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imagineproduce101 · 7 years

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Huang Justin Mafia AU

you were the younger sibling of zhu zheng ting, though you were not involved in 101 business yourself

in your last year of high school, you lived in zheng ting’s apartment, since the rest of your family, except for the uncle that the two of you had initially been staying with, were back in china

zheng ting did his best to keep you out of 101 business, but sometimes, you had brief brushes with them

one time, on the weekend, you were getting ready to go out with your friends when you noticed that zheng ting’s inhaler for his asthma was lying in the dish where your keys were as well

he almost never forgot his inhaler, but he needed it, due to how bad his asthma attacks got sometimes

you knew where he worked, so you headed over to the 101 building quickly before going to the movies

upon entering the building, someone asked you who you were, and you explained that you were delivering zheng ting’s inhaler, making sure to use his street name

the person explained where the room where he worked was, and you hurried to it, knocking on the door before entering

there was only one person inside, who was maybe about your age

“can i help you?” he asked, his voice slightly accented

“y-yeah, i just wanted to drop off my brother’s inhaler,” you explained, holding said inhaler out

the guy took it, giving you a smile, “you’re zheng ting’s sister, right?”

you looked up at the guy in surprise, “how do you know me?”

he introduced himself as minghao, explaining that he was chinese as well and that him and zheng ting had spoken briefly about you

“well, if you could just pass it along to him, that’d be great,” you said, smiling in return

“yeah, no problem,” minghao replied, giving you a wink

boi excuse u

that night, you were eating dinner with zheng ting when he brought it up

“so you talked to justin today?”

you looked up from your noodles “who’s justin?”

“the guy who you gave the inhaler to,” zheng ting said, as though you were stupid

“um, no, i gave it to minghao,” you retorted, crossing your arms

zheng ting looked mildly surprised, “he introduced himself as minghao?”

“yes,” you replied, looking at zheng ting suspiciously

“it’s nothing, he just normally doesn’t use his chinese name,” zheng ting shook it off, “but (y/n), if i were you, i’d steer clear of justin. he flirts a lot, but he dumps girls like a person changes clothes.”

you nodded, thinking back to the wink that justin--minghao?-- had given you

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

occasionally, you have to go to the 101 building, either because you need to give something to zheng ting or he needs to give something to you

and every single time, justin says something flirty or gives you another wink and you feel so attacked by him

one time, when you were stopping buy to drop off his lunch, you could have sworn zheng ting glared fiercely at justin as he greeted you

and then you discovered that justin was still in high school like you?

he didn’t go to the same school, but he was on his school’s basketball team, and you spotted him at a game

you were there to support one of your own friends, but when justin had seen you, he waved and greeted you

you hadn’t realized that the two of you were close enough to be greeting each other at basketball games, but you obliged and waved back

“hey, who’s the guy?” your friend nudged you, wiggling her eyebrows

you rolled your eyes, shoving her back, “it’s no one.”

as you were leaving the gym that night to head home, you heard someone shout your name

justin jogged up to you, still slightly sweaty, but changed into street clothes, a gym bag slung over his shoulder

“(y/n), i should walk you home,” he said with a small smile, “your brother’s gonna be working late, and i know you guys don’t live in the best neighborhood.”

you looked over at justin suspiciously

“and zheng ting knows about this?”

justin grinned, “ey, he won’t mind if i save you from being mugged!”

“right,” you nodded as you started walking, “that’s why you’re doing this, to save me from being mugged.”

despite zheng ting’s warning, justin did seem really nice

and his strange, tough-guy appearance-- probably due to his involvement in the 101-- gave way to a much more playful, childish persona

“hey, i have a question,” you mentioned, glancing over at him, “how did you cover your tattoo? you know, during the game?”

