AN: I do not own anything from the FFXIII universe. SE does. I'm only playing with the characters for my own sick amusement.
There is a serious lack of Flight, Flaire, Fanaire, Hyperarousal, whatever you call it. In the end its some good ol' Fang x Lightning. I only say lack, because I've already read most of it and seriously need a FLight fix. I am a junkie.
Back on topic, I really just wanted to try my hand at writing romance, and what better vehicle than FFXIII? NONE I SAY! Genre says romance/humor but will probably have several different ones.
Most of these one-shots will be base on songs, but are not song-fics. I fail at those. Also, most of these will not connect to one another, unless I state otherwise. All that aside, I know that most of these won't make much sense, since I am horrible about actually explaining things in fics. I assure you though, it makes sense in my head (for the most part) I just never get around to expressing those thoughts on paper (or screen in this case.)
Regardless, I hope someone other than myself gets some enjoyment from these.
andif anyone has a better idea for a title, let me know please
In the Next Room - Neon Trees
Holy Etro, would it really kill her to get a new hobby?
Fang grabbed her pillow from under her head and clasped it over her ears, hoping to shut out the intimate noises coming from her roommate's bedroom.
Her hope was a vain one she realized, as Lightning only grew more vocal. Almost as if she knew of the Oerban's desire for sleep, and was purposefully denying it to her.
'That would be just like you, wouldn't it Sunshine? Cold, devious, and spiteful. How long can you hold a grudge?'
A long time it would seem. It had been over a month since Fang had accidentally scared off the soldier's date. Its not like Fang had planned on coming home from her hunt covered in behemoth blood, but the bastard had broken off one end of her lance in its hide, and there was no way Fang was going home without the blades. She didn't have the gil to be ordering new ones, and it hadn't really seemed like such a hassle at the time. And being with the Guardian Corps, she expected him to have a better stomach than that.
Bone tired and wanting only a hot bath and a glass of wine, Fang made her way up the path to the house she shared with Sergeant Lighting Farron. The battle with the behemoth had taken longer that she expected, and that put her in a sour mood.
The huntress thought sadly of the splintered staff strapped to her back, already groaning about the amount of time she would have to spend carving a new handle, and the effort it would take to reattach the blades. All for a few lousy teeth..
She glared at the canines in question. Losing her favorite spear for two fangs (and one of the damn things was chipped! That might have happened when she proceeded to beat the beast with the remnants of her staff, but that was beside the point) was hardly worth the effort.
A scowl replaced her trademark smirk as the huntress decided that the wine definitely came first.
Walking into her home, she shut the door a tad harder than was necessary, before leaning the components of her broken weapon against the door of the basement. She would have to take them down later to start working on a replacement, but that would wait until after a glass of red wine and a long bath. Turning, she caught her already bruised shoulder on the corner and silently amended that thought to a bottle of red wine. A bottle of red wine as sour as her mood.
Storming into the kitchen, Fang swiftly made her way to the cupboard and pulled out a glass, and bottle of her favorite port. Cursing as she opened and slammed drawers in search of the ever-elusive bottle opener, her mood only grew worse. Finally retrieving the metal device, she then spent a good six minutes trying (and failing) to make the thing remove the cork standing in the way of her stress relief. After only breaking apart the cork and vocalizing her hatred of the Cocoon-made devise made only to infuriate her, she finally gave up and grabbed the large butcher knife from the block and successfully breaking off the upper part of the bottle neck.
The first glass went down quickly, as did the second. As she pour a third, she cast her glare back down on the teeth that had caused the day full of misery.
Half-way through this glass, Fang had finally calmed down enough register that she was not alone in the kitchen. Expecting her roommate, she sighed and closed her eyes before turning to face her companion.
"Look Sunshine, I already know what your going to say, 'don't take your anger out on the house just becau…..' she stopped when her roommate let out an undignified whimper. Fang opened her eyes.
It was not her roommate in front of her.
Cowering in one of the dining set chairs, was a small, rather mousy looking man looking up at her the same way a sheep would look upon the gorgonsipod that was about to make it into lunch. Although, he might have only looked that way due to the way he had forced his way into the fetal position. Looking down at herself, it was as is she was only just noticing the gore that covered most of her body.
Then she realized just how little she cared, before looking back up the stranger in her kitchen and taking another drink of her wine.
This must have been the date Light had mentioned earlier that week, some other member of the G.C. A corporal if she remembered correctly, and the pauldron on his shoulder confirmed the thought.
Neither said a word. Fang had locked eyes with the man and he looked too terrified to break the link without her expressed permission.
