unfortunately a lot of the corny self help advice turns out to be true but the thing is you have to come to those conclusions yourself otherwise it just sounds dismissive and dumb
fe:if; platonic f!kamui/elise + nohr family mention, 318 words, fluffy drabble thing because im dead inside (dont worry theres no spoilers)
--
Elise steals into her room that night, knocking on the door quietly, before opening it with a bit too much excitement and dancing her way into the room on her tip toes. Kamui's fingers are clasped around a leather book, her favorite of many, and if Elise notices she doesn't say anything, simply getting into bed next to her.
She scoots closer and leans into her, whispering into her ear. "I know you had a fight with Leon."
Kamui closes the book and even as she's thinking of a response, Elise's hand takes hers in a firm grip. Her hands are so tiny and warm that she forgets herself for a second.
She continues, nervous, "I overheard him talking to Marx about it. Hey, doesn't he have such a brother complex? It's kind of freaky, actually."
Kamui cracks a smile. It felt odd and wrong on her face after the hours she spent crying, and Elise's hand in hers was reassuring in ways she was glad for. She turned to her younger sister and whispered back. "Why are you here, Elise?"
"Camilla's gone on that mission Daddy sent her on, and Marx's with Leon." Her head rests on her older sister's shoulder, loose curly hair spilling over her nightgown. "I thought you needed someone to listen to your side of the story."
Tears slip out of her eyes and she hurriedly moves to hide them. Elise smiles up at her, and Kamui presses her lips to her sister's forehead, feeling the anguish in her throat piling up again as she remembered Leon throwing his books down in a fit of rage.
Leaving her book on her nightstand, she turned her body to face Elise, hugging her closer. Snuggling into her older sister's chest, Elise listened as Kamui opened her mouth, hearing her words slightly drowned out by the beat of her heart.
The oracle rests her palms on the jut of her bare hip bones and Say'ri breathes through her mouth. So soft.
Her lady's lips press against her back, sending shivers down her spine as she grips her hips with a vindictive that suddenly isn't so gentle. Against all formalities, the princess wants her to push her hands upwards, downwards, wherever she may see fit. So soft.
She whispers suddenly, no more than a little broken voice but Say'ri catches it, "It must hurt..." Her lady runs her nose along her blades, taking in the essence of her and feeling the wetness of her cheeks. "All these imaginary scars..."
She's so tired. Both of them are. The princess's hands finally come up to meet her own own, twisting into them and splaying them first against the plane of her stomach, then to the valley between her breasts, before finally resting them against her beating pulse, if only to remind her that she lives.
Tiki's lips part and she raises her head, burying herself in her shoulder. She rolls her head back to meet her halfway, and they stay in silence, cold hands clutching colder hands, neither really willing to warm up.
notes: because im dirty but not dirty enough here is a blowjob for your blowjob needs--part of my modern magi series that i've been developing; this is somewhere right squash down in the middle of it all.
ao3
“Your expressions are cute, but you sometimes bite too much of your lower lip. I think it’s a childhood habit hag—you did that when you were younger too.” Judar clicked his tongue, twirling around in the middle of the Ren office before falling back onto her father’s chair. Kougyoku couldn’t stop the uneasiness that fell over her at seeing him sitting on such a high seat of power.
Below them, some ten stories till the ground, tiny lights flickered and brightened. It was cold outside, and Judar was a sadistic jerk; Kougyoku hugged her arms to her body as the cold air from the open window rushed in.
“You’re too rough. I have to bite on something for leverage.” She remained standing, crossing her arms over her chest. One strap of her spaghetti dress fell off her shoulder, and she fought the urge to fix it.
“You can’t expect that man to go easy on you. I’m preparing you for the worst.”
Lately it had been ‘that man’, when it had used to been ‘your husband’. She had picked up the change but had thought nothing of it.