“ah,” he nodded, “i used to use concealer, but it would wear off, so now I put a bit of athletic tape over it.”

you talked some more, impressed that he was able to juggle 101, regular school and being in the starting lineup for the basketball team

when you got to your house, justin stopped you momentarily

“(y/n), you should give me your phone number,” justin said, looking almost embarrassed

“why, so you can walk me home whenever zheng ting’s gonna be home late?” you asked, teasing,”here.”

you watched as justin punched his number into your phone, ears pink

and so, the two of you began talking via text, telling each other how your days went, talking about life and such

when you told zheng ting that you’d given justin your number, he frowned, but tried to play it off

“fine, whatever, don’t say i didn’t warn you when he breaks your heart.”

the next day, you get a series of texts from justin

“yah, what did you tell your brother;; he scolded me for an hour straight to stay away from his sister;;; CALL YOUR GUARD DOG OFF IT’S BEEN AN HOUR AND A HALF;; I HAVE WORK”

you find yourself falling for justin, a sinking feeling in your stomach when you recalled zheng ting’s warning

but, the heart wants what it wants, and apparently, it wanted to beat out of your chest at 2am. when justin texted you funny cat vines

through his words, you somehow got the impression that he liked you, but you weren’t sure

one time, justin asked you to stop by his high school so that he could walk you home, as your brother would be staying at the 101 building a few hours late for some stuff

you entered the campus timidly, asking someone where you might find huang justin

the guy smirked a bit as he gave you a once-over, directing you towards the gym

you waited outside of the gym on a bench for a bit, texting him to let you know you were there

you spotted him walking out of the gym doors, and were about to call his name when you saw a girl walking behind him

you watched in half horror, half resignation as he said something to the girl, pulling her into a hug

not wanting to watch the scene any longer, you walked away, ignoring all the texts from justin asking where you were

you changed into your pyjamas, fully ready to climb in bed and sob when the doorbell rang

“(y/n), it’s justin, are you okay? are you home? what happened?”

you groaned, pulling out your phone

“i’m fine, go home,” you texted in response

“okay, well, if i can do anything, let me know,” justin shouted in response

you collapsed onto the couch, rolling yourself in a blanket and curling up, clutching one of the sofa cushions as tears rolled down your cheeks

it was the first time you’d ever experienced heartbreak, and of course, mr. heartbreaker himself would be the cause

you knew that you had no right to be mad at justin-- you guys weren’t dating

but you couldn’t help but think about all those times that he’d hinted that he might like at you

just thinking about it set you off into another wave of tears

you were drifting in and out of sleep, eyes puffy from your tears when zheng ting got home

“oh my god, (y/n),” he rushed over, kneeling down next to you and stroking your hair, “what happened?”

you looked up at your brother sleepily, “you were right.”

zheng ting sighed, lifting you up and carrying you to your bed

he got in as well, gently stroking your hair like your mom always did

“do you want me to talk to him?” your brother asked cautiously

while he might be protective of you, he also respected your decisions

you shook your head, just wanting to leave this all behind you

“you’ll get through this, (y/n),” zheng ting said quietly, patting your head

after the initial shock of the whole thing wore off, life returned to something akin to normal

you still felt pain about the whole thing, but you did your best to turn the anger you felt towards justin into resolve to become a better person

one night, you had to stay a bit late at school to study for a test coming up

normally, if you had to stay late, zheng ting would pick you up from school, and if not him, then justin

“i’ll be fine,” you told yourself firmly, “it’s just walking home, not through hell.”

lmao u thought

you were walking down a side-street to get to your apartment when you heard a loud crash

turning, you saw a tall guy, heavily tattooed, staring back at you

“look at that, it’s jung jung’s sister,” someone else said, making you turn around

your heart sped up as you realized you were surrounded by three guys, one of whom had a pocket knife out

“if you come with us quietly, nothing will happen to you.”

“i suggest you put the knife down,” an incredibly familiar voice snapped

you looked to see justin, brandishing a gun

a wave of emotions washed over you, the most prominent one being relief

“w-we weren’t going to do anything,” the guy with the knife said, setting it down and sliding it towards justin

“right,” justin snapped, kicking the knife behind him, “(y/n), get behind me,” he said in chinese, and you hurried to follow, before pausing

“you speak chinese?”

“not now, (y/n),” justin muttered, smiling slightly

“right, sorry”

justin leveled the gun, staring at the three guys, who now stood in a cluster, “i’ll let you off this once, but don’t come to 101 turf and threaten one of us ever again.”

the three guys ran off, each scolding each other

“(y/n), are you okay?” justin turned to you, clicking the safety of his gun on and tucking it away

you nodded, sighing shakily, “thank you.”

