think mother was an accountant or receptionist or insurance broker?

I never know anymore. Lines blur the faces are warped, people look like animals the more I do this. Man sins he runs to church, monster sins he runs to the bottle, and I am no man.

Thunder rumbles in the distance as lightning crashes a little too close to my position than I’d like. I’ll just steal from the slaughterhouse I’ve created behind me, all that’s not covered in blood.

I rummage through the teenage boys things, never bothered to learn his name even though he was the one to wake up, he doomed the entire family. The soft white of the fabric made me wince. The clean white of the oversized material falling over my frame with ease.

——————————————————————————

The diners bright lights practically blinded me as I tried to get through the day. Zombies had more energy than I did at this point and tips were slow. I couldn’t blame the customers, but it would put a spring in my step if I got more than a five percent tip for large groups I mean, Can seven business men not afford more than five dollars to spare between all of them?

Cold ice water spilled down the front of my uniform as the clatter of glass hit the ground in a sharp ear piercing crack. I had tripped on one of their feet, made to look like an accident but it was because I forgot more creamer. I was sure if it. Fabric uncomfortably clung to my skin as one of them giggled like a school girl. “Jesus” I whispered harshly under my breath and didn’t turn back to face them before I ran to the back room.

Someone else could clean it.

My entire front was covered in water, the tips of my hair soaked and freezing, I couldn’t help but let out hard and choked sobs, my body shaking with each breath while I stood in the freezer in the kitchen trying to compose myself.

The end of my shift and I could even hold it together. I removed my apron and clocked out without telling anyone.

Mascara ran down my cheeks,my nose and cheeks flushed while I clung to my winter coat, it was cold enough to be uncomfortable but not enough for it to snow, the puddles from the earlier rain squelched as I worked on my walk to my car from the parking lot. 98 days since I had been kicked out from my family home, 26 days I had been couch surfing and 72 had been living in my friends apartment, barley being able to split rent. It was almost December. I missed my mom.

——————————————————————————-

I liked to watch the news, between the mundane and the weather the bright face of the news anchor would fall, sharing the details of the family I had ever so kindly turned into my art project. Three people, five people, an extended family of eight on vacation, only the dog was left. All me across different states, yet I wasn’t suspected for any except my own family’s. Dogs, animals can’t tell the police what you’ve done and sometimes they don’t care. I don’t leave witnesses that can speak.

The diner was mostly quiet, bright droning lights almost drowned out the sound of the box television hanging over the booth in front of me that displayed the news. The chief of police was speaking at a press conference, the bright white hoodie suddenly making me feel too visible for my comfort.

Politician. I killed a local politicians whole entire family.

Not that I particularly care about politics, quite a distaste for them actually. Police tend to work harder to find the people who harm them even at the local level.

My attention was drawn from the problem I was facing on the screen in front of me as I watched the guy in the booth across from my table in a group of suited fraternity brothers who barely graduated college stick his foot out and trip the server that was waiting on him. Making them drop the tray of half full ice water they were carrying.

The crash of glass and silverware clattered to the floor as the seven giggled, mockingly saying sorry and throwing their half crumpled napkins at her in feigned support of helping them clean up. Tears welled in their eyes as they stood up straight and ran to the back.

It’s easy to pick targets. Some people might as well paint giant red circles on their foreheads. I don’t usually pick people for their behavior on a whim, but I missed my portion of the news because the accident they caused. Not the server.

I don’t discriminate when it comes to what I do. I watch people, I study them, some more than others. Sometimes I don’t, admittedly I should be more careful but when you need a place to stay for the night you can’t be picky especially if they have a McMansion on the side of town people don’t expect murder in and you really need a shower.

I watched the seven, not pay walk out and to their respective gaudy cars, lifted trucks and one lime green hummer, but two, the one who tripped the server and the one who laughed the loudest, made the detrimental mistake of walking home.

I followed at a distance, hood up. The cloudy cold weather allowed me to have it that way without suspicion. I just wanted to see where they lived. I’d deal with it later.

