I got some interest in a female-centric snzcord and I am a professional discord-server haver so I decided to go ahead and make it! A nice little haven to hang out with all my bitches who don't really give a shit about men and want a kinky place to ignore them.
Do I have to ID as a woman to join?
Nope! You just have to post about them. The title's just for fun.
Is it trans inclusive?
Yes! I am a passionate and take-no-shit transfeminist. Trans women will be worshipped, loved, listened to, and protected.
Is it pro-ship?
Absolutely, antis will be left at the door. Come to me with all your fucked up shit (just spoiler tag it accordingly! I'm a weenie!)
What's it got?
Writers' rooms, chats for every kind of snzfuckery, places to share your art/writing/wavs and talk about your OCs, and a feedback channel in case you want anything else.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
A, with something of a praise kink, coming down with an awful cold that's adamant on making itself be known. A who usually resorts to stifling or just fully crushing their sneezes--pinching their nostrils--into silent submission. Except this cold is wreaking havoc on their sinuses with persistent fits and they can only stifle so many before they have to vocally let out a few...or an entire fit.
B, knowing how much A hates to sneeze in public, starts showering A with warm soft praises every time they fail to stifle:
"Good girl," "those were so strong," "sneeze it all out sweetheart," "I bet that feels so much better,"
I got some interest in a female-centric snzcord and I am a professional discord-server haver so I decided to go ahead and make it! A nice little haven to hang out with all my bitches who don't really give a shit about men and want a kinky place to ignore them.
Do I have to ID as a woman to join?
Nope! You just have to post about them. The title's just for fun.
Is it trans inclusive?
Yes! I am a passionate and take-no-shit transfeminist. Trans women will be worshipped, loved, listened to, and protected.
Is it pro-ship?
Absolutely, antis will be left at the door. Come to me with all your fucked up shit (just spoiler tag it accordingly! I'm a weenie!)
What's it got?
Writers' rooms, chats for every kind of snzfuckery, places to share your art/writing/wavs and talk about your OCs, and a feedback channel in case you want anything else.
I got some interest in a female-centric snzcord and I am a professional discord-server haver so I decided to go ahead and make it! A nice little haven to hang out with all my bitches who don't really give a shit about men and want a kinky place to ignore them.
Do I have to ID as a woman to join?
Nope! You just have to post about them. The title's just for fun.
Is it trans inclusive?
Yes! I am a passionate and take-no-shit transfeminist. Trans women will be worshipped, loved, listened to, and protected.
Is it pro-ship?
Absolutely, antis will be left at the door. Come to me with all your fucked up shit (just spoiler tag it accordingly! I'm a weenie!)
What's it got?
Writers' rooms, chats for every kind of snzfuckery, places to share your art/writing/wavs and talk about your OCs, and a feedback channel in case you want anything else.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
I got some interest in a female-centric snzcord and I am a professional discord-server haver so I decided to go ahead and make it! A nice little haven to hang out with all my bitches who don't really give a shit about men and want a kinky place to ignore them.
Do I have to ID as a woman to join?
Nope! You just have to post about them. The title's just for fun.
Is it trans inclusive?
Yes! I am a passionate and take-no-shit transfeminist. Trans women will be worshipped, loved, listened to, and protected.
Is it pro-ship?
Absolutely, antis will be left at the door. Come to me with all your fucked up shit (just spoiler tag it accordingly! I'm a weenie!)
What's it got?
Writers' rooms, chats for every kind of snzfuckery, places to share your art/writing/wavs and talk about your OCs, and a feedback channel in case you want anything else.
hiiiii been a while and i'm kind of out of practice but between watching the first episode of pluribus hornily and getting a baller christmas giftfic from @actinium-hydroperoxyl where BOTH THESE BITCHES HAD THE KINK i could not rest until this idea had left me. i hope you enjoy.
FANDOM: Ace Attorney
SHIP: Franziska/Maya, duh
WORD COUNT: 9.7k
RATING: Explicit
Summary: Franziska finds out the case she's working on might overlap a bit too comfortably with her... very specific interests.
Contains: kink!Fran and kink!Maya, huge focus on contagion / cold sharing, lil bit of mess, some orgasm edging, the same light dom/sub you can expect if you've read my other franmayas. fran being kind of a brat, maya being an insatiable dom.
Please reblog and tell me what you think!
[READ ON AO3]
Run-of-the-mill, historically, was not a turn of phrase one would often place in front of a noun like homicide.
Yet still, Franziska von Karma found herself doing it far more often than was appropriate. There was simply no other way to describe theβ¦ the contrast of the cases that she worked back home, in big and underlined comparison to the ones that found her in the states. Here, there was always some wildly eclectic framing device or threeβa flying killer here, a ceremonial sword thereβAmericans, as always, were incapable of being quiet. Even as they were lying, cheating, stealing, and taking life, they always endeavoured to find some foolish way to make themselves the center of attention.
Penciled in mid-way through her organizerβstraight in the center of todayβs handful of trials, investigations, and interviewsβthe case currently at her attention is neither run-of-the-millβ¦ nor homicide, rarely enough. Its intricacies are strange, though, so very so that she finds herself stopping to have that oft-pondered thought, why are the people of this ridiculous country incapable of simply committing their crimes by the book?
Bioterrorism. By a civilian, no lessβat least, that is what Franziska is attempting to prove. The defendant had fit the bill perfectlyβa microbiologist with high clearance and a bad attitude, admittedly lacking in motive, but the night was still young. No deaths had resulted from the outbreak sheβd been charged with, but the doctors interviewed had assured the courtβthat was due to a great deal of quick-acting and luck. Had even a few more minutes been allowed to elapseβ¦
Well. They hadnβt, and Franziska wasnβt eager to explore such a macabre hypothetical.
Thankfully, she isnβt forced toβScruffy nudges the door open right as her thoughts are wandering, awkwardly circling back on one foot to hold it open for the witness as she enters. One would think that, this far into things, heβd have learned to position himself correctly, but if one were to think that, it would become immediately clear they did not know the bumbling fool.
The witness moves slowly, not spurred by any sense of urgency. A lesser prosecutor might relax their shoulders, loosen their spine, read the absence of fear as a tell of guiltlessnessβbut Franziska is made of stronger starstuff than that. Unshakable suspicion, a sharpened sword, to be leveled toward all who enter her domainβregardless of how convenient it may or may not be for her case.
Right now, that sword points toward a rather plain-looking woman. Dark-skinned with golden box braids and fading, rectangular, thick-rimmed glasses. Sheβs still in her work clothes, despite having all the time in the world to changeβa well-worn lab coat with stitching that frays around its deep pockets. As Franziska studies the lines of her face, the less-natural of them come into focus, firstβindents across her nose, around her eyes, from where sheβd no doubt had goggles, or some sort of heavy-duty mask pressed there for what mustβve been hours.
Leave it to the eccentrics of this wretched city to never fail in matters of consistency. When their names did not miraculously give hint to their job, one could rest assured their clothing would.
Alone, though, these indicators are hardly admissible in court. As it is, then, Franziska uncaps her pen and begins the motions.
