#I wish I’d gotten to this earlier instead of creating rules for myself about finishing writing that story before reading!

[lady-merian]

!!!

—The description of the coffee house as a cup of coffee is so vivid and lovely. And the sound… I could just see and hear it!

—I like the impression I get of Alain from such descriptions as “quick as a child playing musical chairs” and “flashed a boyish grin at the professor,” and granted there are going to be earlier descriptions of him that the reader has since this isn’t the first scene between him and Noemie, but for the first I’m reading of him (more or less) this affects how I see him as a generally fun-loving individual with more than a touch of boyish charm—and no small degree of expectation for that charm to smooth his path forward… at least to a degree.

—he’s generous too, as it didn’t seem to cross his mind that Noemie would have to ask who the other cup of coffee is for. Also her guarded excitement was a lot of fun to read! I now want to give her all the good things!

The Blue One leaned forward seriously, mirroring her crossed arms. “I should jolly well hope you didn’t and no, it isn’t the same thing at all. I apologize, Mademoiselle Eve, but like the serpent, I am about to corrupt you.” 

—BEST description of someone introducing someone else to coffee. May not be accurate to everyone’s experience, (my own first taste of black coffee was not too favorable but I was corrupted first with heavily sweetened and creamed drinks. ;-) ) but it just shows how much he enjoys it and that’s what matters in the dialogue. She has the best rejoinder to it though X-D

Love the transition from the burning hot coffee to Noemie working it back around to his name. And the fact that he’s up front about this not being his real name but preferring not go by Lucifer. X-D

“Mm! Ah, now that’s the advantage of taking a lady to coffee. They bring these automatically,” he said with his mouth full like a schoolboy. Which she supposed he might be, still. He dressed like a prentice, but he didn’t talk like one, and the fancy classes usually kept their sons in school longer.

—I like the deductive reasoning as much as the humor here! She’s quick, not likely to be easily fooled. My guess would be that she’s on to something here.

—this might come out weird but I couldn’t think of another way to put it: if this were a Lady and the Tramp kind of thing (sans anything romantic between them) he’d be Lady and she’d be Tramp. He’s in over his head with something here and her street smarts are going to be helpful to him aren’t they? *eyes them curiously*

—and with the hot chocolate he’s really going to corrupt her. ;-)

Alain banged the table with his hand, reached into the pouch at his belt, and spilled a handful of singing silver over the table. “My good man, do your worst. Kill us with sugar. We’ll bless your name as we lie dying.”

—*cackles* I already loved him, this just took that way over the top.

I had such fun reading this, thank you for sharing it!

"The Ungentleman"

Here's a little excerpt from my old wip, The Brilliant Hour. In this scene, young Noemie has had the strangest day of her life after doing a good turn for a stranger. A stranger who seems to have a ridiculous amount of money on him - just the thing she desperately needs to pay off her father's debt before tomorrow's deadline. She's determined to get that money out of him. This determination has so far involved giving him an alibi by pretending he is her juggling partner, going down a chimney in his shirt so she won't spoil her own festival clothes, and getting caught up in a not-technically-breaking-and-entering situation. They've had enough narrow escapes that he is desperate to just sit down and drink some coffee, and steers them in the direction of one of the best places this end of the city: The Ungentleman.

Illustration drawn for me by Laura Hollingsworth, @drawingsworth, 2020

---

The interior of The Ungentleman was rather like a cup of coffee itself. The plaster walls were stained with a deep brown wash, and the roundabout tiled floor was cut from the same warm stone as the city ramparts. The tenor of the room felt just like coffee too – warm and cozy, if a bit too full and sloshing over the edges, perhaps a little bitter with students and amateur politicians clattering the tables with their fists and the rafters with their voices. Noemie surveyed the crowd glumly. She doubted there was a free seat in the place.

But the Blue One was already halfway across the room, swiveling his way between chairs to a table for two near the kitchen door, still wet with rings from someone else’s order. A pudgy man in a professorial gown reached the table at the same moment. He dropped a stack of books on the table territorially. But quick as a child playing musical chairs, the Blue One spun the nearer seat round and leapt into it. He flashed a boyish grin at the professor, who harrumphed, swept the books back into his arm, and departed to search for another place.

Noemie waded to the opposite chair. “Trying to cure my claustrophobia, are you? This place - oof!” 

The kitchen door had nearly slammed her in the shoulder. She veered wildly, then yelped again when she accidentally tilted the chair onto two legs.

The roll-sleeved landlord (was it still a landlord in a coffee house?) hastily apologized and wiped up their spot with a rag. “Sorry, sorry,” he muttered. “Place always fills up during the Night Market week. Folks don’t usually sit at this table.”

The Blue One snapped his fingers airily. “Coffee for two, please.”

“On the double, sir. Oy, Myrtille! Can you go any slower?” He bustled back into the kitchen.