———————————————————————————

My keys clinked on the glass of the entry way table into my shared apartment. My roommate wasn’t home yet but I saw the mess of papers, boxes, a box cutter, fake skin for practice and a half drunk Red Bull on the coffee table and knew she hadn’t been gone long. They’d never learn to pick up after themselves.

They were a night shift worker at a gas station who had a dream of being a tattoo artist, something I also wanted to do but apprenticeships were not in the cards for me, I needed to eat and a place to shield me from the rain. The clock I could barely see from the kitchen, a glowing green glob that i could barely make out read 9:15.

I shivered, my front still wet from the water spilled on my brightly colored and obnoxiously 50s themed uniform. I needed a shower and to change.

Warm water cascaded down my back while I sat with my knees to my chest, focusing my eyes on the vinyl coating on the shower wall that’s been slowly starting to peel. I hate the mundane, I wish for just once , something different would grace my life. Something that’s not wake up, go to work, smoke a cigarette, shower, watch tv, check the landline for messages that my mother still sent me, begging me to come home. I can’t.

I watched the remainder of my hair dye fall down the drain as I turned the water off, I would keep it on forever if it stayed warm. The rough material of an old towel wrapped around my body while I brushed my wet hair and then my teeth, got dressed in an old South Park t shirt I had from high school that my dad gave me, one of the only things we ever bonded over was that show. I swallowed the guilty feeling that overcame my senses as I pulled on my sweatpants and clipped my hair back so my wet hair wouldn’t stain my shirt. Perks of having dye that never seems to fully Rinse out.

The yellow glow of our singular lamp bathed the living room in a warm light, the couch seemed to sink in on me while the tv played some sitcom I wasn’t too invested in.

Tap tap tap

The unmistakable sound of fingers on glass made me turn my head towards our sliding door, I grabbed the box cutter sitting on the coffee table. Something my roommate left out after she had finished opening a package, her forgetfulness becoming something I was grateful for in this moment.

I could see a figure. My own reflection in the glass obscuring my late night visitor’s appearance as I approached the door. Seeing it was unlocked as the glass slowly started to slide open.

She forgot to lock the door.

A large black boot slapped onto the linoleum, wet with rain. The white hoodie the intruder was wearing, covered in red. The rain that had seeped into the fabric had turned the large splotches pink around the edges of what i could only assume was blood. And I didn’t want mine on there next.

Exposing the box cutters blade I ran at him, yelling obscenities as I hopped onto his back, a low grunt escaping his lips as he tried to pull me off and throw me onto my own kitchen floor,

Large calloused hands tried to grab at my arms as I wildly slashed without really looking. blood dripped onto my hands when I sliced his arm with the box cutter.

He grabbed my wrist and pried me off of his back, grabbing my shoulders and slamming me against the ground.

The wind was knocked out of me when the cold kitchen floor hit my back, the blood from his arm now dripping onto my face while he had me pinned to the floor, grabbing my wrist and wrestling my one and only weapon out of my hands.

Kicking, screaming, and biting I eventually got out from under him after I bit down his palm hard enough to draw blood and to feel his skin rupture between my teeth. I ran to my room, grabbing my flip phone off the living room table as he was preoccupied,clutching his hand where I had bit him and tried to shut the door but a steel toed boot stood in my way.

A deep gravely voice barely loud enough to hear came from the other side of the flimsy wood that was cracking in between my non stop pushing and the leather and steel on the other side

“I don’t want to hurt you. I need a place to sleep.”

What the fuck.

I tried to think, of something anything that would make him scared enough of me to leave but I kept drawing blanks. My lungs still trying to catch up with me.

“I have a roommate! He’s big and will be home in ten minutes, I have a shotgun in my closet if you don’t get out right now I’m blowing a hole through your stomach”

I lied. All I had was a box cutter that he now had, and a scrawny caffeine addict who was not a he who wouldn’t be home until six in the morning.

“You should go get it then, cause I’d rather have a hole in my stomach than be in a jail cell for the rest of my life”

I didn’t know what to say, my hands were shaking and I was covered in sweat and blood, my bangs stuck to my forehead and I pushed the door harder and harder, trying to push him out of the way so i could have some semblance of safety.