“Speaking off which,” she started, and Judar eyed her with curiosity. The redhead had practiced her phrasing in the mirror the day before, but now she was suddenly at a loss of words. She gulped, before continuing. “I was thinking it’s time, I, you know, learned some actual skills.”
“Such as…?”
Her eyes nervously flicked up and down his body, and Judar followed the direction of her gaze. He blinked in surprise. “Are you offering to blow me? Seriously?”
She nodded, kneeling down and stretching upwards to undo his belt and jeans. He did nothing to stop her like she thought he would, instead watching her intently. Feeling a little weird under his gaze, she focused her attention on the length in her hands. She ran a hand over it curiously, and felt Judar stiffen under her fingers. Inhaling, she leaned forward to press a wet kiss to his tip. He shuddered, and encouraged by this, she put her mouth around it and started to suck.
Poking bright nails into his bare hip, she pushed herself forward, taking in as much of his dick as she could, figuring out her mistake when she almost choked. She relaxed, moving back, and focusing on the area she could cover. It was awkward to move her tongue around without blocking her throat, but she managed it somehow.
Judar was flabbergasted and hot and bothered all at once. This was not good; no this was not good at all. His fingers twitched and he clenched his fists tightly to keep them away from her silky hair. “Teeth,” he gasped, biting back a moan as he fought for his composure. “Watch your…. watch your teeth.”
Teeth? She flushed a bright shade only comparable to his eyes, but kept going anyway. She raised both her hands up to run her hands up and down the areas she couldn’t reach, pressing and feathering. She stopped sucking for a second when she heard a distinct moan.
“Keep going!” He snapped suddenly, and Kougyoku complied, but still kept her eyes on him now even she did suck.
After a while, he managed to calm down, relaxing as he reached out and buried his hand in her hair, stroking. She turned even more flushed, matching her almost breathless expression. This suddenly reminded him of something: how long had she been sucking?
“Kougyoku.” He prodded her with his other hand, still undeniably sensitive but still in control nonetheless. “Hey, Kougyoku. You can stop.”
She opened her mouth and he pulled out, and she suddenly started coughing violently from the lack of air. Judar couldn’t even find it in himself to be anything but annoyed.
“If you knew that you weren’t breathing, why the hell didn’t you stop?”
“You looked like… you looked like you would break.” This shut him up nicely. She inhaled and exhaled a few more times to get rid of the squeaky sound in her voice, before continuing. “I thought it was a nice change from the usual I’m-cool-as-hell-during-sex façade you have.”
“No more blow jobs from you.” He promised, annoyed for no reason in particular now. She smiled, still flushed and pretty. Judar pretended not to notice.
“Then who else is going to pleasure you?”
Her arrogance at his uncharacteristic flush was maddening; Judar huffed childishly. Gripping the arms of the sleek office chair and no longer looking so powerful, he rolled his eyes with all the nonchalance he could muster. “Your brothers, for one.”
She didn’t deny it, and a part of him suspected that she was still too caught up on his actions to care about what he was saying. Another part admitted reluctantly that Kouha had always been a little loud and her room wasn’t that far from the third brother’s.
Kougyoku pressed two fingers to her lips, and Judar noticed, much to his chagrin, that they were wet. Winking, she grinned. “Not like I can.”
He got up abruptly, causing her to fall back onto the floor. “That’s enough for today, and tomorrow, and day after tomorrow.” He then walked out, his braid swinging behind him as Kougyoku slowly got off the ground.
She was still grinning to herself when he closed the door behind him.
Nagigou/Nagikou drabble, 232 words, five years after the show.
( also known as i have no idea what this is adsfjl idek mostly my little headcanons for how they mature differently while keeping the same personality )
---
“Excuse my boldness,” she mutters carefully, her fingers soft and wispy on the pale skin of his wrist as she straightened and met his eyes. “But I’m not done talking to you.”
“What’s there to talk about? I’ll give your message to Haru, so you don’t need to worry.”
Her eyes darted around as Nagisa took the opportunity to covertly study her pouty lower lip.