Noemie widened her eyes. “Really?”

The Blue One cocked his head in confusion. “Really? What really?”

“Are you having two cups of coffee?” She hoped not, but it seemed politer to ask.

His eyes danced, and he bullied a laugh into becoming a cough. “You take me for a peculiar chap, don’t you?”

“Hm, I wonder why?”

“Granted. No, of course not. The second cup’s for you. You’re my guest.” Something seemed to strike him. “Have you never tasted coffee?”

Noemie tried not to sound as eager as she felt. “I once drank the cold bottom of a cup somebody had left. Someone else told me later that it’s not the same. I didn’t like it much.”

The Blue One leaned forward seriously, mirroring her crossed arms. “I should jolly well hope you didn’t and no, it isn’t the same thing at all. I apologize, Mademoiselle Eve, but like the serpent, I am about to corrupt you.”

She smiled. “Is that what you’re going to call me? Should I call you Lucifer, then?”

He grinned, and then grimaced, rubbing his split lip. “Well, I should think I look the very devil right now, so you wouldn’t be far wrong. But come on. After what happened back there, we’d best get onto proper names.”

“It’s Noemie Gardeine.”

“Enchanted.”

“And what about you?”

Just then the landlord returned with a tray. Noemie’s eyes shone, reflected in the ceramic sheen of the tapering coffee pot with a curving spout, and reflected again in the twin tin cups. Alongside the coffee tray he also laid a platter of cakes, pastries, and bonbons. Noemie seized the pot and poured immediately. She sighed and wrapped her fingers round the cup. Then she squeaked as they burned. 

 “Don’t take it like that, little greedy-guts!” the Blue One cried. “It’s metal! Wait a minute or two.”

 Noemie crammed her fingertips in her mouth to suck them. “Maybe you should drink it right away.”

He hesitated,  unsure of the joke. “Come again?”

“Should think a devil would prefer it hot. Now, out with it. You were going to tell me your name.”

“Well, technically I wasn’t. I thought you might have forgotten about that. I’m not going to lie about my name  to you, but I’m also not really able to tell you. But as I don’t fancy going by Lucifer, so I’ll give you something to work with. Hm. Alain? That’s the name I’ve been giving at most places on the road here. Would that suit? Even though you know it’s sham?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you, Alain, except that you’re rotten at juggling.”

“For all you know I could have had a real knock on the head. I might be the greatest juggler in Morceaux.” Alain popped two bonbons in his mouth, pink and white. He closed his eyes and nearly crumpled  with delight. “Mm! Ah, now that’s the advantage of taking a lady to coffee. They bring these automatically,” he said with his mouth full like a schoolboy. Which she supposed he might be, still. He dressed like a prentice, but he didn’t talk like one, and the fancy classes usually kept their sons in school longer.

“Can you pay for all of these?” Noemie asked, and then, blushing, corrected herself. “I mean, do you want to pay for -”

Alain patted the air dismissively. “Think nothing of it. They’re disgracefully good at counting, these bean grinding publicans. Sharp-eyed too. The law only lets them charge for everything you’ve touched, so mind where you put your fingers. Oh, he’ll try to rack the whole thing up to my account, but I’ll see it out.” He poured a cup one-handed, muttering, “And if you’d had any patience, you’d have let me be a good host and pour for you too.”

“I’m a caravaneer. I know better than to let anybody pour for me.” It came out sharper than she’d intended, but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. 

Noemie took up the cup and tapped its sides. Cooler than before. She stuck her tongue out, catlike, to test the temperature. Manageable. She took an enormous, slow gulp of coffee. She swirled it around in her mouth, from one cheek to the other.

Alain propped his chin on his fist. “Initial impressions? Be careful, I’m armed if you insult it.”

She swallowed. “Actually armed?”

“It’s only a knife. For some reason your authorities have less objection to concealed weapons than they do to a good honest sword belt within city walls. But – coffee. Speak.”

She took another tentative sip. “It’s a little like drinking smoke. Very dark. Very…. soft and hard at the same time. I don’t know if I like the taste, but I like – it.”

He piled three different pastries onto a plate, and shoved it towards her along with the milk and sugar bowl. “Right. Then it’s all downhill from here. We'll probably be slaves in the Circle tomorrow, so why not? Come on. I swear I’ve got the money for it. Stuff as much as you can.”

Not much conversation followed. They gobbled down enough for three meals in one, and touched practically every delicacy on the tray to find the best ones. 

When the wild feast began to slow a little – though it never really stopped so long as they were in the coffee house – a thoughtful look came into Noemie’s eyes. “Did you mean it just now when you said ‘slaves?’”

Alain, who was spreading the cream from one pastry into a sort of filling for a sandwich between two other pastries, looked up.  “I suppose I did, in a sense. Not to glower the situation over.”