The crunching of the door reminded me of what was between me and this man, who was determined on staying in my home for the night, the sirens passing by my house one after the other, catching my attention. I made the connection that, that’s what he was hiding from pretty quickly.

The creaking from the door opening further brought me back down to earth, his foot swiping mine off balance causing me to fall back and balance myself on the wall, allowing the door to fully open as he stepped through, hands up as a show of surrender.

——————————————————————————

I returned to the townhouse three hours later, crouching behind a large bush right while I waited for one of the men from the diner to step out the back door and onto the patio, bong in hand.

I overheard on their walk home about a new strain they had gotten from a dealer in the city, something about how it was supposed to be smoother than a generic? I couldn’t give a shit I hope it was laced.

As if on queue I heard the glass back door open, to my surprise both of them stepped out, one carrying a small bag and the other carrying the large glass bong shaped like a family guy character.

Assholes. Stereotype defining assholes.

The water sloshed inside of the bowl when one of the men stood up, both backs turned to me as I lunged at one of them from the bush, large Bowie knife clutched.

Sharp Metal pierced between skin muscle and bone, the squelch of blood and raw screaming disturbed the peace of the quiet neighborhood, the glass bong shattering as it hit the concrete. The sound wasn’t as funny I guess when you’re being stabbed through the spinal cord.

The first one was swift. The man fell to the ground and was sobbing while his friend, the one who tripped the server stood dumbly off to the side.

I lifted his head by his shortly cropped and gelled hair, the crunchy pompous locks making me want to vomit.

“Open your mouth.”

“W-what?” The cracked voice of the man annoyed me. Once so proud and full of arrogance reduced to a babbling child

“Are you deaf I said open your fucking mouth.”

He did as I said, and as I placed his front teeth on the metal feet of the patio stable and kicked down. The sickening crunch of his teeth and skull satisfied me. He’d finally stop laughing.

I turned to the other man, who was now holding a wooden board.

I pulled my knife out of his friend’s back, looking him in the eye and slowly wiping the carnage off on the paper white of my sweatshirt, lightly laughing to myself.

“What was your friends name?”

The man swallowed, Lowering the board and taking a shaking breath before looking back at me

“Look man if I owe you money or something, I don’t make the Coke I just deal it, I can give you the guys number or-“

I shook my head. This guy watched his friend get curb stomped and he was worried that he owed me money

“Do none of you listen? It’s like you can only hear yourselves, what was your friends name sweetheart”

I was wasting time. The neighbors definitely heard and or seen what had happened. I would be hearing sirens soon enough. I needed to get this over with.

“Ronnie, um his name was Ronnie”

He finally answered my question and I let out a breath as I took a slow and deliberate step forward, tilting my head so I’d be at eye level with him. Keeping quiet while he just stood there as if waiting for me to make a move instead of actually doing anything to stop me or using that wooden board he had so lovingly clutched.

I stopped, tracing the blade along my fingertip. His unwillingness to fight back making me want him to just smack me square in the face with that wood just to prove to me that he wasn’t all talk, and that he didn’t only like to pick on people he deemed lower than him.

“It’s harder for a rich man to get into heaven than it is for a camel to travel through the eye of a needle”

Tears ran down his face as he let the board fall on the concrete, sniffling when he twisted his face to try and figure out what I meant “What does that even mean”

“I’ll see you where we both belong”

The knife slipped through the fabric of his shirt as his blood dripped onto the front of my jacket, the friction of flesh similar to when you slice an orange in half. One after the other after the other until his body resembled hamburger meat. I only stopped when i could hear sirens in the distance, my anger finally subsiding in a dull guilt.

I hopped the fence of the small back yard, running into back alley ways and parts of the city that were abandoned at night, only resuming when the sun came over the trees.

My lungs burned as I coughed, and sprinted through the streets. Hardly being able to catch a breath as sirens grew closer, reminding me I had to keep running.

I made my way to an apartment building, scanning the downstairs units until I found one tucked away at the end of the tree line, with a sliding glass door leading to the outside of the back yard that was connected to the other tenants.

I saw the tv on from the other side but couldn’t quite make out who was watching it from the other side, the light from a street lamp casting a glare on the glass. They probably weren’t even home.

