Dara spends her alone time for house chores. Cleaning up here and there, organizing things, doing some preparation for lunch, but not yet cooking, setting up her breakfast and putting it aside. Then when she's finished with around half of the maid's duties, she sits on the rugs on the floor with a short table, that Beth usually uses as her study desk, in front of her. It's brown furniture in the middle of the living room and quite large for a laptop with two bowls of food, and some books to be put on there.

She has around a couple of hours before she has to leave and fetch the kids from school. She stares at her empty sketchbook. Her mind still wanders around about what to draw. She just feels so, so empty. She takes a sip of her coffee, always the boost, the inspiration, the mate for her soul. But it just feels way too bland this time.

Dara sighs and leans her back onto the couch behind her, staring at the bulb above her. "Hmm…," she hums and rests her head down. Thinking.

Dara suddenly sees a tall shadow passing  through the room, gliding fast to the kitchen and she startles, panting for air, "oh my God, who's there?" Dara tries to lift her feet but she can't move. She's so afraid. And she realizes that she is in her dream. "DARA WAKE UP!!! DARA!!! WAKE UP PLEASE I'M SCARED, WAKE UP!!!" Her dream tries to wake her up but she can't. 

Dara gasps after some while that felt like hours of fear for her and raises her head from the couch. She grabs her water bottle next to her leg and gulps nearly to the bottom of it, trying to manage herself and breathe. "Okay, okay, just a dream, Dara, just a dream, " Dara keeps on panting for some while. She gazes at the kitchen and breathes sharply, "ugh, just a dream, okay." She places her hand on her chest and gives a gentle pressure to give herself ease.

***

Dara is a young Indonesian mom who lives in Singapore with an Indonesian husband named Eric and two children named Christian and Bethany. She is a… err, happy mom? 
Anyway, she is always happy with her children. 

She is an online author, she writes short stories, mostly light romances. She is essentially an Indonesian and mostly does Indonesian work.  Two or three of her creations have been published as short stories in Indonesian tv programs in the last year.

But lately, she feels tired and uninspired to compose stories so she's been taking her hiatus from short stories and shifting to comics. She's not a bad artist though, her first comic reached 1.6k viewers in the first 24 hours. And she just completed it last weekend and needs new and fresh ideas for the next one whether it's going to be a story or a comic. 

But her short dream annoyed her just now.

***

"I think I need another break, a day or two will be great though, I need that 'me time'…. Yeah right!" Dara sighs at her ridiculous thought and rolls her eyes, mocking herself. "Hookaay, see what we can do now, hmm…," Dara scrolls some random social media on her phone screen, randomly reading some cake recipes and funny stories or videos.

There is a post that attracted her attention, it's from Kayla, a friend from a group of people who are into revealing fake accounts or scammers and such. She has never had any certain intentions to be in the group, it was just something fun for her, she always thought so. And the group is organized by women from all around the world.

So the post contains a gallery of screenshots of a dating app that shows a chat room of Kayla and a guy where the guy was harassing her in an extremely rude way. Dara gets a bit shocked reading that guy's messages and gets curious, so she keeps on reading. The screenshots, the captions, and the comments. 

It's a post from a day before, she sees 4 screenshots and more than a hundred comments in total. "Wow! She's just suddenly famous! Haha," Dara chuckles a bit.

Dara and Kayla don't know each other personally in real life. Kayla lives in the Philippines and they only talk through the online room, and she is quite popular there. She often shares funny and cute stuff that is quite entertaining. And she sounds like a fun and friendly person too. She's around 3 years younger than Dara, single and works as a makeup artist, it's been more than a year since Kayla doing it persistently. 

So then Dara contacts Kayla, because of her curiosity. They chat for a while, letting Dara learn about the chatting app that Kayla posted earlier. And how Kayla fell into that kind of abusive conversation with the guy.

Dara often laughs lightly while she's chatting with Kayla. Kayla shares funny experiences she had through the chatting apps, not only the bad one with the rude guy. Dara feels quite enlightened with the laughter but her face suddenly flattens when she reads Kayla's last message, "try it yourself, install one or two."

Dara stops replying to her and gazes away, thinking…, "hmm… should I?" She taps her fingernail on the desk.

***

Dara switches her laptop off and leaves her phone on the desk while she is preparing herself to leave the house, fetching kids from school. Getting herself up from the rugs, she takes her sketchbooks and her coffee that is barely drank yet and takes a gulp or two, walking to the kitchen area. She leaves the glass and picks a pair of jeans and a sling bag

She takes a glance at the phone screen while she walks back, zipping up her jeans. "Ah, that one has done installing. What's this?" Dara puts the handle of her sling bag between her teeth, biting it, and grasps her phone reading the registration page of the Tinkle app. She grins and accidentally drops her sling bag onto her foot, "ugh, ouch!"

Dara quickly fills the registration page. And based on what Kayla told her earlier, "only a simple suggestion, but do not put your real name there," she writes 'Catwoman' as her username. And, based on Kayla's another warning, "and you better not putting your face there as well," she puts her face there, but from the side. 

***

Dara walks out and locks the door. She hears a different notification from her phone and opens it while walking to the elevator. She surprised at what she sees on the screen when she's inside the elevator and widens her eyes, "holy pepperoni…!" But she is in a bit of a rush for kids though, so she puts it back in her bag when the elevator opens and sends her to the ground floor. 

