#*also yeah something something turning cycles of debt and owing into a way to show appreciation and stay close*

[angeledwings]

ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ꜱʜɪᴘꜱ | @hartofbalamb //HMR I LOVE YOU TY. YOU ALREADY KNOW ME SO WELL asdfghjkl;♥♥♥

Send me a Ship and I’ll Break Them DOWN

How did they they meet?

Hoooboy this is gonna be kinda long.

So, I have this headcanon that Rinoa was looking everywhere for a Garden who would agree to offer their mercenaries in exchange for a low price---which is a very horrible exchange. And she knew that.

First. Rinoa went to Galbadia Garden; the snooty rich SeeDs with more experienced fighters. Their headmaster declined Rinoa’s offer---as expected, but that hardly unmotivated the determined resistance leader.

Next, she applied for help to Trabia Garden. The best they could do was offer some technicians and a trainee to ensure safety protocols and offer security. And while that was a kind offer, it wasn’t what Rinoa was looking for. Trabia declined Rinoa’s want for their experienced fighters but gave her a referral for Balamb and allowed her to board the train free of cost. (They were a bunch of nice people.)

The minute Rinoa arrives in Balamb, she’s met with the sight of a silver haired woman ruthlessly kicking the snot out of some poor helpless burly guy while another man in a white coat brandishing a sword laughed hysterically at the woman’s antics. Indeed, that was the posse we all know and Seifer loves.

Rinoa immediately assumes Balamb is an island full of delinquents with a bad reputation, but that doesn’t deter her from seeking out what she came there for.

However, before she was going to head down the road towards the Garden, she was going to stop the brutal beating by stepping between the woman and the cowering man, DEMANDING they stop. She didn’t mind a brawl if it meant fighting for what was right. And they were vehemently out of line.

This triggers Seifer, and he decides to introduce the fear of god into the small woman’s tiny form. He leers over her, using his tall stature to make her feel small, obsolete, weak. His piercing greens bore into her skull. And if looks could kill? She’d have died a thousand times.

Rinoa cared little for his approach. She was NOT afraid of him.

She stares back, eyes winced, brows furrowed, hands on her hips. She challenged him; a huge mistake no one DARED think about.

Still. He was not getting his way by trying to intimidate her.

They stay like this for a good five minutes. Seifer breaks, finding everything about her...amusing. different. hilarious. surreal. He smirks, then scoffs at this little spitfire and tells her to get out of his sight.

Fujin ceases her brutal beatings on Raijin and notices Seifer watching the blue clad woman with a wide eyed stare, and a psychotic curl of the lips.

He did not want their game to end. He wanted to make her suffer.

So he  follows her...

Who developed romantic feelings first?

Seifer.

Rinoa was too involved with getting Independence for Timber that she didn’t have time for romantic feelings. Or so she thought. Yes. Seifer was cute. He smelled good. His voice was was like a melody to her ears, but it was normal to get infatuation. And Rinoa assumed it would pass. It obviously did not.

Seifer, however, developed feelings for her because she didn’t want him, and she never took his shit. He was a selfish asshole and always treated their meetings like a game. Until it wasn’t...

Something about how passionate Rinoa was about her cause woke something up inside of him. Her determination for what she wanted was inspiring. Just like a little boy he once knew from long long ago...

Rinoa’s feelings eventually grew the moment Seifer started talking to Rinoa about Forest Owls. He would show minor tender moments to show Rinoa that he sincerely wanted to help her. It meant a lot to her because of the lengths he went to make sure her dream would prosper. He didn’t care about Timber at all, though. He cared about Rinoa, and what she wanted. So, what was important to her, was important to him.

He promised her he’d become a SeeD, and offer himself in Garden’s stead. But not for free. She owed him a date, and she was already neck deep in a shit ton of debt---or so he claimed.

Rinoa loves Seifer, and still does to this day. Theres a connection she feels that cant be said with words. Its just there. And it always will be.

Who is their biggest “shipper?”

Raijin. Raijin likes Rinoa because she saved him from Fujin’s wrath more than once. THEREFORE. HE ENCOURAGED SEIFER TO CHASE HER. Lmao. But oh. Don’t tell Seifer what to do. xD

When did they have their first kiss and under what circumstances?

Very bad circumstances lol. Seifer is an asshat. We all know this. How he shows affection or interest is...unusual at best.

What he did was, he needled her over the smallest things, tried to convince her she was stupid, told her she was weak, and on one occasion prevented her from going anywhere by barring her path with his legs. He was sitting in a seat blocking the door, laid back, watching her freaking out to let her go. It was amusing. He LOVED playing with her.

During that moment of hysteria, he drops his feet, grabs her, and plants a good one on her. She answers with a big slap against his face and screaming about something or another. Yeah, yeah. He’s heard it all before sweetheart.

He laughs and simply says, “Wow, that actually hurt.” He bars her path again by slamming his hands on the wall behind her and whispers, “Do it again...”

Who confessed their feelings first?

Seifer. Though not in your usual way. I mean, of course right? He’s a pompous asshole. Confident as hell and really doesn’t care any other way. It was just.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m not concerned about what you’re saying, but I like your face.”

What was their first official date?

Uhhh. Rinoa is still in “debt”. Loooool.

How do they feel about double dates/group dates?

