#Reno looks like he’s still growing into his chest

[renohasbigtits]

BABY RENO AND BABY RUDE!!!!!

[cap-winter-barnes]

HEY QUEEN! i had this idea for a fic… angsty, could also be fluffy and maybe smutty? 👀 anyway, like in the original twisters, reader goes to try and get tyler to sign divorce papers and ends up chasing him around with tornadoes. then maybe she almost dies in one with him, like the pool scene, or she gets hurt? either way, they fall in love again, etc etc. !!!

Sign Your Life Away (Tyler Owens x Reader)

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of sex, Tyler Owens (need I say more?)

It had been a while since you'd last visited your home state of Oklahoma, and it wasn't without trying, your life has just been a whirlwind of drama for the last few months. Your job had been even more demanding than usual with all of the unforeseen tornadoes smattering the map, one after another.

You are expecting this visit to be short and sweet, in and out, back to your apartment in Los Angeles. The divorce papers you have been carrying with you for quite some time, tightly fisted in your hand as you approach the growing mass of tornado chasers. Despite hoping that your soon to be ex-husband would be here upon your arrival, you soon realise that his little media circus is still awaiting the appearance of the world famous "Tornado Wrangler".

With a racing heart, you perch yourself onto the bonnet of your rented truck, boots balancing on the bumper guard. It may have been months since you last wore your wedding band but you still feel the ghost of the metal that once adorned your left hand whenever you think of Tyler Owens. Tears long dried out for the man, you take a deep breath as you prepare to see him for the first time in a long time, and hopefully for the last, you're ready for a new, fresh start in LA.

The rev of an engine brings you out of your thoughts, the blaring sound of a rock country track blaring through the air familiar to your ears. This was yours and Tyler's song. Keeping your position on your truck you watch as the Tyler's Ram speeds into the lot. You let the media crowd have their fun, surging and cheering for the arrival of their 'star'. Music still playing loudly you can't help but smile as you watch the one and only Tyler Owens soaking in the spotlight. Yet what surprises you is the false smile on his face, there's a dullness in his eyes that you can see from just watching from afar.

As you take in the sight of him, he notices you. He freezes as he makes eye contact, the smile completely disappearing from his face. A quick whisper to Boone and his crew has the crowd disperse with the promise of T-Shirts, signed merch and food to encourage them. Tyler makes a beeline for you, his confidence stride has you nervous.

"It's been a while, Baby Girl." He tips the brim of his Stetson towards you, a sad yet welcoming smile crossing his face.

"I'm not your Baby Girl anymore, Owens." You jump down from the hood, quick to press the worn papers into his chest. "Sign 'em." Before you can pull away, he has his hand around yours, holding you close to his body.

"You know neither of us want that, right?" Swallowing back a retort you meet his eyes, drowning in his hazel pools. "C'mon, Y/N." The pleading in his voice and face have your heart questioning everything.

"Tyler, it'll never work."

He breaks the eye-contact first and you swear you see the glisten of tears in his eyes. "It was good while it lasted, Owens. But we both want very different things."

"Ju-"

"Sign the papers, please. I'm staying in El Reno, come by the motel tomorrow and drop them off."

Without another word you turn your back on the man you used to love, truck door now between you both, you take one more look at Tyler as you see his heart breaking in front of you all over again.

"Okay. If this is what you want."

*The Next Evening*

You're not shocked that Tyler is late to drop off the divorce papers but why do you not feel disappointed that he never showed? Just as you are about to leave to set off back for home, there's a loud knocking at the door. With a sigh you open the door to be suddenly met with Tyler standing dishevelled and soaking with rain in front of you.

"We need to leave, now!"

The panic in his voice is enough to put your trust in him.

"Ty?"

"We need to move, now! I'm serious, let's go." He holds his hand out to you and without a second thought you place yours in his. As you make your way out of the motel room, you notice the chaos erupting around you.

"What the fuck? Tyler, where did this come from?"

With a rambled and short explanation you know just from his tone and demeanour that you're really in trouble if you don't get moving. The tornado is unmissable as it covers the horizon, debris flying across the sky, tearing apart everything in its path.

"We need to find somewhere low."

Immediately your mind goes to the empty swimming pool across the lot, you pull on Tyler's hand, guiding him in the right direction. Over all the destruction you make out the sound of a woman screaming and a young child crying. "Ty!" With one swift nod he runs across the lot to help, carrying the little girl carefully in his arms, never letting the mother out of sight.

The wind speed ratchets up quicker than you expect, this isn't your first experience with a tornado but this is the closest you've ever been to one outside the protection of the Ram. You loved storm chasing with Tyler, long before you were married and during those blissful few years that you were still in that honeymoon stage. A scream leaves your chest as you watch a truck somersault mere inches from crushing him to death. And you know if that moment that those divorce papers were a mistake. You were still madly, irrevocably in love with Tyler Owens, you'd just been in denial for all this time.

As he keeps your shielded from most of the force of mother nature, his arms wrapped around you, keeping you safe, you pray that you both make it through this to work things out.

Seconds feel like hours before the tornado passes. You can't help but shiver violently with fear, exhaustion and the effects of the rain seeping into your skin. Yet as you take in the destruction around you, your mind is on only one thing - Tyler Owens. Without taking a second thought you grab him by the collars of his shirt and pull him towards you. As you press your lips to his own, you can't help regret leaving him behind all those months ago, what an idiot you had been. But you know here and now is where you belong, in his arms.

Part 2 Coming Soon

[topzsun]

WHAT A LONG WINTER, WHAT A BAD JOKE

── ♡ RENO ICHIKAWA

you couldn't be the hero reno wanted you to be.

Every time you remember Reno Ichikawa, it’s with flakes of snow clinging to his lashes and bundles of clothing that looked too big on his figure. You had met him in the winter, and it’s that version of him immortalised in your mind. Sometimes, you wonder if he thinks of you this fondly, before realising the answer would be less than favourable.

It starts with his grandmother’s hand on your back, urging you closer in the direction of her grandson. The youngest Ichikawa, unable to meet your eyes, keeps his gaze strictly on the carpeted floor even when his grandmother calls his name gently. You felt pity for the old lady, who had all but pleaded that you’d come to play with her grandson after having just moved into the house next door. While you were reluctant, preferring to choose your own company, your bleeding heart of a mother did not give you any choice on the matter, especially not with a glassy-eyed elder in front of her. You understand her desperation now, Reno was incredibly seclusive.

Seemingly having given up for now, Reno’s grandmother lets you know that she has fresh fruit for you in the kitchen, before exiting for her household chores. Now left alone with no supervision, the silence has become even more unbearable. You realise if you weren’t going to push him, you’d have to come home to your disappointed mother, and so you steel yourself for the uphill battle that is befriending this odd boy.

“Do you wanna play outside? I saw a cool hill earlier, have you seen it before?” When Reno nods his head slowly, you puff out your chest pridefully. “Well, everyone says I’m the best at making up games. The hill is gonna be a lot more fun now that I’m here!”

While he doesn’t protest, you can tell from his furrowed brows and permanent frown that he doesn’t believe you. This doesn’t bring down your confidence, instead sparking your competitive streak as you dash to the front door to tug on your fur-trimmed boots.

“You’ll see, then! I’m gonna race you there.”

Finally, some form of life comes back to the young boy, as he fumbles behind you to put on his shoes lest he falls behind on your head start. Despite your initial advantage, he manages to beat you to the beginning of the snow-painted hill, and you usually this would be your cue to throw a tantrum. However, when you see him finally smile gleefully at his first win, you decide to keep your mouth shut. You were too young to understand the flutter in your stomach.

Maybe it’s life’s cruel joke, to have you grow up under the adoration and dependency of Reno Ichikawa, only to snatch it away at the last second. You’re seated on your bed, white-knuckling your quilt till you are sure you could almost rip it apart. Reno, who stands in front of you, refuses to lower his resolute stare but you can tell he’s growing hesitant, his violet eyes flickering from your shaken expression to your trembling hands. Who could blame you? His news to you could shake the heart of anybody.

He wants to join the Anti-Kaiju Defence Force. He’ll die.

He wants you to join him.

“I can’t,” You manage to croak out, and his face falls.

“It’s okay,” He says softly, a tone he reserves just for you. He looks like he wants to reach over and grasp your hand in his, but restrains himself. “I’ll go.”

“No,” You insist, voice rising and you have little care for your parents who are still sleeping comfortably across the hall, unaware of the living nightmare happening to you. “I can’t do this. Where is this coming from? Why do you want to put yourself in danger for people you don’t even know?”

Why do you want to leave?

He isn’t able to answer you right away, but the stare he gives you is long and heavy. Reno’s affection has always been loud to you, but right now his disappointment is louder. You’re thankful that darkness mostly shrouds your bedroom, you don’t think you can handle visibly seeing Reno’s opinion of you chip away.

“I want to be a hero,” He finally answers, and you know he does. He always wished and prayed on it every Tanabata. Whenever you guys had played games, he had always picked to be the hero. Yet, it was only you who seemed to hope that an unrealistic ambition like that would eventually fizzle away.

“Can’t you do that some other way?” You are unable to bite back your frustration, and he freezes under your harsh tone. However, where you were stubborn, he was worse. He refuses to shrink under your firm gaze, his eyebrows puckering and a deep-set scowl on his lips.

“Why can’t you be supportive?” He snaps back, and you launch to your feet, the whiplash from the sudden movement making your head spin.

“Fine then, I’ll be supportive! Go die at the battlefield, where everybody will forget about who you are, and what you’ve done!” Your heart pounds rapidly against your ribcage, blood swimming in your head. “Go die, and leave granny and I to bury your remains, if the Kaiju feel nice enough to leave any bits of you behind!”

You know you’ve gone too far when you see his face contort, stung by your callous words, and you know it is too late to take them back. You didn’t even think about his family and the cruel losses he suffered under a Kaiju. An apology had already begun to leave your lips, but Reno didn’t wait long enough to hear it. His back is already turned, halfway out of the window he had first used to climb in, and you can only watch desolately as he disappears into the shadow of the night without a second glance back at you. You all but throw yourself at your pillow, sobbing silently into the sheets.

That night, long-forgotten memories of a young Reno haunt your mind.

(“I wish I had a hero,” He mumbles into the sleeves of his jacket, legs tucked to his chest as he twirls a stray leaf. You stop your ruthless onslaught on the piles of dead autumn leaves just to turn in his direction, head tilted as a sign for him to continue.

“It’d be nice,” He continues. “To have somebody always in your corner… knowing no matter what they’ll save you.”

You are not ignorant to the date, having only earlier visited his family grave with him and granny. The concept of death is much too grandiose and far away to your naive mind, but when you see the tears dotting the corner of Reno’s eyes you begin to have an understanding. He is wishing for something that could have spared him the heartache.

You stroll over to the bench he rests on, heaving your small body so you can sit beside him. Absentmindedly, you reach over to brush aside some stray leaves that had fallen in his hair. You miss the red that decorates the corner of his ears at the action.

“Then, I’ll be your hero!” You declare boldly, slapping a palm over your heart as you grin widely at his bewildered expression. “No matter what, I’ll save you!”

You feel relieved when a familiar smile quirks on the corner of his lips, and he’s back to being your beloved, kind-hearted Reno.)

Oh. You broke your promise.

[sonicasura]

WereKaiju

Here's the other idea that wouldn't leave my ass alone. Plus the spooky season is almost upon us so why not? Let's get started!

A 23 year old Kafka Hibino was doing his best to get his life back together. Kaiju No. 6's monstrous rampage had utterly devastated a good chunk of Japan with his home being one such casualty. The nearest homeless shelter was obviously at max capacity and any housing is still under construction.

Kafka's day hasn't been any better either. He recently got beaten up pretty badly by a few thugs because he tried to stop them from mugging a poor old lady. (The man would still do it again despite his now broken nose, multiple bruises and probably cracked ribs.)

Overall, most of the year was awful as hell. Although his luck would only get worse when a buzzing sound awakens him from his sleep. The source being a very familiar small Kaiju we all know (with some finding it cute.)

I will say that Kafka does fight back against Tiny as he's been sleeping outside in the cold and thus wearing a scarf around his mouth to help keep warm. The small Kaiju tries to pry it off while the himbo defends himself. Now he managed to catch Tiny who yanked the scarf half way down.

Before Kafka could effectively trap the thing, the little Kaiju bites him hard. He lets go, screams, and Tiny takes that very moment to shove himself down our himbo's throat. Kafka ends up passing out as the pain of the transformation was too much for his damaged body.

When he wakes up the next day, everything is a blur. Kafka believes last night in general has been a hazy dream. The fight with the thugs and a kaiju going down his throat despite feeling strangely sore. (All his injuries obviously been healed by Tiny.)

Life goes on as the himbo is truly unaware of the monster slumbering inside. That's until the first full moon. Kafka is actually a dormant carrier of a unique condition called Hypertrichosis or Werewolf Syndrome to be precise.

It's basically when the body overproduces hair, often in localized or specific spots across the body. Why is this important? To put it simply, Tiny might have accidentally altered Kafka's dormant Hypertrichosis into something very different. A kaiju variant of lycanthropy.

Now Kafka's Kaiju operates differently than in canon. The condition of his transformation affects his overall appearance. Under sheer willpower, Kafka looks like his canon form but with a spine covered long tail. The full moon or rage results in a more monstrous version of Riot Mode.

Fur like quills growing between the armored plates, facial structure narrowing into a shape similar to a komodo dragon, fur sprouting from the back of his head/wrists/upper chest/, four dragonfly like wings, and his tail becoming similar to a pangolin but covered in spikes. Kafka acts like an oversized wolf during a Riot Mode shift. Those he considers part of his pact are met with 'giant puppy behavior'.

He scrutinizes every unfamiliar person as if waiting for them to make a move so he can act accordingly. Threats are immediately attacked with incredible ferocity so you better someone he cherishes is there to intervene. If you are guessing, Kafka's bite is infectious like any Werecreature.

Something he doesn't know until a fight makes him lose a tooth. The Defense Force analyzed and tested it on a rat to discover it's mutagenic properties. In short, a warning would be given about not getting bitten by Kaiju No. 8. Civilians are warned of deadly venom but the truth being restricted to official DF Members.

Reno tells Kafka about this ability once he officially joins. Our himbo obviously doesn't join the Defense Force. He's afraid of potentially infecting or killing someone thanks to his curse.

No.9 however is another case entirely. He WANTS No.8 for his infectious bite whether he's dead or alive. A kaiju capable of converting others is too important to ignore.

The Defense Force is more desperate to kill No.8. Such an ability could potentially end mankind itself if left unchecked. Kafka is gonna have a harder time avoiding the Defense Force.

Not just because of his scheduled shifts but also No.9 sending in kaiju to hunt him down. The Defense Force is slowly growing suspicious about these localized attacks as one Soshiro Hoshina notices a common denominator amongst each incident. A certain himbo Monster Sweeper at each scene.

He's going to be busted eventually. Although whether he turns inside an interrogation cell or in front of his childhood friend remains unknown. (Or lover if a pairing is involved like childhood sweethearts/married for a few years type. Kafka will get his needed hugs either way.)

For now, please enjoy another song that came to mind when writing these ideas: Monster By Skillet. Also if anyone wants to do their own take on the concept then go ahead! I don't mind plus there probably will be a more in-depth look sometime in the future.

@discoknack-old @renard-dartigue @drmarune @noodlesbf-blog @omniithe-deer @mechazushi @terra-sketches

[ffviirarepairweek]

Can I request a Reno x Aerith fic please? Just something adorable and fluffy - though a bit of violence and blood is nice… basically I just avoid smut and character death hurts me.