"I have never known what efforts were;
I have never known what submission referred to;
I have never known what my passion was;
I have never known what I, myself really was;
Until there was… You"
.
.
.
.
Rewritten version
21+ alert!!!
.
Dara is indeed a great submissive catch for a cold-hearted Dominant man like him, she's an innocent, a pure one to be taught, wrapped in a beautiful, petite, almost flawless appearance.
For Dara herself, this is her very first time to get into this kind of darker side.
.
Being a slave means being strong. 
More than what she has become all along. 
The circumstance that Dara has never thought would be extremely challenging. 
But, by being his slave...
She finds herself.
She finds her deepest, hidden passion that she has never realized herself, before.
She finds a way to overcome.
She finally learns how to share a man, like a harem.
.
.
Getting into the BDSM world virtually, was never her intention at all, but here she is sharing a man with girls from all over the world, in a virtual room of harems.
Jealousy, humility, degrading, among friendly, sympathetic, cooperation, partnerships, and even knowledge shared there. All of the mixing emotions of ups and downs flutter her heart and sanity. 
.
Will she grow stronger and earn him?
Will she survive with all of the emotional occurrences? 

Or the little dreams of death.


"Hello little Hitler." mother said.

Sarette was not Hitler, she was a girl of plain dress and flowers in her hair. Of course for a brief time, she had issues with French girls, or more specifically, with one French girl. Sarette was a dreamer; when she dreamed, she visualized guillotined hippie couples, making their last embrace. And different internment camps in some vague future time. Yet these were not images of pleasure, but something that effected her sleep.

She would wake up to flowers of death and the future growing out of her bedroom floor with blades of green grass, she would hear the sounds of wolves howling at the moon.

What made a far greater impression than the bits of French stereotyping on TV, was how good the pancakes and crepes were she grew up eating, during the morning before the school bus. She got the name Little Hitler, no do to any fault of her own, but because she fell off of a bunk bed. Regardless of whether her IQ was ninety eight or one hundred and fifteen, it did not impact her self-esteem. People wondered about her sense of humor: on most days she was never smile, and yet would derive some ironic pleasure from another peer's misfortune, despite not obtaining any pleasure from causing it.

Her doctor could never figure out her IQ, as she never seemed to focus on tests, but when it came to putting together blocks in a puzzle, she would solve it in thirty seconds.

Her school was one of those schools, that despite burying the student in an actual graveyard, would schedule the digging of a giant hole in the school yard, as if they were going to bury him. She wanted to hope down into the hole, as maybe Alice in Wonderland would be down inside. But before the imagination got to her, class was in session again.

After word, her mother would always reject the offer whenever her school friends would offer for her to come to their house to play.

But she had her own quirks. She would watch the latest Japanese animation imports, which ranged from Vampire Hunters, magical girls, and giant robots. She spent as much time laying down on her bed, preferring not to listen to music instead; instead her mind was always dizzy, while she refused to drink carbonated beverages so fizzy and loose in the can.

"What drink you want?" her mother asked.

"I want orange flavor." Sarette asked. It was the closest words she could approximate, not having the words for the juice the would always burn her throat. Generally she preferred water, and sometimes milk or orange juice. But never anything that gave her heart burn. As she got older, this preference would eventually go the way of the purple dinosaur, and she would drink Pale Ale and other dark brews. But now was not such a time. Instead it was a time of crappy space adventures, and stories in rhyme.

Not being a fan of magical nannies or stories of yellow teddy bears, she would dream of zombies she would cut in two with giant sheers. This would escalate into her older years, when she tried martial arts. Her favorite being Kendo, and eventually Kenjitsu. On children's programming, she would look at Crabs the same way Germans look at Hitler, and others of their ilk. And thus the idea of crab patties was an object of revulsion.

But that's better than expulsion for dropping a penny on a friend's head from a tree. She would dream of hanged children.

All on a gallows tree.

She always had the shakes. Sometimes life was like a tap dance in hell; you never knew when that last shoe was going to drop. Whether it would be a funeral tap. But she never got the chop.

But dad would call shopping the "chopping list."

And every day was a chopping list.

In sixth grade Sarette began resenting musical expression, yet some of her earlier work was reflective of the various five point essays about American history as assigned to her by her special ed teacher. She was never in the classes because of learning difficulties in the same way others experience, as the accelerated reader would mandate for her to read young adult fiction rather than the middle grade of which she was a part of the age group. She would read stories about teenage werewolves, and other shape shifters. Her mother for a time would avoiding talking about her concerns about Sarette being a child Hitler, allegations which would later prove unfounded anyway.

Instead, she would cringe whenever she would have to sit through Spanish class, preferring stories about the original French Revolution. In later years she would pilfer a book about Marie Antoinette off of the shelves of her grand father's basement. She developed a fascination with the guillotine from an early age, and would dream about other girls having their heads cut off. The stock slipping over their necks, the angular blade falling in three seconds on the victims neck, and the thirty minute of consciousness that remained, as the woman is aware of the crowd jeering at her raven locks.

Sarette was never a girl of Jesus Sandals, or other things more common across both genders. She had never liked wearing open toed shoes, under the perception that Birkenstocks were mainly for ladies. But this was closer to an early sign of her eventual taste in women, rather than any reflection on reality. She developed a friendship with a girl a year earlier who was a Mexican of half Spanish and half French descent. She was one of the few girls that she never dreamed about being decapitated. Sarette however, despised the musical accompaniment associated with the heritage, from Mariachi to Flamenco.

Mariachi was originally a word of French origin from Napoleonic times. But generally the word became more associated with French immigrants to Mexico. Generally people associated Mexico with Spanish language and immigrants, but this was not universally the case. There would be several battles during the late eighteen hundreds for supremacy of Mexican territory. She associated the music of the sombrero and and taquitos with the actor who played as a masked vigilante in different movie adaptations in the nineties, who she would imagine, in all her denial of her bi curiosity, him carrying a black rose in his mouth.

She would later read about a confused article writer who confused being Hispanic and French. Thus the association of Mariachi and La Guillotine was permanently affixed in her brain. This was before her own general disdain for different aspects of the fantasy genre: she grew to resent long hair brunette girls for being more pretty, despite herself having not yet fully bloomed. And she would not even look at Senoritas in the face, even in situations of mutual attraction. During classes of monotonous subtraction.

There was another girl that was never one she was super wild about.