“why were you walking home by yourself?” he asked with a frown as the two of you started heading to your apartment, “i though i told you to just ask me, I really don’t mind.”

you shrugged-- clearly, zheng ting had respected your wishes and not talked to justin, who was clueless

“i just felt a bit weird asking you,” you replied with a shrug

“what?” justin frowned, “why?”

“You know,” you gestured, “cause of your girlfriend?”

“what girlfriend?”

“the one you were talking to, that day after school.”

justin gaped at you, “you mean areum?”

you glared at him, “justin, how would I know her name?”

“right, right,” justin sighed, “(y/n), areum confessed to me, but I turned her down, since I like someone else.”

“well, it’s still weird if you like someone else,” you pointed out

“no, idiot, not if that person’s you,” justin said teasingly, bumping his shoulder against yours

you stopped walking, giving justin a frown of your own, “justin, joking about feelings like that isn’t funny.”

justin faced you, “i wasn’t joking, (y/n), I like you.”

you stared up at him, unsure of how to feel

“(y/n)?” justin’s ears turned red like they always did when he was embarrassed, and he shifted the weight of his legs, “could you maybe say something? i kinda just confessed?”

“yah, huang minghao,” you snapped, hitting his chest, “i wasted tears on you. tears. I NEVER cry over boys.”

justin smiled, wrapping you up in a hug, “i promise i’ll never make you cry again, (y/n).”

you sighed, looking up at him, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“i’ll keep you in my heart forever,” justin said, giving you his signature wink

you rolled your eyes, pulling away from him, “ah, I’m in love with the wrong person,” you said dramatically as he brought his arm around your shoulders

as the two of you started walking towards your apartment again, you felt him kiss your cheek quickly

“yah, huang minghao, who said you could kiss me?”

justin’s ears were bright red as he looked the other way in embarrassment

smiling, you leaned up, kissing his cheek as well

wow young love, how cute

you know that when you go to your like six-year-old cousin’s birthday party and there’s that one like, five year old who keeps trying to hit on you? i feel like that’s justin tbH

also, i was watching this radio show w/ some members of nct as hosts and yuehua boys were guests and a couple things stood out to me:

first, i think it’s bc their voice pitch is similar and their accents are similar, but justin REALLY sounds like minghao/the8 from svt, which is funny bc they’re both minghaos

second, jung jung seems to not talk very much bc he’s not confident in korean, which pains my heart bc he’s amazing and deserves all the screentime my bby it’s ok if ur korean is a bit flawed, the feeling is still there <3

also, the sprouts said that one of their potential company evaluation songs was eoeo by uniq and i screamed (if anyone has seen the eoeo dance, you know what i mean). yuehua sprouts are smol pls protect their innocence don’t make them grind on the floor @ yuehua

#produce 101 #produce 101 imagine #produce 101 fanfiction #produce 101 scenario #produce 101 oneshot #yuehua #yuehua trainees #yuehua next #yuehua sprouts #huang justin #huang minghao #huang justin imagine #huang justin oneshot #huang justin scenario

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h0ldthiscat · 8 years

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Rain Check

Written for the XF Missing Scene Challenge. Read it on AO3. Many thanks to @scienceandmysticism for wise counsel and superb feedback. u got me fam

Their footsteps scuff across the parking lot, nearly empty even though it’s only half past four. The Bureau isn’t the only government office where people like to duck out early on Fridays, Scully thinks. With the drive they have ahead of them in rush hour traffic, she’ll be lucky if she gets home before seven.

“Rain check?” Mulder asks as they head to the car. They’d taken his since they were only going into Maryland.

Scully sniffs and looks up from the case file they’d received inside from the Carroll County Police. “What?”

“Couple weeks ago, I decided to stay in New Jersey and you had to drive all the way back to DC by yourself.” He scratches his head. “You know, you drove up there to bail me out of jail?”

Scully finds herself trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, I remember, Mulder.”

“I owe you a car ride in Friday night traffic. Can this be my rain check?”