I hope this is where one requests rare pairs….. if not, just ignore my awkward self!

I hope this fits the request for you!

AO3 Link

Keep Off The Damn Flowers

by Asylos/Mirintala

Aerith was startled to see someone was in the church already when she arrived. The sun was just starting to cascade down through the hole in the roof, highlighting the man that was kneeling down in the flowers, brightening the already bright red of his hair. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hands on her hips, rousing the best imitation of irritation she could.

Reno stood. “I, uh, I heard someone fell on your flowers and was trashing up the place, and after I said for everyone to stay off of ‘em.” He made an attempt at brushing the dirt from his suit pants, but there was more dirt already on his hands, so they just ended up dirtier. He gave up and pushed the wayward strands of hair out of his eyes before giving her a thumbs up and a sideways grin. 

Aerith broke into a laugh. She couldn’t keep up the irritated act. She grabbed a rag off the end of one of the pews and tossed it to him so he could wipe off his hands. “So you heard about that did you.”

“You are under surveillance you know,” the Turk said, leaning in to whisper it in her ear as she came over and they both knelt down beside the flowers.

“I hadn’t known,” she murmured back, in the most incredulous tone she could muster.

“But even if I hadn’t known that way, Zack hadn’t shut up about the pretty girl he fell in on.”

“Oh, do you know him?”

Reno nodded, “‘fraid so. Bad case of puppy love it sounds like.”

“Oh dear.”

“Try to let him down easy, he’s not so bad.”

“I don’t expect he’ll be dropping in again,” she said, taking one of the flowers that had been knocked loose to the ground in hand and tucking it behind his ear. The yellow blended nicely with the red of his hair, and she told him as much. She giggled at his blush. 

The sound of the large church door slamming open made her jump. Reno let out a long, exasperated sigh, and turned his head to see what the ruckus was. When he saw the street thugs sauntering in, he got to his feet, and pulled Aerith to her own feet behind him. She put her hands on the small of his back and ducked down out of sight. “Yo, you boys lookin’ for something?” he called out.

The leader of the group took a few steps forward and looked him up and down, taking in his suit. It may have been rumbled and disheveled, and a bit dirty at this point, but there was no doubt of the quality, and that meant money. The two others with him kept moving up the sides of the church, rummaging through the pews, even starting to tip some of them over to look under them. 

“Hey, watch the flowers,” Reno shouted as one of them upended the wooden seat towards the growing blossoms. The pew landed with a thump and a crack, dirt and torn petals floating up from the point of impact. Reno’s lips pulled back in a snarl. “Get out, yo, before I lose my temper.”

The closest thug reached out a hand toward Aerith, and in a flash was flinching back with a yelp, clutching his broken wrist to his chest. “The hell?”

Reno extended the mag rod to its full length and let it spark. “Consider that your second warning. There won’t be a third.” He pushed Aerith back and surrounded her with a protective pyramid the same moment the two uninjured thugs ran at him. He sidestepped the first and cracked the rod against the back of the man’s head. The blow was hard enough to knock him out straight away and he landed face down in the dirt. The second took an electrified blow across the midsection and fell to his knees twitching. Reno raised an eyebrow at the third thug, who was still clutching his broken wrist. The man shook his head and backed towards the door. “Yo, take out the trash with you,” he said, kicking over the twitching thug and gesturing over his shoulder to the unconscious one with his thumb. The standing thug gave a frantic nod and helped his shocked comrade to his feet and between the two of them they dragged their ‘leader’ back out the door.

“Hey! Shut the door behind you!”

It was quickly closed without any sign of the perpetrators. 

Reno turned back to where he had left Aerith and dropped the protective spell. The look she gave him he could only describe as “miffed”. “What?” he asked.

“I can look after myself, you know.”

“I know,” he said, “but you shouldn’t have to.” She harrumphed, and he laughed. “Come on,” he said, holding out a hand, “let’s put those muscles to use fixing these pews they knocked over. Show me how strong you are.”

Her smile brightened her face, brighter than the sun, he might say, and he would know; he had flown near it so many times. She took his hand and together they set about making things right again in their little world. 

[discoknack]

Kafka Eats The Thing

I had this scene in my head for @sonicasura's ghost!Kafka AU and wanted to get it down before trying to switch gears. Should be the last one.

-

In his hospital bed beside Kafka's, after delivering his speech, Reno wasn't sure what to make of the response. He hoped a little that Kafka, who had saved his life and all, would say something more resolute. Kafka had helped him so much already, after all, and had seemed so down before, when he had to give up his dream of joining the Defense Force... Reno hoped - but, of course, it ultimately didn't matter much to him, nope - just a little, that Kafka would say something that hinted at his goal renewed. Sure, the old man looked like he'd been hit by a truck even before the attack, but he must have had some fight left in him, right?

Instead, Reno heard something hoarse, hollow but still genuine. Something like, "that's very nice of you to say, Ichikawa."

That's what Reno wasn't sure how to take. It was appreciating, but held no commitment. And it seemed so very sad.

After a few moments, he heard something even more confusing: some muttering, a slurping sound? And after that, seemingly a chuckle and another mutter. It wasn't loud enough for Reno to make out, so it must have been for Kafka himself.

What Reno could hear, plain as day, was the sudden full-throated scream behind the curtain, which sounded pained and short, cutting off into some sharp, wheezed exhale that expelled all of the air from the man's lungs. This, and the rapid rustling of the bed-sheets, made Reno's hair stand on end.

Reno tore off his blankets and made to yank aside the privacy curtain. "Senpai! You need a doct-?" But as he pulled the curtain away with a shink! he froze.

Kafka's body was clenched up into an arc, gripping the bed and trembling as though he was in dire need of an exorcism. But his eyes saw nothing and carried no emotion. And the thing that should have been expelled from him was readily oozing out of his chest, much like toothpaste from a firmly squeezed tube.

Reno's first impression was the growing size of it and the serpentine shape, partly obscured by shadowy smoke, as it emerged from his new friend's corpse. Its wide, bright Halloween-green eyes gradually took on a colder color.

But it didn't look at him, either, no. It was making a long, low sound like a groan as the length of it continued to fill the room, its presence solidifying. It was some big furry thing, but even now it continued to change: a mask of bone materializing complete with a pair of horns; hair flowing out from the back of the mask over its head and tapering down; skeletal spikes erupting from its spine and leather armor unfurling segment by segment over its back; ribs sprouting and clamping down in pairs and pairs over the length of the monster.

During this, its emergence gradually slowed, forming a loop at the same time it came crashing down. Reno couldn't bring himself to move, he just stared up in horror at the thing.

The beast did not hit the floor, nor did its body hit Reno; instead looping over him and, very gently, coming to a stop. The head hovered in front of him and to his right, below his waist, and the rest of it trailed around behind Reno's back to his left. The tail was curled in the other direction so that the serpent resembled a distorted "S", and finally had completely left Kafka's body now lying on the bed. Said body twitched as a last plume of dark smoke exited his chest, like some sinister gender reveal party.

Several moments passed and the groan had subsided. The silence was deafening. Reno's hands remained held up in some sort of weak defensive position. His eyes were wide, as were the glowing cyan eyes of the serpent. Both of their mouths remained open as well.

It was the serpent who broke the silence, speaking very softly, "sumimasen..."

Reno made some sort of croaking noise.

The serpent continued, "ohh, this is so embarrassing..." it was going to speak further, but suddenly flinched, beginning to slowly coil up.

Reno was startled by the flinch and backed up, only to bump into the serpent and reflexively mutter his own apology.

But Kafka wasn't paying attention, coiling in a protective manner behind Reno and yet muttering more apologies. His eyes darted around, and he even swiveled to face Reno but did not look at him. Muttering a whole string of apology until Reno thought he, some devilish thing, was praying for forgiveness as hard as he could. Even trembling.

"S-senpai? What's-?" that's when Reno saw the lights. Flickering motes phasing through the wall and beginning to fill the room with an eerie light.

Kafka turned around again. "They're sick of my presence. Torches and pitchforks and all."

Reno heard shuffling from the corridor. An old man was there. From the look on his face, it seemed Reno hadn't suffered a concussion after all, and all of this was real. Sure enough, the old man whipped out his phone to make the call.

Reno shouted, making Kafka flinch again and pay attention to the living for a moment, "The Defense Force is coming! We have to get out of here!"

Kafka nodded once, "right!" then he made his move, grabbing Reno from behind, the crooks of his elbows to the junior's armpits, and made straight for the window.

Reno screamed in anticipation of the impact. "Senpai, I don't think-!"

But Kafka turned around at the last second, shielding Reno with his body as he broke through the glass.

Now they were out, free from the hospital building, and Reno held on to stay in Kafka's grasp, suddenly bathed in the cool night air.

[omegasquire]

Rose Gold: Ch 26

The silence in the conference room was heavy. The tension was so thick, it was almost tangible. The scene that played on screen was nothing less than a nightmare. Even though the view was far, enough detail came through to show what was going on across the beachside city. 

If there had been any question before about how strong Strife’s lookalikes were, now they knew. There was no ambiguity to their ruthlessness and strength. Normal people wouldn’t stand a chance; normal weapons barely made a dent. Sending the wrong people to fight them was synonymous with sending them to their graves.

The brothers’ inhumanity was as clear as day. They would spare no one.

Tifa’s hands shook as she covered her mouth. Almost as soon as the fighting had started, she was frozen in horror. It was like witnessing the massacre of Nibelheim all over again, except this time she truly couldn’t do anything to help. She was on the other side of the ocean, watching a recording of this event well after the fact. 

The sound of Reeve sighing gravely could be heard on the other end of the speaker. He had been placed on video call during the meeting, a hologram of him in his office projected just above the device. 

Reeve was pressing his fingers to his temples. “This was transmitted to us through the surveillance moogle I had sent with Team Typhon.”

“The feed cuts off abruptly,” Red noted as the footage they were all looking at froze just before something collided with it. 

Sephiroth’s eyes were narrowed. “Why did it take so long to relay the message?” 

Reeve shook his head and lifted his gaze. “As you can see, it was damaged. It didn’t register in our system until an hour ago. I contacted you as soon as I could.”

Even by just an hour, that was still lost time when it came to getting Barret help and chasing after Strife’s brothers. Everyone was already calculating their losses and just how dangerous it was to confront these three. Sending even one wrong person would lead to death. 

“We have to go to him.” Tifa was barely able to lower her hands without feeling like vomiting. 

Zack nodded. “She’s right. Costa Del Sol doesn’t have the right equipment to take care of his wounds. And the others need a proper burial...”

Peoples’ expressions were grim. The moogle had captured the gorey deaths of Reeve’s men and the Turks. Reno could be heard spitting a vile curse from his spot in the back, and for once no one reprimanded him for it. They all had similar feelings. 

However, there was a distinct difference between each of them when it came to who they were cursing. While most weren’t directing their anger at Cloud, a few couldn’t help but instinctively resent him. Tifa, especially, saw Cloud as the true culprit. 

Even if Strife’s brothers were the ones who did the deed and murdered people, they wouldn’t be here if not for Cloud. Simply by proxy, he was the one who killed them. 

Bile rose in Tifa’s throat as she struggled with her emotions. She wasn’t too familiar with Knife or Rod – she didn’t even know the names of the people Reeve had stationed at Costa Del Sol – but she was close to Barret. They had spent so much time together, it would’ve been strange if she wasn’t affected by his injuries. 

Worry and anger gnawed at her as questions kept popping up: Was he alive? Was he dead? Where was he being treated? How long would it take to get to him? Could they fix the damage inflicted on both of his arms? Would Barret ever be okay again?

Tifa’s hand clenched into a fist. She pressed it against her chest as if it would somehow calm her down. She felt Aerith next to her, holding her other hand. It was a gesture of comfort that Tifa wished she could erase the growing knot of raw emotions inside her. 

“It won’t take long to get the airship up and running.” Cid sighed and roughly ran a hand through his hair. “If we’re going to Costa Del Sol, there’ll be the time difference to consider.” 

Sephiroth turned to look at them. “We will leave as soon as it’s ready. We’ll split into two groups: one will do damage control and see that Barret gets proper medical attention; the other will go after those three.”

When Sephiroth’s gaze landed on Cloud, Cloud’s expression was dark. “Are you leaving me here?”

No one answered right away. 

“Sending you would play into their hands,” Rufus openly mused. He leaned to one side, propping his chin on the back of his hand as he looked from Cloud to the frozen footage. “It would be safer to keep you here.” 

Reno straightened up. “Who’s going to babysit him?”

“That would fall on us,” Rude replied. His comment suggested removing the Turks from the pursuit. 

Reno looked at him, ready to protest, when Sephiroth interrupted. 

“No.” He was still looking at Cloud, holding the blond man’s gaze as his mood seemed to worsen at the mention of being watched by the Turks. “You’ll be with us.” 

“Is– um, is that safe?” Yuffie hesitantly asked, fidgeting nervously.

“No,” he repeated. “However, there is no guarantee that while we are away, Jenova won’t strike again. I want you within sight.” 

Cloud nodded slightly after a moment.

Tifa didn’t like it. She didn’t want anything to do with Cloud, or have him involved with what was going on. 

Why did they have to suffer because of him? 

She hated that they had no choice but to take him with them because he was too dangerous to leave alone. Even if the Turks were capable at their job and Midgar was equipped with all sorts of defense mechanisms, the safest place for Cloud to be was next to Sephiroth. There was Zack as well, but it was already clear that Zack would hesitate to kill Cloud if it came down to that. Sephiroth was the only one pragmatic and capable enough to land the blow without hesitation. 

“Yuffie,” Tifa looked at the younger woman. “Can you take care of Marlene?”

Yuffie’s eyes widened. “Huh? What? Me?”

Tifa knew Yuffie didn’t want to go. It was clear on her face that she was terrified of the idea of heading to Costa Del Sol. “Yes. She likes you, so you won’t have to worry about a thing.” 

“I know!” Yuffie quickly replied. “I just– I thought you would want to stay?”

Tifa drew in a deep breath and tried to shake off her anxiety. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or lash out, but there was no way she was going to be left behind. Barret meant too much to her. She had to see for herself that he was okay. 

“I...”

Her gaze slowly shifted to look at Cloud. She saw him staring at her and nearly flinched; his gaze was so serious, it made her tense up. Strife never looked at her that way, so she wasn’t sure how to respond to it. Still, she couldn’t waver. 

“I have to go.” 

“Don’t worry Tifa,” Aerith spoke softly next to her and squeezed her hand. “We’ll make sure he’s okay.” 

She could only nod in return. 

~*~

Cloud wanted to bury his head in his hands. He never expected that scene from Costa Del Sol to happen. Some part of him already expected that Strife’s lookalikes would be formidable, but he didn’t think that they would be like this. They were destructive, yes, but more importantly they were savage. They had no problem with torture, especially the one called Isolfr. 

Anger surged in Cloud’s chest as he vividly recalled what the younger man had said. 

“You’ll make a good welcoming gift.” 

The rest of the dialogue that passed between each party member couldn’t be heard over the sound of explosions and gunfire, but this one sentence before it all started rang in Cloud’s ears. 

Barret was mutilated just to drag him out of Midgar. Cloud knew it was bait, but he couldn’t ignore it. Even if Sephiroth told him that he had to stay behind, he would argue that it was necessary for him to go to Costa Del Sol. 

Who would even be able to watch over him if, like Sephiroth had said, Jenova struck while their defenses were thin? How was Sephiroth supposed to come find him if he was halfway across the planet? 

Cloud still didn’t know what magic was applied on the bangle that Sephiroth had given him, or how it would let Sephiroth pinpoint his location. It seemed to be more than just a fancy tracker; there was more to it that he didn’t understand. 