Rinoa thinks they’re adorable. Seifer thinks its tacky. And what if he got a boner? Its not for them. But. Oh well. they can look. He’s a pretty impressive guy and all. -rolls eyes-

What do they do in their down time?

I can imagine Rinoa likes to pamper herself with bubble bath, massages, facials, and taking naps with Angelo. She also likes to catch up with some of her friends with lunch or a little get together.

And I figure Seifer is doing something dangerous or completely stupid. You know. So he can come out in a blaze of glory.

What was the first meeting of parents as an official couple like?

Well. Being that Rinoa only knows Edea due to....reasons. She never got a proper introduction.

Seifer met Fury and he didn’t care to change his personality to look good in front of the General. And Rinoa LOVED THAT. Seifer wasn’t afraid to continue being himself even towards a man of “great importance”. Seifer was just Seifer.

Caraway HATES his guts.

What was their first fight over and how did they get past it?

Obviously over the stunts he does. He is reckless with how he approaches things and due to that, it could land the Forest Owls in hot water. Rinoa was PISSED with some of the things Seifer threw himself into for fear that he wouldn’t come out alive. She was constantly worried that he would die over just one mistake, and he NEVER took her worries into consideration.

He knows he’s hard to kill, and he always told her that. Why did she care so much, anyway?

Women. Right?

They never really got passed it. Just bored of it? It was the same argument over and over. Seifer was not going to change and Rinoa had to accept that. And she did, no matter how much it hurt.

Which one is more easily made jealous?

Uh. Both, honestly? Though I see Seifer much more inclined to turn the entire misunderstanding into a fiasco that would make you regret having known him. Like. Punching out a guy for having looked at his girl a certain way. Starting an argument with a guy at a checkout register for telling Rinoa to have a good day bc thats obv signs of flirting. (Yes, I am aware that is VERy toxic. Seifer is toxic.)

Rinoa is more reserved and wants to keep it between them. But she isn’t all innocent. If Seifer even so much as says “hey” in a certain way to another, Rinoa will do the same with a guy to make him jealous. Its just a cycle of ugliness lol.

What is their favourite thing to get to eat?

Who doesn’t like sushi, fam? ;D

Who’s the cuddly one? What their favourite cuddling position?

Rinoa obviously cuddles Seifer. She loves every snuggly position. Just as long as she’s near him she loves it.

Seifer prefers laying on his back with an arm around her.

Are they hand holders?

Rinoa certainly is. She wants to hold Seifer’s hand all the time.

Seifer thinks its pathetic and embarrassing as fuck. Buutttt. He’ll give Rinoa this ONE exception.

How long do they wait before sleeping together for the first time? What’s the circumstances?

They should have waited longer buuuut, about 5 months since they met.

Circumstance? They were horny? asdfjgdflks;

Who tops?

Seifer. He has more experience.

It took Rinoa a little while to really learn about her body and what it liked. She can top when given the opportunity.

What’s the worst first they’ve ever gotten into?

I’d say, their first kiss was the worst fist of the century. xD Pretty sure the people of FFVIII heard Hyne crying.

Who does the shopping and the cooking?

Both. Rinoa LOVES Seifer’s cooking. Rinoa is also skilled with culinary arts. And she also does the shopping since Seifer gets irritated and loses his patience.

Which one is more organized and prone to tidiness?

Seifer is really organized for being a scatter brained asshole. Rinoa is the tired little poof. She loves her naps. <3

Who proposes?

Unfortunately....we all know how this panned out. :’(

Do they have joined Bachelor/Bacheloette parties or separate?

Who is the best man/maid of honour? Any other groomsmen or bridesmaids?

Big Ceremony or Small?

Do they have a honeymoon? If so, where?  

Do they have children? How many?

[thatshankcallednewt]

The Maze Runner: High School AU - Gally: Together - Part 12

In case you missed Part One//Part Two//Part Three//Part Four//Part Five//Part Six//Part Seven//Part Eight//Part Nine//Part Ten//Part 11

You hop into shotgun and stare at his cold features, his nervous glances in the review mirrors. You don’t know where you’re going, maybe back to Gally’s place, but soon he pulls over on the side of the road, turning to you after he puts the car in park.

His face flares with hot anger, “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

You stay silent, knowing Gally must have been doing the same thing as you, looking out for those guys involved with his brother. Maybe it wasn’t such a great plan after all.

He looks away before shaking his head, his voice borderline threatening, “I saw you in the diner, talking to those guys." His eyes find yours again, a deep worry buried within. "Do you know who they are?”

You swallow, already regretting what you did, “Grievers.”

He blinks, and remains quiet for a few seconds... “What did you say?”

“Grievers.”

Something flashes across those green eyes, and you're suddenly more worried about the situation than you were, “How do you know that?”

You respond quietly, “It’s on their dog tags, they showed it to me.”

Gally reaches into his shirt, and pulls out a silver dog tag, lifting it over his head. You watch, and a sudden fear sets in. What would Gally be doing with the same necklace? Same as their dog tag? You instinctively reach for the door handle as Teresa’s words start pouring into your head, Thomas’ voice in the back of your mind, He’s dangerous... For all we know, he could have murdered his own brother!

“It was Justin’s…” He holds it out to you, and whatever anxiety you had quickly fades away.

Of course.You inspect the dog tag, the same etching of the word Griever, the same chain, everything about it was exactly the same as Ben’s. “It’s the same as theirs.”

“You found them.”