The Oerban finished her glass and refilled it without breaking eye contact. The seconds ticked by, feeling like hours. The corporal began to tremble.
Finally, the other occupant of the house found her way to the kitchen. "Alright Todd, I'm ready to he….." she stopped at the sight before her. Her date was sitting, no, cowering in a chair, eyes wide as saucers at the sight in front of him. Casting a glance to the right, Lightning saw a tall, blood-encrusted Pulsian standing at the kitchen island with a broken wine bottle and two behemoth fangs in front of her, glass in hand and glowering at fearful solider.
Letting out a sigh, the sergeant moved the block Fang's line of sight, and hopefully shake the poor man out of his stupor. "Todd, we should probably go now if we're going to make the movie." She spoke as though is was a common occurrence to find a beautiful, gore-coated, Amazon drinking wine in the kitchen. For all Todd knew, it was.
The still shaking man finally responded after some time,. "You know what, I think we should postpone 'till another night. I'm suddenly not feeling so hot." With that, he moved to get up off the chair and leave the kitchen. He could feel the fiery green eyes of the dark woman upon him as he left.
Both women heard as his steps picked up speed until he practically ran out of the house, not even closing the front door all the way.
Lightning turned towards her roommate, eyes suddenly colder than usual and a scowl plastered on her face. Fang returned the stare with a smirk and finished off her fourth glass of red. She was suddenly feeling better, and it was getting to be time for that bath she promised herself.
Without a word, the tanned woman picked up the remaining bottle of wine and her glass and made her way to the bathroom. She could feel the miniature blizzards boring into her back, blizzards that promised the swift and blinding vengeance of a sexually deprived woman.
Yes, Todd had been terrified when he left that night, but that hadn't stopped him from coming back a week later, and proceeding to make the next few hours incredibly awkward for Fang.
Damn, the man was a loud one, a stark contrast to his bedmate.
Fang had made the mistake of commenting on this fact the next morning after the corporal left. She had hoped to shame the solider into silencing her partner.
The next time Todd came over, Lightning wasn't so quiet. Every night after that, she got progressively louder.
However, the louder she got, the more forced Fang realized it was. Almost as if the act of sex wasn't nearly as enjoyable as the tired glares Fang would give her the next morning over coffee. The thought caused a frown to appear on the huntress's face. She could only imagine a few instances in which a person would be intentionally intimate and not enjoy it. The first one was marriage. The second instance made her pause. Could Light be trying to make her jealous? She tried to dismiss the thought with a snort.
That was ridiculous for several reasons.
One, Light would never stoop to anything so petty (current situation aside,) and two: what on Gran Pulse did Fang have to be jealous about? Sleeping with that skinny, mousy, trembling, little man-child who she found cowering in her kitchen? No, Fang could definitely find a better partner if she so desired.
One morning the eldest Farron had asked why there was no-one in that aspect of Fang's life. She had countered with the notion that most Cocoon natives lacked a certain fire a good paramour needed, that 'they could never match a Pulsian lover.' Oddly, Farron had merely nodded and muttered something about Fang probably being right. She looked up across the table and met Fang's gaze briefly before leaving for work.
Funny, Fang had thought herself delusional, but she could've sworn she saw a certain fire smoldering away in the sergeants eyes.
A particularly loud moan made it way through the walls, and assaulted the Oerban's ears. She grit her teeth and was incredibly tempted to go pounding on the wall and yell "SHE'S FAKIN'!"
But Oerba Yun Fang always had remarkable self-control, and refrained from doing so. Doing so would imply that she was being bothered by this. She was, but she refused to give Light the satisfaction of acknowledging this fact.
In truth, the more she thought about it, the more she WAS bothered.
However it wasn't the volume of the activities next door that irked her (although it certainly contributed,) nor was it the fact that Light was doing this just to spite her. No, what bothered her was the fact that deep down, she was jealous. Not of Light herself, Etro no. But of her chosen bedmate.
The mighty Pulsian huntress was jealous of the mousy little man-child in the next room, getting to be so close to the sergeant, and in such an intimate fashion.
What bothered her the most was that she knew she could make those impassioned noises being faked by the pale woman real, and just how badly she wanted to, haw badly she wanted to storm next door, toss the poor man out on his arse and take his place.
Finally, Fang gathered up her pillow and several blankets before proceeding out of her room, (pausing only to kick her roommates door) through the living room and out to the back porch. Sure it was only just above freezing, but Fang believed it would do her some good, what with the uncomfortable flush that had suddenly taken over her body. And out here, she was free of the noises emanating from the next room.