Generally the difference was this: Livier would alway be nice and patient, yet she was difficult to understand. Bianca was a girl of excellent vocabulary, who were shape shift into a were cat during the moonlight hour, crushing rose placed inside those lovely black lipstick lips. But for Sarette's Reve De Mort, she dreamed of shadows along the wall, and groans of zombies in the halls. And bright lights from her bedroom window.

She woke up with bite marks.

She woke up in breathless panics.

Seventh grade was one of those years when everything seemed to go wrong. At Smyrna Middle, one of these was meeting Bianca again in the school halls, despite Sarette subconsciously avoiding her every step. She had grown a general dislike for raven haired girls who cropped their hair shoulder length, especially if they had short necks.

It was one of those years when she dreamed of the wild west, and in every one of these Bianca would be there. She would be taunted her with her childhood friend Stephanie, who was her lesser mean spirited bitch and a half. Stephanie still was the type to say things like "French girls don't like attractive boys, we like ugly boys. And you're not very ugly." She was insinuating by implication that Sarette was technically a boy child, despite all of her appearances to the contrary. She did not see Livier as much, who would often be busy doing other things during the school year. Smyrna Middle had a school uniform that was difficult to enforce, and usually mostly used to pick on the girls at school, who often wore short skirts. But somewhere in the middle, Sarette would often be picked on like a girl, and yet be gendered as if she were a boy.

She would try to keep her shirt tucked in, but found this difficult. She battle mild weight issues for much of her life, though not anything like she currently does, in which she's still trying to lose weight. But it still meant having to get special tee shirts that wont easily become not tucked. She used to hate the button ups that would come with uniforms, and how she would have to wear these even during school field trips.

Among other issues, she resented the looks she would get from Bianca, when her shirt was not tucked. It was almost as if Bianca payed more attention to her then now that Sarette was no longer playing air guitar during the fifth grade school year. In a sense, who crushed on who seemed almost entirely to the inverse. And it was her who would often laugh out with one boy in class that would wantonly use the word retard at her expense. It didn't matter if this was during paperwork, or when they were cutting open frogs.

But Sarette derived some satisfaction from the fact that Bianca would often have to leave the classroom to vomit, whenever she had to dissect a dead frog on a silver slab. For Sarette, she regarding Bianca in the same way as the frog. But preferred not dissecting her. Leaving out in the scorching desert of a surrealistic wild west, decapitated on a guillotine in black Mary Janes heels was more than appealing enough. And she knew that at some point, at least she hoped, that she may eventually forget about Bianca.

From then on, generally, Sarette developed the attitude that if people wanted to date her, they had one chance to make a request. If they don't request on her schedule, then she had better things to do with her time. Like listen to The Offspring and Ramones.

As soon as late middle came along, she stopped socializing altogether.

It simply wasn't worth the sun tan to drawn in people she might like to date. She preferred fictional girls. As girls in fiction could never reject you the first time.

And she was worth more.

This she knew.

In ninth grade, Sarette had determined she preferred blow jobs over vanilla sex, and developed a sexual fetish for girls in Birkenstock Clogs. It had been a minor interest as far back as early grade school, but only completely became a sexual thing around this time. This made interaction with other girls difficult, as it often meant having to start the school day concealing her raging boner, instead of being flat as a pancake.

Often this was because Birkenstock Clogs were the latest fashion in Blackman High, comparable to platform sneakers during the nineteen nineties. Girls her age would wear them without socks, and would dangle them about in a form of Ballet shoe play. Their bare heels begging for attention from Sarette's hazel eyes, whom really liked ladies heels. And their long dark brown hair, that would go down to their backs. In large part, this was the main reason she never interacted, though she gave one her guy friends a clue to her preference for these sorts of girls. Yet oddly the thing about being an androgynous girl, is often when guys are unsure whether they should be attracted to you or not, they'll think of doing things on a subconscious level they don't entirely understand.

This would often mean being invited to the quarry in the back of the friend's house. And throw home made napalm bombs at the rocks walls in front of you, and hoping the police wont catch you n the act. The secrets of friendships were considered a form of sacred pact. A divine ritual, a form of blood oath. For Sarette, she wanted her blood oath to be with ladies in Birkenstocks, as they would glide themselves along her thin body under the glow of L.E.D. lights, buzzing out in the suburban pseudo-metropolis.

But her and her guy friend were inherently different. Tommy was politically a moderate Republican, though he called himself a democrat. While Sarette's Reve De Mort were of midnight cities taken over by corporate mercenaries, and outlaws in distant futures.

She tried writing some of these futures, though have difficulty finishing stories. She would fantasize about blond and black haired girl's necks being placed on headsman's blocks. She would fantasize about being their merciful executioner, while humping them on the block. But her own life would split from Tommy, who would later go onto become more vocal about his sexuality. But Sarette was of the anarcho-left, and not of the right. She kissed her old friendships goodnight, dreaming of white night flowers and middle grade stories. For her, her desire was a kind of paradox of isolation and being overcrowded. She wanted a certain level of anonymity mainstream education never gave her.

She found this initially in Alex Jones.

Then it was Christopher Greene. But now it was Noam Chomsky. She the little anarchist, who mischievously gave a family inside of a corn maze the wrong direction toward the exit. But she herself was an existential wanderer in the darkness, holding her thumb out for cars on ancient highways.

She was little Hitler that wasn't.

When Sarette received her first official fellatio, it was on her seventeenth year. Her ex guy friend had arranged a date with one of his old fuck mates, and he had the two girls go to the prom together. But her acquaintance knew that Sarette was not entirely into her; Sarette would often look at other girls wearing Birkenstock Boston clogs without socks, but during their last few months, Sarette made Lawanda extra strong coffee.

She was used to having Starbucks coffee, so having Folgers was decidedly strange anyway. This meant that at greater strengths Folgers would stop having the same level of flavor that Kenyan roast would have. The night before, her acquaintance directed her into the rest room, and had Sarette sit on the toilet while her friend blew her off. Sense this is not an erotica novella, the short explanation is that Sarette's nob never became inflated. But it effected her views about sex from then onwards.

