#final fantasy vii fan fiction

[bardic-tales]

Title: The Dream that Never Dies

Pairing: Bianca Moore(f!OC) / Sephiroth

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1946

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII (AU)

Tags: Alternative Universe, Canon Divergence, Crossover (original & FF 7), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Whump, Enemies to Lovers, Soulmates, Anxiety and Mental Health, Introspection, Magic and Fantasy, Parallel Universe, Supernatural

Warnings: Psychological manipulation, captivity, emotional coercion, non-consensual touching, obsession, trauma responses, intense imagery, unsettling themes, yandere

Summary: In a dreamscape of silver moonlight and withering flowers, Bianca runs, but Sephiroth always follows, waiting for the moment she will surrender.

Author’s Note: This story explores Yanderoth (yandere!Sephiroth) and takes place after Bianca is captured by Shinra following the Nibelheim Incident. With his descent into madness already set in motion, Sephiroth becomes obsessively fixated on reclaiming her, unwilling to let anyone else have what he deems his. His love for Bianca twists into dangerous possessiveness, driving him to extreme lengths to ensure she remains by his side. As Bianca struggles against both Shinra’s torment and Sephiroth’s relentless pursuit, their bond is tested in ways neither of them could have foreseen. This is a dark and intense take on relationships, blending obsession, devotion, and the unbreakable thread that ties them together.

The dreamscape shimmered and pulsed as Bianca ran through it, the air thick with the scent of unknown flowers and a feeling of unreality. The air rasped in and out of her lungs, a harsh, ragged sound accompanying her desperate struggle. She darted through the night-blooming flowers, their velvety petals brushing her ankles as her feet barely touched the soft earth.

With a silken whisper, the silver petals shut, concealing her passage as a sea of blossoms unfolded before her, their delicate perfume a sweet and subtle reminder of her journey. The eternal moonlight cast long, dancing shadows on the twisted trees. Their argent and ebony leaves shimmered in the gentle glow. A soft, almost inaudible breeze stirred the leaves. The white ribbon, stark against the ethereal landscape Sephiroth had crafted, fluttered behind her like a lost soul. Its delicate fabric whispering secrets only the wind could understand.

Sephiroth followed. He pursued behind her, his steps slow and deliberate, each one carefully placed and measured. His footsteps smashed the flowers behind her as he endlessly pursued his query. In the dim glow, his long, straight silver hair shimmered like a cascade of liquid mercury. With an intensity that pierced the dreamscape’s soft haze, his cyan eyes glowed, their pupils slit. His black coat moved around him like a living shadow, as his silver pauldrons caught the moonlight as he stalked her, his presence a blend of elegance and menace. His gloved hands hung loosely at his sides, the fingers gently flexing, as if silently expecting the exact moment he would seize his opportunity to catch her.

“You can’t run from me, Bianca,” he called, his voice a smooth ripple through the night air. A chilling calm settled over his words, devoid of any heat, yet laced with a bone-deep certainty that sent shivers down her spine. “You’ve returned to me, just as I knew you would.”

With each gasping breath, her bare feet pounded the earth, the yielding grass offering no respite from her desperate flight. Her wild, luminous indigo eyes darted around for an escape, but this world was his. There were no doors or edges, only the endless expanse of his creation. Her wings, heavy with the weight of despair, beat weakly, a desperate struggle against his unyielding chase. She had learned by now that nothing in this place was accidental. An icy dread seeped into her bones as his insidious influence coiled around her, leaving her vulnerable and exposed.

With each lengthening stride, Sephiroth left a trail of withered flowers, their once-bright colors fading to brown beneath his dark influence; the crunch of his boots broke the silence only. He did not need to rush. As a hunter who had already cornered his prey, his movements were a deliberate waltz with the inevitable outcome, a dance of precision and purpose leading to a certain capture.

Bianca stumbled, her porcelain skin catching the moonlight as she fell to her knees. Her fingers dug into the earth, and the silver threads of grass twisted around her hands like chains. Trembling violently, she felt like a wounded creature trapped within the nightmarish grip of the dream, its power overwhelming her senses and leaving her vulnerable and afraid.

A bitter dread, like a Northern wind, washed over her as she felt Sephiroth’s presence loom a few paces behind, his shadow stretching long and menacing.

“Enough, Bianca,” he murmured, his voice both a command and a caress. His arm shot out, a rush of warmth enveloping him as the flowers bloomed brighter, the sky exploding with vibrant color with the rotating crimson and cyan glow of the nebula and celestial bodies overhead suspended in their orbit. The slow, deliberate approach was all she could sense before the crushing weight of oblivion, paralyzed as she was and feeling his coat brush against her as a final, heavy touch. His hand rested on her back. His thick fingers moved slowly, languidly, across the material of her trench coat, their touch feather-light as they brushed against the soft down of her wings.