“But we’re not running away?”

He shrugged. “What choice have we got? I’ve had two run-ins with the guard today. I’m not going to answer a lot of questions at the city gate to top it off."

 She licked a strawberry dribble from her palm. “We don’t have to leave the city. It’s a big place, Morceaux. We could disappear, easy as pie.” She sipped her sugar-silted coffee (the third one) meditatively. “What exactly did you do, that they want you so badly? You didn’t take a girl to a coffee house and then stab her with your secret knife, did you?”

“Quiet.” Alain glanced about furtively. “Vague language. Let’s not make jokes that would make anyone’s ears perk up. All the same, I wonder that you’re only asking about it now.”

It was Noemie’s turn to shrug. “I never travel on my own. And the only way performers stay safe is keepin clear of each others’ secrets. When you’re only together a few days, you sort of chance it that either of you could’ve murdered someone. You get out of the habit of asking.”

 “I didn’t, er,” he chuckled awkwardly, “murder anyone.” The laugh was a trifle too much. There was something forced at the end of it.

Noemie swallowed. A bubble of silence seemed to spring up around their table, even as the crowd went on clattering round them. Something in the way Alain fidgeted his nails back and forth on the table’s rim unnerved her again. Her apprehensions from the alleyway flooded back. 

He went on smiling weakly. “Ha. Well, that came out all wrong.”

“What, you really did murder someone?” She kept her tone light.

He waved exasperatedly, and his tone was even lighter.. “If I had, would I be likely to drop it on you that way?”

“I don’t know. You might be incompetent.” 

 He pushed his cup aside. “Come on. Here’s my handkerchief. Let’s wrap the rest of the cakes up in it and dump the rest into that sack of yours. If the man asks, we’ve eaten them. We need to talk in earnest, and we can’t here.”

Noemie grinned, but her fingers felt stiff as she tied the food up. “I’m not going someplace with you for you to tell me about how you didn’t precisely murder anyone.”

Alain didn’t seem to hear her. “Fellow!” he called. “How much for the whole thing?”

The landlord’s eyes nearly burst out of his head when he saw the empty platters. “Well, you’ve made the calculation easy, sir. All told, comes to –“

“Wait.” Alain threw up his hand, as though he had just thought of something. “Are you licensed for lemonade?”

The landlord looked the more surprised. “Uh, yes. Fresh squeezed this morning.”

“And…” The hope in Alain’s voice was almost pathetic,  “And… and hot chocolate? I haven’t had hot chocolate in nearly three weeks.”

“Well, we don’t serve it regularly, but I could manage to –”

Alain nodded and interrupted, leaning across the crumbs to Noemie. “Do you mind? I know we can’t go on like this. I’ll tell you anything you like. Answer any question. Come perfectly clean. I’ll even tell you my name. It’s just – first – if we go into the palace tomorrow… Well, I don’t know how they feed the entertainers, and as long as we’ve gone and eaten this much…?” 

Noemie laughed despite herself. He was so very earnest and looked exactly like a little boy begging his mother to let him lick the honey spoon. And she could put off being wary just a bit longer. She raised her eyebrows. “I’ve never had hot chocolate either.”

Alain banged the table with his hand, reached into the pouch at his belt, and spilled a handful of singing silver over the table. “My good man, do your worst. Kill us with sugar. We’ll bless your name as we lie dying.”

The landlord hurried off, thoroughly discomfited.

[kadeuxhyeonju]

A LEAP THROUGH TIME ~ When do we begin to hope?

5 October 2021

Idris,

I’ve arrived back in Kadeu safely. I have firmly planted the Vega Gem’s doors shut for the last six months and it is taking everything in me not to swing them wide open this very instant. I’m sure you’re chuckling now, insisting it would have been like this anyway given that that ridiculous winged oaf threatened me into keeping it closed for at least four of those months. Nonetheless, you silly creature…it’s good to be home.

Home. I’d never thought I’d say that about Kadeu without all the vitriol I’ve always—and still do—feel for this gods forsaken continent. Especially after the tensions of that civil war that was brewing in Club earlier this past summer and the other factions’ subsequent reactions to such chaos. But it is. Home. I’ve come to terms with this truth. In part thanks to you. I still laugh thinking of your shocked expression when we met face-to-face after decades apart. It seems that all it took to surprise my favorite, silly Fae was to sail across the sea in search of your whimsical heart. And look at all the trouble it’s caused me. I have dreams now, Idris, you bastard. I have hope.

How close was I to staying by your side, across the sea so far from these lands? Remembering the ever-so-slightly faded tattoos marring my skin—far closer than anyone can imagine. So much hope born in me partly in thanks to you and the realization that even these marks were not permanent.