β...weβre an easy scapegoat, prosecutor,β the witness is in the middle of saying, and Franziska doesnβt disagree. As convenient as it all is, thoughβ¦
βEasy scapegoat, or the simplest answer,β she says right back, βthe difference between the two, as Iβm sure you can guess, lies in the evidence or lack thereof.β
βRight, right.β She waves a hand, unbothered by Franziskaβs unmoving, interrogative glare. βWeβve got that in spades too, I can assure you.β
βDo not keep me on tenterhooks, then, Msβ¦β
She looks down at her notes, to ensure she does not disrespect the witness. Catching her vibe, the woman in question grins brightly.
βYou can call me Cole.β
Colleen, her notepad says. Charming nickname, and Franziska canβt help the jolt of amusement she gets whenever she encounters someone else with a nobiliary particle sandwiched in somewhere. Pity this oneβs French.
βMs. Cole.β
βJust Coleβs fine.β A tip of her head, one which accentuates that sugarsweet smile. βIβm sure you know I havenβt been briefed on all the details. But this is a criminal case, yeah? I can hazard a guess weβre dealing with some serious viral damage here.β
βIβm not at liberty to specify,β Franziska says, βbut I do believe youβre heading down precisely the line of questioning Iβd hoped to lead you myself.β
βMama always did say I was an overachiever.β Cole crosses her arms. Somehow, the gesture doesnβt have the usual effect of closing her off. βCutting to the chase, though, our facilities donβt deal in anything that could do actual harm. If you do a walk of our lab floor, all youβre gonna find is a couple thousand strains of boring old rhinovirus.β
Aggravating, how the word rhinovirus almost makes her shiver. With a twinge of something hot creeping up her collar, Franziska shoos the inappropriate thoughts away, barking out at her meandering brain that they are at work, thank you very much.
βYes, we did make note of that,β she says. βBut our defendant said something else of note, and that something is actually my cause for questioning you today.β
For the first time since sheβd entered the room, Cole looks caught off guard. Her laidback air wavers, she seems to tilt in her chair. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Franziska hears the scraping song of a blade being sharpened.
βYou see, we pulled all of your records, and we noticed a great deal of funds in relatively consistent amounts that wereβ¦β she picks her words, βrather vaguely accounted for.β
Something breaks across the witnessβ face. There suddenly, gone in a flash, kept under wraps. If sheβd been dealing with someone other than Franziska, perhaps sheβd have been luckier. With metaphorical sword in hand, the legal cavalier just barely grazes the skin of her throat.
Her target deflects. βIβd have to see those numbers to know what any of thatββ
Those numbers hit the table before the sentence ends. With a papery thwap they sprawl beneath the leathery jet-black of Franziskaβs glove, and all Cole can do is squint down at them performatively, playing her clueless part with admittedly admirable dedication. Her dark eyes donβt leave the page as she carries on, βHm. Volunteer donations, maybe?β
βWhat a noble pursuit that would be, if only it were the case.β Franziska narrows her eyes as far as theyβll go, intent on boring silvery holes into the winding edges that tile the witnessβ scalp. βI will reveal my hand for the sake of both our time, Ms. dβFleauβweβve been tipped off about the little biohazard black market you lot are running.β
There it is again, all but confirmationβthe tensing of her shoulders, the biting of her lower lip. In the same split-second as before, it vanishesβquick-witted and eloquent, Cole snaps right back.
βThen you know for certain we have nothing to do with this,β she says, leaning toward her pursuer, rather than away. βSo tell me, prosecutor, why am I being treated as a suspect?β
On instinct alone Franziska holds the eye contact, stays precisely where she is. There are gears turning in her head, too, ones she is not so weak to let show on her face, the way this witness does. Instead, she brings her shoulders to her ears slowly, gradually, in tandem with the forced jut of her jaw as it sticks out. Making herself bigger, to offset the terror of new information as it washes around her.
βFor certain, you say?β Franziska straightens herself out further, angling her head to one side. Elegance and curiosity maintained. βDo elaborate on that.β
βWhat, did she tell you the under-the-table stuff was pandemic-level? Dangerous strains?β Cole, too, angles one honey-yellow eyebrow up. βItβs nothing different from the stuff we need ID for. Check the whole facility if you want, wipe down every wall and petri dish. Hell, you can dance through the halls with a blacklight on if itβll get yβall off our backs.β
βI can assure you, we will be doingβ¦ most of that,β says Franziska, and she does mean it. βThough I now find myself with quite a few more questions than answers.β
βIβve got nothing but time, counsel,β and thereβs that easygoing grin once more, βask me anything.β
βI suppose Iβm simply perplexed by the differentiation,β Franziska begins, βwhy, exactly, is there a secondary, secret market?β
βI mean, I kinda told you,β Cole gestures with her finger, as if attempting to point to the information still fluttering around the air, βwe donβt ask for a clinical license.β
β...thatβs all?β
ββThatβs all,β she says! Itβs pretty illegal, last I checked. But, I can assure you, no tangible harm.β When she looks back into Franziskaβs eyes, her own are soft, deceptively honest. βThe specimens we sell to civilians are in a pretty low concentration, too. Nothing you could cause a major or sudden outbreak with.β
Forefinger and thumb pressed to her chin, Franziska considers this information. A biotech lab that primarily sells harmless cultures to scientists participating in clinical studies, with a secondary underground market that doesβ¦ the exact same thing? Attempts to order her thoughts donβt come easilyβthereβs a question, simple and burning, that holds like a fortress around the hypothetical narrative sheβs trying to weave.
β...why?β
ββWhyβ?β
βYes, Ms. Cole dβFleau, why?β And sheβs back to her regular intensity, drawing back her sword. βWhat is the market goal, here? If not for nefarious purposes, then why on earth would regular civilians spend this much moneyββ she gestures back to the paper lying on the table, ββon live virus?β
βOh, thereβs a market for it, all right. I mean, just think about itβ¦β Cole leans in again, βcollege students who need a few more days on that paper. Exasperated spouses desperate to avoid dinner with the in-laws. Thereβs a lot of reasons a person might want to get themself ill, but to be honestβ¦β
A sweeping, silent, heavy look. To the left, then the right, as if the witness is making sure no one else besides the whole of Los Angelesβ law enforcement is listening. Her eyes rest back on Franziska in the center, who instinctively draws herself closer to this strange woman, glued to her even stranger words, and somehowβ¦ knowing what she is going to say next.
β...thereβs no polite way to say it, Ms. von Karma. Most of our customers,β says Cole through a lidded-gaze, βare of a certainβ¦ sexual predilection.β
Itβs not a wave of heat that crashes over Franziska, no glorious tsunami to knock her on her backside, no grasping undertow to drag her down. No, the sensation is more akin to a slow, torturous submersion as the sentiment swirls around her head, as the words coalesce and their meaning takes shape. She feels it start at her ribs and spread out from her centerβthrough her extremities, across her torso, clear up to her temple. Itβs horribly cliche, but she feels as though steam is due to whistle from her ears, any second now.
Working! We are working!
And she is most certainly blushing. Nothing suspicious about that, she reminds herself. The subject matter is precisely the kind that would make any⦠typical individual flush red. In more ways than one.