I searched for the door handle, my fingers accidentally tapping on the glass when I finally found it, unlocked. I pulled on the door the loud scraping sound surely alerting whoever was home if there was anyone there at all of my presence.

I didn’t have time to react when screaming ensued, weight suddenly on my shoulders as whoever was sitting on the living room couch was on me, yelling at me to get out and waving around a box cutter wildly.

I reached up, grabbing this persons wrist and also thrashing, whoever this was was hell bent on staying on my back, getting me out, or stabbing me.

There was a sharp sting in my forearm as they sliced me in an upward motion that i could only hope didn’t hit any major arteries, can’t go to the hospital when you’re wanted in all fifty states.

I managed to grab their shoulders flipping them so they were facing me , then pushed and fell with them to the ground, using the time they couldn’t breathe to pin their wrists to the linoleum, clamping down so hard they had to open their palm so that the box cutter would fall out of that iron grip. I stopped for a moment, recognizing their face and hair. It was the server. The server that was tripped, the server I saw run away from broken water glasses and the men I turned into New York strip steaks was now tussling with me.

A few kicks to the stomach I can deal with, wiggling is easy to endure, teeth tearing through my fingers is not something I ever want to feel again.

I let go, but not before I kicked the makeshift weapon where they couldn’t reach and cradled my now bleeding hand and arm while they skittered to the living room, and to a room down the hall. Probably to call the police. I ran, my longer legs carrying me to the room right before they could close the door, and stuck my foot in between the frame and the wooden board.

“I don’t want to hurt you I just need a place to sleep”

[neoangelic]

[5:30am] Xukun wakes you with soft strokes on your head.

[xiaojuxiyou]

Like the Weather

This is something I wrote based on a dream I had a while back. Unfortunately, you can see how dirty minded I am through this. It took me forever to decide if I should post this up or not. It’s a hard decision to make because I’m not too confident in my smut writing. Read on at your own risk!!!

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 2382

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to face him. Jerking her arm away, she slapped him.

"What right do you have to touch me?" she questioned.

"The right that I am your lover!" he shouted back, "and I can't let you go again because I love you."

"I don't believe you." she argued.

Without saying anything else, he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips onto hers. Rain starts pouring so hard it hurt.

"Cut!" the director shouted.

Mimi pushed Yanjun away as her manager ran to her with a towel. Mimi pushed pass and glared at the Director through the camera.

"Is this a Romance or a Thriller?" Mimi asked the director before turning to me, "Are you trying to kill me with rain?"

Everyone turned to me and I shrugged, trying to hide my smile.

"It didn't look that dramatic to me." I said.

"That rain was a bit too much, we want a more gentle rain." The director informed me.

"It was on Gentle rain." I said showing him the control.

The director could only turn back to his work after seeing proof.

"Okay, one more time from the beginning, and make sure the rain is more gentle." the director ordered.

Mimi rolled her eyes as she turned back to Yanjun. I smiled coyly, being the only one who knew my secret and Yanjun caught it. Shrugging it off, the scene started again.

He grabbed her arm, pulling her back to face him. Jerking her arm away, she slapped him.

"What right do you have to touch me?" she questioned.

"The right that I am your lover!" he shouted back, "and I can't let you go again because I love you."

"I don't believe you." she argued.

Without saying anything else, he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips onto hers.

This time the rain fall was even harder than before and Mimi pushed Yanjun away.

"That's it, I'm not filming this stupid kiss scene." Mimi said, walking off the set.

"Cut, cut!" shouted the director, "Didn't I say more gentle?"

I shrugged, showing him the control again.

"There might be something wrong with the weather machine." I replied.

"If you don't fix it right away, I'll leave bad reviews and no one will use your studio again." the director threatened.

I rolled my eyes, grabbing my walkie talkie.

"Jae, check the rain filter, it seems broken." I said to my friend.

I turned my head to Mimi as she walked by behind me.

"Some people are so unprofessional, even I could film through that rain with ease." I whispered just so that she could hear.

Mimi snapped her head back to me and gave me the death stare.