“I… I want you to take me out tonight.” A pause as she fumbled with her words. “Please.”
His hand fidgets with the hem of his pressed shirt. “I thought your captain was taking you out tonight,” he muses, watching for a reaction even as his knuckles pressed into his stomach, hidden from her view.
She looks down as her grip on his wrist falters. When he pulls his hand away she whispers something that sounds suspiciously like I’d prefer you and Nagisa—collected, cheerful, child-like Nagisa—feels his adult heart beat a little faster.
But he keeps his smile on as he rubs his wrist, tracing the light crescent moons imprinted on the flesh. He doesn’t look up as his mouth forms sounds, instead training in on the sound of her heart beating faster than his own.
"Oh come on." Gold clapped his hands, feigning confidence as he swung his arms around and gestured wildly at the room. "I worked hard on it, tell me what you think."
She stared at the state of the room for a little longer. "How long did this take?"
"Four or five hours." He answered calmly, before pausing. "Maybe six I don't remember when I stopped working on it."
"It's..." The words were on the tip of her tongue. Beautiful. Amazing.
No one's ever done this for me before.
"...Thank you. Gold." She smiled warmly, running a hand through her free hair and combing through small knots. He let out a sigh of relief, looking around awkwardly before grabbing her hand. Crystal stared at their intertwined fingers and turned red.
"Gold--" He cut her off.
"You know I didn't just decorate the living room. A girl's sixteenth birthday is a very special one. I've done up the whole house for you, so I expect at least one cafe date as a reward."
She glared, and Gold winked. "Just kidding." He tugged her arm lightly with firm fingertips, pulling her through the doorway.
"You first." Blue's eyelashes fluttered as she tested the new mascara out, her hands poking through the covers before she found two small bottles. "Red or pink?"
"Did you bring any other colors?" Yellow resisted the urge to turn her head. Her friend's gentle fingers weaved her hair into an intricate braid, carefully pulling and making firm crosses here and there.
"'Fraid not. I left them with Sapphire." She abruptly dropped the bottles onto the blanket, grabbing a hair tie and twisting it around the end of the braid.
The small blonde thought it over a second. "I've never tried red before."
She finished with a ribbon tied in a little bow, clapping her hands together. "Done!" Blue picked up the red, unscrewing the top and taking the brush out. "I'll do your toes first."
On cue, Yellow dropped onto her stomach and slowly lifted her feet in the air. The older girl hummed in approval, holding her right foot still as she painted a streak of red across the big toenail.
Alice kisses like her lips are constantly on fire; she pecks quickly, too quickly, trailing sparks of flame down the back of her neck, and she isn't romantic.
Francine doesn't know whether to swear or to kiss her senseless.
She bites into her neck, and the French nation bites back a gasp. No, not romantic at all. She turns and buries her head into the pillow, her brown hair a mess and her face a flustered red.
"You bloody--," Alice pauses, making some sort of groaning noise before burying her face into Frani's bare back, pulling on her ruffled locks. "You always do this to me. Make me riled up and then give up right when I'm ready and waiting."
Francine hides a smile of satisfaction, before uneven nails prick her thighs and pull her legs apart. With the decency of a lady, she tries to pretend like she's not completely willing.
She massages the inside of her thighs with round, circular strokes before dipping downwards and feeling under her underwear. Frani bit her lip and pressed her face into the pillow, clutching the edge of the sheets beneath her as Alice lightly yanked on her hair.
"God, Frani. Lacy underwear?" She rubs the other's clit briefly and harshly with the impatience only she could muster, and Francine forgets how to breath, because she's fucking doing it on purpose.
Francis is draped across the couch when Arthur enters the room, cold and tired from a busy day at work.
With nimble fingers he unbuttoned his drab brown coat, taking time on the more stubborn ones before draping it on his coat rack. Francis watched him with lidded eyes, resting his head against his hand and allowing a smile to play across his lips.
"How was your day, monsieur?"