βMy apologies if I buried the lede, there.β
βItβs quite alright.β Franziska clears her throat. βIβm familiar enough with a proper litany of what could reasonably be called paraphilia obscura.β
βSuppose that makes sense, in your line of work.β Cole relaxes in her seat, notably deflating, her puffed-up feathers laying flat. βBet youβve seen some wild internet searches.β
Franziskaβs first attempt to clear her throat had done a good three-fourths of whatever she needed it to do, and so she forces out another, fist poised daintily at her lips, eyes fluttered shut. Mid-way through it all, she realizes sheβs trying to shake the pink from her cheeks like some sort of broken etch-a-sketch, terrified of what that colour might spell out if her witness looks a bit too closely.
Somewhere out in the cosmos, in some impossibly distant timeline, there is a bolder, louder, much more foolish iteration of herselfβone that dares to grin a devilish grin of her own, cast her own lackadaisical gaze toward the witness, and throw a massive battle-axe into the conversation in lieu of any sword.
Actually, says the anti-Franziska.
βYes,β says the proper one, βWild is correct.β
*** [ 00:00:00 ] ***
At the rate things are going, Franziska begins to worry she might leave a permanent indent at the edge of her bed.
With her internal clock the way it is, she knows that she hasnβt been sitting here for long. Still, it feels like hours as she stares down the massive box atop her dresser, willing it to bend to her the way everything else in life does.
Awfully cute, for what it contains. Gift wrapped like a twisted little birthday present, whichβ¦ well, the metaphor fails as soon as she remembers thatβs precisely what it is.
What a brand new feeling, purchasing a last minute gift. Of course, Franziska had a multitude of other, more well-laid plans in the chamber as the calendar crept forthβshe would not be so careless as to forgo the utmost worship on her long-time girlfriendβs special day. No, Maya Fey deserved nothing but the best, and tomorrow, the best would consist of the worksβdinner by the seaside, indulging in deep-tissue massages and a proper soak in the sauna, and a starlit walk on the private beach before returning to the little ocean cabin Franziska had rented. There, theyβd curl up and watch Mayaβs favourite of her samurai movies, and presumably make soft love by candlelight if the day itself allowed them the energy.
A rare feeling, indeed, for Franziska to learn that her perfect plans were, in truth, almost perfect. Not an issue, though, when the key to perfection was right there, across the impossible and cavernous divide between the bed and her oaken dresser.
Bravely, then, she rises, one foot in front of the other as she approaches it, carefully undoes the charming red bow theyβve tied around her spoils. Beneath her careful digits, the deviant little picnic basket reveals itselfβstocked to the brim with a number of illicit supplies she can hardly muster up the courage to look at. Instead, she draws her attention to the envelope atop the metal cylinder, branded with soft purple lettering and sealed with a shining silver sticker.
Franziska takes a deep breath, feeling a coward as she nervously thumbs the embossing. Its foggy finish casts an off-blue silhouette of her upward, translucent and wavering in tandem with her racing heart. With one final, slow inhale, she digs her finger beneath the lip and tears the thing open.
The letter that greets her is just as professional as all the service had been, thus far. Company letterhead, tasteful fourteen-point serif, each word just navy enough to look black in the dim light of her room. For petty criminals, they certainly knew how to keep the image clean. Regardless, of course, of whatever insanitary things were wriggling around inside the metal.
Formerly criminal, she reminds herself. Orβ¦ soon-to-be, while the patents and proper paperwork struggled to find the proper hands. Itβs the day after Thanksgivingβthe ugliest and most reprehensible of the American holidaysβand sheβs been here long enough to know that means it is now the season. The one where nothing gets done in a timely fashion, regardless of its importance, regardless of any birthdays she might need that swiftness in preparation of. Thereβs an extra jolt of adrenaline, knowing this purchase remains illicit, regardless of her vested interest in helping it be less so.
However it goes, sheβd rather like to visit again.
Beneath her barely-trembling thumb, the letter beginsβ
Treasured client,
Thank you for choosing Virlosity for all your delightfully off-color needs. Please re-familiarize yourself with the fine print below to ensure your commission has been tailored to your proper liking. Once reviewed, follow the instructions on page two carefully to ensure the full effects desired. Failure to do so may result in dulled or less-than-favorable results.
If you are in any way unsatisfied, please reach out to your viral artist at 213β¦
The fine print below reads like sordid erotica. Franziska forgets to swallow as her eyes scan it. By the time she does, all the moisture in her throat has traveled elsewhere.
Focus. The instructions, then.
When she uncaps the canister, she almost feels witchlike, staring into the freezing tendrils of smoke that pull off the dry ice. Inside is a little glass pipette of sorts, some kind of cross between a baster andβ¦ those nasal sprays Franziskaβs seen on drugstore shelves before sheepishly averting her eyes. Everythingβs very predictably clinical, and like anything clinical, she feels immediately as though sheβs holding onto moulded silicone and shining lubricant rather than medical instruments.
The window of time between yanking the plug from this tool and inoculation is small, conveniently spurring her on and chasing away any hesitation sheβd certainly have had otherwise. Why on earth sheβs so reluctant, she hasnβt the faintest clueβshe likes this. Despite biology, evolution, and proper sensibility, she likes this. More importantly than that, Maya likes this, a fact sheβd been simultaneously elated and terrified to learn on that fateful night out all those years ago.
Whatever trepidation is left vanishes at that thought. This is for Maya, and there is no turning back now. The door is locked, the blinds are shut, there is no chance of being caught with her proverbial hand crammed down her skirt. Gently, then, she slides the pipette into one nostril, closes her eyes, and inhales.
Deeply, and with purpose. Somehow, this simple action feels like the most filthy and depraved thing sheβs ever done. With heat kissing her cheeks, Franziska gives it another good squeeze, and this time the scent of something offwhite and sterile fills her senses, impossible to place. Swallowing thickly, willing residual nerves away, she switches sides and repeats the process, breathing as intently as she is able, desperate to get her moneyβs worth.
Eventually, the odd smell fades. In its place, the gentle florals of her and Mayaβs shared apartment return, and she places the pipette back into its canister with her every artery abuzz. Thereβs a foolish urge to skip as she places everything back in the basket, and then places the basket inside her suitcase, and then places her suitcase deep within the closet.
R0: 3.5
Onset: ~24 hours from inoculation.
Special requests fulfilled: high end of R0 for easy person-to-person infection; maximum concentration of viral load to ensure infection is emphatic; symptomatic focus on nasal hyperreactivity; client expressed worries of βimpenetrable immunityβ when referring to herself, in addition to aforementioned precautions, we have modified an uncommon serotype of rhinovirus that the general public are not likely to have had previous exposure to.
Symptom profile: Body fatigue and general malaise will set in withinβ¦
*** [00:12:37] ***
The infernal ringing of her emergency alarm wakes her, for what isβand she is countingβthe third time in her entire life.
There begins the scramble to silence it before it wakes Maya, who Franziskaβs momentarily forgotten is the second deepest sleeper she knows. After sheβs managed to swipe the horrible cacophony away, she takes stock of the girl still snoozing beside herβfeatures peaceful, arms splayed out, snoring just inaudibly enough for it to be adorable rather than detrimental. Safe, whispers the voice in Franziskaβs head, and she extricates herself slowly and carefully from their shared bed with all the grace ofβ¦ well, an Interpol agent.