Since that was the case, he had to go with Sephiroth. 

Sephiroth didn’t seem like he would sit back after what happened either. Cloud doubted he would even entertain sending the others after Strife’s brothers now that they knew how ruthless they really could be. They could stand toe-to-toe with Barret and Vincent individually. If either of them was like the versions from Cloud’s world, then that wasn’t easy to do, especially when it came to Vincent. 

Vincent wasn’t the type to boast about his power or take the foremost position in a fight, but he had experience from his early years, and the strength of a monster when he lost control. He was quick on his feet and didn’t hesitate to make judgment calls during battle. If there was one person Cloud could give his back to, it was him. 

He had no idea how this Vincent measured up to the one from his world, but even so, he couldn’t have been that different. Which meant that the brothers were very strong... Enough to keep Vincent on his guard. 

Cloud hit the railing with his fist. It wasn’t common for him to lash out, least of all against inanimate objects, but that was how angry he was. Barret might want to kill him, just like the others did – maybe they still do – but that didn’t mean Cloud wished for Barret’s death in return. 

This world’s Barret didn’t go through the same trials, but Cloud still had an emotional connection with the guy. They were comrades and friends. He wouldn’t abandon Barret, just as he wouldn’t abandon the rest of them. 

And Tifa... 

Cloud stared outside the window. The clouds rolled by as the airship sped through the air towards Costa Del Sol. Even more crushing than Barret’s injuries, Tifa’s distress tore at Cloud. She hated him, and certainly blamed him for everything that was happening, but Tifa was still special to Cloud. She was the person he grew up with; she was the one who knew his faults and cared for him regardless; she was the one who pulled him out of his downward spiral. 

He wished he could comfort her, but he knew that if he tried, she would only resent him. The idea of her turning away from him for good scared him. 

“We will be landing shortly.” 

Cloud turned his head to see Sephiroth approaching. 

During the entire trip, he had to be cautious about the others on the ship; it wasn’t just Avalanche, but the workers who barely knew anything about his situation. They acted like he wasn’t there, silently creating a barrier between them and Cloud that was uncomfortable. 

He couldn’t avoid it, though, as he had to remain near Sephiroth. Even though he had free movement on the airship, that didn’t mean that other people wanted to see him roaming around on his own. 

Frankly, at this point, Cloud’s current worries were far too important to pay them much mind. (Though, that didn’t mean he didn’t notice.) With their destination drawing near, Cloud couldn’t afford to lose focus. He had to gather his resolve, because what came next would not be easy. 

“Barret is at the hospital?” he asked Sephiroth. 

“Yes. They’ve managed to stabilize him, albeit barely. The amount of blood loss was almost fatal.” Sephiroth looked at him. “You will join me and Zack to pursue Strife’s brothers.” 

Cloud nodded. He figured that would be the case. He was useless in medicine, and he doubted anyone wanted him near a comrade in critical condition. 

“Do you know where they went?”

“West.” Just as he said it, the clouds beneath them parted. Below them was an open field next to Costa Del Sol, signaling their arrival. “We’ll confirm the details with Vincent when we meet up with him.” 

Cloud felt a little apprehensive about meeting Vincent, but he hoped that he could rely on his intuition about the other man and treat him as he normally would. “Alright.” 

He watched as the airship slowly descended and landed on the ground. It would take a bit for the motors to wind down and make it safe for them to exit, but Sephiroth was already moving towards the exit. 

Cloud followed suit, quickly checking that his helmet was still in place as he went. He was able to keep his sword on him all through the flight; its weight was comforting as it rested against his back. If he was going to join the fight with Sephiroth, it was necessary for him to be armed. It made some of the others uncomfortable, but they didn’t say anything since it was Sephiroth’s order for him to have it. 

Despite how awkward their last meeting in Sephiroth’s office had gone, Cloud was secretly grateful that the other man didn’t mention it. It was as if Sephiroth had chosen to forget or ignore what had happened, which made Cloud do the same. 

He tried to ignore the tension that still lingered between them and keep his focus on what was important. He knew that eventually they would have to come back to address what happened, but now wasn’t the time. 

One by one, the others gathered to leave the airship. They climbed into two separate vehicles; Zack drove one, while Sephiroth drove the other with Cloud in the passenger seat. 

As they made their way to Costa Del Sol, it became increasingly clear how much damage had been done. If the civilians hadn’t been evacuated, there would have been dozens of deaths. They would’ve been caught by stray bullets and explosions, struck by magic, or caught under collapsing structures. 

Cloud looked out the passenger window and saw people in the midst of cleaning up. The evacuated civilians were returning, saddened by the destruction but alive and well. Compared to Junon, Costa Del Sol had suffered more damage, but it was still better than the loss of lives.

“Where is Vincent?” he asked Sephiroth, turning his head to glance over at the older man. 

“The hospital. We will meet up with him and take stock of the situation.” Sephiroth glanced back at him before returning his gaze to the front. He carefully weaved past the debris as he made his way to their destination. “After that, we’ll pursue Strife’s brothers.” 

Cloud nodded. 

A silence fell between them, but before it could stretch too long, Sephiroth spoke again. “When we arrive, don’t agitate the situation.” 

Cloud didn’t like the other man’s wording, but he understood what he meant. Whatever the situation was at the hospital, he would be walking on eggshells. If anything, he questioned if he really should be here or not. 

Yet, because Sephiroth was going, he had to go as well. 

“I know.”

The vehicle slowed down as they reached the hospital and pulled into the parking lot. Zack drove up next to them and parked so the others could get off. Cloud saw Tifa practically leap out of the back door and quickly made her way to the entrance. Aerith followed her at a hurried pace as she tried to keep up with Tifa.

Cloud climbed down from the vehicle at a slower pace in comparison to the women, but he was still brisk to join Sephiroth and Zack on the other side. 

“Should we give them a moment?” Zack asked Sephiroth as he waved at Cloud. 

“Yes. We need to meet up with Vincent anyway.” Sephiroth led the way inside, with Cloud and Zack right behind him.

It was rare for Zack to not try and lighten the mood whenever it turned grave or heavy with tension, but this time it seemed like even someone like Zack couldn’t avoid the gloom that darkened all their minds. He was quiet as they entered the hospital and checked in with the receptionist for Barret’s location. 

Considering it was small, and more like a clinic than a hospital, it didn’t take long to locate Barret’s room. There was a window on the side of the wall, but the curtain was drawn, disallowing people from looking inside. Standing in the hallway to meet them by his door was a familiar man. 

With black hair, red eyes, and a tall physique, Vincent was easy to spot. He stood out against the cream colored hallways and beach-styled waiting benches. 

The tall man’s gaze shifted from Sephiroth to Zack, to Cloud. He silently studied Cloud for a moment before returning his attention back to Sephiroth. “His condition hasn’t changed.”

Sephiroth nodded and stopped before the door that had a small window slit. It was hardly enough to peek through. “Nothing from the physician?”

Vincent shook his head. “He will need better medical attention. There’s nothing more they can do at this point than keep him stabilized.” 

“Is he conscious?” Zack asked and leaned next to Sephiroth to try and look through the window slit too. 

“He hasn’t woken up since the battle.” Vincent gave a slight nod at the drawn curtain. “They had the curtains open before you came.” 

Cloud could tell what that meant. Whatever Barret’s condition was, it wasn’t good. Tifa and Aerith probably thought it was better to hide it, even if only temporarily. It made Cloud’s worry grow; he wanted to look through the window slit as well and see what was going on. 

“Leave them,” Sephiroth responded and stepped away from the door. He glanced in Cloud’s direction and gave a small nod. 

Cloud hesitated but moved toward the door. Zack gave him room to peek, letting Cloud get closer. There wasn’t a lot he could see, but he could make out the edge of the bed and what looked like a machine positioned next to it. A blanket was drawn high, but Cloud couldn’t see Barret’s condition at all. 

He reached toward the door handle but stopped himself. 

What was he going to do if he did see? 

He couldn’t change what happened. Cloud pulled back his hand and took a step back. 

Almost as soon as he did, the door was yanked open from the other end. Cloud startled and froze when he saw Tifa gripping the door with tears streaming down her cheeks. Her face was flushed from crying, and her eyes were puffy and burned with anger. She glared straight at Cloud.

“Because of you...” she hissed as more tears flowed down her cheeks. 

Cloud’s eyes widened. It wasn’t her words that made him freeze, but the expression on her face. The last time he saw that expression was when her father died. That time period was still mixed up in his memory, but he distinctly remembered the anger and anguish on her face when he found her in the reactor. Even while her life was being threatened, she held onto those emotions. 

He was so transfixed by her expression, Cloud didn’t see her swing. All he felt was the impact, and his body jerked from the force. He crashed against Sephiroth, who caught him before he fell to the floor. Cloud hardly noticed; he was still looking at Tifa as she clasped her bruised fist to her chest. She looked like she wanted to hit him again. 

“He can’t–” She choked on a sob that threatened to drown out her words. “His arms–!”

Cloud strained to look past her and finally had a better view inside. Aerith was next to Barret’s bed, her eyes puffy from fresh tears as well. When she saw Cloud looking at her, she shook her head helplessly. 

Cloud forced himself to stand upright and paled as he took in the sight of Barret on the bed. The footage they saw back in Midgar didn’t detail just how badly the large man was injured. To see it upclose like this made Cloud’s mind go blank. 

He would never be able to use his arms again... 

Tifa moved in front of Cloud’s vision, blocking him from seeing Barret. She roughly wiped at her tears, the action only agitating her eyes even more. “Leave. Don’t ever show your face to me again.” 

Cloud unconsciously stumbled back. He felt his back hit Sephiroth’s chest, and the other man steadied him. Tifa shoved the door closed in his face, only barely stopping herself from fully slamming it if only because they were in a hospital. 

He stared at the closed door in shock. Words he never expected or wanted to hear rang in his ears. Tifa had rejected him. No, she was completely cutting him off. Even if he wasn’t the one who injured Barret, in her eyes, he might as well have done it. 

The one person he didn’t want to see turn their back on him... 

“...Vincent.” Sephiroth’s hand settled on Cloud’s arm and firmly held it. “We’ll continue later.” 

“Find me when you are ready,” Vincent replied and turned to head down the hallway. 

Zack looked between Sephiroth, Cloud, and the door. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a heavy sigh. “I’ll stay here and let you know what’s going on.”

Sephiroth only nodded and moved down the hall. He brought Cloud along with him, taking advantage of the stupor Cloud was in to lead him somewhere private. 

It was only as they made their way to the rooftop that Cloud finally shook himself free of Sephiroth’s grip. He deliberately took a step away from the taller man and sucked in a deep breath. His chest was tight and his throat felt like it would shut any second. 

There were a million words he wanted to say, a million questions he wanted to ask, but nothing came out. His hands clenched into fists and his shoulders trembled as he reeled from what just happened. 

Eventually, all he could do was whisper a curse. “Shit...” 

[bisexuallittlefreaks]

mother i may (be different than you remember)

HAPPY NATIONAL COMING OUT DAY

Have a trans!Dean fic set in s12 when Mary comes back. Also on AO3.

********

Dean stares at the woman--his mother--something between horror and excitement boiling in his chest. “Are you... really… real?” He approaches when she doesn’t answer, reaching out to touch her; make sure she isn’t a ghost. Mary grabs him by the arm, twists, and throws him to the ground. Dean goes down heavily and grunts when Mary slams a foot on his neck.

“Where am I?” she demands. “Who the hell are you?”

“I'm – I'm Dean,” he says, knowing what’s about to happen and dreading it. “Winchester. I'm your son.”

Mary is silent for a moment. “I have a son named Sam and a daughter named Deanna. Get your facts straight. Besides, Deanna is four years old.”

“I was when you died,” Dean says tightly. Mary lets go with a small gasp, and Dean pushes himself back up to his feet, wincing at the twinge in his knee.

“Mom. Listen to me. Your name – your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary eyes him suspiciously, seemingly recovered from whatever had just happened. “How do you know all that?”

Dean huffs a laugh. “Dad told me. March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater – Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh, Mulroney's and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song, so when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that–that you met–”

“John Winchester,” Mary finishes. Dean nods.

“August 19, 1975, you were married... in Reno. Your idea. A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“And then I burned.” She stares around at the clearing they’re in like she’s stunned at how it looks. “How long have I been gone?”

“Thirty-three years,” Dean says gently. Mary stares at him again, the suspicious look returning to her eyes.

“You don’t look like a transvestite.”

It hits him like a bullet to the chest, and his mouth actually drops open. “Mom, that’s--” He runs a hand down his face. “Jesus, please don’t use that word.”

Mary looks genuinely confused. “What word should I use?”

“Transgender. And there have been some serious medical advances so people don’t necessarily look trans anymore,” Dean explains. It’s been ages since he’s had to go through this with anyone. He’d forgotten how much he hates it. “I was on hormone therapy for years. I got top surgery, even.”

“And John was okay with this?” The way she says it it’s not meant to be mean, but it still makes Dean sick to his stomach. His lips quirk up in a sardonic half-smile.

“No. He was not. But he’s been dead for a decade.” He pauses and looks at her quizzically. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Mom, but… Holy shit, it’s good to see you.” Dean moves forward and wraps her in a hug. After a beat, she returns the hug.

“Deanna…”

“Dean?”

Dean looks up from where he’s sprawled on his bed watching television to see Cas in the doorway, looking alarmingly concerned for what--as far as Dean knows--is a typical Saturday afternoon. He sits up, frowning.

“What’s wrong, Cas?”

Cas hesitates for a moment, then steps inside the room and closes the door behind him. Dean raises an eyebrow. It’s not an unusual move for Cas--it is their room after all--but the manner that he does it is off somehow.

“Your mother,” Cas starts haltingly. “Why does she… Why does she keep calling you Deanna? It seems like she doesn’t even realize she’s doing it.”

Dean sighs heavily and stands up. “You know that was what my parents named me when I was born.”

Cas nods, still looking concerned and confused. Dean looks at Cas, a feeling of astonishment growing inside of him, so strong he can feel it in the tips of his fingers.

“Cas, you know I’m trans, right?”

Cas blinks once, and then looks supremely annoyed. “Yes, of course I do. I was the one who remade your body when I pulled you from Hell, remember?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, I remember, that’s why I don’t understand where you’re lost here.”

“Your name is no longer Deanna,” Cas says with increasing irritation. “I understand that is what your mother named you, but you are now Dean. Why does she not just call you by your name?”

Dean sighs. “I think she’s having trouble adjusting to the change, is all.”

“It is not even that big of a change!” Cas bursts, and Dean flinches a little at the sudden anger. “It is a difference of two letters! Two syllables! Lady Gaga was once known as Stefani Joanne Angelina Germanotta!”

Dean stares at Cas, a smile slowly growing on his lips. “Okay, first of all, why in god’s name do you know that about Lady Gaga?”

Cas frowns, and Dean knows he’s about to ask what the hell that has to do with anything, so Dean steamrolls forward, waving a hand dismissively. “Second. My mom… is from a different generation. You’re right, it shouldn’t be that hard, but she’s from an era that didn’t understand gender and sexuality and shit. And she’s been suddenly shoved from that era into… this.”

“She needs to be better,” Cas says grumpily. Dean steps closer to the angel, reaching out to run his hands through the black hair and ending by cupping his jaw on either side.

“I know. I’ll be better at correcting her.”

Cas’s eyes squint at him. “That’s not your responsibility.”

Dean chuckles, resting his forehead on Cas’s. “I know. But someone has to do it.”

Cas pulls back, eyeing Dean seriously. “Then I’ll do it.”

Dean presses a small kiss on Cas’s lips. “Okay. Thank you.”