“Sure,” she says absently, flipping back and forth between two police reports in the file.

It’s nearing rush hour and the November sky is growing dusky pink around the edges, making the clouds almost glow. They’ll be driving directly into the sun heading down the parkway, she thinks grumpily.

The heat in Mulder’s car dries her eyes out, so she flips the blower down. At least the floorboard is warm. It’s colder than she thought it would be today. She hasn’t pulled her warmest coat out of the bureau yet, but might have to soon. It’s supposed to frost tonight. Her mother called her this morning to remind her to leave her taps dripping tonight so the pipes don’t freeze.

God, when did she become so dull? Somewhere between med school and the Academy she’s become the kind of adult she’d always rolled her eyes at as a child: the kind who has strong opinions on the five day forecast and the quickest route to get to work.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Mulder says from the driver’s seat. He cracks something between his teeth.

“What is that?” she asks.

“Sunflower seeds, want one?” He pulls a bag from the cup holder on his door.

“No thanks.”

“Suit yourself.” Mulder flips on the radio with a flourish of his long fingers and fiddles around for a moment until he settles on something Scully hasn’t heard before. She tries to peek at the file in her lap again but starts to get a headache.

“I’ll up the ante and offer you a nickel,” Mulder says after a few minutes. He flicks on the headlights.

“Hm?”

“I offered you a penny for your thoughts but you weren’t biting, so I’ll up it to a nickel if you spill the beans.” His normally monotone voice slips into a caricature of an old New York cop and he talks out the side of his mouth.

Scully cracks a smile. “See here, sonny,” she plays along, “I ain’t tellin’ nothin’ to nobody!”

Mulder laughs out loud, a raucous boom that makes her jump and then giggle at her own silliness. She doesn’t know if she’s heard him laugh like this before. They’ve only been working together for two months, but time spent with Mulder feels a bit like dog years. When she leaves the office at the end of the day she feels as if she’s worked a whole week, filled her brain with more monsters and cryptids than she’d even known existed. And then she goes home to her little apartment, makes a filling but bland meal, takes a shower, goes to sleep, and does the whole thing again the next day and the next.

“I was just thinking,” she admits finally, “about how boring I’ve become.”

“Are you joking?” Mulder asks. He merges into a lane of cars following signs for 32 East. “What about all those dates and birthday parties you’re expected at?”

Scully smirks and bites the inside of her cheek. “Work is--difficult to talk about with people.”

“I get that.” Mulder nods. He’s drumming out something on the steering wheel. It takes Scully a moment to realize he’s playing along with the song on the radio, another one she hasn’t heard. He continues, “I come from a long line of WASPs, though, so I’m used to it.”

Scully smiles. “Me too. Although--is there a word for WASPs who are Catholic?”

“Irish?” Mulder tries, pointing at her hair.

“Mostly German, actually.” Scully feathers a hand through her hair, suddenly self-conscious.

“Oh ho ho. The redheaded genes snuck through somehow?”

Mulder, she has noticed, is the kind of person who doesn’t back down when he’s made someone uncomfortable. It is maddening. It is refreshing.

“Well it’s a recessive trait--” She stops herself. This isn’t a presentation, Dana. Nobody wants to see your scrap paper with Punnett Squares. But when she looks at Mulder she sees he’s studying her intently, listening. He’s just as big of a geek, she supposes. Just about different things.

“Nevermind,” she says anyway.

“No, seriously. What is it, something like two percent of the human population?” He cracks another seed. “I’m dying to know how the Scully clan managed to pass down one of the rarest traits in the Human Genome.”

He’s genuine, which is so unusual in Washington, or anywhere, really. It still catches her off guard. She takes a breath, then says, “That’s just it, neither my mother nor my father have red hair, so both of them must carry the recessive gene.”

He gives a nod of remembrance “Are you the only one with red hair in your family? Does your brother--you have a brother, right, Scully?”

She nods. “I have two. And a sister.”

“That’s almost half a baseball team.”

“Trust me, I’ve heard all the shortstop jokes you can think of,” she jokes, and Mulder laughs again, big and booming.

“Where do you fall in the lineup?” he asks her.