With a sharp jerk of her head, her eyes blazed with furious intensity, and an uncontrolled rage emanated from her entire being. “I don’t belong here. I don’t belong with you.”

His lips curved into a slow, tender smile, a smile so gentle that it almost seemed to soften his features, yet it couldn’t quite erase the sharp angles of his face, leaving a hint of underlying intensity.

“You are exactly where you belong. With me.” A cold, gloved hand brushed her cheek, making her breath catch in her throat, a shiver tracing her spine. A furious fire ignited within her at his touch, a cruel mockery of the intimacy she had once experienced with him, his hand brushing hers with a shocking intensity.

“You choose her.” Her voice, a ragged whisper, trembled with a pain so profound it felt as if her very soul was unraveling. “You chose madness.”

His smile remained a serene mask. “I chose truth. And you, my beautiful little bird, you came back to me despite it all. Our bond, our thread tying us together, led you here. You can deny it all you wish, but your soul knows where it belongs.”

She struck him then. Her fist crashed against his chest, hitting him in the center where his suspenders crossed his massive pecs. The impact, though considerable, had absolutely no physical effect on him whatsoever.

However, the intense, unfiltered agony reflected in her eyes stirred a strange reaction within him, a perverse sense of satisfaction that seemed to solidify his certainty, as though her suffering provided the last piece of validation he required. With repeated blows, her sharp nails raked across his coat, leaving bloody streaks that looked as if her touch alone possessed the power to rend not just his clothing, but the very essence of his being, a terrifying demonstration of her strength and anger.

“You died!” she screamed. “I saw you!! I-I saw you in the Nibel Reactor. I saw you fall. I tried to reach for you but you turned your back on me!”

The rawness of her sobs, jagged and uncontrolled, caused her strength to abandon her, leaving her weak and slumped against him. Clawing at his coat, her knuckles white, a biting tremor ran through her as she buried her face in his chest, the silence deafening. Each shuddering breath was a quiet betrayal of her resolve, a small crack in the dam of her composure that threatened to unleash the torrent of her emotions.

As his arms encircled her, dread gripped her as Sephiroth’s arms encircled her, as their pressure was suffocating, like a vise tightening around her ribs. His chin trembled on her head. The scent of lavender and smoke—a phantom sweetness—was a chilling reminder of their fleeting time together. Each breath was a chilling reminder of the lurking danger, like icy fingers gripping her throat.

“It is the world that died, not I,” Sephiroth whispered into her hair. His breath ruffled her soft, dark strands. “I am here, Bianca. I have always been here, waiting for you.” His fingers tightened around her, his grip enough to bruise. “You saw me fall, but what you truly saw was the world shedding its illusion. I am reborn, and I offer you the same rebirth. You need only accept it.”

“I don’t want this.” As she sobbed, her breaths became softer, each one trembling against him, a delicate shudder against his chest. “I don’t want you.”

A low, dark chuckle, originating from deep within his chest, vibrated through his body, resonating into hers and sending shivers down her spine with its intensity.

“Lies. You are here because you want me. Because despite everything, you still love me.” Slowly and deliberately, his free hand moved up her stomach, tracing the scar to her navel before circling it and moving up her torso until he stop under her supple breasts. Warm against her ear, his breath carried the weight of unspoken sorrows, a sigh escaping his lips in a barely audible whisper. “You kept my ribbon, even now. You can never escape me because I am part of you. Just as you are part of me.”

The contact felt like the weight of ashes settling on her skin; a chilling touch that extinguished the last flickering embers of her already dwindling hope. The crimson thread throbbed, a frantic pulse of dread against the encroaching darkness, mirroring her terror.

“Look at me.” His gentle words barely registered; her head slowly rose, the weight of grief pressing down on her, eyes overflowing with unshed tears. “There is no freedom outside of me. No sanctuary but the one I offer. The world beyond this dream is nothing but cruelty and chains. But here, with me, you can be whole again.”

With a gentle touch, his thumb brushed the corner of her eye, smudging the remaining trace of a tear; in that moment, it was as if a painter was skillfully blending a stroke of despair into their work of art, making the emotion part of the finished product.

She shook her head, but her movements were sluggish, as if the weight of his words pressed down on her very bones. “You’re just another cage,” she whispered.

