Happy Psycho Serial Killer Tegoshi.
May. 11th, 2007 05:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tinyanglTitle: Happy Psycho Serial Killer Tegoshi.
Author: Kamika Farinas aka![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tinyangl
Rating: PG-13
Words: 1309
Pairing: One sided Tegopi.
Summary: Inspired by this Image. asfkdj. I fail at titles, so what you see is what you get. My f-list sure gives me a lot of ideas, don't they? This is all thanks to them and their comments on wanting to read happy psycho serial killer Tesshi. (Except he's not all that happy, depending on how you use that word. IDK. I fail.) Enjoy.
"Yuya-kun!" Nishikido Ryo snapped when he saw the younger boy enter the dressing room, panting.
Tegoshi Yuya looked up, his eyes wide and his cheeks flush. Ryo instantly softened. "I'm...sor-" he started panting slightly, when Ryo cut him off.
"It's fine. Just get dressed. Everyone else is ready," he said, his voice still carrying a tinge of harshness, not wanting to appear too soft for them. The younger boy nodded and rushed to get the outfit he was wearing for their photoshoot. He immediately started stripping off his outer-shirt and looked the image of exhaustion from his apparent run to the set. As he started dressing, his mind was reeling at the idea that he had been able to side-step any questions for his lateness, but he supposed he should be used to that by now. They never asked when he looked at them with his eyes or his pout. Suckers. And that's the way he liked it.
Black. That's what color her eyes were. Or that's what he thought they were. He never did pay much attention; they all looked black to him, every single one of them - blank and unemotional and uninteresting. She was blinking at him with this innocent look on her face, as though he'd be interested in her just because she looked at him like that. She'd twirl her hair, wink at him, make motions that were meant to be as "cute." Please. What a joke.
"Tegoshi," Yamashita Tomohisa's sharp voice cut through his thoughts easily. Yuya looked up to meet the eyes of his most admired sempai, his shirt half-on as his hand froze mid-action. "Hurry it up, if you can. I think Ryo-chan's getting crabby over here." He gave a weak smile at the end, trying to reassure the boy with just that little action. He then gave a nod and walked over to the other NewS members (minus Koyama) who were still sitting around in the room, waiting around for their solo shoots.
Yuya took in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing as he followed the path of their leader. He watched - watched him laugh with the members, joke around with them, sit down, stand, everything. But he still forced himself to focus on getting dressed; it wouldn't do him any good to have to stab Ryo if he bothered him another time for taking so long. (That'd be a little more reveal of his true character than he wanted to show.)
He'd pretend he was interested. That's what he always did. It's how he got all those girls to talk to him. He'd laugh. He'd joke. He'd flirt and wink and smile and all that good stuff. And if they were at karaoke, he'd sing and that was always the best trick in the book; they were all easy prey after that. He was supposed to be mister innocent and that's just how he played it. It was how he'd gotten all those sluts into bed. He got them to trust him and let him in, figuratively and literally. They didn't know any better. (Not that he even expected any bit of common sense from them.) Big mistake.
Yuya walked over to the group, adjusting his collar slightly and fidgeting with it as he made a face at how uncomfortable the material was. Masuda Takahisa looked at him curiously as he reached over to grab at the boy's collar. "Tegoshi... Is that blood?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look.
The younger boy's eyes went wide as the rest of the members (now minus Ryo who had been replaced by Koyama) huddled around him to look at his shirt. They all murmured their agreements to the comment and Yuya fought to get a better look at the stains on the shirt. He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at it. "Oh!" Yuya exclaimed, sounding disappointed, "I must still be bleeding from the paper cut I got." He held out a finger to show the cut on his finger and sighed dramatically, "You think they have another shirt for me?"
"Yuya-kun. Your go," Ryo's voice interrupted, walking into the room at that point, and Yuya looked in his direction, eyes wide.
"But?" he started, when Yamashita Tomohisa started pushing him out of the room, telling him that the stain would probably not cause any problems and to just go before Ryo started stabbing peope.
Blood. There was blood everywhere. Normally Yuya never killed messily. He hated getting it on himself and being an idol, he had to always look perfect and blood got everywhere and sometimes you would never know where it landed and just a tiny mess up could end it. He usually smothered them, drowned them or choked them, ways in which he would not have to deal with much of an after-math. He was always meticulous, cleaning after himself, always wearing gloves. It was the only reason he'd gotten away with the amount of murders he had committed.
Yuya stood in front of the photographer who had not noticed the state of Yuya's stained shirt. He told Yuya to just sit down and pose whatever way he wanted. The smile on his face was hard to hold back. He always felt this high whenever he had just committed a murder. There was something refreshing about it and comforting and all together amazing. He laughed out loud at the thought of getting to do this again and again and again. The photographer started yelling his praises over the laughter, click after click after click.