“Third.” She ticks off her fingers. “Bill, Missy, me, and Charlie.”

“All redheads?”

“Just the girls.”

“Christmas photos must have been a nightmare.”

Scully laughs and says ominously, “We do not speak of such things.” This time when he pops another sunflower seed in his mouth she holds out her hand and he gives her a few.

After she cracks the first one she asks, “What about you? It’s just you and your si--”

Instantly, Scully starts to sweat. When she speaks her words are garbled around the shell in her mouth. “Sorry, I just meant--you don’t have any other--God, sorry.”

Mulder smiles. “It’s okay, Scully, really.” He cracks a seed. “Yeah, it was just me and Samantha.”

The car falls silent. Scully recognizes the song on the radio this time. She is about to ask who sings it when Mulder says, “Neither of us are redheads though.”

Scully stammers, “What?”

“Me and Samantha,” he clarifies. “Neither of us are redheads.”

“Oh.” She manages a nervous titter when she realizes he’s making a joke. It’s kind of him, after her clumsy faux pas. He’s a very kind person, she decides. It would be so easy for him to be hard and cynical but somehow he’s the opposite.

“I was, however, one of those babies who was born blonde and then grew up to have dark hair,” he continues.

“I’d be interested to see the statistics about redheaded babies who mysteriously grow up to blend in with the other 98% of the population,” Scully says, raising her eyebrows. “Sounds like an x-file to me.”

“There’s actually a creature called a changeling mentioned in the folklore of many ancient cultures, although the Celts are usually credited with its creation,” Mulder says excitedly. “Parents believed a baby prone to sickness or colic must actually be a changeling, brought by the fairies and--”

“Switched with the real baby when no one was looking,” Scully finishes.

“Someone’s brushed up on their cryptids.” He seems proud.

“We used to tell Charlie he was a changeling,” she explains. “My aunt was a big storyteller, she unknowingly gave us a lot of fodder for harmless torture amongst siblings.”

“I always wanted a big family. As a kid,” he amends. “Both my parents were only children.”

“The grass is always greener,” she offers. “I’ve got more cousins than I can count, and now they’ve all got kids. It’s a lot to keep up with.”

“Nieces and nephews?”

“Nope, but Bill just got married, so he and his wife will probably start trying soon.”

They fall into a comfortable silence and Scully tries not to focus on the mile markers alongside the road. They blur and smear, green beacons guiding them to the parkway as they coast through the beginning of traffic. Left to her own devices Scully can’t help but think of the impending holidays; three weeks until Thanksgiving, seven until Christmas, eight until New Years… she feels nauseous all of sudden and rolls down her window.

“I can turn down the heat,” Mulder offers, fiddling with something. His car is surprisingly neat, the dashboard free of dust, the floorboards clean save for a scattering of seed shells. His fingers pause a moment over the temperature knob, as if it’s been so long since he’s driven his own car that he has to reacquaint himself with its functions.

Scully waves a hand at him before he can make an adjustment. “No, it’s fine, I’m just feeling a little sick, that’s all.”

“We can pull off here and get something to eat.”

Scully lifts her hand to stop him, but then looks ahead at the oncoming sea of brake lights headed for the parkway and acquiesces. Mulder pulls into the parking lot of a 7-11 and declares, “It’s been years since I’ve had a footlong weiner.”

Coming from anyone else she would have tsked her disapproval, but there is something so non-threatening about the way Mulder says it that she almost giggles. A young girl with dark eyeliner whose nametag says Ashlynn rings them up for two hot dogs and two Diet Cokes. Outside, the wind whips Scully’s hair into her mouth as she struggles to open the mustard packet on the back of Mulder’s car. After an aggressive tug the slippery plastic finally gives way, her thumb slips, and she squirts mustard on the sleeve of her coat.

“Awww,” Mulder sympathizes through a mouthful of hot dog.

Scully swears and dabs at the blob with a napkin, hoping that it won’t stain. She’d just gotten this coat, too. They eat their hot dogs in silence, trying not to chew with their mouths open. Scully feels her headache slowly dissipating. Things become clearer around the edges. It is one of those acute Maryland evenings right before winter, with air just cold enough to remind you you’re alive, but this beats another night on her couch. Tomorrow she will go for a run, wake up as early as she can and make herself keep going until every breath is sharp as glass and her legs feel like jello.