[adhdeancas]

12x01 Rewrite with Trans Dean

trigger warnings for minor mention of dysphoria. Also minor/negligent transphobia. 

“Mom?” His heart is stopped in his chest, staring at the face he’s kept in his head for all of his life, the face he’s thought of as the only real home he’s ever had. She looks the same, exactly the same. “I… uh, are you really… real?” 

He reaches out without thinking, needing to just make sure that Amara didn’t bring back a fantasy or a ghost or a sick joke. She proves it without him touching her, flipping him in a neat trick he recognizes from his own training and ending up with her foot on his neck, pressing him into the dirt. “Where am I? Who the hell are you?”

She looks so scared. Dean swallows, his Adam’s apple bouncing against the bottom of her foot. He needs to make her trust him, preferably before she does something rash like snap his neck. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m your son. I’m… Sam’s brother”

The pressure lets up on Dean’s neck even though Mary’s shaking her head. “No. No, I don’t have two boys. They’re- they’re just kids.”

Dean winces, breathing heavily. This is gonna be a motherfucker for her to understand. Still, Mary lets him up, and he stands and rubs his neck, trying desperately to recall every bit of information he’s stored away about his mom. “Mom. Listen to me. Your name- your name is Mary Sandra Campbell, okay? You were born December 5, 1954, to Samuel and Deanna Campbell. Your father, he bounced around a lot for, uh, work, and you bounced right along with him, and you ended up in Lawrence, Kansas.”

Mary flinches, the facts hitting straight-on. “How do you know all that?” 

“Dad told me.” Dean tells her. He doesn’t tell her that he had to gather the story from slurred words, drunken tears in between stories about the perfect wife. That he recited them in his head like a prayer so he wouldn’t forget her. “March 23, 1972, you walked out of a movie theater - Slaughterhouse-Five. You loved it, and you bumped into a big Marine and you knocked him flat on his ass. You were embarrassed, and he laughed it off, said you could make it up to him with a cup of coffee. So, you went to, uh,” God, what was the name of that stupid place? “Mulroney’s, and you talked and he was cute and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song,” A memory of a smiling young alive Mary comes to mind, and he pushes it away because it hurts. She’s right there. “So when he asked you for your number, you gave it to him, even though you knew your dad would be pissed. That was the night that -” You fell in love with- “that you met -”

“John Winchester.”

“August 19, 1975, you were married… in Reno. Your idea.”Dean had always thought that was hilarious. He looks her in the eyes again, pleading with her to not dispute the next part. “A few years later, I came along, then Sammy.”

“No, no. My oldest was a girl, Deanna.” Mary looks Dean up and down, taking in his short hair, wide shoulders, and flat chest. He crosses his arms over that now, uncomfortable, hoping she isn’t looking at his long eyelashes or his delicate cheekbones or his hips. All the places he’s insecure about. 

“Yeah, um… that’s me.” He looks up at her, his jaw clenching, waiting for the ball to drop. “I shortened the name a little, and the- uh- hair.” He tries for the old charming smile as he runs a hand through the spiky hair he hasn’t let grow out in 20 years. It doesn’t quite get there, settling at a more delicate need for approval. Mary doesn’t give it to him. “Do you believe me?”

She bypasses the question, turning her eyes away from him to look at the car behind him. Something changes in her eyes. “I burned.” She says quietly, like she’s remembering the heat. Dean swallows. He remembers the heat too. “How long have I been gone?”

“33 years.” His voice cracks. 

Mary looks back to him, and she moves forward, putting two gentle fingers to his cheek, to the freckles sprayed across soft skin. He’s had them forever, even when he was little. “Dee?” She calls him by his old nickname; Dean’s doubly thankful that he doesn’t use his deadname. 

“Hi, mom.” There are tears in his eyes.

------------------------------------------------------

“How did he die?”

Dean bows his head. He’s really not selling himself too good here, is he? First the trans thing, now- “He gave himself up for me.” He’ll be surprised if Mary wants anything to do with him. Surprisingly, she chuckles and sniffles. 

“That does sound like John.” He looks over, and she’s smiling. His brow furrows. Killing himself to save Dean’s ass does sound like John, but not in a way that makes him want to smile. “And he was a hunter? And he raised-” She stutters now, looking at him again and looking away just as quickly. “You and Sam to be-”

“Yeah, he did.” A cold weight is settling in Dean’s stomach, and he tries and fails to not let it seep into his words.

“And you said we’ve met before, when you traveled through time,”

Dean nods. It had been horrible and amazing to see Mary and have her see him, just as some guy. A guy, at all. “Twice. Your memory got wiped, so…” So you don’t remember me telling you I was your kid, and you not believing me. I do.

“And you’re… my daughter-”

Dean coughs. He hasn’t been called a daughter in a long-ass time. “No, I’m- I mean. I was. I know it’s a lot. And I’ll explain everything. I will. But right now, let’s get out of here. Let’s get you home. Come on, Mom.”

She doesn’t correct him, which means she must believe, at least a little bit, that she is his mom. 

-----------------------------------------------------

“You live here?” She looks around the cavernous space and he smiles, looking around too. It really is awesome. 

“Yeah, when we’re not on the road. It’s an old Men of Letters bunker.”

“Men of Letters?” She scoffs. Dean grins a bit and looks at her. He thinks he likes her. “They’re a myth. An old hunter’s story.”

He tilts his head. He’s just gonna keep blowing her mind today, apparently. “Not so much. New duds look good.” He gestures to her clothes. He’d lent her some extra clothes he’d had in the trunk, and he tries not to fixate on how they weren’t that big on her. He’s not much taller than her, and he knows part of that even is the heeled boots he’s wearing. 

“Well, thanks. It’s better than walking around in that nightgown the rest-” Dean’s nodding, about to say something extremely awkward like ‘Yeah, nightgowns are a bitch,’ when he finally looks at what she’s staring at, spattered on the floor of the bunker. “That’s blood.”

 “Yeah.” Dean’s heart leaps into his throat, but he goes into autopilot before he can think about freaking out. He takes his gun out from his pants and cocks it, clearing the immediate area. A blurred sigil on the wall puts another bolt of fear through his chest. “Sammy? Cas?” He winces at how high his voice goes.

He takes the Map Table’s gun out from its hiding place and hands it to Mary. She was a hunter too, and he’s not about to leave her unarmed to clear the place. “Take this. Stay here.” Dean takes off immediately. It isn’t until he’s moving on to check the kitchen that he hears the voice. Mary’s clear as a bell, saying, 

“Hands, now,”

Dean’s in the room before he can think about it. His heart practically comes undone when he sees that dumb familiar trench coat. He puts his body between Cas and his mom’s gun immediately, hoping she will trust him enough not to shoot through him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! It’s okay, it’s okay. He’s a friend, all right?” He meets Cas’s eyes and sees the utter relief in his eyes, and a surge of warmth fills his chest. “Hey, Cas.”

It’s a lackluster greeting when they both thought they’d never see each other again, and Cas shows it when he steps forward quickly and pulls Dean into a tight hug. “Dean!”

Dean grins and pats his back. “Hey, okay. All right,” He comforts him quietly. 

“Dean, you’re alive?” Cas pulls away and looks him over, like he’s afraid Dean might disappear. Dean nods, understanding; he had done the same thing to Mary, after all.

“Yeah.”

“What about the bomb and the Darkness? What happened?”

“I’ll tell you everything. Where is Sam?”

“He’s not here.” Obviously. Dean could smack him, but his face wants to break into a fond smile instead. He represses both urges.

“Are you a hunter?”

“No, I’m an angel.”

“He’s an angel.” Dean says over Cas. They look at each other and then back at Mary. 

“Come again?”

“An angel, with a capital A,” Dean clarifies. He feels, ridiculously, a little bit like he’s showing off. Showing Cas off. “You know, wings, harp.”

“No, I don’t have a harp.”

Dean laughs. “This is Castiel. Cas, this is… Mary. Winchester.”

------------------------------------------------------

“It’s been kinda weird, here. You know, with mom being back?” And learning that her baby girl is now a full grown man? “It’s like we don’t know how to act around each other, so we just kinda make this small talk, and act like it’s normal, but it’s- it’s so not normal.” Dean can hear the pleading in his voice. 

“What has she said to you?” Cas asks quickly. Dean bites his lip to hide the smile he’s trying to get from hearing Cas get all angry and protective on his behalf. He’s reminded of the time Cas looked him directly in the face and said, ‘Dean Winchester, if anyone is ever transphobic to you, I will smite them immediately and without any remorse.’ And before Dean could make a quip about internalized transphobia, Cas added, ‘Do not make me do that to you.’

“Well, nothing. That’s- that’s the whole point.” It’s the kind of thing most people usually wanna go over, what the fuck gender their kid is? He’s pretty sure no news does not mean good news in this context.

“Okay, what have you said to her?”

“Well, nothing. I’m- I don’t know what to say to her, y’know? It’s like it’s all too much, and I don’t wanna overwhelm her.” 

“Dean, your identity is not ‘too much.’” Cas says immediately. Dean sighs. That wasn’t what he meant, even though he has said something similar before. Something when he was lonely and sad and feeling like explaining his dick to a one night stand was too complicated for him to do to even assuage it that way.

“No- I know. It’s not that. It’s… everything.”

Now it’s Cas’s turn to sigh. “Don’t make things unnecessarily complicated, as you humans tend to do. I’ll call you.” He hangs up. 

Dean lets the phone fall with his arm limp to his side. “Yeah. Great. That’s helpful.” He says to the empty air. “That’s helpful.” Asshole.

-------------------------------------------------------

They’re in the car, and Dean is driving, and there is too much going on. He’s not sure whether he’s happy that Cas is in the backseat for this conversation or not. “So you’re… my Deanna.”

Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. He looks at them and ignores the voice in his head that says they are petite. Womanly. “Uh, yeah. I was born Deanna Jane Winchester.” He clears his throat and meets Cas’s eyes in the rearview. He gives him a little nod, and Dean continues. “I’m… It’s called trans.”

Dean risks a look over at Mary, and she’s playing with her ring. “So you… wanted to be a boy.” 

Dean clears his throat again. He’s pretty sure he does it every time before he talks, and he’s also pretty sure his voice gets lower every time he talks, too. He swears it’s an automatic reflex. 

“Dean’s soul is- that of a human man.” Cas interrupts, saying it like that clarifies things. The corner of Dean’s mouth tilts up a little bit. Cas did tell him that he could see his soul, and also told him that it was, and he quotes ‘A color more similar to that of a men than women.’ Which, yeah, that tracks. He guesses Cas leaves off the ‘more similar’ part to make things simpler for Mary.

“And so you…” Mary trails off, a finger pointing toward his chest aborting its mission when she realizes it might be rude. 

Dean raises an eyebrow with amusement. “Cut my tits off? Yeah.” He takes a hand off the wheel to raise his shirt, proudly showing off his top surgery scars. Mary trails a hand along them, feeling the raised skin. “After Sammy went to college. It was a bitch of a few weeks, but it was worth it.”

Mary takes her hand away and nods, brows furrowed like she’s trying to wrap her head around it. Dean grins. The grin freezes awkwardly, the edges tilting down, when Mary opens her mouth again. “So you have a-”

Cas coughs loudly in the back seat. Dean meets his wide eyes with a similar expression, and Mary cuts off the question, catching onto the fact she said something wrong. “Don’t think we really need to go there, do we, mom?”

That was a question for him and whatever lucky son of a bitch (gender neutral) ended up in his bed at the end of the night. “Right.” Mary says quickly. She turns her whole body then, asking, “Is that why you like men?”

Dean only swerves a little, he swears. The car coming the opposite direction doesn’t seem to agree, holding its horn long and hard. Luckily, it gives him a moment to stutter less obviously. 

“Sorry, I just meant- since you two are-” Mary gestures between Cas and Dean, and Dean blinks his eyes solidly, trying to convince himself this is really happening.

“No! I mean, we-” Dean doesn’t have the balls (hehe) to look at Cas in the back seat, but he can see the trench coat shifting out of his peripheral. “I’m not-”

“Was John okay with this?”

Dean laughs. It comes out bitter and dark. “Dad didn’t much give a fuck what I did with my body. He’d given up on grandkids about the time he saw how decent I was at hunting, so my long hair wasn’t a personal loss.” He knew I wasn’t gonna live long enough to give him grandkids, not without some self-sacrifice on John’s part.

Mary looks a little shocked at his outburst, and Dean almost feels bad for being so blunt and crass. But then he remembers growing up with John as his male role model, and he tightens his jaw. No, the bluntness and crassness was accurate. “Oh.”

“... Yeah.” Dean bites his lip and risks another glance at his mom. 

“So, you’re okay with this?” He waves a hand at himself. Asking if she was okay with him was just too pathetic, even for him. She looks at him uncertainly, a frown he recognizes as his own on her face.

“I don’t think I’m okay with any of this, Dean. But… I guess I’ll adjust.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Esme stuff :) (a little NSFW at times)

@secretaryunpaid​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @tragiclyhip​

The boys :)

They’ve been besties since they were in the womb.  Even though Tanner likes to tell people that his big brother tried to kill him.   (They survived twin to twin transfusion syndrome.  Tanner born much smaller and with a host of medical issues.)

It’s  beautiful to watch them grow up together.  The love they have for each other, they way communicate without any words,  how one always feels what the other is feeling.  Still insisting  on sleeping in the same room and often in  the same bed.  TJ the protective big brother (by six minutes) and Tanner idolizing every little thing his twin  does.  They love the same foods, have the exact same facial expressions, and their voices sound almost identical.  TJ wild, hilarious, athletic and social, Tanner serious and quiet and loving his books and his baking and enjoying calmer pursuits.  So different in some ways, yet the same in others.

Little Miss already slaying with the fabulous bag. 

That she stole from MY closet.

“I told daddy I needed a  purse! I can’t shop without a purse!”

She has nothing to put in said purse other than loose goldfish crackers, a pink lollipop, and a twenty her dad gave her, but okay...

“And then he let me go in the closet and pick one.”

He’s going to find some of his board shorts missing he keeps this up ;)

Doing the dishes while baby wearing? Honey, you know just how to get my hormones raging.

Took the kids to Port Douglas (Tae’s birth place) to see how renos were coming on the house hubs grew up in and we now own.  Stopped at the beach (because damn it, the Rakes never leave a beach unconquered) and while in the water, the shark spotters ordered everyone out.  Tae told the littles that  it would be the perfect time for a sacrifice to the ‘bad kids shark’.

Brookie immediately scrambled up onto the rocks. “The shark can’t get me up here!”

Then TJ told her about the Sharknado and all hell broke lose.  Brookie was unfazed and thought it was cool, but I don’t think Addie and Kota will ever sleep again.

Damn boy. You fine.

Anyone else love the look of a white tee on tanned skin?

Makes me want to bump uglies with him. Right where we stand.

Another one for good measure.

That’s his “can you stop now?”  smile. LOL

Not my fault you’re sexy as all hell.

And that you turned me into a total sex maniac.

#sexwithjustyoutho #sexgod

Sometimes, with so many kids, you just can’t muster up the energy and the courage to actually go anywhere, but you still want to do something.  So camping on our land it is!!  lol

Look at the old fella. Acting like he discovered fire for the first time ;)

What a rig on him, tho.

#hisabshaveabs. #iwanttolickchocolatesyrupfromeveryinchofhisbody

Look at this kid.  That his natural build.  Tall, lanky, and already got the muscles going on.  And looking a hell of a lot like daddy in that pic, no? The stare, the eyes, everything.

Isn’t she a beauty?

We make really nice looking kids. Thanks for the awesome DNA contribution, honey!