Perhaps, it is also partly due to my mother no longer having a hold of me. After all, how can the dead grip us with rotted fingers? No longer, Idris. No longer. I want to forget that part of my life, and with her gone I hope that I can. But this ache…what is this ache? I have discovered so much in that time I was by your side, but it seems I have still more to learn.

’Til next time Old Friend,

Hyeonju

25 September 2022

Idris,

I can’t help but think of our time together during those six months. Those apprenticeships I took on simply because I could. Not for survival. Not in your name or honor, nor anyone else’s. Doing what I wanted for the first time in my 153 years simply because I could. It was…freeing. I’ve never used that word for myself. Gods, I sound so whimsical. I sound like you. 

That time has changed me. It makes me want to open another shop, maybe two. For clothing. Creating fashion suited for any rank. Clothes that compliment the jewelry I craft with such care and adoration they might as well be my blood-born children.

Idris, what have you done to me? I tell you this in every exchange and in every exchange you mock me in that knowing way of yours, but I’ll say it again. You have ruined me to the life I had grown accustomed to in Kadeu. I thought this feeling would die naturally on its own after a few weeks. But here I am still dreaming hopeless dreams.

Hopeless because that bastard of gold has set his sights on me. Or rather, he refuses look my way. He hasn’t said in so many words, nor does he need to. He no longer uses my shop. He walks around in gaudy jewels fashioned from jewelers of far lower caliber than you or myself—all for his pride. All because he knows I despise him. So be it. I rose to this rank without him. And while he may set the precedent for much of Heart, I take pride in knowing I set the precedent for its continued refined appearance.

Ah. I’ll end the letter here. Another letter from Luke has reached my doorstep. I should answer before he thinks I’ve all but cast him away again. And before you put quill to paper, Idris, no I have yet to forgive him for Lita.

…but I’m not adverse to having him in my life again.

’Til next time Old Friend,

Hyeonju

7 July 2023

Idris,

It is so quiet and calm this year. Boring, even. Yes, I dare say that despite only being halfway through. The Resistance is silent. Clubs are far more reasonable and less prone to violent tantrums in the street. Spade is as dull as it’s always been, stiff and musty like waterlogged wooden planks. I daresay the Diamonds have become almost bearable in attitude (the low and midrankers, at least) thanks to Ms. Moon’s much needed hand to guide their wayward, gaudy souls.

They still dress like they fashioned clothes from their grandmother’s lint balls and bags of misshapen enchanted confetti, though. In other words—there’s room for significant improvement. But it’s better than it was just a few years prior.

I wish I could say the same of Heart. Idris, my friend, that beast in gold has been starting up Fae-run businesses and education. That in itself is not a bad thing. In fact., I’d welcome it from any other person if it didn’t originate from the mind of someone as calculating and cruel as the one I shall not name. But because these wonderful ideas were founded by him I do not trust them. I do not trust his motives, nor do I trust the gradual influx of Fae migrating under his rule.

From what you’ve told me of Fae and their realm, I’m suspicious of why they’d come here despite preferring their own realm. I doubt they’re all like you--actually enjoying and preferring the company of this world. What his he up to? I don’t like these murmurs of his guards growing in size and strength. I worry for Heart—and the rest of Kadeu with it.

I’ll spare you more morbid talk. I know how much you dislike it. Let me tell you instead of the of all the plans I’ve made for those shops I’ve spoken of so many times. Wonder at the names I’ve created for each…!

**The rest of the letter’s writing is faded with time and illegible.**

9 August 2024

Idris,

This heat is no good for my fur. Even my ears are frizzing in this humidity. The customers and Alexei have told me I look “cuddly”. Disgusting. A child with her mother waltzed right up to me and began to give my tails too-hard thumps with her little Strongarm fists. You will be proud to know I did not growl at the sudden and violent touch. I am better at reminding myself not every hand coming at me will bring me harm. Still hurt like hell, though.

I am finishing up a commission today. It’s beautiful and will fetch a high price. The money is being set aside, as always, for my new shops. I hope to open the first one by the end of this year if all goes well. I’d ask for you to wish me luck, but we both know it’s my blood, sweat, and tears that have gotten me this far and will continue to do so.

Idris, you silly creature. My old and dearest friend. I hope this letter finds you well. That you are taking in the world. That you find what you have been looking for all these years. Just as I know you wish the same for me. And as always I hope even if we should meet again many, many, many centuries from now we are still comfortable companions in whatever way it takes shape.

Now excuse me while I go and chastise this overly energetic Shapeshifter trying to tell tall tales about ghosts haunting my jewelry. For a Spade, I’m amazed I see her wandering this faction so often. Shamelessly even. I like her. As much as I can like any Spade, I suppose. But she needs to stop alarming my customers.

’Til next time Old Friend,

Hyeonju

[heroineimages]

Tagged by @theoutcastrogue. (Her post)

Rules: It’s time to love yourself. Choose your 5 favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works! 