Generally this effected her views is initially subtle ways, first she generally didn't like the idea of being touched by other people; eventually she came to prefer the flow of animated blow jobs over the real thing. Eventually this involved into tools for BDSM that wasn't not strictly BDSM, such as fantasy elf girls locked in the pillory. Eventually she would fantasize about humping elf girls in the stocks, while the girls wore Birkenstocks. And these fantasies would follow up with the sound of thunder outside the window. The window, as Sarette slept at night, would wake her from a dream of headless aliens in the closet, coming out in order to hump her on the bottom.

She woke up with bite marks and scratches.

She scratched herself like a cat.

Her body, her pussy.

Sarette's first ventures out of high school, revolved mostly around her writing, when she wasn't working at a local department store. It was one of the few times that she would not be ran over by a store cart, giving her back troubles for the length she had worked at the store.

Work was filled with memories; most of her work was spent when she was no eating enough for the vane effort of losing weight, now considered a sin by "body positivity" quacktivists. Because of this, she would sometimes faint and fall unconscious on the floor, a nature of her own biology that would continue into when she had went to Washington. She would primarily eat cafeteria pizza, usually after Fencing class. But during every other day of the week she would eat primarily chocolate peanut butter energy bars, then order a water or milk. In total, her lunch was spent eating about 200 calories. She lost down to about one hundred and forty five pounds.

This might not seem that skinny, but consider that she was of stocky build and physique. This meant that in order to look feminine this would often mean being as much as thirty pounds overweight.

The rest of her youth was spent contemplating.

Between jumping in front of a car.

Or coming out as trans.

We all know now that Wikipedia is unreliable.

Sarette wasn't sure why Clayton Ledford gave her a seventy five on a school test, revolving around the Baghdad Battery. For one thing, her own issues with Wikipedia stemmed from her anarchist tendencies, while for her computer teacher, these stemmed from it not being as good a source as an encyclopedia. But the assignment was to try find a reliable source of information on line. At this point, Wikipedia had been considered the primary source of information for some, and only sometime later did information regarding its corruption come to light. But certain sources could be cross-verified across different websites. For example, regarding the origin of the Romanian language.

But it gave her the negative association with any sort of computer class, as teachers in general focused on grades rather than the actual absorbing of information. Thus she focused month after month on teaching herself how to program in Ruby, and maybe eventually learn Python. But with the internet being what it was, especially on certain social media websites, generally people were hassled about their programming ability merely for being of the opposite gender, rather than based on any particular skill they had. Thus most of her explorations in learning cryptography she largely had to teach herself.

But now instead of focusing on studies, she focused mainly on researching true crime cases: generally these revolved around different kinds of serial killers; these would inspire different characters that were a hybrid of various real life serial killers and grave robbers. But at the end of the day, she preferred computer hackers and secret agents, along with your average private eye. She carried around a magnifying class, a box of black ink to take people's fingerprints, along with other tools of the trade. Eventually this would collide with her own interest in what they called the UFO topic at the time (such thing are not identified as extraterrestrial craft) as the paranormal.

She had had cases of seemingly magical things happen throughout her life, but it was these past few month, starting from her Junior high school year, that enabled that eventual fact that she would go onto join the Billy Meier cult. She had been through months as an alien abducted girl, many of these experiences being of a largely sexual nature. There would be various headless brown colored gray alien women coming out of her closet, and she would be taken away outside of the window, but the glass itself would not open.

One the other side, was a flying saucer.

She would float above the flying saucer, and then wake up one evening outside on the road to Smyrna High School, despite herself never having went to that particular high school. And it was thing, among a multitude of other experiences, that made he eventually not only find other sources of information, but also made her begin to question authority in general.

As the news she watched was RT.

And this gave no further clues.

A girl who grew up with psychological abuse, must come to terms with her present reality. Other stories include the world that led up to the events of the two civil wars in That Time I Was Shot With A Guillotine Gun, And Lived To Tell The Tale. Reincarnation is actually a thing.

Some of these are a slightly different genre, called Magical Realism. Many of the later novellas I would write would be more like these stories, rather than my earliest novella.

Facts you didn't know about this book also some details that I might have failed to disclose to the story.

1. This story was originally entitled BL.

 I was actually planning to compile short BL stories and this is the first story of that book. However, I didn't think that the short story in my mind would be so hard to write and it ended up getting longer and longer. That's why I just decided for it to be a single independent book.


2. There was no Wang Shu and Shao Wei.

Yeah, since this was supposed to be a short story. The original character doesn't include Shao Wei and Wang Shu. On my planner, they are written as Seme's friend 1 and Seme's friend 2. They're just side characters.


3. Xiao Yu was intended to be a love Rival of Feng Qiao at first.

At first, the scenario in my mind is that Zhao Lin and Xiao Yu are both popular in their university and students often pair them up together. She was even supposed to have hidden feelings for Zhao Lin! However, I often change my mind so she turned into a Fujoshi instead hahaha


4. Those bullies in middle school were not supposed to appear in the storyline.

They're all supposed to be just passive characters and I won't mention what happened in middle school anymore after the initial introduction of why is Feng Qiao's character like that. However, I didn't know why but I suddenly had the urge to make things dramatic in the story lmao. Now, I'm also missing those fluffy moments of Feng Qiao and Zhao Lin.


5. CBY University = Captivated By You

I didn't know if you guys noticed hahaha. So yeah, I suck at thinking of names so I just sticked with that.


6. There was no conflict in the original storyline.

I'm not a fan of conflicts, so originally planned this to be like a cute love story between two guys and will finish when they finally confessed their feelings to each other. Then, things happened and I didn't expect that many will read this book so I felt like I had to play my role as an author properly.


Note:  I didn't expressly stated it but have you noticed that the list of how to tame the cat is completed? Hehehe just saying.