"If you're so good, then why don't you do it." Mimi questioned in anger.

Everyone turned to us now.

"Mimi, calm down." her manager said.

"Didn't you hear what she said?" Mimi asked, "say it again."

"I said that some people are so unprofessional, if it was me, I'd have no problem kissing in that gentle rain." I repeated, "you're just so problematic."

Mimi raised her hand to hit me, but was stopped my her manager.

"Mimi calm down." Yanjun said, holding her back as well.

Angered that Yanjun was protecting me, Mimi jerked her hand away from him.

"Fine, I quit!" she announced to everyone, "good luck finding someone to replace me.

Grabbing her bag, Mimi stormed out of my weather studio. I rolled my eyes at how childish she was being. And I secretly smiled at how childish I was being. Forgetting to hide my joy, Yanjun saw everything.

"Where are we going to find a replacement for Mimi?" the director asked, rubbing his head in frustration.

He glared at me .

"This is all your fault, I will sue you." he said.

"I had nothing to do with this." I retorted, "as you saw, the control was on gentle rain, when you told me to fix it, I called my staff, you can't blame it on me."

But yes he could, after all, it was all my doing.

"I don't care what you say, I will find a way." the director replied.

"Or better yet," Yanjun butted in, "why don't you use her to replace Mimi for this scene?"

Both the director and I turned to Yanjun in shock.

"What?" I said.

"You said so yourself, that if it was you, you'd have no problem kissing through that rain." Yanjun said, using my own words against me, "You get to prove your professionalism."

"But..." the director began.

"And you wouldn't have to lose your job, and wouldn’t have to waste money suing her." Yanjun interrupted, "It's a win-win situation."

I shook my head as the director looked me up and down.

"I mean she does have similar body shape and height of Mimi." the director said nodding his head.

"I'm not going to." I refused.

"Where's your professionalism, take responsibility for your mistakes." Yanjun said staring into my eyes, "You should've checked the weather machine beforehand."

I leaned back as he leaned in closer to me. Somehow I felt like he could see right through me. Did he know? How did he know?

"Fine, I'll do it." I said, straightening myself up to face him.

I wasn't going to let him get to me. He smiled, his dimples showing.

"I'll wait and see." he said before walking off to sit on his reserved seat..

The stylists led me into the dressing room, giving me the makeover. In ten minutes I was ready. Peeking out from the dressing room, I felt naked. Yanjun was sitting straight across from me, sipping his water as he stared at me.

"Come out." he said.

I glared at him as I walked out, pulling the fabric away from my body.

"Isn't this too tight and revealing?" I questioned, trying to pull the dress up to cover my chest.

I finally looked up to see Yanjun standing in front of me, eyes wide in surprise and I was sure it was because of me. Just like that I felt confident again.

"I'm ready." I announced.

Walking pass Yanjun, I head to the small x marking the spot where I was supposed to stand. Not wasting time, Yanjun joined me in front of the cameras.

He grabbed my arm, pulling me back to face him. Jerking my arm away, I slapped him as hard as I could. I could see the anger in his eyes from the unexpected hard slap.

"What right do you have to touch me?" I questioned.

Slightly nodding his head, he gave me a tiny mischievous smirk that no one else could see.

"The right that I am your lover!" he shouted back, "and I can't let you go again because I love you."

"I don't believe you." I argued.

Without saying anything else, he grabbed my waist with his beautiful hands and pulled me against him. He pressed his lips hard onto mine, not giving me the chance to adjust to the situation before sucking on my bottom lip. His hands found their way to my bare back, holding me tighter against him. My eyes were wide open in confusion. He finally opened his slightly closed eyelids and stared into my eyes. I could see the naughtiness in his eyes and it was enough. If he wanted to play this way, then two can play at this game. I made sure that he could see that I meant business through my eyes before shutting them. As soon as my eyes closed, I felt a shock go through my body like electricity. I knew he could feel it too as he flinched. My heart began to race although I was calm. Running my hands through his hair, I pulled him down even more. The gentle rain fell harder as we deepened the kiss. The lights began to flicker and wind started blowing hard.