Thanks so much, sweet rogue, for tagging me! Firstly, this is exactly the kind of thing my therapist tells me I need to do for myself more often. Secondly, I tend to fixate on reading back over my past writing, so this gives me an excuse to do just that. Under the cut because there’ll be several writing excerpts and it might run long. Tagging @chenria, @9musesandanoldmind, @queer-trans-amazon, @jeanjauthor, and anyone else who wants in!

1. I did a lot of tinkering on Hero Forge after they released the colors and new engine. Firstly, I found it therapeutic and helpful for my anxiety. Secondly, I have a tendency to create stories for the new OCs I come up with. In particular, I like coming up with themed versions of the twelve base D&D classes. My favorite so far is the Desert Elf minis and their story.

2. My second favorite Hero Forge buildup was the Muskets and Snow designs, pitting Frost Elf tribes against musket-armed, multiracial commonwealth soldiers, once again based around the D&D classes. (Check my Hero Forge tag for more mini designs!)

3. I added four chapters to my Legend of Korra gladiator AU last year, and commissioned a movie poster for it from my amazing artist friend, Telenia Albuquerque. I added a few fighting scenes and several explicit lesbian bedroom scenes that I’m kind of proud of, including a fun, racy striptease. In the following scene, Asami breaks up a meeting between Varrick and none other than Marc Antony after Varrick attempts to abduct her and poison her bodyguards, including Korra:

“You said our host tried to abduct you?” [Antony] continued, turning to Asami.

“Of course not!” Varrick interrupted, stepping between Asami and Antony. “We’re pals, right, Antony? You know I’d never abduct anybody!”

“Mm, I seem to recall you abducting Titus Atticus’s wife, as well as the late Clodius Pulcher’s favorite catamite,” Antony replied.

“Allegedly!” Varrick protested, turning away and crossing his arms. “I allegedly abducted Atticus’s wife and Pulcher’s catamite!”

“Everything you do is ‘allegedly,’” Asami glared.

“So you’ve had dealings with this bastard before,” Antony laughed. “Please, come in,” he invited, gesturing to Varrick’s office. “No doubt we can handle this like civilized people, miss…?”

“Asami Sato,” Asami answered, allowing Antony to take and kiss her hand.

“Ah! Master Hiroshi’s daughter,” he identified her. “I’ve heard about you, and I’m delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“I’m sure,” Asami agreed with a hint of smooth annoyance.

“Great, thanks a lot, Zhu Li,” Varrick grumbled as the six of them trooped into his office. “What the heck happened, anyway?”

“It would seem you underestimated Mistress Sato, sir,” Zhu Li informed him, [still tossed over the gladiatrix’s shoulder]. The armored pauldron pressed into her gut was really uncomfortable. “She already had her guards inoculated against our poison.”

“What? How could you possibly know that?” Varrick demanded, turning to Asami.

“I’m more intelligent than you thought, and you’re less clever than you’d like to believe,” Asami answered, taking one of the three chairs in the room. “And, frankly, that old Persian trick of poisoning the dancing girls’ lips isn’t as cunning as you thought. It was all a matter of knowing what poisons you have access to and researching which ones work on contact and can have resistances built up for them.”

“Smart,” Antony agreed, taking the second chair while Acainissa stuffed Varrick in the chair behind his desk. Hebasken and Acainissa took up positions on either side of Varrick’s chair, looming over him.

“Varrick, this other door leads to your bedchambers, doesn’t it?” Asami asked, pointing to the curtained doorway.

“Yeah, why?” Varrick frowned. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Korra, are you up for a bit of… revenge-sex?” Asami asked.

“I’m always up for revenge and sex,” Korra assured her.

“Take Zhu Li into Varrick’s chambers and fuck her stupid, please.” Asami instructed. “She’s a very intelligent woman, so I suspect that will take a lot of fucking to accomplish.”

Korra laughed and turned to pack Zhu Li through the door.

4. I’ve also made some progress on an older story I started a long time ago about my OC Elindra, a Drow paladin of the Red Knight who gets turned to a Drider by fanatics of Lolth. The following scene comes during the big escape from Ched Nasad between her and her dwarf cleric friend, Nell:

I used the glaive to parry the [Drider] warrior’s first assault. The snarly bastard was skilled, blocking and parrying my every attack, despite my Haste spell. And even if I did land a hit, my odds of breaking his Stoneskin were frustratingly small. I gave way instead, using my quickened speed to my advantage. An arrow flashed past us, announcing the return of the annoying ranger from earlier. I grimaced from frustration as another arrow shattered against my Mithral spaulder.

This was taking too damned long. No doubt the alarm had been raised and more guards and spell-casters were on their way.