*****


Profile:

Zhao Lin
> Brown hair
> Hazel brown eyes
> 185 cm.
> Born on November 20
> 20 years. Old
> His parents are business minded people. They own a company.
> He has a younger brother.


Feng Qiao
> Black Fluffy Hair
> Black eyes
> 177 cm.
> Born on November 15
> 19 years old
> A loving and average Family. 
> Papa Feng is an office worker while Mama Feng is a housewife
> Only Child


Xiao Yu
> "Amazon Woman"
> shoulder-length light brown hair
> "fujoshi"
> 167 cm.
> Born on March 16
> 20 years old
> She's from a rich family.
> Only Child


Wang Shu
> "Loud Guy"
> Blonde
> 180 cm.
> Born on April 14
> 21 years old.
> His family owns a Fashion Boutique
> Has 2 older sisters
> He's a friend of Shao Wei since high school


Shao Wei
> "Stone-faced"
> Buzz cut hair 
> Rarely smiles and only smiles at those he was comfortable with
> A softie
> 187 cm.
> Born on January 5
> 21 years old.


If you've got any more questions for me, just ask, I'll answer it if I can. 

I just did this extra chapter on a whim... (Liar, it was because you weren't updating!) anyway, it was my finals week and I'm busy taking care of my requirements.

My mind is not on the right state to write and I don't want to write gibberish so I apologize.

And I'm turning 18 so ehem ehem, I'm also busy with preparations. Who knows, if i turned 18 I'll eligible to write X stuffs huehuehue.

In short, I apologize for the inconvenience and thank you for still supporting this book even though I have too many issues lol. I promise y'all though, after all this drama, I'll give you something.... Sweet.

Hope you understand!

Feng Qiao, haunted by his past, decided to hide his face beneath the overly larged glasses and long bangs. In his boring life, his only comfort was his unrequited Love, Zhao Lin.

He was contented at looking at him from afar. They're like two parallel lines, never destined to meet in this lifetime. A guy liking another guy, this love was impossible from the start.

But life is unpredictable, who knew that Zhao Lin will suddenly show up infront of him and will say,

"I Want You"

Feng Qiao knew from that moment.

His life will never be the same as before.


Warning: This story is under the BL (Boys Love) tag. If you don't like this kind of story then don't read it.

This is my FIRST story. I am a complete NEWBIE with regards to writing so please bear that in mind. This story won't be perfect and would have a lot of mistakes plus this author is a snail, yeah, I would probably won't be able to update constantly since I'm still a student, I just did this as a hobby. 

I would finish this story even if it will take me a long time. 


After reading this, if you would still read this then Thank you very much! I hope you enjoy this story.

WARNING: This story is currently on hiatus, I don't know for sure when I will be able to update again :( Read at your own risk.

"Time flies, doesn't it?" A girl said as the bell rang. Upon hearing the blaring chimes, the silence of the classroom was quickly replaced by the cheering crowd of students, the ruffling sheets of paper, and the clanging chairs being piled up.
Kyounaga Highschool, situated in the center between Chiyoda and Chuo as its name suggests - this was a prestigious school whose students are at the very least children of lawyers and doctors; one could even say getting into Kyounaga High was basically going into a renowned university early.
"No kidding! Summer break was so short!" Another student by her side responded as they packed their bags. "Man, I didn't even get to spend much time with my boyfriend."
Boyfriends! Unlike any other school in Japan, Kyounaga High is not against romantic relationships between students. In fact, many of the students in the disciplinary and student councils were in a relationship. There were, of course, guidelines to follow to "date responsibly" as proposed by the student council, but generally, holding hands was not a rare sight at Kyounaga Highschool.
As the first day of school concluded, a svelte figure gently walked out of her classroom and made her way towards the student council room when someone suddenly called her name.
"You're Kaminomiya-san, right?" A boy with long, chalk-white hair strolled up to her.
"Y-Yes, I'm Shouko Kaminomiya. Can I help you?" She timidly asked the boy.
"Ah... well, please go out with me," the boy said, his face expressionless. "Kaminomiya-san."
Shouko Kaminomiya, first-year student - a prodigy in music, had never gotten a test score below 95, participated in five different clubs, and on top of it all, she was elected as one of just five prefects in her three middle school years - a stunning beauty no one in the school wasn't familiar with.
Thus, this princess of a girl was confessed to. It wasn't out of the ordinary; in fact, she received love letters every other day in middle school. What shook her was that this boy standing in front of her had never spoken a single word to her - not even anyone in the class - and now, he was confessing to her.
That's right. Sumisaki Kei - an average boy with an average musical talent, an average amount of achievements, and an average average - had never gone a full term without missing at least 10 classes, and even in class he barely participated at all. He kept his hair sloppily long, but despite that, his looks were pretty decent.
However, there was another side to Sumisaki Kei only a select few know of: he was a renowned author under the name of Kyouka Sumi. He was signed under the biggest light novel publishing company worldwide, known for not only the vivacity of his stories but also his ability to write in practically any genre he desires, perfectly.
The traffic of students moving in the hallways did not disrupt the two silently staring at each other.
"Um... sorry, but I barely know you." Shouko broke the silence, shocked at the sudden confession. "I mean, I do know who you are, Sumisaki-kun, but you've never even spoken up in class."
"I see. Sorry for bothering you." Kei simply nodded and walked away, leaving a puzzled and flustered Shouko in the middle of the crowded hallway.
"How does a confession work? Mm…" Kei pinched his chin as walked down the streets to his apartment, an elegant gilded pen in his hand.
This pen, seemingly nothing more than just an expensive pen, was actually a special pen given to every generation of Sumisakis, capable of a terrifying power - omnicreation.
During the Edo period of ancient Japan, a dictatorial emperor forced his scribe to write out his tyrannical laws. Wanting the best for his country, The Scribe refused to concede to The Tyrant and tried to persuade him to rethink his laws - much to The Tyrant's dismay. Furious at The Scribe's disobedience, The Tyrant slit The Scribe's wrist and left him in a prison to die over time. Inside his cell, The Scribe used his last bit of strength to take out his pen and write out his dying wishes for the country - a place without tyranny, without war, and without famine - using the blood from his wounded wrist as the ink. 
Having heard his sincerity, the God of Creation granted The Scribe's wishes. The Tyrant abruptly died and was replaced by a benevolent leader, who kept the country peaceful for as long as he lived; the dry, barren land was blessed with decades of prosperity. As well, The Scribe's blood became a powerful catalyst for creation, and anything he wrote with it would turn real; this power was inherited for centuries down the Sumisaki family.
Now, recall that Sumisaki Kei could write in practically any genre he desires. There was, however, one exception: romantic comedy, commonly known as rom-com. Successful as he was, Sumisaki Kei frequently received the same question from his readers: why doesn't any of his books touch on the topic of love.
The reason was simple. The Sumisaki pen allowed him to visualize anything he writes - an entire fantasy world, spaceships and mechas, horrifying monsters - as long as he understood them. Romance was the only concept he never understood.
Before he wrote anything, Kei would create a pocket world of the story setting and experience his own stories himself. Hands-on was Kei's preferred way of learning. And now, he was going to experience love himself.
And so began Sumisaki Kei's conquest to understand love.

