Mello’s Chocolate Factory

Is this space I will be sharing my stories, one shots, and drabbles. [Mostly Death Note and Naruto oriented + a little original fiction] I hope that some of my writings will please my fellow Otaku; and occasionally, I will write shonen ai to appease some of you insane fan girls. [Myself included.] :)

Also, I love to receive constructive criticism and ideas to improve my writing. So feel free to shower me in your thoughts and guidelines.

Upcoming works:

None at the moment---blame the damn writer's block. account


"You know that I don't love you."

This is for bellpickle's challenge, 'Snapshot'. This shall be my first time submitting a peice of fiction for a contest here on TheOtaku, so I've put some good effort into this. For this challenge, I chose the prompt: You know that I don't love you.


Her words drove into his heart like an enflamed needle; minuscule at first, but painful in the long run. Yet, like a ghost he trotted next to her, always trying to divulge his unwavering devotion. His efforts became fruitless and clumsy in the end, and her frown only deepened as the years crawled by noticeably without change. He sacrificed his freedom, turned away from the worldly pleasures of society in exchange for a chance to entrench himself in a loveless relationship in which he felt like nothing more than a petulant fool, fishing for a woman’s diminished love.

But isn’t that what he was? Was he nothing but a hollow shell manufactured by an underlying distaste from this distant woman? He clutched her weak hand, almost affirmatively. Mechanically, she shrugged him off, glaring bitterly into his face, a memory of another person filling her skull. It was now that he grew to despise his visage, wishing to exchange it for something more mundane.

His efforts were nothing more than a distant memory now.

As more years slipped by and a casket became her home, the townspeople still whispered tales of a ghost clutching at the remains of a grave, unable to cope with his mother’s last words:

"You know that I don’t love you."


Just something to chip away at my Writer's Block.

He was beginning to question his own actions, something he rarely had the time to do. If he thought about it too much, he'd hesitate, and inevitably disappoint. That's why he chose such a fast paced lifestyle. He feared the day where his life would wind down, and only a pitiful sense of solitude consumed him. The thought of a mediocre, insignificant life brought justification to his actions, and distilled sense of justice. Maybe that type of twisted logic is what helped him sleep at night; either way, he knew that there was no room for his skewed perceptions in the afterlife. He often mused about how cruel it could be for him once he passed away. Until then, he was content with running from his fears, and chasing them down with his victim's screams.


In the darkest corner of the room, he studied them: his beautiful specimens. they trotted around like precarious, edible deer. Digesting their addictive alcohols, frivolously chattering with one another, unable to foresee their own demise. He tried thinking of creative ways to shatter their existence: their prides and joys; he could carve them out, like a jubilant pumpkin in the autumn breeze. And have them returned to their families with a new smile in place. He could delve into his pockets and stir up the sleeping pills and casually drop them in someone's drink. No, no-- much too impersonal. He needed to catch them when they were alert. He needed to see their tear stricken eyes as he peeled away their remaining life span with his favorite kitchen knife. He chuckled; a wave of contentment pouring in, to accompany his pretty thoughts.

But these little deer would not satisfy him; these red faced insects would only serve as a diminutive appetizer, barely feeding a much larger appetite. They wasted themselves too openly; they had no façade, no pretenses. He didn't desire a clumsy deer-- no, he wanted a sly fox: a deceptive little creature to watch writhe and choke under his unmerciful hands. His crimson eyes livened at the realization. Only a creature of that stature would suit his needs.

He was definitely not a religious man; his occupation literally abolished what little holiness he had left. But now, as a new prey strode into the room, façade in place, eyes calculating every step; he knew that his 'prayers' had been answered. Under his black, stringy bangs, he stared at this new specimen with an eye of perversion. Auburn tresses lay on his face like clouds, his posture was upright and powerful, and his eyes were glowing with pretense and a blanketed desire for destruction. His lips were a perfect, pale color of pink; but his expression was not that of a holy man. He was arrogant; his hand gestures and haughty voice as he ordered his beverage gave ample proof of that.

This new character's arrogance did not steer away the predator's desire. In fact, it made him lust for his anguished cries even more. How enlivening would it be to watch an arrogant figure like him, pleading for mercy, abandoning all reason? From across the room, his crimson eyes studied his prey's figure; trying to absorb his movements, predicting his thoughts.