“No.” His voice, a silken thread weaving through her mind, was accompanied by the oppressive weight of his presence, crowding and constricting her thoughts. “I am the key. And you, my love, you are the lock. Without me, you remain closed, lost.”

She didn’t respond. Her chest ached, each shallow breath a painful reminder of their loss, his death and rejection, that left her hollow.

Shifting his weight, he leaned closer, the distance between their lips now negligible, a mere breath separating them. “You need only say yes, and I will make this dream your eternity.”

As he drew closer, she gasped, her breath hitching in her throat, and her lips parted involuntarily, overwhelmed by his nearness. She knew Sephiroth could feel her surrender; a tangible shift in the air, thick with the scent of her grief and defeat, a silent cry swallowed by his power. She was incredibly close to surrendering, to allowing him to completely pull her into the encompassing darkness where, together, they would rule as gods amidst the ruins of a fallen Existence.

But then, a flicker of resistance, a spark of that angelic light that still clung to her soul. She pulled back, her voice small but firm. “No.”

The word, a delicate and fragile thing, hung suspended in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning and implications. His smile tightened, a fissure cracking through his perfect composure.

“You say no now,” Sephiroth drawled, “but this dream will not end, Bianca. Every time you close your eyes, I will be here. Waiting. And you will come to me, again and again, until you realize that your dreams are the only reality worth living. You will be mine.”

He let go, and as she fell, the world tilted sickeningly, the vibrant petals of the flowers seeming to claw at her. Sephiroth rose, his silhouette a lonely monument against the cold, indifferent glow of the moon. His predatory gaze never left hers, a burning intensity promising a nightmarish devotion. The chilling weight of Shinra’s violation of her body and Sephiroth’s corruption of her mind was palpable in that unwavering stare, promising endless torment with no escape unless she gave in.

“I am your haven, Bianca,” he murmured as the dreamscape shifted, drawing her into another cycle of their twisted dance. “And you will come to love your prison, just as you were always meant to.”

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @craftyhal @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @chickensarentcheap @seastarblue

@inkandimpressions @arrthurpendragon

[akatsuki-shin]

"YOUR FIRSTS, AND MINE" — #TsengRuWeek2024 Day 1: Firsts

1,5k words | 🔞

Before Crisis TsengRu

Being placed under house arrest doesn't stop Vice President Shinra from pursuing his other "target"

Featuring an illustration by @brilcrist

(link in the reply below)

[vincentvalentineweek]

The Nightmare Begins October 13th! 

Vincent Valentine Week returns October 13th! We are so excited to be back celebrating our favorite gothic grandpa, former Turk and overall best boy! 

Prompts: 

October 13-Surprise/Celebrate/Sweet

October 14-Sin/Technology/Coffin

October 15-Materia/Trauma/Protection

October 16-Atonement/Monster/Secret

October 17-Bullet/Weapon/Recoil

October 18-Save/Game/Card

October 19-Status Ailment/Lost/Foreign

October 20-Summon/Mistake/Sleep

Guidelines

⚰️Work must be your own that means no plagiarized art/fic or AI art/fic

⚰️Vincent must be recognizable as a character 

⚰️Work must be Vincent Valentine centric

⚰️Ships, AUs, OCs and collabs are welcome!

⚰️You are not obligated to finish the week or do every prompt 

⚰️SFW and NSFW content are allowed, just tag appropriately. 

⚰️You must wait until the event starts to share work

⚰️Tag #Vincentweek2024, #vvw24 or @vincentvalentineweek to be featured 

[yahoo-a-post]

"...Vincent, will you please join us for the fireworks at the beach tonight? It would be great if you and Cloud would attend!" 😊

"Does my hair look all right?"

"Vincent, is so handsome! Waaaah!"

(Oh good, while they are all at the beach distracted, I can snatch all of their materia! HEHE!!!)

"Aww, are those for you and Tifa, there, Rudy boy?"

"Reno... shut up!!!"

"Flowers too, HUH!!!"

"RENO!"

[the-bar-sinister]

💔 Is there somewhere that you can't touch S/I under any circumstances? Did they tell you why? -- and -- 🍭 where does S/I like to kiss you? Do you like it when they kiss you there? -- for the F/O ask game! :D

Cloud lays on top of Reno, rubbing his head against the crook of his neck. Reno strokes his soft, fluffy hair, and Cloud kisses his jaw, over his face, always careful to avoid the raised, puckered scars on each cheek.

"Please don't," Reno had said once. He'd never said where the scars had come from, and part of Cloud was disappointed not to be able to kiss the ache of whatever old wounds they were away. 

But like always, he kisses Reno's lips instead. 

Reno grabs his wrists, and flips their positions, grinning down at him and kissing back hard.