Sumisaki Kei, an introverted first-year at Kyounaga High School, possessed a secret: as a descendant of the mythical Sumisaki family, he was able to create nearly anything he wanted with a special pen - except love. 

As a renowned light novel author, Kei needed to learn about love in order to write about it - and as usual, experiencing by himself was the easiest way for Kei to learn something new.

So - here begins a story of Sumisaki Kei's battle against love and just about everything else in the world.

Author's note:
Hey lovelies, I'm so glad that you've come till here, it's been a really happy journey writing this and thanks for all the motivation you people gave me, Yes though I got so much support many people criticised me but that doesn't stop me because that's not why I started it, if you ask me Yes I'll surely write more stories!!!

           FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS (FAQ)


1) Why didn't you properly explain the past of Claudia and Gwyneth?
Well this was meant to be a short story and I didn't expect you people to be drawn over her past, but if you're really interested, I'll do a spin off for Claudia's past and give you all the info.

2) Why don't you constantly update?
That's because I'm still in school, and it's not everyday I get time to update but when I get the time I try to update, but In the near future, I'll try my best to update constantly.

3) Why were there no love interests in this story?
Well is that even a question 😑😑😑 I felt it would be useless to add it in this story it would've become a multi genre story. Well if you're more into sweet love, read my story"when they met".

4) Why these names?
Well listen:
king Fredrick means an ancient king's name
Claudia means crippled or vain
Gwyneth means gods gifted child
Mira means wonderful
Damien means evil
and the list goes on...
It took me several days to decide each name. name does play an important role right?

5) Why did you come in the middle of the stories and cracked lame jokes?
😁😅

REMEMBER READERS, IF YOU AREN'T THERE, THERE'S NO USE I WRITE THESE STORIES.
SO...A BIG... BIG... BIG... THANK YOU TO ALL WHO MADE IT TILL HERE

I'M GLAD 🥺🥺🥺.

"Light is easy to love, but darkness is a truth which everyone hides"
Amber doesn't celebrate birthdays but what happens when she's forced to, on her 22nd birthday, what may go wrong. Everything goes wrong. What happens if she ended up in another world, hmm, or another time dimension. What did she do? Will she end up saving herself but what did she even do? Who is behind all this sorcery?

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I walk through my dreams like I've lived a whole life there, most times they are about a recent book I read. That is one of the things I do a lot and I'm not just saying that I really do read almost all day long. If I'm not reading I am probably watching some movie or anime series, yes you can probably guess I haven't done much with my life. let's start where it all began.

Back in middle school I loved to read books so much so that when I was grounded they took away my books instead of saying I couldn't go out with friends or no tv/games. yes I was a pretty strange kid compared to some being a 12 year old in America at the time(2012 No less). when I was grounded my next best thing was video games because they told stories as well at the time my video game collection was pretty sparce using an old dell business computer that ran windows xp (let's just say I got really good at minesweeper). even before I found books video games were still present. I still remember my mom gifting me an original Xbox she won in a contest it came with one game and it was a racing game not a lot of story just races.

After a while of getting in trouble I got grounded while i was grounded so I lost games as well suffice to say my box of legos was not very entertaining for a 12 year old mainly because I didn't like to make things up myself it felt so tedious that I had to work so hard to make up shapes and other things people already. i also didn't have many friends so instead I slept, and I slept hard. I don't remember much of my dreams then but I do remember one that was about magic and there was a really dark forest that went on forever in a sea of trees, other than that though I don't remember.
A couple of months later I was officially free and it felt like freedom I got to read again, it was so much fun, I would imagine it being like a drowning mans next breath of air. I didn't goto sleep that night instead I stayed up reading, when morning came I was tired but the book just got to THAT PART that is just so interesting and catching you can't stop, i read through that day as well. after dinner I got so tired I slept couldn't keep reading.
the next morning felt so sluggish like the morning after you get drunk but not enough for a hangover. well after a week of being late for school because I was busy reading parents up an sold all my books. ALL of them like really I was almost done reading them! I never read another book until after basic training 4 or 5 years later.
things changed after I lost my collection I switched to video games and because they didn't want me up all night reading whenever Christmas came around it was games instead of books. birthday? video game. my dad was an avid gamer always tried to keep his pc updated and sent old games I could run on my pc to me. me and my dad were always great at games but I could never compete with him, and it totally didn't have to do with me playing the games for the stories instead of for the high scores(of you can't tell this sentence is sarcasm read this again).

flash forward to the start of high school I was big on video games by then my computer had upgraded to a brand new one from my birthday me and my dad built it together good memories there. I remember when i tried to play morrowwind on it. that was when I realised I didn't like challenging games i liked to play and get the story, maybe different endings (those were my favorite).

at the start of high school I didn't really have a lot of friends because I didn't have many in middle school. my dad recommended me to join the ROTC there, he said he did and he had fun when he was in high school. So I did and the first year was fun and it started with ROTC especially when I started competing. I had so much fun I spent 14 hours of day at school I woke up at 5 to get to practice went to school than got home around 7 after the other practice you can imagine I didn't have a lot of time for video games especially because all that practice was physally demanding. 