“There’s something I want you to have,” Mulder says suddenly, fishing through his pocket next to her.

“Oh?”

“You gave me yours ages ago and I finally got around to returning the favor.” He pulls out an angular brass key and places it in the palm of her hand. “Apartment 42. It’s down at the end.”

“Oh, thank you.” It’s heavier than she expects, which is strange. All house keys weigh the same, she thinks. She pulls out her own keys and jams her nail in between the cheap metal rings, trying to make space for the surprisingly thick addition.

“Technically you didn’t give yours to me so much as I found it,” Mulder says. He takes a sip of his soda.

“Sitting on the desk,” she remembers. “That was my spare.”

“Well it’s lucky I’m a nosy bastard and scooped it up.”

Lucky indeed. Scully shivers at the thought of Tooms in her house, snaking along the floor. To somehow not be safe even with all your windows and doors locked was unnerving to say the least. She’d slept at a friend’s for two nights after that. She’d never told Mulder. She’d never really thanked him, either.

“Thank you,” she says, then takes a sip of her Diet Coke. “For stealing my spare key and for coming that night. I don’t, ah, I don’t know what I would have--”

“You would have been fine,” Mulder assures her, but she doesn’t believe him. She believes that he believes himself, though, and that is sort of reassuring. She burrows further into the popped collar of her coat. Mulder doesn’t look cold at all. He doesn’t have gloves or a hat. She tries to picture Mulder in a hat and chuckles.

“What?” he asks.

“Just picturing you in one of those-- sheepskin hats with the ear flaps.” She mimes pulling the ear flaps down and tying them under her chin.

Mulder laughs. “Just ball caps for me, that’s all that’ll fit on this noggin.”

“Too many cases in there,” Scully says. In a gesture of unprecedented familiarity, she tousles his hair. She can’t quite reach the top of his head, of course, but she gets the side nice and messy. The pad of her thumb accidentally grazes his earlobe on the way down.

“Probably,” he agrees good-naturedly, shrugging a shoulder and flattening his hair back down. Scully fears for a moment that she has grossly overstepped the line, and then he says, “Should we get back?”

It’s not a statement, we should get back, the awkward conversation-ender. It’s a question. He genuinely wants her opinion. On this and, seemingly, all things.

“You’re a good partner, Mulder,” she says quietly. Her eyes water, stinging from the wind. Before she can stop herself, she adopts that goofy voice again, the old school New York copper. “Ya got gumption and spirit, kid.”

“So do you,” Mulder replies, completely serious. And then in the next instant he is playing along, miming a cigar and grumbling, “We gotta make like a banana and split.”

They hurry to get into the car, cheeks raw, lips pebbly and dry. The 7-11 drinks barely squeeze into Mulder’s cupholders. The bases fit, but the cups lean out at an angle, too wide at the top to sit evenly. This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, Scully thinks. She pictures herself and Mulder in denim and horsehide, two no-nonsense sheriffs keeping a small prairie town in line, protecting its inhabitants from dust devils and flesh-eating locusts. Her hair is long and she has a braid. She thinks about growing it out as the car picks up speed and the parkway stretches out before them, a black ribbon dotted with red and yellow lights.

#my writing #xf fanfic #xf missing scene challenge #challenges

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xluciferrisingxworld-blog · 7 years