He didn't say anything; just removed his gloves and stuffed them in his pockets, before stooping down to remove his leather boots and black socks.
"..." Francis slowly sat up straight. "...Arthur."
"I'm not in the mood." He snaps, and it's not Francis's fault and he knows it.
Francis kneels next to him and watches him slowly peel off his right black sock, before putting a hand under his back and knees and lifting him up. Arthur says nothing, just buries himself into the other man's chest. The Frenchman smiled gently and placed a kiss to his forehead, before carrying him to the room they shared.
She stops when he draws closer, holding her fan up to her face instinctively. "Judal-chan?"
"Quiet. I'm thinking." He observes her large pink eyes and button nose, before resting his gaze on her lips. They were certainly kissable; nice and plump, though nowhere as pretty as the third princess's, but slightly chapped and girly, nonetheless. He considers lathering peach across her lips to soften them.
"...You're too close." He briefly looked up at her mumbling, idly taking a bite out of his peach before scowling, flicking his eyes up at the ceiling. There wasn't enough left for a peach balm.
"Maybe you're too close." He counters; watching in amusement as she processed this, and to his delight, flushed candy, stumbling back.
"Calm down, I'm just playing with you." He raises his hands and cartwheels over to her, landing gracefully in front of her tiny form. She smiles, tilting her head in a way Judal would find adorable, if he used that sort of language. At his kindest, Kougyoku was simply "mildly entertaining".
(typically, he replied with variations of the word annoying.)
"How do you suppose ol' Sin kisses?" He rests a lazy hand on his hip. She practically buries her face in the fan.
"A p-princess doesn't think about such things." She raises her head, spreading the fan. Judal nods, biting into the core of his peach.
"Yet you do anyway." He catches her biting her lip from behind the sheer fabric. Judal smirks.
"I--You musn't tell anyone!" He blinks when suddenly her fan is dangling in front of his face, pointed dangerously in a position to slit his throat. This was an interesting development. He followed the length of her slender arm to her face, to the determination reflected in her eyes, even with her cheeks still painted pink and her lip still pouty.
Judal holds back a smile. He'd never let Sindria have this one.
The magi took a delicate step forward, pushing her fan down and taking one last bite of his peach before throwing it behind him. He's shocked when she doesn't object to him leaning in and resting his arms on her fragile shoulders.
"Now, have you ever been kissed hag?" He lowers his voice to a sultry number, all slow and husky.
She turns even more red, if that was physically possible. Judal would have to go on a toddler's color hunt later.
"...yes." Judal pauses, his arms tensing. Well, that had not been the answer he was expecting. He bit back an angry accusation, choosing to throw her answer right out the palace window.
Strangely determined, he leaned in closer so that their noses touched. He watched her for a reaction, and when he got none, let his warm breath ghost over her lips before tilting his head and pressing his mouth to hers.
She shut her eyes almost immediately, stiffening. Judal tsked, his eyes wide open as he took in her childish features. He tentatively flicked his tongue against her lower lip, wrapping his arms around her upper back. Some sort of a pleased whimper rises from the back of her throat, and Judal dully realizes he has overstayed his welcome.
Before she can kiss back he lets go of her, stepping back and crossing his arms behind his back. Kougyoku presses fingers to her lips, lightly tapping them. Judal sighs dramatically, already bored and slightly anxious. “Well, time to raid the garden for peaches.”
“Wait!” He impatiently stomps a foot as she walks over, taking her own goddamn time. She raises her head and pecks his lips briefly, before turning and making her way to the women's quarters.
"You're wearing your shirt wrong." It's a vague statement, giving no details on how to fix the issue. Rio raises an eyebrow, pausing, and her handbag falls down to her elbow.
"Oh?" She rolls her eyes when he walks over, kicking the drawer behind her and straightening to meet his gaze. "Make it quick, the store closes in ten minutes." She makes a good show of eyeing the clock on their wall repeatedly.