He stayed still, watching quitely as his prey sealed his fate; guzzling alcohol like a dehydrated alcoholic. Yet, his skin was fair and beautiful; drinking was not habitual with this fox, but stress undoubtedly was. The minutes limped by with the predator observing as his prey's shoulders loosened with the bitterness of his drinks as his eyes became glazed over with sinful intoxication. The predator rubbed his bare feet together and unwound his joints as he mused over his good fortune. Like a fox that had made the mistake of indulging itself on extra meat, his prey became sluggish and misguided. With a crooked grin and a curved posture, he rose, stalking over to the brunette with sickly intentions. Slithering into and empty seat near his prey, he quietly placed his arms on the counter. He glanced up at his prey. He was glancing into his empty glass; eyes glazed over with inebriated reasoning while the world around him continued trudging forward.

His lips parted slowly as millions of possibly scenarios rushed through his skull, all of them ending with him reigning victorious. With hidden anticipation, he began to speak.


I typed out this entire thing on writer’s block, so I feel that it could be better. Don’t expect too much. And don’t let the word vampire throw you off; I wouldn’t go as far as to call it romance. [Ehh... not my favorite genre...] And thankfully, there’s no sparkling involved.

This story takes place in a post apocalyptic world; where humans are struggling to survive and vampires have stepped forward as the new leaders of the world and picking off the human’s like flies. One day, I might write another part to this story; but once again, don’t expect a masterpiece.

《 What happens when I have too much time on my hands.》

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Shadows blanketed his pallid skin as he landed; tightening his grip on the small package hidden beneath his coat. Regarding his presence like deadly venom, the bats above squeaked and flapped their wings in utter disrespect. Paying no mind to their discrepancies, he swiftly turned and sprinted deeper into the caverns. What questions could his elders ask once he returned to base? Rarely did a young vampire rush into the night, abandoning all of his comrades in middle of a hunt. He hasn’t developed an excuse yet for his sudden radical behavior. As thoughts of his actions resurfaced in his mind, his grimace reflected regret.

He needed to stop carelessly running off.

Drawing curiosities was the last thing he wished to obtain.

What consequences would he suffer if they did discover the little secret hidden within the caves? His stomach turned at the thought; torture was one of the many things his race had perfected and turned into a medical practice. The eerie possibilities hung over his shoulders every time he leapt through passages, while taking in the airy scent of limestone. At first glance, one might discard the possibility that life still dwelled in this cavern. A secretive smirk crawled up his face once the sound of a heartbeat reached his ears.

Once she’d heard the quick, meaningful footsteps nearing her path, she stumbled into the nearest corner and buried her head into her hands. Peering slightly through the space between her fingers, she heard a soft chuckle. Reaching in his back pocket, he pulled out a small flashlight, and turned it on. The area became illuminated and his identity was quickly revealed. She stared at him studying his delicate features, recognition settling in as a diminutive smile crept onto her features.

Making friends, with a human no less?

Their race was slowly dying off; succumbing to disease and radiation from earlier wars. The vampires, a legend that’d quietly waited in the darkness and literature for centuries had sprung from hiding and salvaged the Earth. As humans died off, the search for blood became a sport. Packs of their race snuck out in the middle of the night, eager to catch a foolish human off guard. Keeping a human shrouded during this time of desperation was considered sickening amongst his race.

Even after the consequences were laid at his feet, how could such a frail creature lure his attention so? He constantly pondered about it, examining her pale features each time. She was a filthy little creature; dirt coated her skin; her hair was knotted and strewn, her nails bitten and bleeding. She loved wandering the cave, disregarding the dangers it held, thirsting for enjoyment.

He carefully reached into his coat, laying down the measly package of food. Simple foods that would’ve been commonplace before devastation had taken to mortal lands; had become gold. This girl knew it better than anyone else, the boy realized, as she wolfed down the food like a savage. A sinister part of him fell into delight at the thought of being able to control whether she survived or not. Only he knew of her whereabouts, only he took the time to offer her food. Any time he felt filled with craze, he could leave her to starve or enjoy the taste of her blood.