Baby Tanner made a new friend :)

Got two kids down with really bad ear infections, the husband is getting sick (always settles in his chest and that’s not good seeing as he’s missing part of that left lung),  and we had to take the littles to the pediatrician for check ups.  He was down on the floor in the family exam room entertaining them, but now...well now that better not to be porn he’s watching ;)

(It was surfing videos)

I’ve always felt extremely close to my husband.  In many different ways.  And it’s only gotten stronger over the years.  But there’s something so different about how close you become when you’ve gone through labour and delivery together.  It’s hard to explain, but it’s something you feel so intensely.  

A nurse took this just before Addie came into the world.  Her daddy was having an emotional moment (he doesn’t handle hospitals well and while he’s usually able to contain it,  it was a little too strong that day) and he was starting to get anxious about how much pain I was in and how early the baby was.  We both needed comfort. 

One of my fave pics ever.

I don’t know if I’m psycho. That’s a little harsh.

But you look too long or touch him? I will cut you.

Oh she’s a Rake alright...

Oh Tyler James...

Husband made a feeding station for the kids. See what I did there? ;)

He really ISN’T just a pretty face ;)

Him (as he’s cutting up wood and getting all sweaty and sexy): “Gotta make it easier to feed the freeloaders some how.��

Me: “That’s not a very nice to speak about your children.”

Him: (brow furrowed, eyebrows touching each other):  “You’re in that group too.”

Touche.

Then he slapped my butt really hard (left a hand print) and bit the insides of my thighs (teeth marks to prove it) and called me ‘totally fuckable’ and said to prepare to ‘get railed’ later.   And then told me to take my ‘sexy ass’ inside and  get him a drink.

Who says romance is dead?

When you’re at physio for a torn bicep and you’re just a tad worried about just the fuck is going on and you look for your tiny wife (a full foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter) to rescue you.

I had a lemur helping me in the garden today :)

Even when we are on vacation, he gets up wayyyyy early and goes for a run and then works out. We are in Cabo, and we rented a beach front house, and   I was just starting to wake up when I heard something get tossed against the bedroom window.

Go outside and he’s down there tossing little pebbles at the window to get my attention. So I’d toss down a towel and a bottle of water.

He has the nerve to look like that and has the nerve to wonder why I objectify him?

Regardless of what people think, he isn’t always a hard ass.

When you tell the school that your husband’s cell phone is primary contact and they call only an hour in to a week away.

What he’s thinking: “Miss me with your bullshit.”

What they’re thinking: “He’s going to come here and kill us.”

For the record, the office people and principal are  terrified of him.  LOL.   They tried to bully and gaslight me one too many times and now I sick the old fella on them right off the hop.

A little background: Before TJ was diagnosed with ADHD and intermittent explosive disorder,   they actually called child protective services on us and claimed that my husband is violent and aggressive and there’s abuse in the home  and that’s why our child ‘is the way he is’

Despite his job and his mental health issues, the only thing my husband ever kills at home is a plate of nachos, a huge steak with vegemite on it, and cartons of mint chocolate chip ice cream).  He doesn’t even kill the spiders and snakes. Just relocates them.

So these assholes showed up at our house. Which didn’t go over well, as you can imagine.

And now Tae deals with the school.

Don’t you look at me like that and not follow up by demolishing my vagina.

What said ‘demolishing of the vagina’ sometimes leads to. Because my husband has an extremely weak pull out game ;)

Our little squish :)

Those eyes! Those cheeks!

[kimmimaru]

Doing some more writing. So far it seems to be going ok, it’s just a first draft so bits will probably change.

XXX

Reno steps out of his bedroom, hands at his neck as he tries to tie his own tie. He curses, fingers fumbling and then there’s warmth barely brushing him. A hand takes his own and pushes it gently away. Reno looks into Tseng’s face as he uses two fingers to tilt his chin up, he takes the two pieces of black satin and starts tying them into a knot. Reno lets him, feeling the leather of Tseng’s gloves brush his throat. He suppresses a shiver and bites down on his lower lip, he averts his gaze and holds himself as still as possible. Tseng curls his fingers around the newly tied knot of Reno’s tie, he tugs it a little and then smooths it down, running the flat of his palm down his chest. Reno clears his throat, face burning, “Uh…thanks,” He says hoarsely. “You should learn to tie a tie,” Tseng hasn’t stepped back, he’s close. Too close. Reno resists the urge to shut his eyes and forces himself to look into Tseng’s face. “It suits you,” Reno rubs at the back of his hair, “Yeah…thanks…I guess…” Finally Tseng moves away, Reno’s not sure if he misses the warmth. XXX Reno arrives at the club. He looks up at the building, a blue neon sign glows above the dark double doors cut off by a thick red rope. The sign is shaped to look like a bird in flight, there’s no lettering. Reno approaches, seeing The Bear waiting at the doors, hands folded in his lap as he eyes the steadily growing que of people waiting for entrance. Reno approaches, grin in place and one hand in his pocket, “Yo, remember me?” He purrs, cocking his hip and tilting his head. The Bear fixes his gaze on him, his mouth turns down in disproval, but he unhooks the rope and gestures Reno inside. Reno feels the patrons watching him as he steps past the bouncer and into the club. Inside it’s all dark wood and dark blue. There’s plush leather seating, a stage where a band plays and at the dark, shining wooden bar several people prepare drinks. It’s still early but already some people wait for drinks at the bar. Reno weaves his way smoothly through the crowd, approaching the bar when he spots Maggie in the corner of his eye. He pauses and turns; she lifts a hand and gestures him forward. Reno follows her across the worn wooden floor and towards a large door set in the shadowy corner of the room. Maggie knocks on the door and then opens it; Reno follows her inside. The door closes, not quite shutting out the music. Inside the new room is a large poker table, another bar and some seats. It’s quieter here, the shadows deeper. Several suited men sit around the table, cards spread across the green felt. Reno recognises Ejiri and two of the others from Tseng’s file. He smiles, casting another look around. He whistles, low, “Nice place,” “Thank you, Red. Take a seat and allow me to make some introductions.” Ejiri waves a hand towards a spare chair and Reno slides into it. He introduces his men in order; the one to Reno’s right is an older gentleman with grey hair and impressive mustache, Ejiri calls him Marcus Everett a businessman from Sector Five. The next one is a younger man, a nervous smile on his face as he shakes Reno’s hand. His palm’s sweaty and he goes by the name of Trent Walker, the son of some wealthy old family from Sector One. The other names Reno dismisses, they’re not as important as the other two. “Would you like a drink?” Ejiri asks, clicking his fingers in the air. Before Reno can reply a man arrives dressed in a waistcoat and crisp white shirt, “Your order, sir?” He asks in a low voice, eyes averted. “Whisky, neat.” Reno replies and the man disappears back to the shadowy bar. “Do you play, Red?” Everett asks, smiling as he waves a hand at the cards. “Sadly not,” Reno shrugs, “I had a friend once who did.” “You’ll pick it up,” Walker says eagerly, “Can we deal him in?” He glances uncertainly at Ejiri who looks at Reno with his cold dark eyes. “Does he have the money to play?” Ejiri replies. “Don’t think he does, yo. Even the tux is rented.” Reno tries an apologetic grin. The room suddenly feels a little cooler as Walker and Everett eye him suspiciously. “A rental? It looks good on you,” Ejiri replies, a smile curling the corner of his lips. There’s a strange heat in his eyes, Reno laughs it off, glancing away briefly. He’s playing a character, but the compliment still makes something uncomfortable twist in his chest. The arrival of his drink breaks the building tension, and he picks it up from the little mat the waiter had placed beside him. He takes a sip, enjoying the burn. Quiet descends as the group plays, Reno watches cards shuffle, small disks shoved into the centre and the rise and fall of glasses. Ejiri reaches into his chest pocket and withdraws a fat cigar; he cuts off the end and holds it in his teeth. Reno automatically pulls out a lighter from his own pocket and lights it, holding the flame out for the boss before Maggie can even move. Ejiri turns his head slowly; their eyes meet as Reno touches the flame to the end of his cigar. A cloud of smoke fills the air between them as Reno flips the lighter closed and puts it back in his pocket, he pulls back but still feels Ejiri’s gaze on him.

[stingslikeabee]

❛  comfort ,  the  enemy  of  progress .  ❜ // Reno

This is the Greatest Show starters . accepting

They were on the highest suite of Midgar’s most expensive hotel – the one used by all foreign dignitaries when visiting to strike new foreign trade agreements and amend old ones; the same building where the famous artists and performers from the Gold Saucer rented rooms while in town for the Midgar leg of their tour; the same spot that any major sports team from the Icicle Inn area to Mideel stayed at during their away games.

It was the pinnacle of luxury for someone without access to the view of the Shinra Building’s rooftop – unfortunately, that place was not open to the general public such as the Skyview Hall, but that room came second. The highest a mere mortal could reach – and yet there she was.

A slum girl who had once been as week as a flower growing in a poisonous soil – now self-crowned monarch of the Wall Market and with fast, growing tentacles into the neighboring sectors. It was just a matter of time – soon, very soon, she would rule the section under the plate as no one had done before. A fair, benevolent queen who finally looked after her own, who had shared their struggles for shelter, clothing, food.

She never felt more regal than during that moment standing right there by the huge window of the suite, naked but for the soft, white bed sheets that wrapped her figure from the chest down. It was the apex of her power – and she was drunk on it. The entire night was meant as a celebration of her recent achievements, to commemorate the end of Corneo’s tyrannical rule and to share a genuine, raw excitement of having used her own hands to put a stop to it all with the only person who got it.

Reno.

She turned around for a moment, deciding to watch him instead – the Turk was on the bed, flaming red hair spilled over the pristine sheets as if stained with blood – something that brought a smile to her lips. Reno was having one of the finest wines ever produced – directly from the bottle, apparently endlessly amused by the live broadcast of a round of fights from the battle arena from the Gold Saucer.

Their goals had just… Aligned. Corneo had become a liability for Shinra after not doing his part and spilling company secrets; Melissa had long wanted him gone. It seemed a no brainer – replacing an old, crooked and cowardly man with a woman who had been loyal to Shinra from the beginning. Melissa had never thought that literally stabbing someone in their back could feel so good – so liberating.

Was that the reason Reno loved so much being a Turk?

There had been a thrill there – something she had only imagined tasting up to that point. Melissa suddenly felt more alive than she had in years; the sex she had following Corneo’s demise the best of her life. It was as if there was this side of her that had been lurking, waiting to get out and consume her – devour the world. Reno.

Of course, the glint in his eyes after seeing her colored in red, panting with surprised excitement had done wonders to her, too. His approval – that felt as good as the hungry kisses that came afterwards, the almost violent tumbles onto the nearest mattress, the unguarded cries of ecstasy.

The Turk then turned his head around – no one could look at Reno for too long without him noticing, after all. He offered her a wide, lazy grin – the same sort that a satisfied feline would have after being fed, but with the underlying dangerous edge to it suggesting he could just charge into a full attack to remind anyone who the true predator was.

“Comfort, the enemy of progress,” he said with a chuckle, the free hand patting the empty area of the bed next to him. Well – he got that right. She hardly felt like returning to her own kingdom right then; this break – this intermission from reality – felt just delightful.

“I have to agree,” she said with a small laugh – and it was curious how she sounded still like the same innocent, wide-eyed girl who worked under Corneo despite what her hands had done to him. Walking back towards the bed, Melissa just allowed her arms to fall flat along her body, the sheets dropping to the floor unceremoniously and definitely retaining Reno’s full attention on her, all battles on the television forgotten.

The way she climbed over the bed and crawled back to him made him abandon the bottle, bright eyes trained on the madame turned absolute ruler of the Wall Market. Still, he made no move – but even just in an observant stage Melissa could see he remained the hunter, calculating his moves, waiting for the time to strike.

But that night was hers – and she was the one who kissed him first, with a fervor and desire she had never shared in bed with anyone before. It was Melissa who drew first blood in the kiss – and smiled against bruised lips when she did so. It was a matter of seconds for the tables to turn, for the hunted to become the hunter.

…For the mere, simple pawn to become the (evil) queen.

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 8 - Familiar

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, is it him?, 2.8k

@trevor-wilson-covington​ is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Alex sat at his drum set, sticks in hand, and began hitting things at random. Watching the cymbals wobble at dramatic angles every time he made a blow, hearing the crash ring in his ears over and over, making the toms sound da-da-dum in a roll, like his frustration could finally sound out something that fit what he meant to get across. His mom had bought him a punching bag last Christmas in a passive aggressive insistence that he needed a quiet thing to hit if he was going to get things out. Sure, he used it, but only when he actually wanted to work out. He made sure she knew so she couldn’t complain to him about wasting her money on such an expensive gift.

He needed the drums specifically. His thoughts and feelings couldn’t always come out of his mouth, but they were definitely sounds. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t make them with his own tongue. The only time he’d gotten close was when he and Willie had been screaming over the railing of the observation deck at the Stratosphere a few weeks ago.

Today’s tantrum (and preceding argument) was over school. He was a good student, but the way things were going with Sunset Curve, Alex had little desire to continue. What was another year of subjects he already grasped the concept of when he had no plans to use them? It was a circular conversation at this point, like most things he had with his parents lately. Sometimes he could nod and pretend to just accept whatever they said, but other times they got under his skin. They got in like termites, making anything that was stable inside before feel hollow and weak.

A knock sounded at the door and Alex stilled his cymbals before getting up to answer it. It was his younger sister, Abby.

“You have a phone call,” she told him. Her tone was sassy, but Alex smiled a little at hearing it mirror his own. She was learning. He was proud. Messing up her hair as he moved past her, he went over to the phone and grabbed the receiver.

“Hey, what’s up?” he answered, knowing it could only be one of three people on the other end.

“Hey, man.” It was Bobby. “Luke’s been having a rough day. He won’t say that it’s because Julie is heading out to finish her tour soon, but I’m pretty sure that’s what it’s about. Reggie and I are thinking we take him to the pier; hopefully we can distract him.”

“That’s a perfect idea,” Alex said. “I can meet you at your place in about five minutes.”

“Sweet, dude, see ya.”

They hung up and Alex grabbed his fanny pack, slipping outside without saying a word to anyone. If his parents weren’t used to it by now that was their fault.

Less than an hour later, all the guys were on the boardwalk, surrounded by the many games and rides at Santa Monica. Someone else was busking in the corner they usually occupied, playing a saxophone and they each dropped some change in the tin set out before them. Luke was bouncy and energetic for the most part, but relatively quiet. A few thrill rides would break the silence soon enough, though.

They all walked with their arms around each other’s shoulders, forming a wall that forced anyone else to move around them. Alex had made sure Luke was in the middle, sandwiched between him and Reggie, with Bobby on Reggie’s other side. It didn’t last long, thanks to Alex’s long legs getting them all out of sync, but they still liked doing it. Soon it was just Luke and Reggie, letting Bobby and Alex walk slightly ahead on their own.

“We wanna get something to eat first?” Luke suggested.

“And blow chunks on the rides?” Alex responded. “Kinda not in the mood to pay for my own puke, thank you.”

The look of slight horror on Luke’s face made Bobby laugh.

“Thanks, Alex, for that,” Luke was saying.

“Guys, there’s a short line over here!” Reggie was already heading toward one of the rides, eyes bright with excitement. Alex held out a hand so Bobby could go before him, receiving a head shake of denial before he followed him and pulled Luke along behind. It was a two-seater anyway, and even if Alex weren’t trying to give them a nudge, having Reggie scream in front of him was far better than directly into his ears.