Dueling with the warrior, I deliberately backed myself toward another aperture in the webs. I parried the warrior’s mace, managing to rap him across the face with the butt of my glaive. As he lunged again, I dropped my glaive and caught his arm. From there I leapt backward, pulling him though the gap with me. He caught the edge of the webs with two clawed legs, flipping us through upside-down. Still clutching his arm, my weight yanked him through the gap behind me.

A slightly larger Drider, I flipped myself onto his back, riding him downward as we plummeted. Gripping him by the hair, I screamed, “Smite Evil!” as we hit, slamming his head into the hardened webbing below.

The impact threw me from the warrior’s back, and I skidded onto my side perhaps twelve feet away. The warrior’s head was obliterated—a black, bloody smear across the calcified web floor.

“You alright?” I asked Nell as I picked myself up.

“Ye’re focking crazy, ye know that, Elindra?” Nell grumbled behind me, [still harnessed to my back]. “Ooh, that’s a pretty mess!” she laughed when I turned to look for a way back up. “Aye, let’s see ye Stoneskin protect ye from that shite, motherfocker!” she taunted the dead Drider.

5. And, lastly I’m happy with a lot of the progress I’ve made on my novel, First Empress. The following excerpt is a cute, racy little flashback scene of Elissa and Queen Viarra’s first time having sex:

“O–oh, gods!” Elissa groaned, catching her breath as she came down from her third climax.

Princess Viarra gripped the blanket on either side of Elissa’s shoulders, grunting as she thrust against Elissa’s leg to ride out her own climax. Broad, muscular arms trembling, her thrusts continued to get slower and more deliberate as she finished herself off. Her highness’s entire body shook one last time, and she gave a panting laugh before collapsing halfway atop Elissa.

They lay laughing and gasping for breath for long moments, their legs tangled together, their right breasts squashed against the other’s sternum. Princess Viarra’s arms splayed off to the sides while Elissa’s trembling arms clutched her love’s shoulders. Their shoulders were about even, but Viarra’s cunny now rested against Elissa’s knee. Their clothes lay discarded to one side with the wine they’d stolen from King Vaso and the erotic poetry they’d stolen from Prince Kallis. Above them, the peach trees of King Vaso’s orchard swayed in the afternoon breeze.

“I’m not squishing you, am I?” Viarra asked, her face still half-pressed against the tangle of brown and copper hair next to Elissa’s right ear.

“No,” Elissa laughed, wishing she had the energy to clutch her beloved princess tighter. “I feel safe beneath you,” she promised. “You make me feel safe and happy.”

“And you make me happy,” her highness assured her, turning her head to kiss and nibble at Elissa’s cheek. Elissa squealed and used one hand to try to push her away.

Unrelenting, Princess Viarra made a nasal, growling sound and pretended to gnaw on Elissa’s neck. “Grar! I just want to eat you up, you’re so sweet!” her highness declared, making exaggerated chewing noises against Elissa’s neck and shoulder.

Gods, her highness had gotten so strong the last few years, Elissa acknowledged as she squealed and giggled, unsuccessfully attempting to fight back. Viarra’s arms were probably bigger around than Elissa’s legs, and her shoulders were almost half-again as broad as Elissa’s. And she was tall. Possibly as tall as her mother as well as thick and big-boned, Princess Viarra was just too big and strong for anyone except maybe a wrestler or a gladiator to overpower.

Clearly Elissa would have to resort to guile instead.

Viarra shrieked out a series of giggles as Elissa reached up to tickle her sides. “Gods, no!” her highness squealed, attempting to push Elissa’s hands away. Unable to quite grab onto them, Viarra pushed herself away, laughing as she rolled onto her back.

Instead of renewing her assault, Elissa rolled over next to her, draping her left arm across Viarra’s chest and left leg across her waist.

“That was amazing,” Elissa admitted, snuggling up against her beloved’s nude form. “Thank you for being my first.”

“Thank you for being my first,” Princess Viarra countered, wrapping an arm around Elissa’s bare back. “I never imagined sex would feel like that.”

“You seemed to know what you were doing,” Elissa observed. “I mean, I could tell you were trying out techniques and all, but where did you learn them?”

“I asked Captain Vola,” her highness admitted looking over at her. “She’s pretty candid about sex advice, and even Captain Kellor admits it’s usually good advice. Part of the reason I brought you out here was because I wanted to try it, and there’s no one I’d rather try it with than you,” she added, reaching over to stroke Elissa’s cheek.

Elissa blushed and smiled, stroking her love’s powerful belly. “I’m glad you did,” she admitted, unable to think of anything else to say.

[strayen-fx]

My Roommate is a Demon | Part II

Genre: Fluff, angst

Wordcount: 1.9k

Warnings: trauma, road accident, mention of death, panic attack

A/N: I've finally finished it! Hope you guys like it 🥺

"That's your delaying tactic, huh?"