The unspoken agreement of several years passed remains. If there is to be breakfast in bed, it will be from a box, and Maya will sooner die before she complains, or teases, or makes any note of Franziskaβs prevailing inability to cook, which sheβs since learned any layman would simply call average. That first year, it took a full hour for Maya to convince her that she was not just speaking mindless flattery, no, it was actually very impressive that Franziska had managed to get the yolk that runny and the white that stiff, truly. As sheβs messily cracking the things and pulling shellbits out with a scowl, the memory of it alone is all that keeps her going, through the culinary unfamiliarity and through theβ¦ twinge that reverberates dully in her sluggish arms.
It doesnβt feel much different from the occasional flare-up in her bad shoulder, but she hears it like a herald all the same. With it comes a sort of giddy anticipation, a promise of whatβs to come that aches in tandem with the newborn sun. Once that first light breaks blue and bright across the morning sky, Franziska feels it in fullβa telltale burn that pulls at her eyelids, begs her to return to sleep and give her immunity the advantage. Thereβs still time, it reminds her, to get a head-start on things.
Petulant as ever, she straightens her spine and carries on with her work.
Maya rises slowly, grinning that award-winning sleepy grin, nearly toppling the tray with the ferocity with which she pulls Franziska in for a kiss. Chapped lips, morning breath, hair rattyβFranziska has the thought that sheβs never seen her so beautiful, just as she had the last morning, and the one before that. She devours her french toast and hash browns with a typical lack of any reverence, far more concerned with getting everything in her mouth as quickly as possible than any of Franziskaβs attempts at deft handiwork. This, too, is the highest compliment either of them can think ofβsecond only to the way she saves the eggs for last.
Franziskaβs nearly done with their suitcases by the time Mayaβs sipping her cooled tea. All theβ¦ extras that the lab had sent, buried in the bottom under what may be one too many button-downs. It may be a risky move to place her spare handkerchiefs in the netting-pocket that crowns it all, but with everything thatβs about to happen she has a feeling sheβll need them sooner, rather than later.
When they finally arrive, the train station is the quietest Franziskaβs ever seen it. This late into the morning the commuters have all reached their destinations, and itβs nothing but the screech of their rolling luggage and Mayaβs meandering chatter as far as Franziskaβs ear will reach. Uncharacteristically, sheβs suppressing the urge to shiver in the November chill, and doing a less-than-favourable job at it, the way Maya notices her fiddling with the buttons on her long black jacket. The birthday girl all but swats the metal things out of Franziskaβs slipping fingers, fussing gleefully all the way as she draws the garment closed and closer.
βYou losing your ice powers, Fran?β Maya teases. βNever thought Iβd see the dayβ¦β
βFrom the odd bout of California chill?β And Franziska offers a smile of her own. βWhat a cruel twist of fate that would be.β
βFor you, maybe,β Maya leans in closer, breath hot against Franziskaβs collar as she whispers, βI think you look pretty cute, your nose all pink like that.β
Her cheeks wear that same colour a moment later. Maya likes that too, if the kiss she plants against one of them is anything to go on.
A rush of wind hails the train, and in its roar Franziska does allow herself to shiver in the cold, just this once. Itβs not enough to get her nose runningβto both their chagrinβbut that is all fine and good, for now. The creaky way her bones settle as they wander into the corner of their car is enough of a promise to cling to. All in due time, it ensures.
Theyβve only been at the beach house for thirty minutes before Mayaβs outside, her sandals thrown haphazardly against the deck chair and her feet plunged into the crystalline sea. Thereβs a deeply ironic quip stuck on Franziskaβs tongue about recklessness and catching colds, one that ends with Maya raising a playful eyebrow back over her shoulder before diving in, fully clothed. Instead of any of that, Franziska unpacks their things from the warmth of the bedroom, looking both ways like a misbehaving child as she shoves every handkerchief she owns in her pockets. Anxiously, she eyes the wall clock, its novelty crustacean limbs tick-tick-ticking their claws toward the 24-hour mark. Provided that their reservation is not plagued by the foolish American tradition of doing nothing on time, they should be seated and eating right aboutβ¦
*** [ 01:00:14 ] ***
Franziska sniffles around her fork.
Most surprising of all is how involuntary it is. With how sheβd been checking and re-checking and triple-checking the clock, sheβd thought that the first twitch of her nose might register asβ¦ anything, really. Instead, Maya had started moaning around her burger, and Franziska had gotten a bit too distracted, and had neglected to let the golden-brown surface of her baked macaroni cool before hastily plunging its steaming shape into her mouth, and by then the sensation of her tastebuds screaming had become much too loud for her to notice something as menial asβ¦
She sniffles again, this time as sheβs swallowing. Thereβs a foolish urge to blame the tears in her eyes, but when had those gotten there, come to think of it? A result of burning her mouth like an excitable child, or a product of the incessant, sudden, needlingβ
Buzzing. Her sinuses are⦠buzzing.
For some reason, the natural emotion that comes alongside this is panic.
Even in the private booth, beside the crackling hearth, these lodgings arenβt exactlyβ¦ isolated. Theyβd come at peak hours, and the place isnβt packed, but there are more than a few patrons seated in theβ¦ blast radius, so to speak. Not to mention anyone who might need the booth when theyβre done with it, and if Franziska were to request it be properly sanitized, the whole game would give itself away far too quickly forβ
βYou know you canβt be making that face in public, babe.β
She chokes down another mouthful of pasta. Mayaβs finished her foodβof courseβand is looking at her dreamily, brown eyes lidded and lustful as she props herself up on her palm.
βWhat face?βΒ
βThat scrunchy-nose thing you always do when youβre fighting off a sneeze.β Maya dares to invoke the word. βThe one that drives me crazyββ
βBe quiet,β shushes Franziska, her whole face burning in tandem with her rioting airways. βHave some decorum, Schatzi. Should you really be talking such filth in a fine establishment like this?β
βYouβre the one being a tease.β
βI cannot control what my respiratory processes are doing.β
βGod, I know, itβs soββ
βPerhaps you ought to lighten up on the pepper,β she deflects, pointing at the sad remains of Mayaβs burger, nothing more than some crumbs and a toppled toothpick-flag. βI daresay you overseasoned on purpose.β
βUm, objection, counsel,β Maya crosses her arms brattily, βsince when do spices set you off?β
βSince you decided you needed half the blasted bottle, Iβd wa-hhehy-ger!β
Shamelessly, then, she pulls her spare napkin off the table and bothers her twitching nose. Narrowed eyes misting, breathy half-gasps that seem intent to cry wolfβ¦ but, no, not here, not now. Maya likes a slow burn, Franziska knows she doesβthe longer she can drag it all out, the more her ravishing will matter come sunset.
Still, thereβs no harm in playing up the flicker of those embers as they crawl. Franziska sniffles more emphatically this time, clearing her throat as she does so, loosing a tired sort of half-moan that tells of exasperation and discomfort. Mayaβs eyes go alight all the same, hungry for the same relief Franziskaβs intent to fight.
At onset, respiratory symptoms will present as typical rhinitis, starting with minor rhinorrhea and slowly becoming more aggressive over the course ofβ¦
*** [ 01:01:02 ] ***
Only when Franziska settles into the face cradle does she dare to think that maybe, perhaps, she has not entirely thought this through.