He usually didn’t scream on the rides as much, but he took the opportunity this time. It felt great. Willie had unknowingly given him a gift in that simple act of emptying his lungs into the air. Ride after ride, he wanted to lose his voice to all the things he let out. The safety guards didn’t quite feel like Willie’s hands grabbing onto his jacket, but he wanted to pretend. Among all the realities he kept near his chest, it was alright to imagine he still had Willie there - smiling, giggling, hands open to be held.

He’d had a good amount of time to bang it out once they’d gotten home. Alex broke more sticks that day than he ever had in his life. The main reason he stopped was because Abby came to his room crying, both because she was extremely annoyed and could tell something was wrong. Maybe his parents weren’t much for support, but he was grateful for her. He was also glad she was only nine and was still a huge cuddle bug.

After getting dizzy on rides, Luke was finally at full energy again and had moved them onto games. Alex preferred to watch, but Luke and Bobby were competitive while Reggie cheered for both.

“Is this what it was like in the arcade?” Alex asked, elbowing Reggie as he hollered at Bobby trying to throw a basketball in the net.

“You bet!” Reggie turned with a smile. “We went lo-co.” He enunciated the last word. “You got this Bobby!”

Luke had finished his turn and come up with nothing, so he joined the other two.

“Okay, after this, I’m hungry so I say we get hot dogs,” he told them.

“Yes,” Alex agreed, feeling hungry himself.

Suddenly Reggie began cheering, and they turned to see Bobby celebrating as well as he made a final shot into the hoop. The guy working the booth let him choose from their ridiculously large stuffed animals, and he grabbed a giant puppy. Reggie’s excitement overcame him and once Bobby was facing his direction, Reggie butted his forehead against him, leaving Bobby blinking in confusion. Yikes, Alex thought. They were going to take a long time to sort things out.

Luke guided them all to his favorite hot dog vendor and they all sat at a table that was placed along a wall covered in posters. Alex positioned himself facing away from the table. Sometimes they liked to scout venues they hadn’t tried playing at yet, and it had been a while since they had come to the pier to check the wall. The missing person posters had become more numerous in their corner, which was a sad change. Alex saw one for the Viper Room and nearly had the impulse to cross himself reverently for the sake of Rivers Phoenix. 

He unfortunately spotted a familiar face among the missing person posters. Luke’s parents were still hoping he would come back home. He peeked up at the rest of the guys, all bent over their food too far to pay attention, and decided he didn’t need to say anything. The whole thing with the Pattersons was touchy for all of them, but he knew it wasn’t a good idea to bring it up.

Taking a bite into his own hot dog, Alex looked back up and caught the picture beneath Luke. It was a young boy, aged nine, with dark hair growing over his ears.

William was the only name associated with him, but it listed other things like ‘missing since 1988,’ and ‘last seen in Reno, NV’ and a physical description. Alex furrowed his brow and slowly chewed the rest of his bite as he lifted a hand to pat Reggie on the back.

“Hey, you - you don’t think that’s Willie, do you?” he asked quietly, pointing at the poster. Reggie looked over his shoulder at the kid in the picture. He returned a look of sympathy to Alex.

“Alex,” he said softly. “I know you miss him, buddy, but sometimes a kid is just a random kid. We’ve probably seen his poster every time we’ve been here and just never cared. I hope the little dude’s okay, though.” He glanced back at the picture before facing forward again.

“Yeah,” Alex huffed lightly. “You’re probably right.” He flipped himself around to face the rest of the guys at the table and finish his food, ignoring the pit in his chest.

Julie sat by her mom’s side, holding her hand gently and feeling her breathe as she rested soundly. She was going to hate leaving in the morning, but she only had to finish this leg of the tour and then she could be home. They had made plans together to make scrapbooks about her shows, and she wasn’t going to miss it. Her mom always knew how to motivate her, and she was really grateful for that.

One of the nurses entered the room and gave her a sweet smile. She had kind, squinting eyes and her black hair was tied into a bun that had since loosened up.

“Don’t mind me, I’m just making some checks, doing some cleaning, this and that,” she said.

“I don’t mind at all,” Julie assured her. It was hardly the first time she’d been around while one of the nurses was doing their routines. Something about it had become calming, like it let her know that her mom was in good hands.

“She’s so proud of you,” the woman said among her movements.

Looking up, Julie felt her chest straining to hold the weight that had entered. She couldn’t help but take those words as heavy as they could come.

“I’m sure she tells you, but if you weren’t already making a name for yourself the entire hospital would know who you are by now anyway.”

“She talks a lot, huh?” Julie asked solemnly, a hint of a smile pulling the corners of her mouth.

The nurse raised her eyebrows.

“When she’s having a good day, she’s the best to be around.”

Julie nodded.

“That’s my mom,” she said quietly, smiling.

They both were quiet as the nurse continued about her work.

“Do you have any kids?” Julie asked.

The nurse chuckled.

“Quite a few, actually. I have six. Well, seven, but six at home with me.”

“Wow!” Julie couldn’t imagine handling that big of a family.

“Some of them are older than you, but my youngest is ten now. Most of them just go off and do their own thing or take care of each other.”

“Does the seventh have their own family?”

Pausing, the nurse seemed to blink strangely. She took in a deep breath and then went back to the sheet she had been folding.

“No, unfortunately, we lost him,” she said, the warmth she had spoken with earlier a little more withdrawn.

Julie immediately felt bad for asking, and she seemed to freeze at the tension.

“Don’t be sorry,” the nurse said. “I don’t mean he passed away. We don’t know where he is.”

A horrific realization swept over Julie as she realized there was something more terrifying than the death of a loved one. Not knowing where they were or if they were okay - it sounded like hell. A well of pity deepened inside her heart.

“Has it been a long time?” she asked tentatively.

The nurse nodded.

“It’s hard to let go,” she said, almost sounding like she was changing the subject. “But we all figure out something that helps us carry on.” She straightened with her clipboard in hand at Rose’s bedside.

“What did you find?” Julie asked, genuinely hoping it was a good answer.

The nurse’s eyes glistened as she smiled wistfully.

“Never forgetting,” she said. “But I think you’ve already found something that will help you.”

Julie cocked her head to the side, not understanding what she meant.

“My niece is a big fan, by the way,” the woman said, bowing her head down as she exited the room.

A small noise from her mom made Julie turn to see her eyes slowly opening up.

“Hey, mom,” she said softly, leaning closer to her.

Rose smiled and rubbed her thumb over Julie’s hand.

“Sweetie, hi,” she responded in a raspy voice. “You’re gonna play a mini show for that nurse’s niece, too, aren’t you?”

Julie chuckled. Of course she could overhear them.

“I’m thinking about it,” she told her.

Quietly shutting the front door behind him, Alex surveyed his family’s dark front room before tip-toeing up the stairs to his room. Thank goodness his dad wasn’t reading in the living room this time. He was always guaranteed to be caught when that happened. Once he got to his bedroom he took off his hat and fanny pack and was pulling his hoodie over his head when he heard a small knock. Dammit, he’d be so close.

Opening his door, he looked down to see Abby in her pajamas holding something behind her back.

“Abby, god,” he whispered. “I thought you were gonna be mom.”

She shyly shook her head. Her little blonde braids made small shuffling noises as they barely reached past her shoulders.

“What did you want?” Alex asked her.

“I wanted to show you my picture,” she told him quietly.

Any other night he would’ve sent her back to her room to show him in the morning, but her cuteness was a weapon and Alex was oddly weak tonight.

“Come here,” he said, nodding his head to let her inside. He patted the space beside him on his bed. She grinned as she sat cross-legged and held up the picture.

Alex could definitely identify himself, because she always drew him with his fanny pack on. There was also what appeared to be Luke, Reggie, and Bobby.

“Wait, who’s that?” he asked, pointing to a fifth person in the picture.

“It’s your other friend. I don’t know their name. I heard you talking about them.”

Alex sat back and looked at her, not sure if he was mad about it or not. He tried to be cryptic in his conversations over the phone with the guys, especially if they brought up Willie, so how she picked up on anything was almost impressive.

“Do you not like it?” Abby wondered.

Shaking his head, Alex put his arm around her and squeezed her into his side.

“Abby, this is great!” he assured. “I just didn’t know you paid such good attention.”

“I have good hearing, you know,” she stated proudly. Alex chuckled and gave her a light noogie. “Heeeyy!!” She put up her hands to get him off of her.

“Look at this, though!” he said, pointing to the drawing. “You even got that he has long hair!”

“It’s a boy?” she exclaimed, and then clamped her hand over her mouth. “You have a crush on a boy?”

Alex’s jaw hung open a few seconds too long and immediately felt his body begin to shake and all words were caught in his throat.

“I know what that’s like, Alex,” Abby was saying, in her sassy way. It was enough to reboot his brain.

“Wait, how do you know that? You’re nine!” He looked at her like she was his odd sister again.

Abby simply shrugged.

“Not telling you about it,” was all she said. “And your boy sounds cute.”

The emotion that took over was too good to just be relief. Alex pulled her into a tight hug, seriously trying not to cry. They sat like that for a minute until he got afraid of crushing her.

“You’re a stinker,” he told her, rubbing her back and lightly kissing the top of her head. “But I love you.”

“I love you too, Alex,” she said, voice muffled against his chest.

“Alright, now go to bed, okay?” He let go of her and she hopped off the bed and out the door. Seeing it shut behind her, Alex climbed under the sheets and lay on his back, exhaling sharply. She had been kept out of that conversation long enough, he guessed. It barely even had to be one with her. He let a few tears leak out before aggressively wiping them off his face and turning on his side. Man, did he need some shut-eye.

[sahbibabe]

May I request prompt number 94 from the smut list with Sephiroth?

Here you go! 4,800, almost 5,000 words of pure smut! I hope you enjoy! Tell me if you liked it or not and what I can improve on! ♡

Bright Eyes, Bright Hearts

Sephiroth x Fem! Reader

Smut Prompt #94: "Maybe I should get you a collar so you don't forget who you belong to."

You stared at your cellphone with narrowed eyes, furiously tugging at the loose band of your robe to tie it together in some semblance of a knot to keep it from flying open on the balcony. There had not been an hour that passed by when Biggs or Jessie had not called you to jump in on their Seventh Heaven parties, interrupting your 'me time'. First, it had been right in the middle of one of your amazing bubble baths, the ones that you paid good money for; second, Jessie had called you while you were doing your yoga for the day, messing up your pose sending you sprawling on the floor; third was when Biggs called, again, just as you were getting ready for a long night without your official-yet-unnofficial lover to satisfy your cravings yet again.

You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to be with Sephiroth, but you hadn't anticipated the toll it would take on your sex life. Sure, masturbation and self pleasure was good and all, but sometimes you just wanted him and nothing else, not to lay in your bed and notice the cold sheets every time you woke up.

He went on missions more and more every week, nearly every day, and rarely came home. If he did, he was too tired to do much more than give you a kiss and an apology. Whatever they put him through had drained that impressive SOLDIER stamina that you loved so much down to the barest dregs, even when you sometimes took things way too far for too long. The smugness you would see on his face when you struggled to walk the next day was all completely worth it.

    "What do you want?" You answered the phone with a harsh, biting tone, tugging the sheer silk robe over your breasts when a harsh breeze blew by. The potted plants you had on your balcony waved as you took a seat at your coffee table, sitting in one of the cold metal seats that did nothing to douse your frustration. "You've called me three times now. I said no. That's the end of it, Biggs."

       "Oh come on, [Name]!" He laughed on the other line, the sound of music and partying echoing over his voice. "You never come down here anymore. Are the slums too good for you now since you became a high and mighty Shinra executive?"

        "That's not true and you fucking know it, Biggs." You never went back because you never had the time. And if you did, you didn't want to confront Tifa, who you had a petty disagreement with over your aspirations to live in Sector One, since your money made Avalanche soar. "Don't ever try to pull something like that on me. Ever. I grew up in the slums, same as everyone else."

        "Sorry." It was Jessie's voice this time, apologetic and slurred. "Bigg's been drinking too much. I told him to stop, but he wouldn't listen. He's still hung up on that night you two had."

        Your mouth thinned to a hard line. "Yeah, well, he needs to get over it. It was a mistake. Adrenaline, or whatever. Near death does that to you."

        "Yeah. I know." She cleared her throat. "I'll let you go then! Do you want to say anything to anyone else before you go?"

        You assumed you were on speaker, so you said,"Yeah, sure. Biggs? Go find a lay and quit bothering me. It's never going to happen again."

       With that you hung up, tossing your phone on the table with a groan. You rubbed your face tiredly, watching as the mako reactor began firing up and readying itself for shut down for the night as the sun lamps dimmed. It was nearly eight and if you wanted to get to work early, you would have to hit the hay pretty soon. Rufus had left you with enough paperwork to drown in, literally and figuratively. If you didn't know the man like you did, you would have thought he hated you, but it was the opposite; he quite trusted you with many things over his father's people, because you were, in a sense, one of Rufus's people, just like Tseng and Reno and Rude.

        There had been a few times where Rufus had propositioned you─once at the Golden Saucer when you had dressed nicely for the charity event someone had been holding, and another time when you had been forced to use the communal bath house during a vacation to cool down. You had politely turned him down, usually because Sephiroth's eyes flashed through your mind, the way they narrowed and watched you as you came undone by your own hand. It didn't stop him from giving you appreciative glances, though, but you knew when to take a compliment.

        You had intended to sit outside for a bit before going back in and facing an empty apartment, but found yourself picking up your phone and staring at Sephiroth's contact name pensively. If he was busy, he wouldn't answer you, and you would be disappointed; if he wasn't, he would answer and be home right as he finished up his mission to give you a "gift", which was usually mind blowing sex and really nice aftercare.

        Did you love him? Yes. Of course you did. But you wouldn't risk saying that to him and risking your entire relationship, of which had been founded on a very shaky foundation of trust and tentative friendship. It had been years since you had first agreed to your arrangement, and now you were wanting something more from him. He had never mentioned how far this would go between the two of you, had probably expected you to be a one time fling and vanish into the night. But you hadn't, and you had been with him for over five years now. Five. Sometimes you had to wonder if he was just amusing your carnal appetites or if he did it because he appreciated you as a whole.

       Before you could hit call, the very voice you had been desiring to hear spoke.

       "Maybe I should get you a collar to remind you who you belong to." Sephiroth leaned against the far end of the balcony, dressed in his full leather armor and his mako green eyes gleaming mischievously. "Since you seem to have all the men from Sectors One to Seven wanting you in their bed."

       "Please," you laughed, a pleasurable jolt running up your belly at the suggestion. You got to your feet and sauntered over to him, noting the way his eyes followed the curves of your body underneath the sheer silk robe, just barely visible to the naked eye. "They may want me, but the only person I want right now is you."

        "Is that so?" He hummed, allowing you to trace your fingers up the exposed part of his chest to unhook the leather straps from his pauldrons. "That sounds like it's subject to change."

        You leaned up, smothering your chuckle into a kiss upon the hollow of his throat. "Only if you want it to be. Pauldrons off, SOLDIER boy."

        "As you command," he purred, that sensuous voice hitting places in your core that you had to stifle a small moan. The pauldrons dropped to the balcony floor. "Does the lady have any more demands?"

       "Mm… Lean down," you commanded in your sternest voice. It was one you had perfected over the years, one that made even Rufus Shinra tremble in his boots, though that had probably been arousal and little to do with fear. "Please," you added as an afterthought.

      He leaned down to your height, which was somewhat of a discrepancy that you didn't mind. You cupped his chin in your hand and rose to your toes, pressing your lips to his in a deep kiss. Before he could move to kiss you back, you retreated with a sly smile, hands pressed firmly to his chest.