Yuya looked over at the girl's bedside. The eyes of Yamashita Tomohisa bore into him and Yuya snatched the uchiwa away from the table. He glared around the room, blood splattered everywhere - on the window curtains, her walls, posters of Yamashita Tomohisa scattered wherever the naked eye rested. Yuya turned to look at the prone girl on the bed, the knife a little bit away. "You don't deserve him," he hissed at her, holding the uchiwa close to his body. "He's mine. Nobody but mine."
Images of all the girls' melded together and flashed before his eyes as he put another Yamashita Tomohisa uchiwa on top of another. He blinked and suddenly his mind cleared and there were no longer any more images of dead females, sprawled on their beds. Now, Yuya stepped back to observe his room and was pleased to see all the Yamashita Tomohisa posters one on top of the other, just the way he liked it. He glanced over at the nearest side table and took in the large pile that he had built up from taking them from each of his victims. He called it "collecting."
"Tegoshi," Yamashita Tomohisa called, causing the younger boy to spin around in surprise, dropping his jacket on the floor. The older male picked it up, handing it over with a smile. "Wanna come to dinner with me?" he asked.
Yuya accepted it, his breath catching. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep back the excitement in his voice. He moved to put the jacket on and nonchalantly added, "Anyone else coming along?"
Yamashita Tomohisa leaned back on the lockers, "Nope, just us." His eyes furrowed together, "You don't mind, do you?"
"Nope! Not at all," the younger boy chirped happily. "Let's go now! Yamashita-kun's treat," he said laughing as he walked out the door.
"Heyyy!" Yamashita Tomohisa exclaimed, pouting, "Who said I was paying?!"
"I did, of course," Yuya said, turning around to grin at the older male, "Se~em~pai!"
Yamashita Tomohisa laughed and Yuya took in the sound with glee.
Yamashita Tomohisa was his. Nobody else's. Not Johnny's. Not Jin's. Not even fangirls'. And Yuya would make damn sure that was true. No matter what.
Author: Kamika Farinas aka
tinyanglRating: PG-13
Words: 1309
Pairing: One sided Tegopi.
Summary: Inspired by this Image. asfkdj. I fail at titles, so what you see is what you get. My f-list sure gives me a lot of ideas, don't they? This is all thanks to them and their comments on wanting to read happy psycho serial killer Tesshi. (Except he's not all that happy, depending on how you use that word. IDK. I fail.) Enjoy.
"Yuya-kun!" Nishikido Ryo snapped when he saw the younger boy enter the dressing room, panting.
Tegoshi Yuya looked up, his eyes wide and his cheeks flush. Ryo instantly softened. "I'm...sor-" he started panting slightly, when Ryo cut him off.
"It's fine. Just get dressed. Everyone else is ready," he said, his voice still carrying a tinge of harshness, not wanting to appear too soft for them. The younger boy nodded and rushed to get the outfit he was wearing for their photoshoot. He immediately started stripping off his outer-shirt and looked the image of exhaustion from his apparent run to the set. As he started dressing, his mind was reeling at the idea that he had been able to side-step any questions for his lateness, but he supposed he should be used to that by now. They never asked when he looked at them with his eyes or his pout. Suckers. And that's the way he liked it.
Black. That's what color her eyes were. Or that's what he thought they were. He never did pay much attention; they all looked black to him, every single one of them - blank and unemotional and uninteresting. She was blinking at him with this innocent look on her face, as though he'd be interested in her just because she looked at him like that. She'd twirl her hair, wink at him, make motions that were meant to be as "cute." Please. What a joke.
"Tegoshi," Yamashita Tomohisa's sharp voice cut through his thoughts easily. Yuya looked up to meet the eyes of his most admired sempai, his shirt half-on as his hand froze mid-action. "Hurry it up, if you can. I think Ryo-chan's getting crabby over here." He gave a weak smile at the end, trying to reassure the boy with just that little action. He then gave a nod and walked over to the other NewS members (minus Koyama) who were still sitting around in the room, waiting around for their solo shoots.
Yuya took in a sharp breath, his eyes narrowing as he followed the path of their leader. He watched - watched him laugh with the members, joke around with them, sit down, stand, everything. But he still forced himself to focus on getting dressed; it wouldn't do him any good to have to stab Ryo if he bothered him another time for taking so long. (That'd be a little more reveal of his true character than he wanted to show.)