Blissed out on the table beside her, Mayaβs humming tantalizing little noises of pleasure into the snow-white fluff that frames her angelic features. Theyβre distracting, of course, but not nearly as attention-grabbing as the tangible tendril of hot moisture thatβs rolling down Franziskaβs right nostril, seesawing her breath. She sniffles once, twice, thrice, doing all she can to muffle the sound into her own cushion, but it only works for a while before the twinge ignites twice as fiercely, barbed and ticklish. Her eyes water, and her nose drips down onto the leather arm-rest, and she swallows hard and presses her tongue to her teeth, nose wriggling as she fights it with all she is.
β...donβt think Iβve ever felt this much tension in a client before,β Franziskaβs masseuseβa criminally cute older woman with big, round glassesβis in the middle of saying. βYou sure came to the right place, dear.β
βOh, donβt tell her that, she loves winning at stupidly arbitrary things,β says (a drooling) Maya with a snicker. βSheβll be back in a year trying to break a world record.β
βMighty hard to top this, I worry.β A palm rolls hard into Franziskaβs lower back, and it takes all her willpower not to lose focus. βWhaddya do for a living?β
Franziska sniffles wetly and clears her throat. βCriminal law.β
βWomp womp,β sings Maya, and the masseuse bellows out a charming laugh.
βCertainly explains the knots,β she says, βnot to mention that cold you seem to be coming down with.β
Funny how Maya has no biting quip for that. Franziska can feel her eyes, regardlessβburning two blazing pinpricks into the side of her head, desperate to wriggle her neck through the face cradle and gaze upon Franziskaβs twitching, irritated features. Why on earth was this happening, anyway? The timing was all wrong, the fine print said the sneezing wouldnβt start until much later, and yetβ
Another ticklish wave, like crawling electricity, surges red-hot behind her eyes. Franziska wrinkles her features, shooing it away. βI havenβt the foggiest idea what you mean by any of that. I feel perfectly fiβhiiβihne.β
Masterful boast, prosecutor. Well done.
βAinβt that always the way?β says the younger girl, tending to what Franziska can only assume is a dangerously horny Maya. βA number like this is gonna increase your circulation. Sometimes thatβs all the immune system needs to realize thereβs work to do.β
βSuppose it could just be the usual, too,β says Franziskaβs own attendant, βthe cradle can make your nose run something fierce on its own.β
Poised there against it, she tries not to zero in on phrases like immune system and nose run and every other distracting, prickly, flustering adjective that amplifies the heat burning across her every nerve. Mayaβs quiet beside her, still, either because sheβs reframing all those twinges at dinner, or because any words she tries to form will come out as a broken moan. Either way, Franziskaβs battle against her buzzing nose comes to a head when those proverbial red-hot spines roll jaggedly on a shaky inhale andβandβ
βE-Excuse me, Iββ
Desperately, she raises the back of her hand, right as her masseuse pulls off her hiking shouldersβ
βiβitschieww! t'shiew! hihβ! hih'tsCHU!β
Somewhere in the midst of things, one of the two of them had grabbed her the tissue box, at the ready forβpresumablyβexactly this. Theyβre polite enough not to linger as itβs placed on a little rolling table, within reach, polite enough not to look, as Franziska does, at the glitter of spray thatβs now coating the arm rest. Awash with shame and toothless relief, she stares at her wavering reflection in the night-sky of it, jet black and dotted with infectious stars.
A deceptively quiet moment of peace follows, dizzy-headed and bleary-eyed. Then, of course...
Just as the tickle had dissipated, it returns with a vengeance, its nettles twice as barbed.
Franziska pulls a handful of tissues from the box with one, two, three broken and shaking inhales.
As soon as she hears the sound of shuffling paper, Maya bites back a moan and blames it on the massage.
Paroxysmal sneezing will begin at hour three and be the primary symptom for the duration of the illness, though other respiratory symptoms like sinus congestion, pain in the throat, and minor laryngitis are likely to resultβ¦
*** [ 01:03:00 ] ***
βHehβhhβisSHU! HiβdtCHU! Hihββ
Millions upon millions of stars shining overhead, and Maya hasnβt even the proper sense to look up. Franziska managed to find them some mythical California seaside with a negligible amount of light pollution, and all Mayaβs even paid attention toΒ since they got out here isβ
Ruddy-eyed, Franziska rises from the cover of her handkerchief, tears streaming down her cheeks. The coastal winds have them both frostbitten, looking a little red around the ears, but Franziska doesnβt need to gaze into the shop windows back ashore to know she looks the worse of the pair. Sheβs only got her hand off her face for a moment before Mayaβs kissing her, kissing her, kissing herβhot and heavy, desperate with want, rolling her hips against Franziskaβs awkwardly jagged bones. She needs to blow her nose badly, but itβs clear Maya disagreesβher septum shining with moisture as she pulls away, mess thatβd been gleaming on Franziskaβs face mere moments agoβ¦
Hypocrite she is, Franziska isnβt looking at the stars, either.
Another spate of sneezing takes herβthree, four, five, six drawn-out, wrenching outbursts. Never in her life has she felt anything quite like thisβthey're not minor, crawling irritations she can easily stifle or shoo away, but full-body events that tear through her with reckless abandon, their sheerΒ power impossible to hold back or contain. It's as though she's locked in a cage match with the virus itself, bent beneath its knee and gasping for air as it declares to the screaming crowds its intent to turn her as helplessly contagious as possible.
She's in the middle of trying to regain her footing when Maya grabs her handkerchief hand with fierce intent. Digits locked around Franziskaβs shaking wrist, forcing her to let them out, uncovered, into the nighttime air. Figures she'd be on the blasted germs' side. Somewhere along the way Franziska loses herself in the event of it all, unable to control where she aims, or what her hands would even want to do, or who she is and how she got here. Only when she feels Mayaβs thumb graze her lip do the sensations of humanity return to her, poised there in the warm palm of the most beautiful girl sheβs ever seen.
Maya smears the wetness away, only for Franziskaβs dripping nose to undo her work immediately. The birthday girl looks starstruck, despite the lack of attention sheβs given to the cosmic cauldron of light above.
βGesundheit, beautiful,β is all she can say.
βDanke,β Franziska mutters on instinct entirely, giving her aching nose a vicious blow. Maya rakes the chapping skin off her lower lip, her eyes black in the night.
βIβm justβ¦ likeβ¦β she fights the English language in an attempt for words, βHow are you sick right now?β
βIβb dotββ she pauses to blow her nose a necessary second time, ββIβm not ill, Maya Fey.β
βBullshit you arenβt, listen to you!β
βTheβhheyβh-had some incredibly pungent scents crammed into the infernal humidifier in that spa place, you know how I gβihβetβsSSCHIEW!β
βFuck,β Maya gasps out, once more, as Franziska fails to contain the spray within the useless cloth in her hand. βI almost want to believe you. Thereβs gotta be a catch, right? Even if you are sick, how did you get sick likeβ¦ like this?β
On cue, Franziska sniffles with the most miserably sodden air she can muster. The shape of it gums up her throat, quickly hoarsening from all the abuse and cold air, and she canβt help but think how much better it would be were she to just let her nose run freely, safe in the dark and away from the world. Maya so loves the game of it, though, the attempts to wrangle her body for control, just as much as she adores the loss of it, too.
Franziska wonders if she might enjoy hearing the answer. That fateful nightβwhen theyβd serendipitously run into one another at a late-night event for their kind to mix and mingleβtheyβd talked for hours about all the particularities ofβ¦ it. Maya was driven so wild by the bigger pictureβdesperate to follow the map of infection, to know precisely how many beautiful strangers sheβd shared her malady with.