You look up at Gally, “What?”

“You found the guys I was looking for, the guys who’ve been tormenting me.”

You stare at the dog tag again, twisting it around your fingers, feeling the cool metal on your skin. An image of the necklace lying around Justin’s bloody neck, bulging dead eyes flashes through your mind, and you suddenly drop it to the floor.

Gally's voice breaks your trance of horror, “It’s okay, it wasn’t on Justin when he died.”

You turn to Gally, blinking, somehow he knew exactly what you were thinking, “I’m…” you bend over to pick it up, “Sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

“It’s alright.” He glances at the metal in your hands, “I see him too, you know, what he was like when he was…”

“I…” You pass it back to him, “I didn’t know he died on the street outside the diner, if I’d known I never would’ve hung out there, or brought you there—

He dismisses what you say with his hand, “It’s alright, I know you didn’t know.”

“So… he owed money to his own group?”

“Yeah, they all owe money to each other but… Well, Justin just didn’t ever begin to pay it back. It started with small debts with each of the guys in his group, but I think he started borrowing money from Rat Man too.”

“Right,” you breathe in deeply, “Rat Man.”

He looks over at you, a deep panic in his green eyes, “You know his name?”

“I… It was tossed around when I talked to the other Grievers.” You take in a breath, “I also… When I was at your house, I found this note,” you pass the note you showed to Dallas to Gally, “I found it in your brother’s room.”

Gally frowns as he stares at the word.

You swallow nervously, “On the back it has a number, which belongs to Rat Man.”

Gally’s eyes widen as he turns the piece of paper over, “You called Rat Man!?”

You shake your head, “No, no I didn’t. I asked those guys in the diner about it and they told me who’s it is.” You let him read the digits silently for a few seconds, “I’m sorry I was in your brother’s room. I got curious.”

Gally nods but doesn’t reply, he stuffs the paper away in his pockets. Then he unbuckles his seatbelt, and leans closer into the wheel, rubbing his forehead with one hand. He looks back to you, “Y/N, I need you to promise me something.”

You swallow nervously, the air around you growing thinner, “Promise what?”

“Don’t, and I mean don’t go after this. Don’t go after Rat Man, he’s not some guy you can just start talking to. That you can get information out of, trust me.”

“Gally—

“No, Y/N, whatever you’ve done I’ll forgive. But I need you to stop going after this.”

You sigh, knowing that you shouldn’t have done this behind Gally’s back. But with school and friends, you needed to do something. You needed to feel useful; you didn’t want to feel sorry for yourself anymore, just over an argument you had. There are issues so much bigger than that.

You shake your head, “I can only partly promise that.”

“Y/N—“I promise not to go after this, on my own, but I’m helping you Gally.

“You’re not going to do this alone either.”

“You don’t know the shit he’s—

“I understand what he’s capable of. And fine, I won’t go do more things like I did today, but from now on you’re not taking all of this shit on board by yourself. I know you’re strong, and resilient, god, but I’m not letting you just one day disappear because of these guys. Because of what they’ve done, and what they’re doing.”

Gally doesn’t look at you. “No. I won’t forgive myself if you get hurt because of this. Because of me.”

“Don’t pull that crap on me, I’m not just some idiot. I know what I’m doing, I know when there’s danger. I can handle myself.”

“You just walked up to the Grievers and sat down with them! Talked to them! You are an idiot!”

“I didn’t get hurt though, did I!?”

He goes to say something but stops, and frustratingly sits back in his car seat.

“Fine. If we’re doing this, you don’t do anything more without my knowing and agreeing of it, alright?”

“Alright.”

He sits in his own thoughts for a while, “Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. What you did was stupid and dangerous and I’m still mad about it… but thanks. You’re trying to help and I appreciate that.”

You smile at him. He smiles briefly, but goes back to staring out the front of the car. You watch him as he thinks, probably trying to decide what to do next. All of this almost seems unreal to you, when you first met Gally you never would have guessed this is how things would end up, but you’re not going to just leave him on his own. You’re in this now, together.

He checks the time on his mobile quickly, and then glances back up to you with a look in his eye as if he’s finally decided on something, “All of this won’t stop until their money is paid back. Justin owed them five grand total.” He sighs, shaking his head, “Whatever he used all that money for, I don’t wanna think about.”

“You want to pay them off?”

“That was the plan, pay back Justin’s debt so they’d leave me alone, you know, before they start reaching out to anybody else I’m connected to.”

“You can’t go to the police?”

He shakes his head, “No… it’d be a death wish. They know who I am, they know where I live, and soon they’ll probably know that you’re one of my friends. They’d try to hurt me.” He buckles his seatbelt again, “Besides, the police aren’t going to do anything about a closed case.”

“So you’re just going to try and repay his debt? But how?”

He shrugs, “I have two grand saved.”

“But… to get three grand will take a while, what if they do something to you, Gally?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, “It’s either get the money or pay them back by working for them.”

Your stomach drops and you feel slightly nauseated, “You can’t work for them.”

“It’s… I don’t want to, believe me, but it’s not completely off the table.”

“Yes it is, Gally.”

He shakes his head, his hand resting on the side of your seat as he faces you, “Like you said, three grand takes a while to find!”

You let your words fall out again, like usual, knowing that they’re harsh but truthful, “There is no way you’re working for them! They killed Justin!” You stop yourself before saying anything more, staring into his eyes, you can see the emotion filled within. Your voice becomes calmer and more appropriate, “Do you really think they’ll just let you go after his debt is paid off?”