1 year later 2 year in high school this I would consider the real start of high school for you actually have to do something to pass your classes I met a girl in my math class (insert joke about about girls causing problems in highschool here [ps: this is the joke I'm not sexist]). We started talking about a lot of things our school football team things like that, than we got to books she loved to read book I got to see her library once well less of a library and more of a whole wall of books and all books I wanted to read. her name was Alex I had the biggest crush on her at one point than found out she was lesbian so we kinda grew apart shallow I know but it's high school things like this happen. anyways after seeing those books some of them I used to read myself I started to want to read again, but I had no books i was still forbidden to read so I put my frustration put on video games during this time I was playing a lot of modern warfare 2 I loved the story and the way it flowed but it was really the first game I really played on steam I have logged over 500 hours  on that game alone I got every achievement for single player even the ones for veteran difficulties and also got most for the multiplayer which at this point I had everything unlocked and was max level I loved the multi player.

at this point I was starting to show up late sometimes to practice because I wasn't sleeping early enough. I went one more year like that and over summer I played so many video  games I swear I dreamt about sheaperd in mw2 around this time skyrim came out and I played the heck out of it  (I didn't get as many hours of playtime because 3rd year of high school is the hardest around 200hours). 3rd year rolls around I've dropped out of all practices because it was all boring again nothing new same old stuff. I was still busy keeping my grades up especially that foreign language credit that is needed to graduate.

4th year felt like being a freshman again except youre the one who makes fun of the freshmen.

nothing important happened then so I graduated and I wanted adventure something new so I went and joined the US Airforce. If I knew what I knew about it than I would have waited unroll now to join. long story short my addiction to video games got the better of me some nights during training and I ended up sleeping in, combined with my selective forgetfulness  (I kid you not I forgot my boots one time). luckily I wasn't in that long so I got an entry level discharge (look it up if you don't know) after I got back I found books to read online and read I did but because I didn't have school and at the time no work to deal with

this is about the time where I realised something special about my dreams.

at one point in high school I played a game where you create your own games and other people play them but this wasn't like legos using only blocks this was a program and once they started to abandon the Lego building style I started to learn it you could import meshes from other programs like blender so I started learning how to use it during this time I started dreaming up wire frames i wanted to tell a story using this game a story without words. I spent a long time on this and I can say to this day that I am self taught at how to use blender and that I ended up really famous on that game for my builds

that was the first clue because I was spending so long learning how to use blender I started dreaming up wire frames or if I was having a really hard time with a specific thing I would dream how it looked and be able to re create it the next day.

now after my attempt at trying to get a stable job i went back to reading. It started out with books i had already read then spread and spread till I found whole websites filled with books to read some exciting some not and they all had one HUGE thing in common they were all fiction and that's what I like. the wilder the better.

one day I met a girl and we planned on getting married and we had a kid a beautiful daughter we named Angela love her so much. I don't know what happened after we came out of the hospital after she gave birth she said she was through with me and left. that hurt a lot so I went back to reading and read I did the stories around this time were mainly reincarnation stories in another world I swear I had a dream at one point i was reincarnated into alegasea  (if you don't know you haven't lived).

this is where I realised my dreams make for the best stories and I tried to write a story about a specific dream once or twice. It never turned out well. Now I'm in college for networking taking a Cisco class (super boring) so my dreams are extra vivid further making me want to write those stories out but they never seem to tell the story how I want then to but right now this one is working does this count as 4th wall break? (lol couldn't resist the humor there [and don't say it was bad because you thought it was funny at some point deep deeeep down you just don't know it])

a story about a man and his dreams that might mean he is insane or might just love books too much. don't listen to the voices in your head about this one because the pink platypusbear that sleeps like a bat doesn't like your drugs.