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Pebble in Water - Part 1

Throw a pebble into a pond, it creates ripples, Circling outwards, unhindered. Throw in a bunch of pebbles, the ripples collide, Each affecting the others, unending, In a masterpiece of chaotic motion. We are all pebbles, seven billion, Tossed into one great pond. *** Jezzica lived in a studio, to call it an apartment would have been generous. It was more of a bedroom with an attached bath, a small fridge, and a microwave. Jezzica did not care, most of her meals were microwaved or delivered, so she had no need for the luxury of a kitchen. Some of her friends even called her lucky to have, as they called it, a “large” room. It was big enough for her to have a full sized bed, what more could she want? The closet was permanently jammed open with dirty clothes, and her five sets of work outfits hung preciously above the mess. Trash bags, stuffed with various food containers, were dutifully lined up alongside the wall to the door. It could be another few days before they made it to the trash-shoot. Blankets encircled the bed, like a moat, defending the sanctity of sleep. To the left, there was a distressed wooden nightstand, which offered splinters at the slightest touch. On the table, there was a lamp sans shade, five used tissues, allergy medicine, and an alarm clock angrily buzzing that it was seven thirty. Jezzica was sprawled out across the bed, and blindly swatted at the clock until it stopped making noise. She turned toward the nightstand, her eyes still closed, and buried her round face in her pillow. “Please, don’t be there,” she mumbled. She opened her eyes to the distorted view of her sheets’ worn floral pattern. She slowly turned her head left; and, with a great heave of her chest, closed her eyes again. The only window in her micro-apartment was blocked by a black creature, oozing and dripping darkness all over the stained-green carpet. She peeked up at it. It grinned, showing off its snow-white-razor-teeth. Jezzica swung her feet out of bed, and stood face-to-face with the figure. She stared at it for a few seconds: she did not move; it did not move. She cracked first, and stumbled toward the bathroom. It followed. The chittering echoes of its whispers began, as it did every morning. “You’re going to be late. You’re so pathetic, such a waste of space. No one even wants to see you,” it hissed. Jezzica brushed her light brown hair, and pulled it into a pony tale, without even glancing into the mirror. She pulled her pajama-bottoms down, and sat on the toilet. The creature’s red eyes examined every inch of her. It saw her arm flaps, the fat hanging off of thighs, her double chin, and her stomach, which rested on her thighs. “You’re so fat and disgusting. No one will ever love.” She finished, and washed her hands. She trudged to the closet, kicking dirty clothes out of her way, and grabbed a pair of dress pants and a shirt. “Are you really going to wear that? Does it even still fit you? This is why Linda snickers when you walk pass her. You look like a pig in a pants suit.” Jezzica dressed herself; the pants squeezed around the middle, creating the perfect muffin top. The sleeves were tight around her arms, making them appear to be burst sausages. She slowly bent down—listening for rips—, and rummaged through the pile of clothes to find some socks. Her shoes were scuffed, and she suspected that a hole was about to form on the toe of the left one. “This is why you haven’t gotten that raise,” she whispered, “Dress for the job you want, not like a hobo who walked in off of the street.” She glanced over at the creature, it gave an approving sharp-toothed grin. *** Lucifer clawed his way up another foot. The Pit’s dark dirt burrowed deeper into his finger and toe nails. His black-feathered wings beat, aiding his movement upwards. He glared up into a round opening filled with orange light. It would be another three feet before he reached the faintest glow from above. His claws pierced the side of the Pit, his wings pumped, and he made it up another few inches. Lucifer’s skin was coated in a thick layer of dirt, making it appear to be as black as coal. His hair was matted with sweat, dirt, and the grey feces of an unknown fowl. His eyes were blood shot, and so dilated that the pupils appeared to be black holes. His muscles were tense, as they struggled to keep him ascending. “I’m coming for you,” Lucifer growled, “Even if I have to crawl up inch by inch.” The sound of a screech echoed around the dark cavern, and Lucifer paused. His wings became motionless, and he began to slide downward. Another squall sounded, closer to him. Lucifer covered his body with his wings, and dug his finger and toes into the dirt. Some of his nails snapped off, re-grew, snapped off, and re-grew again as the gravitational pull dragged him back down into the Pit. He was quickly losing the ground he gained that day. *** Jezzica sat at her desk, glancing back and forth between bank statements, reports, and a spreadsheet on her monitor. There was a blanket of papers scattered around her, one precariously perched on her phone. Her cubical had notes stuck