It was storming now and thunder could be heard, but it didn't stop Yanjun and I. Our tongues intertwined, fighting for dominance. His hands slid down my back into the low cut fabric that barely covered my back. Around us, everyone had run for cover. Even the director couldn't continue on with his complaining. Every one ran out of the studio, leaving only him and I alone in that small room.

With a strike of lightning, the lights went out. All that was left was Yanjun and I standing in the middle of that dark storm that I somehow can't seem to control. Through all of this, I finally felt the corners of his lips rise into a smile. I opened my eyes to see his staring into mine once again. The way he looked at me made me feel troubled almost like he had won. Anger took over me and I took the chance to bite his bottom lip before pulling away completely.

"I knew it." Yanjun chuckled and wiped the blood from his lips.

"Know what?" I questioned, moving the hair away from my face.

"You can control the weather." Yanjun replied.

"Of course, I have a weather studio." I said, stepping away cautiously.

Yanjun took a step toward me, grabbing my arms, pulling me against him once more and stared into my eyes.

"I meant with your mind." Yanjun stated.

My eyes widened. How did he know?

"And you're crazy for me." Yanjun added.

I blinked a few times.

"What gives you the impression that I'm crazy for you?" I asked.

"You can't control your feelings for me just like how you couldn't control the storm you created while being intimate with me." Yanjun replied.

His knowing smile angered me. I couldn't deny the electricity I felt flowing through our bodies when we were kissing.

"Just admit that you want me." he demanded.

I glared at him.

"Not before you tell me how you found out about my special abilities." I argued.

Without answering, he pulled me against him again, running his hands from my hips down to my butt this time, giving it a slight squeeze. I gasped in disbelief. Both our bodies were soaking wet from the storm and I could literally feel everything of his rubbing against me. Yes, EVERYTHING. I tried to hold back the pleasure I was getting from this, but the moan still escaped my lips. He still smiled knowingly as he touched his lips to mine teasingly and removed it too quickly. It was true, I wanted him. Too much to resist any longer. With a groan, I grabbed his hand, dragging him deeper into the studio, through the doors and up to my bedroom.

Even before we reached my room, he pushed me against the wall, lifting up my left leg where the slit of the dress was located. A smile appeared on my lips, at least now I knew that I wasn't the only one who wanted him too much. He wanted me. His arm held my leg up as his hands reached further into the dress, rubbing my thigh. I threw my head back in satisfaction as his fingers played around. Not giving in, my hands flew instantly to his crotch. Unbuttoning and unzipping, I reached my hand inside his pants wrapping my hand around his member. He let out a low growl at the touch and stared intensely into my eyes.

Putting my leg down, he ripped the slit up all the way to the top. The cool air hitting my body made me shiver. It was my turn. Pulling his pants along with his underwear all the way to the ground he stepped out of it. Jumping onto him, I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. Propping me up against the wall again, he used his hand to place his tip at my entrance, gently pushing in. I buried my face in the crook of his neck as I adjust to his size. He was big. My breath caught as he began to move inside of me.

Managing to take a breath each time he pulled out and pushed back in, I dug my nails into his shoulders. Legs weak from holding me up, he walked over to the couch in the living room and sat down. Sitting above him, I moved my hips up and down as he thrusted deeper inside. Wanting more, he flipped me over onto my back and pushed inside once more as hard as he could. I let out a scream as he hit me in the right spot. Intertwining our hands together holding them up above my head, he thrust as fast as he could, so fast my cum squirted out. Feeling my cum, he slowed down a bit to a calmer speed, reaching down to rub my clitoris in circular motion.

My body shook at too much pleasure and yet he still hadn't cum yet. When I had rested enough, he went faster again making me scream in satisfaction. His grunting adding to the high. I could feel my second orgasm building up again and this time so did he. Both grunting and moaning together, we released this time together. With one last thrust he finally pulled out of me, letting himself down onto me. I could feel his cum inside of me and I laughed. I was happy that I finally got what I wanted.

“Let me make one thing clear.” Yanjun propped himself up with his elbows, trapping me beneath him, “This is not a onetime thing.”