βIt certainly would be picturesque, no?β Instead, Franziska smiles through the red spots chapping atop her lip. βReally, though, I think itβs the lingering floraβhahhhββ
Shuddering, harsh, viciously the words are stolen from her lungs. Were she able to see through the ordeal of it all, she knows sheβd see Maya leveling her that look, those eyes, the ones that wordlessly keep the score. A tally, a decibel record, a proper spreadsheet of every last sneeze sheβs dared to let loose around this girl. One that Maya would point to with a long, metal stickβah, ah, ah, you canβt fool me. You only sneeze like that when youβre coming down with something, babe.
Maya draws closer and kisses her, instead. βMaybe. It does seem way too dreamy to be trueβ¦ hottest girl I know with the grossest head cold Iβve ever seen, all the time in the world to ravish herβ¦β
A playful tap on the nose spurs forth three more wrenching sneezes. Everythingβs so sensitive, Franziska feels like even the most featherlight touch could set her off. Itβs terrifying, itβs wonderful.
βBless you, bless you, bless you,β says Maya in a voice dripping with desire. Franziska makes another attempt to raise her sodden handkerchief to her face, but Maya snatches it from her hand and crams it in her back jean-pocket, snickering like sheβs post-coitus, stealing a cute girlβs panties. She frowns performatively when Franziska pulls out another spare, but itβs only there for a second before her expression shifts with realization.
βYou did plan this!β Maya points at her chest, bitten-down fingernails knifelike in the night. βAlright babe, spill. Whatβs the trick, here? Are you doing lines of pepper when Iβm not looking?β
βYouβve not taken your eyes off me,β croaks Franziska, βsince we left the spa.β
βHow can you expect me to?β Sheβs pouting that adorable pout, now, cheeks blown out and fuzzy brow bothered. βSeriously, is it magic? βCause I swear on Mystic Amiβs ancient ass that I tore through every text on hand looking for a βmake hot girls sneeze a bunchβ spell, and I can pretty confidently say that my ancestors were freaks but not freaks like that.β
βIt is not magic,β says Franziska, struggling to rein in another fit. Maya bites her lip hard as her nose twitches once, twice. βIt is perfume and cold air.β
βYouβre up to something and I know it.β
βYes, yes, youβve caught me red-handed,β or perhaps red-nosed, βI called ahead and paid those poor masseuses exorbitant amounts of money to ensure weβd be doused in only the most allergenic of scents.β
βThereβs no punchline there,β Maya rightfully points out, βyou would legit do that.β
βPlease, dearheart,β Franziskaβs vision begins its watery waver once more, feathery tendrils crawling behind its shape, βI do have some dignity Iβd like to maintβaihhhnβ!β
The resulting fit bends her double, a desperate and uncontrollable thing as it tears explosively through her chest and scrapes its jagged way out. Even with her handkerchief, sheβs forced to suppress a shudder of revulsion when the moisture soaks through to her hand.
Famous last words, she knows Maya would say, were she still somewhere on planet earth.
At clientβs request, these sneezing fits will be sudden, powerful, intractable, and difficult to control. Please review prior warnings about ethical practice and quarantine accordingly.
*** [ 01:04:13 ] ***
Franziska shivers in the sauna and knows sheβs lost the battle.
βTell me,β Maya laps her tongue across the newborn love bite, deep red and indented as Franziska chokes back another moan, βwhere you got this.β
βI donβt know what youβreβahβ!β
βStop lying, Franny,β says Maya as she pulls her fingers out, torturously slowly, pumps them back into Franziskaβs soaking core without a shred of urgency or need. Franziska shudders and squirms beneath her, struggling to draw the muggy air into her protesting lungs. βYou went out and caught that cold just for me. I wanna know where from.β
βThere is no cold,β she says through a voice thatβs failing quickly, βA von Karmaβs immune system is peβehrrβfehhhββ
Mayaβs eyes go pitch with want. She pins Franziskaβs left hand against the weeping wood, puffs her half-bare chest out, presenting her a canvas. Across it, Franziskaβs poised to paint a scene unmatched, her whole torso shaking as she lurches back, gasping, gaspingβ
βthen forward, every last sneeze an eruption as it leaves her. Theyβre terrible, unseemly, contagious thingsβurgent and hoarse, far back in her sinuses, sounding of nothing but infection and inflammation. Each one comes with less relief than the last, catching on her oversensitive airways, buzzing and rooted somewhere too deep to extricate. To even sniff back the mess as it leaks down her face would reignite the tickle, to even think the hypothetical has herβhas herβ
Mayaβs hips grind hard against her, and through bleary eyes Franziska finds the time to admire how beautiful she looks like this. Her kimono slipping off one shoulder, her dark nipples taut beneath whatβs left of it, the glistening landscape of sweat and spray soaking her deep brown skin. Between the heat of the sauna and intensity of Franziskaβs fits, itβs impossible to tell where Maya ends and she begins.
A moment of respite, where her oversore nose allows her the privilege of keeping her eyes open. The temptation to rub at it, soothe the ache away is biblical, but, no, she keeps looking at Maya, who's red-faced and breathing heavy for reasons all her own. Hungrily Maya dives back in, thumb slipping over Franziskaβs swollen clit, moaning around a nipple as she takes it in her mouth and sucks hard. The fever amplifies every touch, she realizes a second too late, as sheβs squealing beneath Mayaβs fingers and coming for the fourth time in twenty minutes.
βListen to you,β Maya purrs in her ear, βyou donβt fess up soon, youβre not gonna have any voice leftβ¦β
βIβll manage,β whines Franziska, still just riding out her climax on Mayaβs drenched digits. βNothing a good cup of tea wonβt fix.β
βOh yeah?β Maya curls her fingers up again, and starbursts dance behind Franziskaβs stinging eyes. βWill your miracle tea fix the fever youβre running, too?β
βIβm notβahh~!β
βOf course not, itβs just sooooo hot in here.β She moves down, down, trailing scorched kisses on Franziskaβs stomach, her thighs. βYβknow, your little lie would fly a lot easier if you hadnβt shivered in the middle of it.β
βTheβhaahβtemperature changeββ
βNothing shuts you up, huh?β says Maya as sheβs pulling her lips off Franziskaβs still-shaking leg. βNot the sore throat youβre pretending you donβt have. Not thisββ
Flatting her tongue, she licks a hot, slow stripe up the length of Franziskaβs aching core. Ravenous for more contact, Franziskaβs hips buck wantonly, she whines a high-pitched and bottomless whine as Maya locks her lips around her clit and sucks. A residual, burning sort of pain makes itself known in her overworked throatβbut itβs snuffed out by the wildfire of crackling desire, drawing all her attention back down to Maya as sheβ¦ pulls away.
The warmth she leaves behind quickly goes cold. Unprettily, Maya wipes at her gleaming mouth with the sleeve of her kimono. Sheβs grinning that demonic, coquettish grin, the desperation in her eyes betraying the control with which she carries herself. Franziska breathes heavy through her mouth, teeth bared, too caught up in the euphoria and sudden lack thereof to swipe the twofold lines of moisture off her own lip.
βTell me,β Maya commands. Franziska sticks her jaw out, eyes deadly and sharp.