"Oh I will." That's how she knows he won't. She impatiently huffs, standing still as he adjusted the puffs of her shoulder, spreading the creases out. His hands idly caressed the top of her arms, before turning and dipping inward, sliding down her waist.
Oh.
"We don't have any milk." She protested, biting her lip as she stumbled onto his study desk. He hid a lazy grin, still pressing wandering fingers all over the sides of her torso. "What will you eat for breakfast?"
He hoisted her up onto the table, unbuttoning her top and rolling up her sleeves, smiling at her. "What does it matter when I haven't even had dinner yet?"
“We have leftover take out in the fridge.” She smiles haughtily, blissfully able to ignore his hands over her heated body, if only for a short amount of time. He clucked his tongue, vying to seem a whole lot deal less hot and bothered than he actually was. His palms found her chest, and she tightly gripped the edges of the table with sweaty fingers.
“Not h’ngry for that.” He murmured, dipping his lips to her neck, and nipping swiftly along her collarbone. The handbag slid from her arm, falling to the floor.
pairing/dorks in love: sharryamu, yamuraiha/sharrkan
words: 466 | rating: k+
notes: this isnt even romance thESE ARE dORKS WHO CANT KISS this drabble swayed away from its topic pretty quickly, i'm sorry about that! this can be viewed platonically.
--
He's 15, she's 17, and both sit in a field of magnolias.
Yamuraiha plucks some magnolias from the meadow, seething before pausing and moving to pick up spare flowers off the ground instead. She rubs her lips together subconsciously.
Sharrkan swings his sword around and plunges it into the dirt, scowling as he props a lean leg up. The magician turned to face him with a cold grimace. "Keep your dirty knife out of this beautiful meadow."
He pulls the sword out of the ground and points it in her direction. "That's a sword to you, desperate. And I don't want to hear it from a teeth-clasher."
Flushing, she turned back, grumbling something as she continued to pick up more magnolias, focusing her attention on the flowers she couldn't find on Sindria. Maybe if she brought it back to the palace Ja'far-san would...?
Nope. The idea shuts down before it passes phase one. His instructions had been clear: Don't ever leave Sindria without informing Sinbad or I of your whereabouts.
She looked around at the unknown island and hurried her picking up of magnolias. Yamu paused when she felt an arm encircle her waist, pulling her upwards. She looked to the side and up at Sharrkan, who was looking away, as if uncomfortable.
"...Be honest. Do you think I have good kissing skills?"
"No." She interrupts before he can continue. "Is this about that girl you like? Haven't you gotten over that?"
"It's not!" He removes his hand from her waist, rubbing the back of his neck as he stepped away. "I just..."
She regarded him, the too-tall boy with the golden eyes, before grabbing his hand and pulling him with her towards the shoreline. "There's a whole section over there with more magnolias and other flowers. Help me look for some."
"Why should--" Yamu raises a hand to silence to him, and he waits, holding on to her hand and walking in tune with her. She sighs, in pure regret, before continuing. "I'll help you hide your drinking habits from Ja'far-san. For only a month." She quickly added.
He nods, pleased with this deal. They grow closer to the meadow, and Yamu holds her arms full with magnolias close to her, before letting go of Sharrkan and turning to whisper in his ear.
"You're a sloppy kisser; I'd get rid of the saliva."
She turns and runs off towards the shoreline with magnolias trailing behind her, a confused boy taking a few seconds to take it in before turning red and running after her, stopping to grab his sword before stumbling down the hill and dashing in her direction.
summary: --the blue petals settle around her cold feet.
notes: zexal spoilers ahead! semi-au!afterlife with a rather messed up rio. i tried to play into what happens when someone is put in isolation. be warned, there is content that can be deemed rather sexual.
--
Rio sits on a throne of lies.
The throne is, admittedly, rather pretty, with falsehoods weaved into the intricate fabric she's dolled it in and a flush of velvet keeping her in all her cruel wickedry afloat. The cushion is the most stunning, an impossibly, impossible crimson that mirrors the color her own cheeks once took—
Too soon, she thinks, for thinking is all she can do now.