“I…”

“You’ll be stuck working for them forever.”

Silence engulfs the car, neither of you having anything left to say on the matter. You hope Gally wakes up and realises that working as one of their dealers would be the worst decision he could make. But then again, where are you going to find the remaining three grand?

“There was only three in the diner with you, right?”

You’re pulled out of your worrying cycle of thinking and nod, “Yeah, only three. Dallas, Ben and J.D.”

“There’s a fourth one.”

“How do you know?”

“That night I pulled you in the alleyway, I noticed somebody new. I was trying to listen in and see if they’d say names or something, but I didn’t hear anything or see anything.”

You nod slowly, “Yeah… I remember, two people were talking by the diner entry.”

“Those other guys, the three you talked to, they’re no good.” Gally says, starting the car up and pulling it into drive, “They’ve been around too long, none of ‘em will say anything. But the new guy…” Something flashes in those green eyes of his, “My bets are on him.”

“You think he might tell you about what happened… to Justin?”

Gally turns a corner, “I’m sure of it. He’s new, he doesn’t have much attachment to them yet, besides I can be intimidating if I need to be.”

“But how are you going to find him?”

He shifts uncomfortably, “Well… you found those guys all on your own, shouldn’t be too hard.”

You watch as the sun sinks lower behind the trees as you drive, “Don’t you think it might be dangerous, trying to get information from him?”

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

“I’m not.”

Gally sighs, “I know… it seems hypocritical of me… but Y/N, I’ve been chasing after this for a year now. I’m going to do anything to find the person who murdered Justin.”

You sink down in your chair, knowing that you can’t say anything to change his mind. Partly because he’s so stubborn, but also because he has the right to find out what happened to his brother, and if the police won’t help what else is there to do?

“Alright, fine. We’ll find this guy and get him to talk.”

Gally raises an eyebrow, “Maybe you should just stay in the car for this one. Or better yet, I’ll drop you home.”

“Together, remember?”

Gally sighs and turns the wheel, “Right, together. But just let me do the talking.”

“Wait… we’re doing this right now?”

There’s silence; you’ve grown used to the silence that comes and goes between you both. “No… not tonight… I have to…” He drives passed the diner and then slows down in front of your house, “We’ll catch up about it tomorrow.”

“Oh… yeah, alright.” You notice something weird about the look he gives you, but you decide just to ignore it.

You leave school early again on Friday, Gally hadn't showed up and there was only so much you could handle from Teresa today, you were just thankful Thomas wasn't around to push it even further. 

You decide to walk home, and just wait for a call from Gally. You hope he didn't go alone, even if the fourth person might not seem as dangerous as the other three... He said you would do this together from now on.

You pass the diner, and instead go right, towards your street. You stop before crossing the street, before crossing the road where Justin died. You never knew him but his death has impacted you more than you could ever understand. You stare at the road, wondering if Justin died alone. The thought sends chills down your spine, and instead of dwelling on it you force your feet forward.

You near your street, but you suddenly get the feeling that you're not alone. You quicken your pace, maybe you're just still freaked out from yesterday or something, but the feeling doesn't go away. You're almost at your street corner when somebody calls out to you. You stop, not recognising the voice. Their footsteps come closer to you, but all you can do is stay frozen in place.

The boy steps in front of you, a look of worry in his eyes. You recognise him to be one of the Grievers, and your heart drops.  

"I... I never got your name." He says quietly, glancing behind you and then to the ground, "I didn't mean to freak you out."

You swallow firmly, suddenly more scared than ever, "What do you want?"

Ben bites the bottom of his lip, and finally is able to find your eyes. "It's about Justin."

You try to gather yourself, knowing if you showed any fear it might make the situation worse, you're not sure yet of Ben's intentions but maybe you're over-dramatising, "What about Justin?"

Ben looks hesitant but he continues to speak, "The five grand he owed... He had it. He had it ready to pay everyone off."

This new information shakes you, shakes you to the core. “I don't get it, if... if Justin was ready to pay you off then why kill him?"

Ben swallows, looking away, "It wasn't us." 

You take a step back, your eyes wandering, your head shaking from side-to-side, "But I thought..."

"He texted us, he said he'd meet us at the diner for the exchange. When we got here, he was already dead out on the road. If he had the money or not, it was gone."

You look at him, searching his eyes, "Why are you telling me this?"

Ben sighs, "I think... I think you didn't owe Justin any money at all. I think you want to know what happened to him."

You reach for your mobile and dial Gally, keeping it in your pocket, "You're wrong I--

"He only owed us."

You don't know if Gally can hear you, you don't know if he would be able to find you, but you keep the phone on, "How many of you are there? How many Grievers?"

"There was five with Justin, now four."

"The fourth member..." You know you're being risky, and you know you shouldn't ask, "How come he wasn't with you in the diner?"

"He likes to be secretive."

Ben moves closer to you but you immediately step away, "I should get going, my parents would know I'm missing." You only hope that's enough of a clue for Gally to at least know the area you are in, if he even picked up your call. 

Ben steps in front of you, closes in, and grabs a hold of your wrist. You try to push away but he harshly whispers in your ear, "Don't move." You're not sure if he has a weapon or not, but his voice alone is enough to make you stop squirming out of his grip.