βIβve told you everything I knβAH~!β
And if thatβs the wrong answer, Maya certainly has an interesting way of telling her so. Before Franziska can blink, Mayaβs back between her legsβlapping hungrily, like sheβs starving, like this is the last meal sheβll ever devour. She slides one finger into a writhing, wanting Franziska, wasting no time in pulling her back up, up, up until all that exists is the white-hot point where their bodies connect. A dragging, reverent swipe of Mayaβs warm tongue pulls her ass off the sauna bench, arching her back and wordlessly begging for more pressure, more speed, more, more, moreβ
Just as sheβs about to unfurl, Maya stops again. The gravelly gasp that leaves Franziskaβs lungs is primal, barely her own. It trails off into another pathetic, needy whine, and when she brings her glassy eyes back down to her tormentor, she sees Maya slowly licking her fingers with an impish glint in her own. Beneath the skipping rise and fall of Franziskaβs sweat-and-mess-soaked chest, the wicked thing swipes her tongue across a swollen lip and grins with all her teeth.
βWell, I guess if youβre the picture of perfect health,β says Maya in a tone thatβs low and warning, βyou donβt have anything to share with me, huh?β
And she straightens herself out, as if about to stand, signalling clearlyβweβre done, here. With her freckled chest still bare, nipples still pebbled and flush with arousal, infectious spray still shimmering across her perfect titsβMaya crosses her arms and recuses herself with a no-nonsense air settled firmly atop her shoulders.
For one long moment, they remain at a standstill. Franziska, with her tender, still-running nose stuck high, making every attempt she can to look down upon Maya, slovenly state be damned. And Maya, of course, who holds her sick darlingβs gaze with the same lack of fear she always has, since the very day they met courtside.
Oh, how the tables have turned, and oh, how theyβve not shifted at all. Once more, Mayaβs wings beat their song against the jailbars. Once more, it is Franziska who is truly living entrapped.
Half-naked and knelt down at Franziskaβs foot, there is no question as to who is in control.
βOkay,β Franziska rasps miserably as she breaks the staredown, looking off to the side at nothing in particular. βIβllβ¦ concede, fine. Some stray pathogen endeavoured to have impeccable timing, it seems.β
Mayaβs arms stay crossed, but Franziska does not miss the subtle way the corner of her mouth crooks upward. When she opens herself back upβtips her head, flutters her lashes, softens her eyesβher hair spills, a silky curtain of black tumbling over her shoulder. It sticks and tangles in the wetness on her collar, and Franziska politely averts her eyes and resists the urge to press her thighs together.
βImpeccable is right.β That hungry look returns, and Maya wiggles vaguely upward on her knees, just enough to trace her knuckles across Franziskaβs cheek, down to the swell of her throat. βPoor baby, youβve felt rotten all day, huh?β
The urge to lean into the caress wins out. Franziska shuts her eyes slowly, cherishes the warmth, plays up a sniffle thatβs equal parts derisive and pathetic. βOnly physically.β
Her rheumy gaze drags back open as she says it. Maya holds it, looking smitten as she kisses Franziskaβher feverish cheek, the side of her lips, just shy of where sheβs supposed to.
βI can fix that.β
Teasingly, she traces her thumb across a candy-pink nipple. Franziska bites back a juvenile squeak, airless and losing its body in her windpipe. Maya tuts, brushing a silvery lock of hair behind her sick darlingβs ear.
βSomething tells me you're reluctant, though,β says Franziska with a knowing smirk.
βWhat can I say?β Maya kisses her again, long and slow and deceptively chaste. βI love you like this.β
βIβd be quite the hypocrite if I claimed I didnβt feel the same of you,β says Franziska, mirroring the gesture as she cards her trembling fingers through the tangles in Mayaβs hair.
βYou can tell me all about it in a day or two.β
Another languid drag of her thumbβthis time, Maya aims it toward the rivulet of moisture clinging stubbornly to the tip of Franziskaβs nose. As if the overactive appendage is listening in, she feels its wretched membranes quivering at the sudden contact. The irritated buzz thatβd died down for a spell reignites itself twice as fiercely, not with a steady climb or simmering burn but sudden and fiercely, shivering through Franziskaβs body andβandβ
βEEβHESSSCHEW!β
Ears ever-pricked, Maya hears those hijacked breaths and presses herself close. Franziskaβs losing herself in the dull, exhausting ache of the fit as it tears through her, but she somehow finds half a mind to draw one hand around her belovedβs backside and hold the two of them steady as she rears and hitches and crumbles into herself.
Scraping her throat, ricocheting explosively from the bottom of her lungs, horribly untamable things. Three, four, five, six minutes pass before sheβs done, before sheβs able to draw another breath into her lungs, before the itch decides to abate once more. Even then, itβs lingering somewhere behind her eyes, waiting for the cooldown to end. If only Franziska were more right-brained, sheβd dare write a poem about the priceless sight that followsβhow she pulls off of Mayaβs bare and gleaming chest, a clear thread of moisture hanging between them like a revolting, sordid string of fate.
It feels like desecration of something beautiful, the idea that Franziska might have to wipe her nose.
(She lurches forward and sneezes four more times, instead)
A low to mid-grade fever is to be expected at the peak of illness, but this will vary greatly depending on personal immunity.
*** [ 01:06:07 ] ***
Somewhere in a bleary, sweat-soaked haze, Maya dresses her.
Tenderly, carefully, in that sugar-sweet, man-handly way only she could. Franziska drifts in and out of a strange sort of half-sleep as the two of them ferry themselves back to the guest room, bundled up and shivering while they curl outside and around the deck. Patient and protective, Maya holds tight to Franziskaβs struggling hand as she stumbles jelly-legged up the steps, pulling her forward and into the warmth that awaits.
Some thirty minutes later, Franziska startles herself awake with another sneeze, then another. Vicious, heavy, miserable things that edge their way out of her and leave a throbbing sort of thrum high in her nasal passages, stretching back behind her eyes and into her head. A sister to the pounding heartbeat of her sinuses, she supposes as sheβs trying her damnedest to rub the ache and its heat from its home on her cheeks.
Maya saunters around the couch-arm like a playful housecat, batting her sluggish digits away. Thatβs certainly for the best, Franziska thinks as the pain settles deeper, its roots crawling in-between her protesting joints. Mayaβs technique is improper and slipping and what she might describe as vibes-based, and like everything Maya does, it feels like pure bliss.
A jagged rub shakes something loose. Maya must see it on her face before Franziska feels it, because she pulls her probing fingers just barely down, careful not to jab her sick darling as she dips once, twice, three times more.
Misty-eyed and squinting, she still doesnβt miss the way Mayaβs face goes red, the way her legs press into themselves, the way sheβ¦ swallows the lingering desire that blackens her eyes. Paying no mind to the glint of mess on her palm, Maya simply presses a heartsoft kiss into Franziskaβs cotton-dizzy, feverish temple.