But whenever he felt on the brink of doing so, human characteristics stilled him.

She had made him that way.

Once she finished, she innocently smiled at him, making a grin reach his face. It was the same smile he’d encountered when he first met her. Superstitious villagers had chased her and her mother into the caverns, leaving them to perish at the hands of any vampires that crossed their path. For days she waited in the cave with her mother; hunger driving them to tears. Suddenly the mother left, desperate for food and liquid. She never returned; a vampire struck her down even before she’d left the cave opening.


A rare moment of insatiable hunger had taken him over. He couldn’t help himself as he practically tore the woman apart, ripping her head clean off; eager for the metallic taste of blood. Anyone who laid eyes on him, thought he was nothing but a mere boy; clean onyx hair hanging over his eyes like a blanket, with a visage that displayed innocence. That’s how he always managed to kill so easily, the element of surprise.

Crazed, he ran into the cave. He followed a scent, one that promised blood.

A whimper reached his ears.

There she was.

The most dainty, frail human he’d ever laid eyes on. Defenseless and without understanding, she cowered like a mortified, wounded animal clutching onto her own frame without a shred of dignity. He remembered standing there for minutes staring at her terrified visage, staring deeply into her irises.

He studied her eyes, noticing how it reminded him of the starving human he’d just torn apart. The blood in his mouth suddenly tasted foul, realization settled in.


That where this ends---I still haven't finished the chapter, but I plan to when I'm feeling a little more creative.

A Simple Smile

A short Death Note one-shot. Mainly circling around the event of L's death and the thoughts he had as he died. Depressing, I know; but a tad satisfying to people who wished to see Light put to justice. [I actually wanted him to take over the world… can't a super intelligent teen sit back and enjoy a little world domination?]

Characters – L Lawliet, Yagami Light
Rating – PG
Warnings – Character death, epic foreshadowing? Lol
Word count – 475

The screen before his eyes flickered unobtrusively as the bright crimson lights adorned his pale skin. His eyes widened and in one swift second, the rhythm of his heart was upset. His breathing faltered, his legs gave way, and the ground offered no relief as his crashed down onto it.

And suddenly, all conversation ceased; and everything wasn't alright, but it would be.

Because once L felt the cautious handling of someone, he heard the anguished cries of a best friend, a soft shake in an attempt to make the crumbling boy beneath him snap back with a jesting response. And for an instant, L didn't question Light's motives. The invading silence was followed by the horrified gasps of the task force. At the corner of L's eyes, he regretfully caught the heartrending emotions in Matsuda's honest eyes. With an air of melancholy, L realized what had happened.

The prodigy had at last failed. The clues he discovered, the twisted roads he had traveled had led him to an untimely demise at the pen of a teenager with a childish sense of justice. How morbid. L grimly mused as the muscles painfully clenched inside his chest.

As a final action, L glanced up, eager to memorize the last thing he'd ever see: the expression on his friend's face. In the rarity of his vulnerability, a raw surprise struck him. The deep lines of pity and concern were fond nowhere on his friend's visage. Sharp understanding sliced at the valves of his tender heart while watching a triumphant grin surface slyly. L, feeling the callous eyes of Light, impulsively wished to call out the name of his tormentor; put an end to the Kira case during the loss of his own life.

"The chance that Yagami Light is Kira is 100%."

The words never passed from his lips, and a sudden lack of voice became his worst enemy.

Enlivened with astonishment, L stared into the eyes of his killer, fastidiously picking at the emotions that swam in the deceptive irises of his former friend. Kira's lips were viciously curled upwards, his eyes were victoriously narrowed, and the most prominent emotion was spotted in his devilish eyes. Pride; like and overpowering poison, the crippling sin itself was visible above all others. L mused about the complexity of this sensation and how easily it could be manipulated and triggered.

Once the realization had been bestowed upon him, a comfortable darkness began to ravish his brain… the thousands of thoughts that had always plagued the genius's mind quickly began to wither away, like a slate suddenly wiped clean with warm, soothing water… Lids gradually sealing for the first time, L began envisioning the timely demise of his rival.

All they'd have to do is pull the trigger.

L did the only thing he was able to do then,