       "Welcome home," you whispered, watching his face soften and those cat-like pupils widen just a bit. You decided to push it, to be a little more honest. "I missed you."

       He sighed and jerked you close, burying his face in the curve of your neck. You put your arousal on the back burner for this tender moment, if only for a few seconds, relishing in the feel of your breasts against the hard leather of his armor and your hips brushing the leather belt slung around his waist. "It has been a long few days, hasn't it?"

       Your eyes fluttered shut when he punctuated his words with little kisses to your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse, followed by a quick slash of his tongue to soothe the sting.

        "That it has," you breathed into his ear, kissing the skin just below it. A little more honesty, then. "It's torturous waking up without you."

        "I know." Hands went to your waist, sliding up from the sides of your thighs to press you more firmly against him, his arousal prominent against the skin of your pelvis. "When we are apart, all I dream of is you. Your scent. Your touch."

       You sucked your lip into your mouth, biting down when rolled his hips into yours with a smooth motion. You had never had him initiate things like this; usually he would just tell you, order you around. It aroused you when he did, but this felt intimate on a completely new level, one you weren't sure how to navigate with him yet. You could feel yourself growing wetter, the apex of your thighs growing slick.

       "I didn't know that," you said, your breath stuttering out from your lungs when one particularly deep roll nudged his bulge right where you wanted it most, the leather an exciting texture against the silk rubbing against your hood.

       He deftly untied the knot you had put awkwardly in place, letting the silk part and expose a slit of your body, all the way from your collarbone to your slickened core, his eyes following the skin like a curtain opening to reveal the main act. "Now you do. Lean back."

       You removed your face from his neck where you had been placing artful hickeys, eyes heavy as he dragged the silk robe from your shoulders to leave you completely bare to him. Not an inch of you was covered. If anyone looked off of their balconies, or even through the window, they would see you as naked as the day you were born. It excited you.

      Sephiroth was not a fan of exhibitionism, however, and preferred to fuck you in the privacy of your own home or his, where he didn't have to worry about someone snapping a picture of him and posting it to the local tabloids.

      He picked you up by the waist, those mako enhanced muscles rippling between your thighs as you locked your legs around his hips. He squeezed a giggle out of you when his fingers ghosted across your ribs where you were particularly ticklish, your mouth pressed firmly to the flesh of his collarbone to bury it in your throat.

        Sephiroth seemed to be in no rush, shutting the balcony door behind him and walking to your room at a leisurely pace. You had divested him of his leather coat and straps and belt by the time you reached the hallway, your nimble fingers working quickly to get him as naked as you were, and to hopefully not make as much of fuss when you were on the bed.

       As you struggled with the button on his pants, pressing kisses to his neck and all the way to his lips, where he trapped you, capturing your lip between his teeth and nibbling it hard enough that it stung, he opened the door to your room and slammed it shut.

       "There," you chortled when the button flew apart under the pressure of his erection, your glee smothered by his tongue seeking entrance into your mouth. A moan escaped when he dropped you on the bed, pressing himself flush against you, stepping out of his pants.

        He parted from your kiss and leaned towards your ear, his hand sneaking down the length of your stomach, darting past your navel and sliding between the wet lips of your cunt. Your gasp was strangled as he held his free finger over your mouth. "Let's play a game, shall we?"

       "What kind of game?" You whispered, heart caught in your lungs as he gently stroked the hot heat between your legs like a patient predator. He rarely, if ever, played games with you because he was so tired by the end of it, or just wanted to be inside you as deeply as you would let him without the foreplay.

       "The quiet game." He bit the shell of your ear, rolling it gently between his teeth. "There's a nosy pest standing right outside your apartment door. You don't want him to hear and sell your audio to the black market dealer who pays him the highest gil, do you?"

       Sephiroth smirked into your neck when your pussy squeezed close around his fingers in panic. He could feel the flutter of your heartbeat beneath his chest, right above the hard pebbles of your nipples that just begged for his attention, the hot laving of his mouth.

       "No," you whispered, your mind going blank when he managed to squeeze a finger past the impossibly tight ring of flesh, stroking your walls with the pad of his thumb. There was the possibility that your room was bugged, as well; who knew if he was listening right now? "Definitely not."

       "Good." He pressed a kiss to your cheek and simultaneously shoved another finger in you. You had to smother your face into a pillow by your head, groaning into the cotton with an open mouth. "Feel free to bite me if you can't take it. I'll be torturing you for a while."

       While the promise of his brand of torture and 'a while' sounded absolutely amazing, you didn't know how long you could go without letting out an audible noise into the open air. Sephiroth knew how you ticked, knew how to wrangle the most wretched sounds from you with his fingers and mouth, knew how to find your g-spot with just the right stroke that had you screaming his name.

       "Rules?" You gasped, wiggling your hips when he removed his fingers from you, desperate to have that friction again. He moved his soiled fingers to your mouth, parted your lips with his thumb. You took it between your teeth, grazing it with your tongue, your heartbeat pounding in time with the pulse in your inner walls. You tasted yourself on him, faintly mild and salty.

      He watched as you ran your tongue over his thumb in much the same way that you would his cock, giving little tugs with your tongue or cheeks. "Don't make a sound. Don't try to scream. You can breathe, but that will be hard for you, anyways."

      When he removed his thumb from your mouth, you nodded slightly, licking your lips free of your fluids. He smirked and leaned down again, swiping his tongue over your mouth as he kissed you, taking in the dregs that you hadn't gotten completely. "Good girl. Now be a good pet and take me in your mouth."

       You sat up when he removed himself from you, tugging off the huggers that kept the leather pants from chafing him too much as he fought. He sprung free, swollen and engorged, precum leaking from the tip tauntingly.

       You lowered yourself to your knees, snatching a pillow that had fallen from the bed and settling it under your knees. Sephiroth was bad on your knees, especially when his stamina was up, and you had been to therapy once or twice to help with the sprains he gave you.

        When you glanced up, he was looking down at you, those gorgeous eyes narrowed to slits. Whenever you did this for him, he always made you feel like you were the prey and he the predator, his fingers closing around the back of your head to play with the hair there.

       "Go on," he said, using his free hand to rub his thumb against your swollen lips. He tilted his head towards the door, hearing something you couldn't. "Take it."

       You reached up and took him into a firm grip with your palm. You could have wrapped it around your fist, if you wanted, but it was so engorged and hard that you couldn't resist leaning forward and taking the tip into your mouth for a taste.

      Sephiroth blew out a hard breath through his nose, his hips moving forward shallowly to thrust his cock further into your mouth. You didn't let him, though, moving your head back and stroking your thumb over the veins underneath. You reached up and balanced your hand on his hip, feeling the muscles beneath work and flex.

       "[Name]..." he whispered, his hand fisting in your hair tight enough to sting. You released him from your mouth with a quiet pop, running your thumb over his head to evenly spread out the beads of precum leaking from him. "Damn."

       You hollowed out your cheeks in preparation, swallowing all of your spit so you wouldn't choke when he deep throated you like he was wont to do. You pressed your lips to his cockhead, firmly, parting them and engulfing the swollen tip in your mouth. You stroked the rest of the length you hadn't taken, moving your other hand to cup his balls and squeeze firmly. Precum dripped onto your tongue, salty and sweet.

       He dropped his head back, fist tightening in your hair as you took in inch by inch, pushing you further and further to the hilt. He hit your gag reflex earlier than you intended so you squeezed your thumb into a fist, eyes watering when he pushed past your uvula to sit firmly at your throat. You repeated this several times, thoroughly coating his length with saliva and his precum, until your lips and nose touched the skin and hair just above.

      You were thankful that you had finished preparing yourself because the moment you returned back to his head, lips wrapped around him like a vice, he thrust into your mouth, going farther down your throat with the aid of his hand at the back of your head. Tears spilled down your face, more water than salt every time he hit the back of your throat. You always managed to avoid using teeth somehow, keeping his length between your cheeks and tongue even when he continued thrusting into you at a pace that could have broken your neck if you weren't careful.

       He finished in your mouth, right in the midst of another hard thrust, the quickest release you had gotten from him yet. You swallowed around him, trying your damndest not to choke, and he whispered sweet praises to you, clearly playing the game by his own rules.

       "Such a good girl for me," he said, wiping the tears from your cheeks when you allowed his cock to fall from your mouth. He was already at half mast, growing steadily harder, which meant he hadn't been put through the wringer on his mission. He pulled you up delicately and gave you a long, sweet kiss that was unusual for him--usually he just skipped right ahead to ploughing you like an animal. "Thank you."

      Your heart was beating miles a minute as he lowered you to your bed once again, parting your legs and kneeling between them, slinging your calves along his shoulders. He had never thanked you before, not like that; you felt like a flustered school girl all over again and you weren't sure how to take it.

       When he pressed his mouth to your pussy, tongue twisting past your entrance, all embarassment left you. Your hands flew to his hair, tangling in the long, luxuriously soft lengths, forcing him down on you.

      He kept his lips solitary, smoothing his hands over the insides of your thighs and inserting his thumbs into you, pulling you farther open for him. His index finger moved up, pushing your clitoral hood up to expose the bundle of raw nerves there, and when he pressed down firmly, you saw little lights. You bit the pillow beside you and bucked into his face, hiding your keening whine into the cotton.

      Sephiroth heard it, felt it vibrate through you, and got to work, sucking and nipping and licking you until all you knew was him. He rolled that little nub just right and you came undone, releasing onto his mouth. He drank it up with relish, tongue coated in your juices, and made a slow climb up your body, kissing the lips of your cunt and moving higher all the while, before paying attention to your sore, hard breasts.

      Anyone else would have taken at least fifteen minutes to get you off so spectacularly as that. Anyone but Sephiroth, Biggs being proof of that. It was just that difficult for you.

      Your nipples wet now and cold to the exposed air, Sephiroth moved up to claim your lips in a kiss, slanting his mouth over yours. You removed your hands from his hair and cupped his neck with one hand, his face with the other, drowning in the unusual affection he was giving you, offering you.

       His cock, heavy and hard against your thigh, was hard to ignore as he continued to kiss you, swiping his tongue across yours with the gentlest of touches. He bucked his hips shallowly against you, rocking to a smooth and deep rhythm that you knew he would be replicating inside you soon enough.

      When he finally parted from you, you were gasping for breath, breasts heaving with every inhale you took. He watched you for a moment, taking in the flush of your cheeks and shine in your eyes, full of love even if you didn't notice it yourself.

      "On your stomach," he whispered softly, rolling you onto your belly. You obeyed, hiking your hips up and spreading your knees apart just so, so that he could see your wetness, see the pink of your pussy blooming for him. "That's a good pet, [Name]."

      You trembled at the sound of your name, lowering your chest to the bed to give you leverage and squeezing the pillow between your hands in case you needed to scream, which you would. This position nearly always made you scream in some form.

       He trailed his fingers teasingly down your spine, tracing each invisible vertebrae, before taking a firm hold of your hip with one hand. Between your legs, you watched him take himself in his hand and guide his cockhead to your entrance. He coated it in your weeping slick, dragging it up and down the seam of your pussy, before pushing inside by just the barest of inches.

      You gasped into the pillow, taking it between your teeth. You reached a trembling hand down to your nether lips, to feel the smooth velvet of him sliding into you, a perfectly snug fit. You let out a pleased sigh when his hips slotted firmly into you, filling you up with his length. He leaned over you, careful not to pull out, and gathered you into his arms.

       With an ease you were shocked by, he rolled you back into his lap in an odd rendition of a reverse cowgirl, just sitting, and kept his arms firm around your hips to keep him pinned within you. You leaned back carefully, shoulders touching his chest, and reached up to wrap your arm around his neck, fingers sliding into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

        He nudged your hair away from your face and kissed you, this time more sweetly than you had thought possible, thrusting up into you at the same time. Without your pillow you gasped into his mouth, spine tingling pleasantly, and he devoured it, continuing his shallow thrusts until he got too impatient, his eyebrows furrowed as his erection became painful to maintain inside of you.

       Sephiroth lifted you and slammed you back down, hard enough that a scream nearly got out. You bit down into your own fist, breathing hard, breath halting every time he thrust back into you. Even though the position was killing your back, you powered through it, nearly to tears as he kissed your neck and shoulder. Good tears, you realized as he began reaching his peak, abandoning the smooth and hard thrusts for something much more frantic that was hitting much more than your g-spot by then.

       You were unable to smother your cries and his hand went up around your throat, squeezing just slightly at your windpipe to put pressure on it. He had never choked you or made you black out, but made it just a little hard to breathe that you trusted him enough to do it to you. You would never let anyone else do it. Ever.

       He released inside you, hot cum filling your insides and warming you all over. You felt him go flaccid, the beast sated, but he did not pull out of you. Instead, he carefully rotated your body to make you straddle him, allowing you to rest your hot cheek on his sweaty shoulder.

       "Are you okay?" He asked, which was the same as asking,'Did I go too far?'

       "I'm perfect," you sighed lovingly, squeezing your arms around his neck slightly. "I love you."

       You didn't even have a chance to stiffen up and apologize when he buried his face in your hair and mumbled,"I love you, too."

       You felt little tears of joy slip from your eyes.

      He carefully allowed the both of you to lay down on the bed, keeping you on top of him as he fumbled for one of the sheets to stave off the cold that was kicking up from your AC.

        You laid there for quite some time, the both of you, exchanging quick pecks or long, slow kisses that never led anywhere. He traced the hickeys he had left on your neck, the bruises from his grip on your hip, and nuzzled your throat, silently apologizing to the ring of fingerprints that gave a new meaning to the phrase 'put a collar on you'.

   BONUS: Aftercare!

     When the sun had risen and you had sluggishly called in sick, Sephiroth finally parted from you to allow you privacy on your call and retrieved lotion from your bathroom to help the bruises, as well as a cold cloth to help with the rawness you would be feeling as soon as you got up to walk.

      When he returned, you were sat up in bed, awkwardly holding a pillow between your legs and saying goodbye to no other than Rufus Shinra as he shut the door with a quiet snick.

       You gave him that dazzling smile when he approached, mouthing 'thank you' as he eased the pillow from between your legs. Rufus finally hung up after wishing you well and you checked twice before tossing your phone on the nightstand. You parted your thighs for him willingly, sighing at the feel of the cool rag against your raw, feverish skin.

      "He bought it," you said, grinning as he gave you a quick kiss. "It probably helped that I'm hoarse."

      Sephiroth gave you a sly wink. "It's a good look on you."

      "Oh, stop it," you teased, slapping his shoulder playfully. He left the cold rag between your legs, letting it sit, and rubbed lotion into the fingerprints on your throat. "That feels nice. This is nice."

        "Mm." When he was satisfied the lotion had absorbed into your skin, he moved to the hickeys on your neck. "We should do it more often."

      You sent a silent shout to the gods, thankful you hadn't scared him away with your confession.

       "Definitely." You sagged against the headboard and watched the sun peek over the buildings of Midgar. "Say, whatever happeend to that tabloid guy? The one outside the door?"

        "Him?" Sephiroth shrugged and rubbed some into your breast next. "He was gone before I even got you out of your robe."

        Your mouth dropped open. "Sephiroth!"

       "What? I felt that if you had stakes, you would really try."

        "Ugh, I hate you! I could have been as loud as I wanted."

        He smiled--the most genuine one you had ever seen besides grins and smirks--and nosed your forehead. "No, you don't. You love me."

        You deflated and smiled too, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. "That I do. That I very well do."

[rune-writes]

Rekindled Hope

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

@aerith-week » Day 7: Cherish the Memories

Word count: 2482

Rating: G

Summary: A brief look into the times Kunsel visited Aerith at her church after Zack went missing. Two people in grief. Two people seek company in each other.