βGesundheit, baby.β
βInappropriate response,β Franziska says through whatβs left of her voice, βyouβve never once wished me in good health.β
βShit, izzat what that means?β She smiles that lopsided smile. βGesundharm then, or whatever.β
βI absolutely refuse to dignify that with a reh-heh!βEE'ISCHHβiew!β
βYβknow what? Thatβs fair.β Maya plants another kiss, this time into the side of her nose, some subtle prayer of gratitude. βYouβve given me more than enough attention today.β
βLetβs not get hasty now, Iβve got plenty more left in me, you know.β And she straightens herself out, as if to prove her fitness. Traitorously, her breath catches on whatβs meant to be a sharp-and-prim inhale, and all her attempts to make the resulting cough sound ladylikeβ¦ mostly just settle upon her an air of foolish pity.
Warm fingers cup her face again, and before she can register it, Mayaβs brushing away a stray tear. βFran, this has already been the best freakinβ birthday of my life. I think Iβll survive if we spend the rest of the night just, like, watching a movie.β
βWhat a fine coincidence,β says Franziska, preening through her reddened features, βI just so happened to have pre-emptively ordered Samurai Summer for your viewing pleasure.β
βBro, no fucking way!β And Maya dives for the TV remote. βHowβd you know thatβs my fave?β
βI did consider if The Sniffling Samurai might be more appropriate, butβ¦β
βOh, man, donβt get me started,β says Maya as sheβs shuffling around, then, no doubt taking stock of snacks and blankets and pillows. βTop ten pieces of media that made me feel like I had to lock the door as a kid.β
βDo I get to know the other nine?β
βYouβd like that, wouldnβt you, pervert?β The lowlight hits those charming gaps in her teeth. βMaybe later, I gotta see what kinda primo shit you got in these cabiβ¦β
As sheβs opening them, the sentence trails off. A gradual realization, thenβright. Indeed Franziska had ensured that the beach house would be filled to the brim with all of Mayaβs most favourite treats, but sheβd also utilized the leftover space to stow away those lurid items banging around the bottom of her suitcase, knowing sheβthe both of them, ratherβwould need them for later.
Slowly, silently, Maya begins to turn on one foot, back around to where Franziskaβs passively convalescing. Those eyes of hers are back, thenβthe ones she wears behind closed doors, intent and perceptive, eager to draw the truth out of whatever they fall on, by force.
Itβs a rather beautiful moment suspended, really. Outside, the black waves churn, crashing rhythmically across the offwhite sands. The sounds of the city are far-off and muted, tourist chatter and cars rumbling across the winding overpasses. Lit warmly by one single standing lamp and the clashing glow of the TVβs home screen, all Mayaβs featuresβeven in their sternnessβlook soft and beautiful as she stands in front of the wellspring.
Bursting from the basket are wellness teas, cans of broth, lotioned tissues, several different kinds of cold medicine thatβFranziskaβs gleaned from knowing Americansβall do different things. Were she to place these items upon the conveyor belt at any grocery store, there would be no ambiguity as to why she was purchasing themβthe cashier would search for the telltale swell of her throat or ruddy patch beneath her nose, wearing the same interrogative eyes as Maya.
Just, well, without the drooling, starved animal aura that followed.
Picking up their conversation from earlier, what Maya says is, βStray, huh?β
Just about nothing gets past a Fey, Franziskaβs learned. Even if it did, thereβs very little that can get past Maya.
Primly, practiced, Franziska lets her eyes fall shut. This time, she is careful to breathe around the sore irritation blooming new in her throat.
βDonβt you think I would tell you, if I knew?β
βWellβ¦β she hears Mayaβs footsteps draw closer, closer, βClearly, it was on purpose.β
Her quest for food abandoned, then, Franziska opens her eyes to find them nearly nose-to-nose. That world-famous, icy-glare she so often leveled toward suspects and witnesses hardly packs its usual punch as the fever melts at its edges.
βWhat I want to know, Ms. Perfect Immune System,β domineering as always, Maya slots Franziskaβs chin between her thumb and curled fingers, βis how.β
And oh, isnβt that just terribly fair? How often had that perfect immune system Franziska so boasted about in public driven the both of them mad in their private lives? How many times had Franziska hovered just a bit too close to a sick witness, or allowed her handwashing habits to fall slightly to the wayside during a rotten flu season, or showed up to personally procure Milesβ biohazardous caseload when he was too ill to work? How many reckless attempts to sicken herselfβthe way Maya so often did for herβhad ended with little more than disappointment as the three-day window came and went? And how many times had her and a miserably ill Maya stayed up into the hours of the night, ravishing each other in an attempt to break that flawless streak of health?
Perhaps it was something cosmic, the answer to all those frustrations falling neatly into their hands. Fate, or luck, or⦠well, karma.
Still just poised there in Mayaβs steady grip, all Franziska can do is bat her rosy eyes and smirk.
βEven if I told you, I doubt you would believe me.β
***
Thank you for choosing us as your microbiological miracle workers today. As thanks for your patronage, weβve included a sick day essentials kit alongside your formula to ensure you are well-taken care of and feeling better as soon as you need to be.
Drink plenty of fluids and remember to slow down and rest.
Please do come again.
hi snzblr, some rando was really mean to me in the notes of this fic and is now refusing to leave me the fuck alone so can a homo get a promo?
My name is Fran and I write tons and tons of f/f snzfic featuring some lawyery girls. You apparently don't have to have played ace attorney to enjoy them, but you should anyways.
Tons more of these two under my tagged/my writing π is appreciate some reblogs to lift my spirits, even if you can't read the fic!
just went and looked through their insane replies on that ask and it's crazy how they attacked YOU first and are now acting like you're irrational for fighting back? I admire your patience you deserve to tell them to fuck off.
fully hiding behind the "it's just my opinion bro!!!!" Defense too. like yeah it is your opinion. That you very rudely added. To my art that I made and shared for free.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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someone just reblogged my fic with a mean/backhanded tag and I went to send them an ask requesting they please remove it / not interact and in the time it took me to type the ask they blocked me.
I have never encountered behavior this antisocial on any other part of tumblr in the fifteen years I've been here. People are SO rude on here and for what?!?!?!
(by the way the 'people not interacting with my posts' they're mad about is literally just me venting about being depressed / suicidal and unable to make friends. guess I'm immature for crying out for help on my personal blog though! Very cool!)
someone just reblogged my fic with a mean/backhanded tag and I went to send them an ask requesting they please remove it / not interact and in the time it took me to type the ask they blocked me.
I have never encountered behavior this antisocial on any other part of tumblr in the fifteen years I've been here. People are SO rude on here and for what?!?!?!
(by the way the 'people not interacting with my posts' they're mad about is literally just me venting about being depressed / suicidal and unable to make friends. guess I'm immature for crying out for help on my personal blog though! Very cool!)
someone just reblogged my fic with a mean/backhanded tag and I went to send them an ask requesting they please remove it / not interact and in the time it took me to type the ask they blocked me.
someone just reblogged my fic with a mean/backhanded tag and I went to send them an ask requesting they please remove it / not interact and in the time it took me to type the ask they blocked me.
mouse in a jean jacket is right, TF was with that last anon? People on this website will talk to you like you were born yesterday and then play the victim when you tell them to kick rocks
i literally had to put this on my faq on my main blog:
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Well then fuck me I guess. I canβt imagine how that style of communicating might be off putting to some people. Β―\_(γ)_/Β―
you hide your condescending attitude behind sweet words and people pleasing tendencies and are insecure when people around you carry no such facade. you can send me all the rude messages you want, but I will still always choose being alone over people who make me feel lonely, and that is why I will die happier than you some day