Minho paused from petting Doongie and looked up at me, confusion written on his face. "What?"

I stood beside the TV, my arms across my chest, eyeing the demon who was sitting on my apartment floor. There was a reason why I never looked for a roommate -- I'd rather choose to pay an expensive rent than live with a total stranger that may/may not be a psycho, or worse, a jerk who doesn't know how to segregate biodegradable waste from non-biodegradable.

And yet, here I am: stuck with someone who was literally spawned by hell.

"How long do you intend to stay in my house?"

"Until you've told me your wish," Minho answered with a wide grin. He brought his attention back to Doongie and resumed attacking a bag of chips. "Until then, I'll be leeching off of you like the handsome demon that I am."

That's his third bag of chips for the day. "I already told you my wish," I pointed out. "Wishes, actually. But you never did any of them. So tell me -- are you toying with me? Just so you could stay here and play with my cats all day?" I eyed him suspiciously. "Are you running away from your tasks down in your place or something?"

Minho glared at me. "Your previous wishes wouldn't even count as wishes. You called for a demon, not a genie in a bottle," he scoffed. "You were supposed to ask for evil, injurious, hostile, insidious, destructive stuffs. And you asked me to give you an unlimited supply of pizza?"

"That's not the only wish I've told you," I argued.

Minho rolled his eyes. At this point in time, I am already used to seeing that affectionate gesture. "Right. You asked me to duct-tape Chan's laptop. You also asked me to trip Jisung. And you asked me to steal Changbin's plushie. Right. You have an absolutely terrifying and lethal mind, Y/N."

"Playing with Chan's equipment is evil," I reasoned out. I have actually witnessed Chan going nuts when he thought he lost his hard drive, and I swore to myself I would never want to see him furious again. It was the epitome of danger.

"...Are you for real?" Minho asked flatly. "That's, like, one of the top 100 lamest pranks I have ever heard. We're supposed to do crimes, not petty pranks on your kid neighbor."

"Can I just wish for you to leave?"

"Nope. Next question?"

"What am I supposed to do, then?" I whined. "I can't exactly wish for a random explosion in the streets, can I?"

Minho contemplated the idea for a few seconds. "That's not evil enough. We need something impactful -- I need something gold on my resume."

"...Resume?"

"Relevant experience, duh. I'm a hardworking employee. I need promotions."

I groaned, totally done and pissed and just generally going crazy about my whole predicament. How am I going to shake off my cat-loving demon roommate?

Minho grinned once more, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Guess that means you'll be spending an eternity with me."

°°°°°°°°°

"Can you burn my uni down?"

"That's not even an evil request. That's called service to the student body."

"Can you kill all the bugs in my city?"

"I may be a demon, but I do not intervene with the ecosystem. I'm done with you mortals ruining the planet. It's getting bad for my skin."

I frowned at Minho, who insisted on walking me to campus. He said he wanted to see my uni, but I'm pretty sure he's got some underlying intention he's not telling me. I felt wary for a sudden ambush.

"Can you give my professor the flu?"

"If we're talking about the flu that escalates into world destruction, then I guess we can get down to business--"

Minho suddenly stopped walking. He remained rooted on the road, staring at a middle distance. There was a look of worry in his eyes.

"H-hey, is something wrong?" I asked.

"I-I gotta go," Minho said hurriedly. He then sped off, almost tripping on his own feet. "I'LL SEE YOU AT HOME!" he shouted over his shoulders.

I don't know why, but the way he worded it made me feel a major blush creeping on my cheek. "YOU DON'T NEED TO GO BACK!"

°°°°°°°°°

"Where on earth did that demon go?"

My classes have already ended. Chan, Jisung and Changbin were all busy creating new tracks for the upcoming music fest, so I was forced to walk home alone. They were too busy these past few days, I hadn't gotten the chance to update them on the crazy scenarios unfolding in my life. They didn't even know I had a demon for a roommate. They didn't even know I've gotten a roommate, in the first place -- I bet they'd go crazy on their next visit.

That is, if I'd still have a roommate by that time.

"He said he'll see me at home," I mumbled. "Or did he just say that? Did he go back to wherever he came from? Without even informing me?"

As if on cue, I heard rustling of bushes from somewhere in front of me. I initially thought it was a thief. I was prepared to sprint off, but just then, Minho slowly walked into view, holding his hands against his stomach.

"You're here," I said quietly. Was that relief I just felt? Well, I guess I did feel relief knowing there wasn't a thief in front of me (but a demon instead. The irony.)

"Yeah," Minho smiled sheepishly. "I'm, uhh, just about to go home."

I gave him a weird look. "It has been hours since you walked me to school, and you're still here outside? You're just going home?" I noticed a few leaves that got stuck on his hair plus a few scratches along his forearm. My brow shot up. "By any chance... did you... get lost?"