“I sure as hell hope not.” I wrapped my arms around him, pulling him back down onto me before spinning us both around so I was on top, “Because if it is, I will get even with you for playing with me like this.”

He smiled wrapping placing his hands onto my hips.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he cocked his head to the side as if to intimidate me.

I scoffed at his words before leaning in to his right ear and gave it a little nibble before whispering:

“I will kill you.”

But I knew well in my heart that I wouldn’t be able to.

[bus-stop-to-kpop]

Masterlist

Timestamps:

[02:27] - Lee Keonhee (Oneus)

[03:45] - Kevin Moon (The Boyz)

[07:45] - Lee Sangyeon (The Boyz)

[10:49] - Ju Harin (Onewe)

[11:13] - Jin Yonghoon (Onewe)

[15:26] - Ju Haknyeon (The Boyz)

[16:55] - Jay Park (Enhypen)

[19:47] - Jay Park (Enhypen)

[20:44] - Kim Younghoon (The Boyz)

[22:32] - Lee Hyunjae (The Boyz)

[23:51] - Kim Youngjo / Ravn (Oneus)

Series:

Laboratory of the Naturally Gifted:

[Prologue]

[Subject 019 - Chae Hyungwon]

[Subject 041 - Dong Sicheng]

[Subject 028 - Nakamoto Yuta]

[Subject 017 - Im Jaebum]

[Subject 024 - Lee Jooheon]

[Subject 035 - Jung Yunoh]

Enhypen

Reactions:

#1 - You’re their High School crush

Jay Park:

[16:55]

[19:47]

Jake Sim:

In Memory [Spooktober special]

Ni-ki:

Given - Taken

Drunk - Dazed (part 2 of Given - Taken)

The Boyz

Lee Sangyeon:

Trick or Treat [Spooktober special]

[07:45]

Bae Jacob:

Son of Demeter (demigod!au)

Kim Younghoon:

Son of Aphrodite (demigod!au)

[20:44]

Lee Hyunjae:

[22:32]

Son of Hermes (demigod!au)

Lee Juyeon:

Bite [Spooktober special]

Here to save Thanksgiving [Thanksgiving Part. 2]

Kevin Moon:

[03:45]

Ju Haknyeon:

Spiderman!au

[15:26]

Kim Sunwoo:

Thanksgiving

Ouija (feat. Changmin) [Spooktober special]

Nine Percent

Cai Xukun:

Let’s watch you and your friends on TV!

Nice Thighs (M)

Learning a Language

Stray Kids

Bang Chan:

College!au

Lee Know / Minho

College!au

Changbin:

That’s my baby and not a bag of flour

Hyunjin:

My Princess

Han / Jisung:

Laser tag

VIXX

Leo / Taekwoon:

forced relationship!au

NCT

Jaehyun:

Flowers 

Winwin:

Mark:

Charms

Renjun:

Sparks fly

Jeno:

Haechan:

Taking off

Jaemin:

Angels

Yangyang:

Home

Oneus

Ravn:

Promise Me!

Intoxicating

Accidentally summoning a demon

Rejected

The one that got away

Price of Love

[23:51]

Seoho:

Broken Mirror

Bring it on

Leedo:

Target

Keonhee:

[02:27]

Onewe:

Jin Yonghoon:

[11:13]

Ju Harin:

[10:49]

TXT:

Reactions:

#1 - Y/N fainting in front of them

#2 - Y/N is scared of fireworks

Kingdom

Reactions:

#1 - You have a Dating Rumor

#2 - spending time (Christmas version)

#3 - Valentines Date

Ateez:

Park Seonghwa (Ateez):

Mars

Choi San (Ateez):

Hot Bodyguard

Others:

Yoon Jeonghan (Seventeen):

Laser tag

Jae (Day6):

Love, Jaesix

I.M (Monsta X):

Train to Busan

Sehun (EXO):

Your New Padawan (Part 1)

Noh Taehyun (JBJ/Hotshot):

Dance Team

Moon Jongup (B.A.P):

Keep the Nurse

J-US (ONF):

Sports Day

Kdrama:

All of us are Dead:

Han Gyeongsu:

Losing everything at once [Spooktober special]