"I know you're friends with Gally."

Your breathing shakes, a tremble goes through you like no other. You start to wonder if he's going to let you go.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He takes a breath, and you try not to wince as his grip grows tighter, "The fourth member had a bigger debt. He was considered new, he splurged all of his money and started borrowing off others, including Justin. Justin had five grand in his pocket the night he died, my bets are on our fourth member." He lets go, gives you one last look, and pushes passed you, heading off towards the diner.

You feel so much confusion and doubt, distrust, but curiosity always gets the better of you, "Why are you telling me all of this?"

He stops, hesitant, he looks over his shoulder, "Justin was a good guy. Something should've been done about it, but no one cared. You care, and Gally does too. Justin needs you both, he needs you to find his killer."

"But I... If you're so sure it's one of the Grievers, why don't you do something about it?"

Ben shakes his head, "I can't, don't you understand? That's why I followed you. It has to be you, I can't do anything." He glances in front of him, and then back to you, "Look, I have to go." He pulls his hood up, "Find him. He's closer than you think."

"But how? Who is he!?" Your words are left in the air with no response, and you watch as Ben walks down the road, hands in pockets.  You feel panic set in, this fourth member... Ben's last words to you are left swimming in your brain. He's closer than you think. Suddenly you remember Gally, you pull out your mobile from your pocket and lift it to your ear. 

"Well..." The voice on the other end crackles through your mobile, you frown out of confusion, "Nice to know I'm not trusted."

You swallow as the pieces all form in your mind, He's closer than you think. You try to control your breathing, but you can't, your chest heaves with panic-- sense of danger. "Thomas?" He doesn't reply at first. “Thomas?”

He sighs a long sigh, “Y/N. Didn’t I tell you to stay away from Gally?”

His threatening voice shocks you, and sudden tears form in your eyes, “Where is he, Thomas? Where’s Gally?”

There’s more crackling of static on the other side before you finally get a reply, a cool, and calm collected Thomas, "Here with me, but, barely conscious."

“Why...”

"I told you to stay away from him, but you didn't listen." Thomas voice cracks with emotion, "You helped him find me. Now you've helped him by uncovering the truth!” There’s a pause as he tries to settle himself, “Y/N, nobody can know, don't you understand? Nobody can know I killed Justin." 

[unintelligible-screaming]

ill met by moonlight, part 3/?

vrisrezi, fae vriska au

(part 1)(part 2)

the fic about how terezi opens a gateway to the fae realm in a 7-eleven at 2 a.m. partly influenced by @hypeswap​ and also that one “if you blow a fairy, do you owe them a debt?” post.

it’s about a month late, due to travel and lack of internet and all that jazz, but it’s here!

this chapter is twice as long as the ones before it, and the last half is very nsfw. if that’s not your thing, read until they start making out, then stop and pick it up at the next chapter.

////////

“Here we are!” announces Miss Blueberry.

You flail and push yourself upright, blinking away sleep. There’s a flicker of a dream on the edge of your mind, the taste of something awful and strange on your tongue, but you’re not thinking about that right now. “What? Here? Where?”

Up ahead is a vast storm. Clouds shake with thunder, darkness roiling in their bellies, and lightning keeps shattering the sky. The rainfall is a wall laid across the horizon. It approaches with impossible speed.

You grip the armrests. “We’re headed right in the middle of that thing!”

“Yes we are!” she shouts gleefully, slamming the gas.

You squeak at the sudden acceleration. “How fast are we—?”

“Who’s counting?”

The tumults and eddies in the seething storm are stomach-droppingly magnified as they approach. Clouds tower into the sky, looming above, no chance of escape. It swallows you.

Weightlessness. There’s the crack of thunder and the roar of buckets’ worth of rain hitting the roof all at once, and then nothing.

Eventually, you become aware that the car is moving again. The road is smooth and there is no sensation of movement, so you’re not sure how you know the car is driving forward, but you do. It’s moving down a long stretch of road, and when you inhale, your heart jumps.

Thousands of stars lie overhead. It’s as if a jug of diamonds was spilled across the sky, littering the black velvet with pinpricks of light. Sounds assault your ears—car horns, motorcycles revving, pedestrians chatting, drivers shouting.

“Miss Blueberry,” you say. “Are we in Unseelie?”

“Yeah, bu—what did you just call me?”

You ignore her and roll down the window, sticking your nose out like a dog. Now Miss Blueberry’s car makes a harsh engine sound, and the street is jammed with traffic. There are buildings along the sidewalk, but everything moves so fast that they’re merely a multicolored blur. It’s an abrupt contrast to the Seelie lands’ wavering unreality; everything feels so physical, so real, that it beats anything the mortal realm could ever put forward. It makes your head whirl, and you start to grin. The Unseelie really put the “life” into “nightlife.”

The car in front of you stops a little too abruptly, and your faerie companion hits the horn irately. “Fuck you too, pal!” she shouts.

“I hope not all of these people are headed for the Court,” you say. “Otherwise we’d be spending a few hours in traffic.”

She shrugs. “Good thing we’re not actually going to the Unseelie Court.”

You whip your head around. The car jerks to a stop in front of a red light. She looks more disgruntled about the red light than her derailment of your contract.

“Excuse me?”

She grimaces. “Sure, we’ll get there eventually, but I’ve been awake for like forty-eight hours. I need some sleep before I offend the Queen with your presence.”