Death is not as bad of an experience that she had been lead to believe; a crying toddler learning for the first time what it meant for the jaws of death to snatch away someone in the blink of an eye. Leaning to her dear, dear, dear brother for support, as she bawled in the darkness of the station, tears still glistening on rouge cheeks as the old officer shooed them off, grumbling about stupid children.
(—but then, she's never really been human, let alone a human child, has she?)
And she is alone. She sits on a throne in not-hell (but close enough), and she endures the petals that fall next to her, unsure of why she even dreams up a tree in the first place. It's terrible useless, now that she's dead and all, unable to even get up to pick up the spare petals. Merag—Rio, she curses at herself—is frozen solid; lips frosted and every bit of her colder than the old Arctic.
Everything she sees with her wide eyes is false, yet his warm breath ghosting on her neck shouldn't feel so real, so explicitly unattainable. His sinfully scorching lips nip all so wrongly down her neckline, mouth marring her cold flesh with melting kisses until her skin starts to melt. This version she's created for herself is mocking her, she's absolutely sure. You, see, we're both dead. But I'm the only one who was ever actually human.
It's a terrible reminder she's dug for herself, fire always beats ice, and if it was a sin for her to torture herself and his blessed memory with these dreams, then she'd ask to go to hell. If only she wasn't still contemplating whether that was where she was currently. Sinking into depravity has been a long, if unstoppable, journey, and she gives herself props for still being able to think rationally.
Wonderful. Her vision blurs as he turns almost briefly transparent, not-quite-so-adult hands working their way down her alien waist. I come here to get my hands on you, and you still sulk the day away. Thomas is, a strange light in her bleary world, all primary with his reds and yellows and pumpkin oranges.
Some days, she'll think she'd like to be able to move, very much. Rise off the throne she's built for herself and grab him and press her lips against his, until his flames-sparked eyes turned icy blue and he's turned as dull and worthless as her. She wonders how long she'd be able to get him to stay with her, as lively and bright as he was, in this cold world she's found herself in. Wonders if he'd agree to let her bury him in the very blue petals that dance around her feet.
It's almost disgusting.
He makes her feel deliciously human, something she's been deprived with ever since she'd heard the blasted news (darling, you've never truly been of this earth), and he's a guilty desire she won't give up. She'll replay him melting her until she's past the point of no return, and she'll hate him in the most twisted sense the whole while.
Aruani, 672 words. Intended-to-be-short drabble that somehow turned pretty long.
ao3
--
"Have you ever been?"
"What?"
"Have you ever been to the ocean?" He repeats, smiling at her with a strange sort of giddiness in his eyes. Armin is irresponsibly trusting, but never gullible.
Her hand clenches at her side, and she looks down, anywhere but into his eyes. "...Of course not. How could I?" She spits it out, letting some of her bitterness flow out with her words.
"Oh." He lets out a disappointed breath. "I suppose it would have been too much to hope that it was walking distance."
"My hometown is barely walking distance." She points out, her short blonde hair brushing against her neck as she looks back up. He grins again, and it's so unbearably friendly and warm, both things she's not used to, that she looks away again.
"I don't know too much about your hometown. What was it like?" A split second passes, and suddenly he's a lot closer than he used to be, and her breath clenches in her throat.
".....The usual." She's awfully careful with her words, playing them out in her head while making words with her mouth. "...Surrounded by Titans, hiding, most of the village eaten..."
"I see."
Her hand brushes the back of her neck as she sweeps her hair into her hand and ties it up briefly with a spare hair-tie Mina had given her. He says nothing for a while afterwards, and their shallow breathing is drowned out by the muffled noise the boy's dorm behind them is making.
Deep down inside, Annie knows that he's aware that she's lying. For whatever reason he may have, he chooses not to say anything about it. She thanks him silently.
"What is the ocean like then?"
"...Blue. But lots of green and white and purple and pinks too."