[Hazelle]
The day of Kamille's departure came earlier than expected, and Hazelle still hasn't gathered her thoughts about her twin sister finally leaving their home to pursue her dream as a professional singer. While she's glad that someone has acknowledged Kamille's talent enough to scout and train her, Hazelle didn't know how life would be without her younger twin.
"Maybe I should move to Manila too?" Hazelle voiced out loud as she sat at the veranda of their cottage house, staring at the star-lit night sky. But what could she offer? She's a regional tennis champion, but it has no relevance to Kamille's artistic career. Hazelle heaved a helpless sigh.
Two pale arms shot out behind Hazelle, circling around her neck in a loose embrace. "What'cha thinking, Sis?" Kamille asked, her silky midnight hair flowing to rest on Hazelle's shoulder. "You're thinking about Darren, aren't you?"
"Oh, God! Why do you always bring him up?" Hazelle groaned, her cheeks glowing at the memory of the burgundy-haired boy and their awkward encounter at the river a few days ago.
"Because his name was enough to make you blush." Kamille poked Hazelle's reddened cheek with her index finger and giggled. "See? You're blushing right now."
"I am not! Geez! Get off my back, Camel."
Their teasing went on again until their uncle scolded them for being too loud in the middle of the night. As they head inside, Hazelle could only wish the time would freeze itself for a bit longer. She had spent the last seventeen years of her life with her twin stuck to her side. It's hard to imagine life without her other half.
Weeks passed, and summer vacation was about to end.
Hazelle leaned against the wooden double deck bed as Kamille ran around their shared room to check whether she had everything she needed packed in her purple suitcase. She her arms crossed over her chest, nibbling on her lower lip absentmindedly. There was no changing her sister's mind, so she could only watch in silence.
"Do you think the kids in my new school will like me?" Kamille asked while combing her bangs in front of a body mirror attached to a wooden cabinet. She was dressed in a lily-printed blouse and high-waist black trousers. When it came to appearances, Kamille could already pass off as a city girl, however...
Hazelle hummed in thought, torn between an optimistic speech and a discouraging reality check. She went with the latter, shrugging. "Maybe. But you know the people in the city had a different culture than here in the countryside, right? You gotta be careful who you trust. I won't be there to protect you, just in case, you know?"
"Don't worry, my dear sister. I'm maybe a lady, but I know a hundred ways how to slay a wolf."
"Silly, there's no wolf in this country."
"Oh, there isn't? I'm not informed."
Their giggles echoed in the four corners of their room. Oftentimes, they cracked a joke only they could understand. Hazelle's laughter became strained as it trailed into a broken sob, her vision blurring. "I want to stop you, honestly. I want to tell you it might be impossible for you just so I could keep you close. But I don't want to be the bad person who would stop you from doing what you love."
Kamille gave her a genuine smile from across the room. "Thank you, Sis. I'm going to miss you."
"Me too." Hazelle sniveled as she welcomed her sister's embrace. "Stop your silly jokes, okay? Or you might drive your fans away."
"Sure. As long as I get to sing in you and Darren's wedding."
"Oh, come on now!"
Kamille pulled away and twiddled the tip of Hazelle's hair. "You should grow your hair again, Sis. Why did you have to cut it short?"
Hazelle only shrugged, looking away. "I just like it short. It's hard to maintain longer hair like yours in this kind of weather. And it gets in the way when I'm playing tennis."
"Hmm~ I think Darren would have liked it longer."
"You just love bringing him up. You're the one who has a crush on Darren, aren't you? Admit it now. I won't be mad."
"No way. He's too gruff for my taste." Kamille flipped her long hair away as she waltzed towards the open window with a dreamy look on her face. "What I want is a true gentleman. Aristocratic, but mysterious."
Hazelle rolled her eyes. "Do men like that even exist?"
Kamille quirked her shoulders up and skipped back to her suitcase. "Who knows? Maybe they're just hiding in the shadows... like vampires?"
"I don't know if I should be concerned or what," Hazelle said, shaking her head. On a brighter side, at least she had one less thing to worry about. She knew Kamille was into classical plays, books and opera, but she didn't expect it would expand to her romantic preference.
A knock on the door pulled them out of their thoughts.
"Mister and Mises Salcedo are here," Kyle announced.
The twins hurried out of their room to greet a family friend who would accompany Kamille to the city. Stood in the middle of the living room was a middle-aged couple in crisp black and white apparels, reflecting their professional status.
It was Darren's adoptive parents.
Despite the aura of prestige she carried around her, Dr. Jasmine Salcedo greeted them with a warm smile. "You two sure have grown a lot since the last time I saw you. How have you been?"
"We're doing good!" Kamille answered for them both.
"Great! Are you ready, Kamille?"
"Yes, Auntie! I'll just go grab my stuff." Kamille dashed back to their room, filled with her childish enthusiasm. "Old man! A little help?"
"Don't call me an old man!" Kyle yelled, but trudged to the girl's room, anyway, leaving Hazelle with the classy woman and her husband, who held a stoic expression.
Hazelle fidgeted on her feet, suddenly feeling self-conscious of the foreign presence. Even though they were her uncle's family friends and Darren's legal guardian, she could only count on her finger the times she had interactions with them. Mainly because they were always busy with their work. Hazelle gestured to the couch with a stiff arm. "Um. Have a seat? Do you want something refreshments?"
"No, dear. It's alright." Dr. Jasmine shook her head; smile broadening, her hair tied in a high ponytail swishing behind her. She sat down gracefully and patted the space beside her — a silent invitation for Hazelle to join her on the couch.
Albeit reluctant, Hazelle obliged. To say it's unnerving would be an understatement.
"I'll just be outside. I need to make a phone call," Dominic, Dr. Jasmine's husband, said. He grabbed his smartphone from the pocket of his dark slacks, then stepped out of their house.
"So," Dr. Jasmine began. "How are you feeling?"
Shoulders still stiff, Hazelle gave a polite smile. "I'm okay. I guess?"
"Are you not feeling anything... strange lately?"
Hazelle frowned, confused. "I'm sorry?"
"Oh. Never mind. How's life in school? Care to share any juicy stories to this old Auntie of yours?"
"Juicy stories?"
Dr. Jasmine pushed her oval-framed eyeglasses off and grinned, crossing her legs. "Stories of youth. Boys. Don't tell me you don't have a boyfriend yet?"
Hazelle's mind almost blanked at the question. "Eh?"

Hazelle found happiness in their simple, provincial life in San Marcelino. However, she was riddled with separation anxiety because of her younger twin sister, Kamille, who seemed too eager to leave their hometown in pursuit of a dream that may force them apart.

Known as the troublesome kid in the neighborhood, Darren just couldn’t get to confess to the girl he liked because of his reputation; not even after he found out Kamille was leaving their hometown to pursue a career in the city.

Both at a loss and left behind, Hazelle and Darren found solace in each other’s company. But just as they started getting used to Kamille’s absence, Hazelle stumbled upon an enigmatic flutist with a melody that brought menace to their once quiet town.

Mysterious murders started occurring in the neighborhood, and the people close to them had fallen victim to the bite of darkness. In a blink of an eye, an uncanny encounter changed their lives forever, filling it with grief, tears, and bloodshed.

In a battle against the impending doom, was their bond strong enough to defeat the enemies? Or would their feelings severe the connection they once hold dear?

---

WSA 2021 Entry: Vampires & Werewolves Theme

Warning: Switching, multiple POV's. Used of unfiltered profane words. Reader's discretion is advised.

Cover Art Disclaimer: The current cover used for the story is not mine. I do not own it. All credits goes to the artist. I will have it removed if the artist asks me to, or until I created my own cover.

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