“The deal was no unnecessary detours.”

“Oh come on, this counts as necessary! I have business to take care of at my home, and then I’m sleeping. Besides, it’s already past midnight. The Queen won’t allow visitors to the Court until the sun sets tomorrow.”

You chew on your lip. Faeries can be sneaky, but they can’t lie to your face, and you smell only honesty and the faint aroma of day-old pudding. “And we’re just, what, gonna have a sleepover at your house until tomorrow night? Will there be hair-braiding? Fingernail painting? Trauma-inducing games of truth or dare?”

She groans. “I’m taking you to the Court, what more do you want?”

“I can’t stay in your dwelling.”

You don’t need to enumerate the reasons aloud. Her words imply an offer of hospitality, a place to sleep when you have nowhere else to go. A faerie’s dwelling is not somewhere you bring someone you don’t trust, not unless you are under extreme duress, so you don’t think she’s trying to trap you into owing her, but that doesn’t mean you wouldn’t come out of it with a debt you couldn’t repay.

Silence for a while. She grits her teeth, and you can actually hear the tiny grinding sound of enamel. “Even your silence is pointy. I hate that,” she mutters.

You’re startled into a laugh. “That implies that the rest of me is pointy.”

“You are pointy.”

“My glasses, maybe. The rest of me not so much. ‘Soft’ or ‘round’ would be a better descriptor.” You poke your tummy for emphasis.

She looks confused. “What? No, I wasn’t talking about your corporeal form. I meant the way you say things. Your written contract fixation. Your mind.”

“My mind is… pointy?”

“Sharp and edged. It doesn’t like to stay still, or be held.” She shifts abruptly to the right lane without hitting her turn signals. A jam-packed bus honks at her as it zooms past. “Anyways, I’m heading home and you fucking know what? You don’t want my hospitality, you can sleep in the car.”

“A car is still a safe space that belongs to you. The results would be about the same.”

“Then what you’ll owe me for sleeping in my dwelling will cancel out what I owe you for whatever ‘assault and battery’ is supposed to be!”

“No.”

“No?”

“We made a contract—that’s more stable than a normal debt. It can’t be nullified until it’s fulfilled. I’ll owe you a separate debt, but it won’t cancel out the first one.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says. “I was hoping you'd forget.”

You raise an eyebrow teasingly. “I thought you said I was sharp?”

“Do you know how tired I am? Do you know?” Her face starts to go red, and you realize you just pushed a button. “I spent a whole thirty-six hours awake on a single hunt in the mortal realm, and then the Handmaid, that awful little Seelie time sprite, shows up and is like, hey, you know you owe me this massive life debt and now I can literally control your every action? How about you do this totally humiliating task!”

“How—”

“And then you show up, with your pointy little words and your pointy little thoughts, and suck me into this stupid repayment cycle. I’ve never been in debt to a mortal before. Do you know how embarrassing that is?” She throws her hands up in the air, causing the car to swerve dangerously before she yanks it back again.

“Um—”

“And I know, I just know, that the Orphaner’s going to see me when I show up at the Queen’s Court dragging you along, and he’s going to get all snotty with his little simpering w’s, and the entire Court is going to watch it and it will be humiliating.”

Her driving is increasingly erratic. “Uh, maybe you should watch the—” you try.

“You know what? Fuck it. I nullify any debt payments required by you seeking shelter under my roof within the next day/night cycle. There. It’s done.”

“…thanks?”

She jerks the steering wheel to the right. You yelp, catching yourself just before your nose smashes into the windowpane.

The city lights streak by increasingly fast, then dissolve into smoke. There’s an acrid tang on the roof of your mouth.

Something happens, another strange fae shift, and the car screeches on the brakes and halts in front of a tall, lone building.

“Home sweet home,” she snarls.

The building’s rooms are stacked haphazardly, like a structure of wooden blocks made by a child. Twelve-paned windows glow with yellow light. It’s several stories high, the walls dark grey cement.

Miss Blueberry gets out of the car and slams the door behind her. She manifests a set of keys and marches toward the front door. “Are you coming or do I have to drag you?

You scramble to follow.

She unlocks the door and shoves you in. You catch your balance and look around. It’s a living room furnished like a high-rise apartment out of a real estate commercial, with polished floors and a sleek black leather couch and an elegant modernist coffee table. Everything is in black, grey and white, with hints of cobalt blue here and there.

You inhale. The air is thick with cloying sweetness, and you recognize it as her signature scent. A giant multi-paned window looks out onto an impossibly lush green forest landscape, dewdrops like crystals on each perfect leaf on each perfect tree. It looks real enough that it probably is, even if the forest isn’t physically connected to the true outside of the house.

“Is a grand tour scheduled?” you ask, walking up and hooking your arm through hers.

She sighs deeply and rubs at the circles under her eyes, but she lets your arm stay where it is.

She leads you to the hallway and points at the doors. “That is the spare room, this is my bedroom, and there is a door you will not enter for any reason.”

The last door she points at is mahogany and has a total of eight gigantic padlocks, each glowing with the same menacing light as the sword she almost decapitated you with. You nod. “You’re right. I will definitely not be entering your eldritch faerie sex dungeon.”

“Fu—” She catches herself and glares. “I have business to conduct in my private affairs, so just… don’t destroy my furniture, okay?” She unlatches herself from your arm and goes to the locked door. She drags a finger down each lock; they click in succession.