all over the walls, and a few candy wrappers lay on the floor around her trashcan. The creature took up half of the space, and stood over her shoulder. It put a goopy-clawed hand on her shoulder. She peered up at it. “You’re never going to get all this work done. It’s hopeless, you’re hopeless. You’re such a failure,” it breathed into her ear. Jezzica shook it off, and focused harder on her work. She checked numbers, crossed off others, and entered them into the computer. She worked like this for a few minutes; when, she heard the sound of Adam’s stride down the row of cubicles. The sound of nails clicking and scrapping on the tile floor intensified as he approached. He stopped about three rows away from her, Linda’s desk. “Nice work, as always,” Adam said, “And, may I add that you look lovely today.” “Oh, thanks. This is a new shirt, I was nervous to wear it today,” Linda chirped. “Well, you made the right decision. Will I see you at pingpong practice, tonight?” “I can’t wait. This time, I’ll beat you for sure.” Jezzica rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that,” Adam said. “I don’t know she’s gotten pretty good,” Cindy said, from across the hall. “If you’re right about that, we might finally be able to beat the guys from the third floor,” he said. The two women hummed in agreement. Adam nodded a farewell, and he continued his march down the lineup of cubicles. This time he stopped at Jezzica’s desk, and tossed more paper onto it. Adam was not a tall man; he was barely even average in height, but he carried himself like he was six foot. He was the type of man who dressed above his means, carefully groomed his hair and eyebrows, and whitened his teeth. He had a permanent smirk, as if he had already won the argument. His chest was inflated with an unearned air of entitlement and victory. “Get these done by tomorrow,” he said. Jezzica glanced between the pile of work on her desk, the clock, and Adam. He too had a creature following him; although, he could not see it. Adam’s creature was big and hairy, resembling a cross between a wolf and a bear. It laughed and sneered at Jezzica. She opened her mouth to object, then closed it, and briefly flipped through the papers. “Maybe, someone else could…” “I asked you to do it, so get it done.” Adam marched away before Jezzica could make an argument. His monster followed behind, its claws clinking on the linoleum tiles. “He has no respect for you,” her creature said, “Why would he? You’re a pathetic pile of shit.” Jezzica stared at the scissors on her desk. The oozing figure draped itself over her shoulder, its slime trickled down her cheek. “Just a few slices, and it will all be over.” Jezzica shoved the monster off of her, and continued checking and entering numbers. She worked until a quarter after six; the once messy papers became two neat stacks. She sighed, and took out her cell phone. There were four messages from Kira. Jezzica groaned, but smiled. She opened her phone and read the messages. “Omg are u coming 2 the diner tonight?” “I hav 2 tell u bout my audition!” “I’ll save ur booth.” “Where r u?” Jezzica grabbed her things, and headed for the elevator. Most of the lights were off, and she navigated by the light of her phone. She passed by the break room, and saw Adam and Linda still in there playing pingpong. Jezzica hated Linda’s creature the most: it was grayish-white, skeletal, had no teeth, and only wisps of sliver hair. It often hissed at Jezzica, provoked her own oozing beast, and whispered awful things to Linda, which made her grin. Adam came up behind Linda to guide her through a swing. Their monsters flirted with each other, in growls and grunts. Jezzica gawked for a second, until she caught the eye of Linda’s beast. She hurried away into the elevator. “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen,” she mumbled to herself. “No man is ever going to touch you like that.” Jezzica and her monster stepped into the elevator, and descended to the ground floor. *** A scaled creature, with glowing green eyes, talons, and rows of razor like teeth in a pointed beak, soared towards Lucifer. He held his breath. The intensity of its eyes cut through him, and he feared he would be thrown back to the bottom. However, it flew away with a shrill screech. Lucifer’s wings unfolded, and his slow movement upward began again. His fingers dug, knuckle deep, into the black earth. The claws on his toes gripped the wall; and his wings flapped with great thrusts. He pulled himself up, an inch, another inch. He regained the ground he lost. “I don’t care if it takes me another thousand years, I will get out of this hole. And when I do, I’m coming for you.” Every little movement upwards was fought for, and won. Soon, Lucifer gained a foot, and he began to feel the gravitational pull lighten, allowing him to achieve more height quicker. With the next foot, the slight tingle of his magic began to fill his body. By the third foot, he was in the warm orange glow of the light, which came from the opening in the Pit. Lucifer’s wings beat faster, and his muscles strained harder. Freedom was neigh.

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