"Really?" She finally gains the courage to look him in the eye. He's intently listening, and she flushes at his attention.
"...It's loud. It can be peaceful one second, but then scary and dangerous the next." She continues, her hand briefly playing out a little wave pattern.
"It's like another world."
"..." He sighs then, all dreamy and longing at once. His eyelashes flutter like a hopeful girl's, and now he's the one who looks away.
"....We should go one day."
This makes her blink. "What?"
"You've never been to the ocean either, right? One day when this is all over, let's go." He makes strong eye contact with her blue ones, grinning widely.
"I mean,” he corrects with a light scatter of red across his cheeks, “ Eren and Mikasa are coming too, and it'd be nice to take everyone on a group trip but--"
"Impossible." She cuts him off with one word, not giving him a chance to speak again. "We'll all be dead before then." It'll all be my fault.
"...No." He says loudly, and some of the voices in the rooms behind him suddenly disappear. "We won't. We're stronger than that. We can survive."
"You'll survive Armin." There is no reason for him to, the boy who barely flew through physical training, but she knows he will. "...And you should be the one to go see the ocean."
She turns before he can answer and she rushes off. The door to the boy's dorm opens. "Annie! Annie! Annie, wait!"
"Armin, for fuck's sake, talk to your girlfriend tomorrow; some of us are trying to SLEEP."
She doesn't stick around to hear the reply. If she were were him, she would have kicked horse-face in the crotch, but she's only a shadow in the night, and she has no valid opinion.
Yet he still thinks she's worthy of joining him in glimpsing the ocean in all it's wonder.
"..." She reaches to pull her hood over her head, her footsteps slowing in their rush, darkening her already dull blue eyes.
notes: obligatory late valentines day cheesiness aaaaa
ao3
--
“I made you chocolate.” He says after a few seconds, holding out a pan of messy brown lumps. She's too busy staring at his outfit to notice.
“Your clothes.” She says, stuttering as she wonders how the hell someone could screw up that bad. He let out an impatient sigh, fumbling as he rubbed the sole of his right shoe against the bare skin of his left leg. “Yeah, yeah I know. Long story short I asked the little rich girl from Sinnoh to help me out.” He sighed, as if remembering a painful memory. “She can't cook.”
“You didn't have to.” She takes the pan with both her hands, meaning every word she said. “I mean, you should have just bought a batch of brownies at the bakery.”
“Yeah I know,” Gold grins all lopsidedly, “But I wanted to try it. You're my last stop.”
Last stop? Last stop. She's suddenly painfully aware that this isn't an attempt on his part to serenade her. “You made these for the other dex holders too?”
“Yeah of course.” He eyes her with a confused look in his eye, and he looks embarrassingly comical; half-naked like he had just gone through a grenade shower and rosy cheeks dusted with flour. “Why wouldn't I?”
She realizes her mistake too late when his eyes widen before her mouth can retort, “Were you hoping I made them just for you?” He grins. Fuck, damn, shit.
“Of course not.” She says, her voice an octave higher than it should be as she steps back into her house. “Thank you for the cookies, but you should be going now--”
“WAIT.” She pauses just as she's about to close the door. He waits for a second, allowing an awkward silence to commence, before continuing. “I was planning on bunking at your house.”
He looks to the left before meeting her eyes again. "My house is under... repairs. Silver's out to kill me anyway."
“Really?” She raises an eyebrow, before he interrupts. “I promise I won't do anything bad to you, I give you my word on that.” She crosses her arms, and he looks her dead in the eye, and he looks almost... apologetic.
She lets him in despite her mind screaming for her to reconsider, and she's not sure whether its due to the effort he put into the cookies that she gave in, or due to the fact that he promised to give up chasing after girls for a week.
–
(--he lied, she thinks furiously, accidentally catching him lewdly flirting with a Unovian beauty.)
She buries his alive body in the front yard, and Silver helps, but only because its Gold she's burying.
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