You sniff discreetly as the door swings open. You catch a draft of air with the tang of dried blood and cold iron.

“HEY!” shouts someone hoarsely. “LET ME—”

The words dissolve into pained coughing, and then the faerie slams the door shut behind her. The smells cut off abruptly.

Now that you’re alone, your senses heighten. The air seems colder than before, and it presses down on your skin. You may have been invited, but that does not make you welcome, and the house knows that.

You lay an ear against the mysterious mahogany door, but it’s soundproof. Disappointed, you wander back toward the living room.

It’s kind of weird—it doesn’t feel lived in at all. You seriously doubt that the house’s inhabitant is interested in modernist furniture or such excessively clean floors. Maybe she spends more time somewhere else? She did say that she’d spent thirty-something hours in the human realm on a single mission.

You wonder what her bedroom looks like. You decide to investigate.

A poke at her door allows it to swing silently open. You raise an eyebrow at what you see inside. The furniture is all leather and expensive wood, and the queen-size bed is draped in black silk, but it’s completely filled with random junk.

Clothes are strewn everywhere, doodles on sketchbook paper are scattered across the desk, board games are in haphazard piles on the floor. There’s even a bunch of broken 8-balls in a corner for no apparent reason. It looks like the bedroom of a ten-year-old who was never told to put their toys back after playing with them, but there’s something about it that makes you want to step inside… take off your jacket… sit down… relax your muscles… You can’t even tell if it’s magic or not.

In this place that feels so strongly like her, your thoughts drift to her hair falling over her shoulders, the regal line of her nose. That brief moment of warmth when her skin touched yours.

The faintest of shivers graces the back of your neck. Perhaps it’s a bad idea to be so incredibly attracted to a faerie who has already tried to kill you.

(Then again, you did your research, and you know there are ways you could use the situation in your favor, if you play your cards right—)

“What are you doing?”

You jump. Miss Blueberry is standing behind you, looking exasperated. Flakes of what appears suspiciously like blood cling to her hands. She wipes it off on her coat.

“Just looking around,” you say, taking in the twist of her lips, the way her eyes keep darting up and down instead of meeting yours directly.

“Yeah, well, whatever you’re planning, it’s not—”

You take her face in your hands and kiss her.

She makes a shocked little “mmh!” sound, and then you feel her hands in your hair. There’s a row of tiny pinpricks that can only be her claws. She bites down on your lower lip, sharp teeth almost breaking skin, almost instinctive, and kisses back hard.

Your thumb moves in a circle over her cheekbone. She pulls back a little, repeats, “Whatever you’re planning, it’s not gonna work.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say, tossing your glasses to the floor and pressing a kiss just below her ear. Her skin looks like polished stone, but it’s as soft as satin under your lips. She smells so sweet.

She makes a doubtful sound, but half a second later her hands are sliding beneath your shirt. “This is a bad idea,” she says, but she doesn’t sound very convinced. She’s beginning to flush, tinting her cheeks a faint blue. It’s kind of weird and also cute as fuck.

“All the best ideas are,” you say, a little breathless, and just when you’re about to say something else to correct that stupid thing you just said, her mouth is on yours again. Her tongue slips between your teeth; she tastes like pure sugar. You feel dizzy. Electricity sparks in your veins.

You shake off the threads of her glamour and tug at the lapels of her coat. She steps back and shrugs it off, then returns to rubbing circles into your waist. You drag your mouth from her lips to her neck, lingering at her collarbone.

She pulls your shirt off and unhooks your bra, then swipes a thumb over your breast. You shiver. You’re heating up all over, prickling from the cold air and burning like flame where she touches you, nerves pulsing with sharp pleasure.

You fumble at the the hem of her pants. After a few seconds of watching you struggle, she pushes them down and discards the rest of her clothes swiftly, then returns to overwhelming your senses.

Her teeth catch your tongue, and your own blood floods your mouth, turned thick and sweet by some fae magic. You gasp. The grip on your breast tightens, her claws pricking tiny wounds into your skin. The pain dances along your nerves, metamorphosing into a thrill of delight.

She’s not wearing underwear. Your fingers play with the dark curls emerging at her waist, dip down, tracing along the edge of a faint line of wetness. She twitches lightly.

She starts walking you backward, kicking junk out of the way until your legs collide with the bed. Your knees fold. She settles in your lap, and you take in the feel of your bodies pressed together.

“You’re like charcoal. Something that burns,” she murmurs.

In response, you curl a finger into her. She moans into your mouth.

You bite down on her lower lip and swirl your finger back and forth. So warm, so warm, oh. She rises up to kneel over you, and you take the opportunity to swirl your tongue around her nipple, watching her areola flush brightly.

The heat under your skin settles into a heady rhythm, pounding from your toes to your head. You clench your thighs and fail to quench the ache in the wet spot between them.

She bucks forward, insistent, pushing herself down onto your hand, and you retract a little in surprise. She breaks off the kiss to huff at you. Her pout is adorable.

“Sorry,” you say, unapologetic. You start stroking her again. Offhand: “You know I heard a rumor that faeries had, like, tentacles down there?”

She makes a choking sound. She stops moving. “What the fuck?!”

“I figured it was unlikely,” you defend.

“You thought faeries had what?” She looks horrified.

“I said it was just a rumor, and—”

Her eyes dart downward. “So what you have down there is—?”