Note: A little late entry for Day 7′s prompt, featuring Kunsel!^^ (because ever since I saw his mail to Zack where he spoke about Aerith’s broken wagon and her refusal to accept his help because she’s still waiting for Zack, I just need to see their interactions).

Part 3 of Follow the Yellow Flowers: Aerith Week 2021

Read on AO3. 

~*~*~*~*~

He came again—the friend—sauntering over to the flowerbed, then lounging on one of the wooden benches. He sat with his arms resting over his thighs as he folded his fingers loosely together. “How are you?” he’d ask. “How’s the garden? How are the flowers? How about your mother?” How, how, how, as if it was genuine interest and not some kind of obligation he’d felt toward his missing friend. He always kept his helmet on, ever since that day he’d taken it off and introduced himself. 

The man—boy?—was around her age. He had come knocking on the church’s door before pushing it open enough for him to slip through. Aerith had looked up then, fighting against the urge to jump and grin and say, Welcome home, Zack, because she’d gone through that scenario in more times than she could count, and not once had it been her SOLDIER with the sky-blue eyes. Reno had come one time with that swagger in his gait, grumbling at what a pain Tseng had been for putting him under babysitting duties; Aerith had frowned at him and said, “Well, go, if you don’t wanna babysit me.” Another time had been Rude, who had entered the church with a small basket in his hand. He had apparently visited her house, and her mother had told him to bring her something to eat. He’d said nothing much, just stood in the corner with that unperturbed coolness. And when Tseng came to visit a few days after that, Aerith had been prepared, rising to her feet just as the door slid open.

“What now?” she’d said, arms folded over her chest. 

Tseng had crossed the large hall with a small smile playing across his features. “Have Reno and Rude bothered you so much that you won’t give me a simple ‘hello’?”

“Even if they hadn’t, why should I?” 

Her voice had been testy, but Tseng had only scoffed, soft and amused. He’d remained silent, facing her with that impeccable smile. 

Aerith’s lips had pulled into a taut line. It had been a struggle to maintain her anger, if only because she’d had no energy left to stay angry. Not after she’d spent months waiting for someone who never came. She’d dropped her gaze, the tension leaving her shoulders in a quiet sigh. Wordlessly, she’d turned around, then crouched before her flowerbed. The yellow lilies had gazed at her, offering what little comfort flowers could give. It had been a moment before Tseng moved to her side and helped her tend her flowers. 

So when, some time later, the church’s heavy doors creaked open once more, a part of her had expected it would be one of the Turks, checking up on her as part of their daily routine. But it hadn’t been those men in black striding toward her. The person had worn none other than the SOLDIER garb she’d come to miss. A different color, she’d noted—a dark, muted purple. But it had been still a SOLDIER garb, with a SOLDIER helmet, and the person had paused mid-step on his tracks, gave a slight tilt of his head followed by a small nod, before resuming his walk and stopping in front of her. 

“Are you Aerith?” he’d asked. 

Aerith had blinked, surprised. How had this person known her name? Had the Turks sent a SOLDIER instead to watch over her? She’d given him a quiet nod, then seen a smile blossoming on his face. 

“Good, I was afraid I got the wrong person.” His voice had been light, sweet. He’d reached up and lifted the helmet off his face. A sharp, strong jawline; sculpted cheekbones; and dark brown hair that fell over his forehead; but it was the eyes that caught her attention—bright blue like the sky, rimmed with a Mako glow. 

Just like him. 

With the smile still plastered across his face, he’d held out his hand and said, “My name’s Kunsel, Zack’s friend.”

Somehow, Aerith had always evaded hearing that name. A conscious decision, perhaps, or maybe a subconscious one—the way her mind shut off any mention of it. Her mother had never spoken it, and neither had the Turks whenever they visited her. The slum residents had barely known him. Even when the so-called fan club had approached her, her mind had been ready. But when this friend introduced himself, Aerith hadn’t had the chance to prepare herself.

Zack’s friend. 

Unbidden, a lump had formed at the back of her throat. Aerith had fought back against the choke as tears sprang to her eyes. 

***

The first month Zack hadn’t returned, Aerith had believed when people said he was busy, caught up in whatever assignment the Company had given him. But then three months rolled by, six months, and now it had been well over a year, and there was still no news of his return or whereabouts.

Kunsel rose from his seat and strode over to her, crouching before the flowerbed and reaching to stroke the yellow petals. With his helmet settled over his head, Aerith felt his glance more than she saw it, but he said nothing, then went to pull the weeds sprouting from the ground. 

Why exactly was he here? She had figured SOLDIERs would have their plates full, with how many times a phonecall or mission had interrupted her date with Zack. But here Kunsel was, months after he’d introduced himself and seen her cry, months of helping her tend her flowerbed as though he had all the time in the world. He’d offered to fix her cart one time, broken after using it so many times to sell flowers around the slums, but she’d refused and said she’d wait for Zack. Because Zack would come. He had promised her he would. 

Kunsel deftly pulled at the weeds, reaching deep into the roots so as not to let them grow again. He moved quietly, scouring her flowerbed for the parasitic plants that would kill her flowers. The pile on his side grew higher with each passing moment. When he was about to go to her side, Aerith spoke up.

“No, I’ll—I’ll take care of this side.”

The SOLDIER looked at her. Even through his visor, Aerith could still see those familiar Mako-rimmed eyes. Her heart clenched. She only spared him a glance before dropping her gaze back to her chore. 

“Alright,” she heard him say. She watched him from the corner of her eye, at the efficient way he moved as he cleaned his side of the flowerbed. Silent, but still a reassuring presence. 

When had it started—when she’d started looking forward to his visits more than she would admit? She’d told him one time he hadn’t needed to help with the flowers, but Kunsel had only given her a sideways glance and said, “You let Tseng help.” No, she hadn’t. She’d told Tseng the same, but true to his character, Tseng had never listened to her. Not once. But maybe that’s not true, now that Aerith thought about it. Tseng never brought her back to the lab, and he had lent his phone that time she had wanted to call Zack. The man had known her since she was little, and despite whatever true intention he and his men had behind their visits, Aerith was grateful for the Turks’ company—as grateful as she had grown to accept Kunsel’s too. Because having someone else beside her… it helped keep the sadness at bay. 

With that thought in mind, her next words rolled out of her tongue instinctively: “I started writing letters.” She felt his glance, felt the quiet surprise, but Aerith only focused her attention on the rhythmic way her hands pulled at the weeds.

Her admission made it true—those nights she’d spent staring at her ceiling. Worry had gnawed at her heart, wondering what had happened to Zack, wondering where he was and what he was doing and if he was okay. Everyone said he might have moved on. Her mother had said to forget about him. And Aerith wanted to, if only she could. 

She was never a stranger to loneliness. She had spent her days alone in Shinra’s lab, then spent more days alone in the slums. None of the kids had played with her. The only friends she’d had were the flowers. Yet when Zack crashed through her church’s roof and fell onto her flowerbed, everything had changed. The church that had once offered her solace became a source of joy. She’d started playing a game of when-would-Zack-visit-again, and sometimes, when Aerith opened the massive double doors, she would find him already waiting for her with a grin radiant like the sun.

Across the flowerbed, Kunsel still stared at her. Aerith gave a little shrug as she said, “For a few months now, I think? Mom told me to. She hated seeing me so… down for so long, so this one night, she came up to me and asked me what I wanted to do. That if I can’t reach him by phone, I could try writing to him. Who knows? Maybe he’d read it, no matter how busy he gets…”

Busy… As though being “busy” was the one thing that had kept Zack away. As though nothing bad could have prevented him from coming home. Every time Aerith voiced her concerns to Tseng, he had always been quick to say that Zack was fine. That the company was keeping him busy for longer than anyone had expected. But Tseng had always been a trained liar, and there had been no doubt he was lying to her.

Aerith sneaked a glance at Kunsel, gauging his reaction. Would he lie to her too? But Kunsel had his eyes fixed on the weeds at his clutch, his jaws set as his gaze took on a hard glint. 

“Busy, huh…” His grip tightened, his knuckles going white. “If only that’s all there is.” He pulled the weeds with all his might. Dirt burst out in a sprinkle of dark brownish matter, showering his lap, his hands, his boots. Kunsel stared at the now-lifeless plant on his palm. “That’s what we wish, isn’t it? That he’s just too busy to check his phone or that he’s stuck somewhere with a low signal. But… is that all there is?” 

“What do you mean?”

“The news, that Zack might’ve been—” His breath catching on the word, Kunsel pursed his lips. But Aerith knew what he meant. Killed in action. She’d heard. When those fan club people had approached her—they might not have realized, but she’d heard snippets of their conversation. Her fingers twitched, a muscle fluttering along her jawline. Aerith didn’t believe it.

Across from her, Kunsel cleared his throat. “I never believed it. Not one bit of it. I know he’s out there somewhere, and the Company is hell bent on keeping it a secret.”

Aerith blinked in surprise. “How are you so sure?” 

“Because I tried looking for him, and they cut my search short.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. Aerith stared at Kunsel, trying to make sense of his words. Was Kunsel insinuating that Shinra was the reason Zack went missing?

Kunsel’s face was hard as he returned to his chore, his movement swift and efficient. Before long, he’d cleaned the entire flowerbed, even the section Aerith had meant to clean herself. He gathered all the weeds, then rose, bringing them to the trash can outside the church. When he returned, the hard glint was gone. In its place was a brilliant beam. 

“Have faith, Aerith. He’ll come back. One way or another, he’ll come back for sure. He promised, didn’t he?”

Aerith stared at him, at that conviction that was so strong, so bright, so contagious. It made her own hope flickered back to life. She had not yet felt his soul pass her by—the way Elmyra’s husband’s had after he died in Wutai. Zack was still out there. She was sure of it. 

“Is that why you’re here?” she asked then. “To give me hope?”

Her question had taken Kunsel off guard. It showed in the widening of his eyes and the slight slackening of his jaws. Her mouth quirked into a little smirk, Aerith snorted, turning away to hide her laughter behind her hand. 

“Hey,” he said, and she heard the amused chuckle in his voice. Kunsel snorted, then scoffed. “For your information, I’m Zack’s best friend. You ask every SOLDIER, grunt, or even the Turks who Zack’s friend is and they’re gonna say me. I know everything about your boyfriend, including how head-over-heels in love he is with you. So, if you ask me why I’m here…” 

His voice trailed off. The way Kunsel had nonchalantly bragged about being Zack’s friend had made her want to laugh, but seeing his face now, seeing his melancholic smile… Aerith pursed her lips. 

Kunsel lifted his face and stared at the hole in the roof. In a voice so low that Aerith had almost missed it, he said, “I promised I’d look after you, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

A shift in the clouds outside gave way to sunlight slanting in through the hole. It shone on Kunsel’s helmet, making the metal sparkle. In another timeline, had she met Kunsel when Zack was still here, would they have become fast friends without this sorrow hanging over them? Laughing and joking around as the boys visited her at the church. 

Kunsel shielded his eyes at the blinding sun. “It’s sunny outside. Wanna have a walk?” Those sky-blue eyes were bright and clear, Aerith found the sight of them didn’t hurt her anymore. Still a twinge of pain, but nothing she couldn’t handle. 

Aerith rose to her feet. She brushed her hands against her dress, then stretched her arms over her head. Holding her hands behind her back, she followed Kunsel’s gaze and, for the first time in a long time, looked at the sliver of blue between two metal plates. She held her gaze, even as her heart constricted at the sight of it.

When you come back from your assignment, let’s go sell flowers under the sky together. I won’t be afraid if you’re with me.

A lump formed at the back of her throat, Aerith pressed her lips in a thin line. The flowers on her feet swayed in a nonexistent wind, as if trying to comfort her. As if trying to say, he’ll come back.

Aerith threw Kunsel a sideways glance. The SOLDIER was looking at her with an inviting tilt of his head. “Sure,” she said, and felt her lips parting into a small, genuine smile, one that came from her heart. “Let’s go. And you can take your helmet off if you want. Isn’t it stuffy?” She met his look of surprise with a grin, before heading off to exit the church.

~ END ~

[leeus-writing]

Can I get a Reno/female reader tickle fight that turns dirty? 👀

Hi Anon

This was super fun to write! I hope you like it :)

Tickled

You lay in bed flicking threw a book, the sun setting outside. It had been a long day and you had wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed with a good book next to your boyfriend. Reno had sadly missed dinner that afternoon and had come home sweety and dirty. He’d crammed a sandwich into his mouth and headed for a shower.

You listen out as the water is switched off and the shower curtain is pulled back. Reno steps out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his hips, finger in ear trying to clear the water that was blocking it. His hair was loose and dripping wet still. You sigh shutting the book and placing it on the side. When Reno was in the room, reading was just not a thing you could do.

“What ya reading?” He asks walking over to you.

“Oh, just A litter of Bones by J.D Kirk,” you reply holding the book up to show him. 

“Is it Dirty?” he asks smirking. 

“Is it… NO!” You reply throwing a pillow at him. 

He laughs kneeling on the bed pulling the covers back and tickling you. You explode in a fit of laughter squirming under his touch. He laughs as you snort, a loud laugh, hand on his well-toned chest. Your quick to retaliate, tickling him back, continuing his laughter. He fought back, twisting, and turning trying to tickle you back. Reno managed to grab your hands kneeling back as you tried to wrestle him into submission. He quickly grabbed a pillow smacking you with it. You howl with laughter. 

Falling onto your front he hunches over you tickling you again. “Stop! Stop! I can’t breathe!” You gasp laughing, tears running down your cheek. 

Reno pulls away a little worried but still chuckling. You look at him over your shoulder, a wicked grin on your face before you pounce tickling him, causing him to squirm again “You liar!” He laughs fighting against you. 

“Yeah well you fell for it!” you snort clinging onto his back a hand tickling his ribs.

 The tickle fight continued for a while, until both of you were wheezing from laughter. Reno knelt over you, hair falling down around his shoulders. You still let out a residual laugh as you curled your finger into the longer strands of his hair. He grinned gazing at you before bending down kissing you. You respond lips pressed hard against his, hands working their way into his damp hair. 

Reno’s hand works it way down to your hips, squeezing them lightly before moving to your thigh pulling it up around his hips. He ground his crotch into yours. You could feel he was growing hard as he pressed against you. Your eyes fluttered as they worked harder into his hair, kissing becoming hungrier, more frantic with need. Reno slowly let his body weight drop onto yours arms working their way under your back pulling you closer as he again thrusted into you. Your hips buck up against his instinctively needing him closer. A small moan escaping your lips. 

“Reno… I, I want you,” You whisper into his ear. 

He pulled away pulling the towel from his body and slipping your underwear free, before running a finger down your folds, slipping them into your body. 

“Dam... you really do want me, your wet already,” he says with a smirk. 

“Y-you have that effect on me,” you whimper, hips thrusting against his hand. 

He pulls his fingers free licking them in front of you, causing another moan to escape your lips. Reno smirks before positioning himself over you and with a not so gentle movement he thrusts into you, gasps escaping both your lips. His hands are back at your hips, squeezing them, directing them. The pressure and heat building in your body, at your core. Your movement’s matched his quickening pace. 

“Re-Reno,” You moan cheeks burning, breath coming quickly. “I, I can’t hold back.” 

“Then don’t,” Reno replied hand moving to your face. He rested his forehead on yours as you came. Crying out his name repeatedly bodying squeezing his in an impossible grip sending him over the edge. “Sh-shit!” He growled rocking his body into yours still. 

He slipped free from your body and pulled you into a tight hug spooning you, stroking your hair as you slowly fell asleep. 

“I love you,” He whispered softly, tickling you lightly again.