Due to my complete inability to write fiction of a substantial length, I have decided to group several of my unintentional one-shot short shorts in one collection. That is, assuming this gets reviews. If it doesn't, then screw all of that.

Fran is sexy when she's berserk. Her muscles bulge beneath her flushed skin, chest heaving with each labored breath, and the air thick is with arrows as she shoots frantically. It isn't long before the foe falls, its neck pierced, blood staining the white of its fur and snow bright red. She wheezes as she breathes, stumbling and looking wildly for another. Penelo places her hand on her shoulder, urging the Viera gently to the ground, but she does not go easily, and Penelo has to practically kneel in her lap to get her to sit. Her skin is slick with sweat, hair sticking to the sides of her face, and Penelo does her best to smooth it away.

"Fran, it's alright," she says, knowing her words are incinerated in the Viera's fever.

Esuna takes only moments to muster, but Fran senses it, and grabs Penelo's wrist in panic. Brown eyes meet hellish red, and the seconds hang thick before it leaves the mage with a soft burst. Relief washes over Fran's features, and she slumps against a rock, clarity slowly displacing confusion.

"You were beserk..." Penelo says, but suddenly the orphan is overwhelmingly aware of Fran's thigh between her's, the musky smell of her sweat, and the enticing closeness of their lips.

It is said that time magick is just a trick of the mind, and in this instant, Penelo is convinced. Years pass as they taste each other's breath, indifferent and unaware of the rest of their party.

At least until a well aimed bullet scuffs the rock, and Balthier once again saves the day.

"A woman at last, Fran?" Balthier says, adjusting his cuff sleeves and watching Fran brush the dust from her ass. They lead the group by a safe distance, and Penelo has since scuttled off to the back of the group, concentrating on conquering the flame in her cheeks.

"The humes," she says, "They have a word for you."

"Oh? What's that?"

Fran's body language –a pause, the hand and on hip, head tilted, ears relaxed back. Balthier has come to know and love it.

"Cock blocker."