“Same thing as you, seems like.”

She opens her mouth, probably to say something snarky, but you decide you’ve done enough talking tonight. You take two fingers and spread her, slowly, methodically. Her breath hitches.

You slide back and forth and she’s so slick she practically glides. Whatever thought she had before is gone; she’s rocking to meet your rhythm, entranced, lips open in a perfect round O. One of her hands is gripping your shoulder, the other grasping your breast, tight enough to bruise. You throb with soreness and pleasure, the sensations tangling with each other inseparably. You want her so bad.

You shift impatiently, wishing you could reach down and get to work on yourself a bit. But no. That’s not the plan here.

You try running through the list of things that make a debt in your head, the one you memorized over and over, but she’s shaking at your touch, and you don’t even get through a single repetition.

You scissor deeper into her with every stroke, and she gasps a little louder every time. The cloying tang of her faerie magic fills the room like smoke, clinging to your lungs. “Oh god,” you murmur. “Oh god.”

You drag your teeth along the vulnerable skin under the curve of her breast. She shudders for you, grips you closer, almost proprietary. “That’s it, that’s right,” you gasp.

Ngh. You need a better position to do what you really want to do. You wrap an arm around her waist and turn a little, nudging her onto her back. She makes a sound of protest, rubbing against your stomach, but you keep nudging until she gets the hint and falls onto her back. She spreads her limbs out on the bed, and she’s so strikingly beautiful like that that your thoughts desert you for a moment, and you just stare, dumbstruck.

Her lips are swollen and her face is blue-tinted from exertion. Shreds of glamour shimmer at the corners of your sight—you’re not even sure she’s consciously controlling it at this point. The scent filling the room takes on a hint of licorice. Her chest is heaving with breathlessness, but she smirks anyway. “Enjoying the view?”

That snaps you out of it. “Really, Miss Blueberry? A cliché like that at a time like this?”

“Are you really in a position to be insulting my conversational choices right now?” she asks, and you shut her up by sliding four of your fingers inside her at once. Her hips stutter upward, lifting off the bed. You hold her down with your other hand.

You skim oh so slowly through her wet heat. She whines. “Oh come on.” She writhes, body curving so deliciously against the sheets, breasts bouncing, gleaming with sweat.

A pang of insecurity hits you, seeing the stark difference between her body and yours, with your stocky frame and round stomach. Then you remember that she’s out of her mind for your touch, you’re bringing a faerie of the Unseelie Court to the edge, she’s getting whiny and impatient for you. You grin. “You have no patience,” you say, dragging blunt nails against her inner wall, feeling her shudder around you. “It’s more satisfying if you wait.”

“Fuck you,” she mutters. She reaches down and grips your wrist with her needlelike claws, shoving your hand insistently downward. You’re sharply aware of how dangerous she is, how capable of rending your flesh, and the need pulsing between your legs only grows.

God, you might just be aching as hard as she is, but there are rules about debts and orgasms, and you have to stick to them, even if your arousal is telling you to throw it all out the window.

You dip your head down and press your tongue to her quivering flesh.

She actually kicks at that, and you narrowly dodge her foot. “Whoa there,” you say, voice vibrating against her delicate tissue. She twitches, moaning.

She’s soaking wet. You press teasing kisses against her inner lips, tasting the fluids coating your mouth. She’s sharp and sweet, like blackberries drenched in syrup.

It tingles on your tongue, muddying your head, and you have to concentrate to avoid getting high off magic-laced faerie cum. “You taste so lovely,” you tell her.

Her feet scrabble for purchase in the silky sheets. Your tongue swirls around and around, and her hands land in your hair and pull. You groan into her inner warmth, eyes fluttering closed, pain blooming through your roots, agonizing and magnificent.

She begins to rock against you, and you open your mouth and comply. Your tongue swipes out to lick at whatever is in reach as she leans upright and uses her grip on your hair to fuck your face. You’re rutting against the edge of the bed, too desperate to control yourself, as her liquids coat your cheeks and you let her do what she wants with you.

She moves fast and hard, barely letting you breathe, muttering nonsense, saying “Good, good, oh you’re so perfect you little wondrous mortal, oh you’re so good, I’m so lucky I found you, oh—”

She yanks you up an inch and your lips close around her clit. You suck at her, tongue rubbing frantically—she gives one final, drawn-out gasp.

Her claws clench in your hair, scraping harshly across your scalp. You feel the shudders run through her body, the smell of her glamour eddying through your senses.

You watch, rapt, as she collapses onto her back. Her legs cease to twitch. Her breasts tremble and go still.

It takes a moment for you to realize it’s over. Especially since you’re still incredibly aroused. Your heart pounds in your chest, your palms, the soles of your feet, and your wet, throbbing ache won’t go away.

You grimace. You didn’t even get to touch yourself, not even a little, and the thought is so tempting that you almost reach down and do it. She would still owe you for giving her an orgasm and then not getting you off in return, right?

But no, the debt wouldn’t be as strong, and you need all the advantages you can get in this place.

As if on cue, Miss Blueberry tilts her head to face you. Her face is swollen and tired. “Mmh. Do you need… I can… uh.” She furrows her brow. “I forgot.”

She sounds a bit like a confused kitten. You pat her on the knee, ignoring the twinge in your parts. “We can talk about it later,” you promise. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a cold shower.”