Flippy Angry Novels & Stories

Correction—the demon. It was camped out in the corner of the room, black, one eye glowing like it knew what I did for a living. The other eye was gone, just gone. The fucker had a walker with tennis balls on the legs, and it glared at me like I owed it money or maybe blood. “What the fuck is that?” I muttered. She didn’t even look up from the stove, where the pot of bubbling oat milk was now smoking violently. “That’s Flan,” she called over her shoulder, “Don’t let the attitude fool you, he’s sweet once you get to know him!”

He snaps at her angrily before he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and she flinches. Many questions floods her mind as she slid her feet into her flip flop, dragging herself out of the room afterward...

Flip regained his senses, and tossed Castro aside, he glanced at Miles once, before walking to his seat. Miles looked at Old Agora who wore an expressionless face, he couldn't even trace any iota of emotion from his face. Miles sighed in his heart that Old Agora won't even blink an eye even if they kill each other, the next contenders stepped into the ring. It continued like that, until the last match, Flip made it to the finales, and the one who he is going to face was a lady. The moment he stepped into the ring, he bellowed “Za, my sister, there is no need for the fight, you know, you will lose against me, why don't you save me the stress of beating a lady, and give in?” Flip suggested.

He looked towards me and I felt my heart jump as those brown eyes looked into my cider eyes. My legs froze to the floor but my knees turned weak as my wolf whispered a word that I had never thought I would hear, a word that I especially never thought I would hear being said because of a man... 'Mate!'

She wanted to throw up, scream, anything. “Angelie,” he continued, stepping closer. “You’re mine. No one can change that. Not even God.” ****** Back at the penthouse, Flora burst through the door. “I knew it!” she shouted. “When Tim called me, I rushed down here. This man is a psychopath!” Jeff looked up, startled by the loud footsteps. “Do you always stomp like that when you're angry?” he asked dryly. “I’m sorry. I just want to punch that long-nosed demon in the face.”

Cow-lick hair no longer laughs, but cradles his arm. I get up completely and open my mouth in a grotesque grimace. "Are you laughing at me, Fluffy ?" I snort and bare my teeth. I stand still and assess the opponent. The blow has made me come so much back in control, that I am no longer blinded by rage. I am in control again and can change if need be. But I don’t dare to do so as long as the psychopath stands before me. Who is he ? What is he ?

A giggle, for God’s sake. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, standing as rigidly as a statue, hoping to send the message that I wasn't interested in whatever nonsense she was about to pull out of her perfect little pocket of tricks. I stared at her with pure, unfiltered anger and hatred, letting it boil beneath the surface, like a cauldron of resentment ready to spill over. Flynn stopped in front of me, that infuriating smile still plastered across her face. It was as if she didn’t care that I couldn’t stand the sight of her.

He was young, hot-blooded, and quick-tempered, so he would explode if anyone poked fun at him. It didn't help that the jab came from Flynn, whose company was nearly on its last legs and on the brink. How could Flynn still carry himself like he was above it all and look at Malcolm like he was garbage? Malcolm hated him for it. "Shut up!" Flynn smiled coldly. "Your whole family begs for a living." Malcolm snapped. His anger turned his brain to mush, so he grabbed a bottle and started attacking. Flynn took a few hits before he started to hit back. The timing was right. He was impulsive, but he would never let himself fall all the way into a trap.

I shot back, but steps away, I heard him chuckle. “ You son of a b*tch!” I sneered and sent the torchlight flying in his direction. Instead, it knocks down a bottle. “ Woahh! Someone is angry.” I take off my flipflop and pranced towards him, climbing the couch with an aim for his head. He docks well, getting up, and turning away skillfully with so much ease that flares my nerves. I grunt in frustration, unable to land a strike. “ You know, you are a piece of shit!”

“Little brother, I can expl—” “Don’t you fucking call me that!” I snapped, cutting him off. My chest heaved with every painful breath, but I didn’t give a shit. “And don’t you dare come near me again. What the hell are you doing in here anyway? Have you come to finish the job? To finish what you started, you backstabbing piece of shit?!" Anger bubbled viciously in my veins as I glared at Flynn, my eyes blazing with lethal promise.