A faint blush formed on the demon's cheeks. "I'm not used to human civilization, okay? I don't know your freak symbols. All the roads look the same -- how am I supposed to know where I am supposed to go?"

I tried to swallow the laughter bubbling in my stomach. "So you did get lost. I thought you're a demon? Can't you track me home with your demon powers or something?"

"I can only track your presence; ever wonder why I'm here in front of you? Your house is another thing. My powers aren't that strong yet." He began striding off to the direction opposite my house. I jogged after him, trying to match his long strides.

"Ya Minho. Are you sure of where you're-- Hey, what's that... thing on your belly?" I pointed at the weird spherical bulge on his stomach. He was wearing a baggy shirt, but the shape was still pretty much evident. It looked like a soft round pillow underneath his clothes. "Are you pregnant?"

"What are y-- I'M NOT PREGNANT, OKAY?" Minho's ears burned red, and he looked absolutely flustered.

"Would you care to explain, then, what--"

"Meow~"

"Did you just meow at me, Lee Minho?"

"MEOW~"

The thing under Minho's shirt suddenly moved, protesting against the hands holding him. Minho was taken by surprise -- he wasn't able to stop the little cat from breaking free from his hiding spot.

"You brought a--"

"Meow~" The cat landed on my feet. He is so small, probably just a month old. He had grey and white fur, and his meow sounded soft and sweet. He looked up at me expectantly, as if assessing the possible danger I held against him. It then brushed its body against my legs, marking me as his human.

"You brought a cat?"

"What do you expect me to do?" Minho whined. "I heared him meowing and crying desperately for help. I can't just leave him alone in the street, he's too young!"

"That's why you scampered off earlier?" I stiffled a laugh. "Are you sure you're a demon? Didn't you send your application to the wrong agency?"

"Shut up. Let's bring Dori home, alright? He's hungry."

"You even named him already."

"I said shut up."

We began walking to my apartment -- the correct direction this time -- while Minho carried Dori in his arms. I had to admit: they looked adorable. Minho looked so soft while cradling the baby cat, and Dori looked comfortable in the hands of his new owner.

And then I thought: Once Minho leaves, who's going to take care of Dori?

Nah, I could definitely take care of another cat at home.

But Minho is the one who found Dori. He is the parent, not you.

Minho has to leave soon -- I can handle Dori on my own.

Okay.

...

You're not gonna miss him?

...Of course not.

...

...

...

But Minho--

Shut up.

We were only a couple blocks away from my apartment. We were approaching a pastry shop which sells delicious cheesecake when suddenly, Dori jumped down from Minho's hold. The cat quickly ran off to the shop, carelessly crossing the street with her tiny paws.

"Dori!" Minho immediately ran after him, not even bothering to check the road for approaching vehicles.

A huge van was approaching fast. The driver probably didn't notice that someone was crossing the road -- he wasn't slowing down even one bit. His headlights blared, bright and harsh and ominous.

My brother. His bicycle. Blood. Van. Shattered glass. Smoke. Blood, everywhere. My brother, limp, unmoving. Blood. He was coughing blood. And his eyes... his eyes were blank. He wasn't blinking. He was staring at me with vacant eyes. He was bleeding. He--

"MINHO!"

The vehicle barely missed Minho by an inch. He successfully retrieved Dori. He looked back at me and smiled reassuringly, his hand held up in a thumbs-up.

My knees felt weak. I fell on the sidewalk, my heart thumping at a hundred beats per second. I couldn't feel my fingers. It felt as if I was dunked head-first into a pool of ice. Tears began welling in my eyes, making my surroundings blurry.

The next thing I knew, Minho was kneeling on my side. He was asking me a lot of questions, but I couldn't understand any of it. My heart was beating crazily in my chest. It was beating in my throat. It was beating in my ears. Dori was standing at my feet, carefully licking at my exposed skin.

"Minho..."

"I'm here," he answered.

"Don't leave me. Never leave me."

He fell quiet for a few moments. And then: "You know that wish is against the rules of hell, right?"

I looked at him, trying to read the emotion in his caramel eyes. There was a look of genuine concern in them.

"We are not allowed to stay with humans for a period longer than our mission. Your wish breaks the most important rule for demon interns like me, which means that it's an evil wish." Minho smiled softly. "Is that the wish you are going to ask from your demon?"

I nodded. I pulled him into a tight hug, not even caring about my unflattering appearance on the side of the road. "Stay with me."

"I've heard your wish loud and clear," he declared. Minho carefully patted my head as he tightened his hold on me, lending me warmth from his embrace. I can actually feel him smiling. "We have a 'no return, no exchange' policy. Whether you like it or you like it, you're now stuck with your demon roommate forever."

°°° °°° °°°

°°°

°

A/N: Please stop me from giving this a steamy part three