He'd pretend he was interested. That's what he always did. It's how he got all those girls to talk to him. He'd laugh. He'd joke. He'd flirt and wink and smile and all that good stuff. And if they were at karaoke, he'd sing and that was always the best trick in the book; they were all easy prey after that. He was supposed to be mister innocent and that's just how he played it. It was how he'd gotten all those sluts into bed. He got them to trust him and let him in, figuratively and literally. They didn't know any better. (Not that he even expected any bit of common sense from them.) Big mistake.
Yuya walked over to the group, adjusting his collar slightly and fidgeting with it as he made a face at how uncomfortable the material was. Masuda Takahisa looked at him curiously as he reached over to grab at the boy's collar. "Tegoshi... Is that blood?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look.
The younger boy's eyes went wide as the rest of the members (now minus Ryo who had been replaced by Koyama) huddled around him to look at his shirt. They all murmured their agreements to the comment and Yuya fought to get a better look at the stains on the shirt. He frowned, his eyebrows furrowed together as he looked at it. "Oh!" Yuya exclaimed, sounding disappointed, "I must still be bleeding from the paper cut I got." He held out a finger to show the cut on his finger and sighed dramatically, "You think they have another shirt for me?"
"Yuya-kun. Your go," Ryo's voice interrupted, walking into the room at that point, and Yuya looked in his direction, eyes wide.
"But?" he started, when Yamashita Tomohisa started pushing him out of the room, telling him that the stain would probably not cause any problems and to just go before Ryo started stabbing peope.
Blood. There was blood everywhere. Normally Yuya never killed messily. He hated getting it on himself and being an idol, he had to always look perfect and blood got everywhere and sometimes you would never know where it landed and just a tiny mess up could end it. He usually smothered them, drowned them or choked them, ways in which he would not have to deal with much of an after-math. He was always meticulous, cleaning after himself, always wearing gloves. It was the only reason he'd gotten away with the amount of murders he had committed.
Yuya stood in front of the photographer who had not noticed the state of Yuya's stained shirt. He told Yuya to just sit down and pose whatever way he wanted. The smile on his face was hard to hold back. He always felt this high whenever he had just committed a murder. There was something refreshing about it and comforting and all together amazing. He laughed out loud at the thought of getting to do this again and again and again. The photographer started yelling his praises over the laughter, click after click after click.
Yuya looked over at the girl's bedside. The eyes of Yamashita Tomohisa bore into him and Yuya snatched the uchiwa away from the table. He glared around the room, blood splattered everywhere - on the window curtains, her walls, posters of Yamashita Tomohisa scattered wherever the naked eye rested. Yuya turned to look at the prone girl on the bed, the knife a little bit away. "You don't deserve him," he hissed at her, holding the uchiwa close to his body. "He's mine. Nobody but mine."
Images of all the girls' melded together and flashed before his eyes as he put another Yamashita Tomohisa uchiwa on top of another. He blinked and suddenly his mind cleared and there were no longer any more images of dead females, sprawled on their beds. Now, Yuya stepped back to observe his room and was pleased to see all the Yamashita Tomohisa posters one on top of the other, just the way he liked it. He glanced over at the nearest side table and took in the large pile that he had built up from taking them from each of his victims. He called it "collecting."
"Tegoshi," Yamashita Tomohisa called, causing the younger boy to spin around in surprise, dropping his jacket on the floor. The older male picked it up, handing it over with a smile. "Wanna come to dinner with me?" he asked.
Yuya accepted it, his breath catching. "Really?" he asked, trying to keep back the excitement in his voice. He moved to put the jacket on and nonchalantly added, "Anyone else coming along?"
Yamashita Tomohisa leaned back on the lockers, "Nope, just us." His eyes furrowed together, "You don't mind, do you?"
"Nope! Not at all," the younger boy chirped happily. "Let's go now! Yamashita-kun's treat," he said laughing as he walked out the door.
"Heyyy!" Yamashita Tomohisa exclaimed, pouting, "Who said I was paying?!"
"I did, of course," Yuya said, turning around to grin at the older male, "Se~em~pai!"
Yamashita Tomohisa laughed and Yuya took in the sound with glee.
Yamashita Tomohisa was his. Nobody else's. Not Johnny's. Not Jin's. Not even fangirls'. And Yuya would make damn sure that was true. No matter what.
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Date: 2007-05-12 12:52 pm (UTC)Neither would I have imagined Tegoshi as a serial killer. @.@ I'm ...glad I made it believable? LOL. Mindfuck for sure. Frigging sucky that this concept wouldn't leave me alone. And YES. I made it not AU. @.@ I don't know why, but it felt a little better if I had kept it in "real time." And OMG, THANKS FOR THE FREAKING BRILLANT. I LOVE IT.
...Yes, yes. I am insane. XP (Awesome way? ...Well, why not? *laughs*)