-

AO3 link

prompt list link

Thank you so much for the ask! <3

[miabria]

“Elena wished she could enjoy the winters as she once had, wished the city air didn’t always make her think as deeply as it did.”

———

This is a piece I made based off of a short story I recently wrote about Elena. You can find it on AO3 here!

[savage-sinister]

Gaia Incognita (17509 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 4/8 Fandom

Summary: The past and present intertwine as Veld and Vincent try to discover what the horrible dreams of a darker Midgar have to do with the life and love that they built together in the aftermath of Hojo's mysterious and untimely demise.

-

1978

"I bought cigars." Veld touched his pocket with a smile as he and Vincent left the room where Lucrecia was sleeping. She'd asked them both to be there while Sephiroth was delivered. Vincent spared one last look at the door as it closed with a subtle smile on his handsome and severe face. 

"I knew I could count on you, partner." They'd both been there for her, and the comfort and relief on her face when it was over with Sephiroth bundled up safe was palpable. Now, now was the time to celebrate. "Join me outside for them?" 

"My pleasure, partner." Veld smiled, and pulled the pack out of his breast pocket, gesturing for Vincent to take the lead as he followed him outside. "I don't think I've ever seen her look happier."

Vincent's arm wrapped around his shoulder with a rare grin on his face, leading him down and towards the front door. "Neither have I. It came close—not too long after Hojo died. But this is the first time I've seen her look so happy or relaxed."

He opened the door to the cool night air. 

Veld wrapped his arm around him in return, leaning in to press his cheek to Vincent's for a moment. "I think she was worried about the pregnancy. Can't say I blame her."

Vincent's cheek was warm…and he could feel the faint trace of lingering tears from where he'd been holding back his emotion during the end.

He squeezed Veld tightly as the two of them made for the small ironwork table overlooking the garden. 

"I think so too—it was a difficult one. I can't blame her either—but here we are on the other side with little Sephiroth." He chuckled low under his breath. "He looks like he's going to be smart. Takes after his mom, then." 

Veld chuckled at that, and pulled out a chair for Vincent. "Hopefully got his mother's looks in the bargain, too. Got her pretty eyes, anyway."

As Vincent sat down, Veld felt like he could feel the relief in him, almost as much as in Lucrecia. He had to admit, he felt about the same.

It was like they'd all collectively been holding their breath, and it had finally exhaled.

Vincent had an easier smile on his face than he had in a while the last few months, leaning on the ironwork table and propping himself up with the back of his hand. 

"He sure does. Seems like he's gonna take a lot after her." He went quiet for a moment as he fished in his suit pocket for his lighter, flicking it open before speaking. "You know—she said something to me a while back." 

Veld cocked his head, offering him one of the fat cigar's he'd bought just for the occasion. It was a bit of a step into fatherhood for both of them, in a way.

"Oh? What did she say?"

A step together, in their unique family situation far from the norms of Midgar.

Vincent stuck the cigar between his lips, and snipped its tip before raising the lighter to it. "That there's a chance I was the father all along." 

Veld felt himself flush a little– just at the way the idea intersected directly with his own thoughts. 

"I had wondered," he admitted, pulling out a cigar for himself as well. "But isn't it easy enough to test for? Or– does she not want to know for certain?"

He couldn't blame her if that was the case. Being able to think maybe it was Vincent's and not knowing for sure might be better than knowing for certain that it was Hojo's. 

As Veld and Lucreciate and Vincent had all gotten closer, Veld had come more and more to understand that Lucrecia held a depth of loathing for the man that went further even than the things she'd told them about him. And Vincent's initial surprise had clearly waned the more he'd heard. That the assumed happiness Lucrecia had with Hojo was anything but. 

He took a draw until the cigar lit, and held out the flame for Veld with a tired smile. "It's an easy test, but I think she wanted to wait till Sephiroth was born to know for sure."

Veld leaned in and puffed the cigar to life on the offered flame with a little smile in return. 

"So we'll know for certain soon, then?" he asked. "I imagine you want to know."

Vincent shook his head as he took a long puff, blowing smoke to the sky. 

"It won't change how I feel, but I admit I'm curious." He looked at Veld with a half smile. "No matter what, I'm going to be as good a father to Sephiroth as I can. And I hope you'll back me up. Don't leave me in the unknown of fatherhood alone, Veld. I could use my partner." 

Veld took a long puff of the cigar, feeling its heady smoke tingle in his mouth. Like Vincent, the results of the test weren't going to change his actions. He'd already resolved to be there for Lucrecia and Vincent, whatever they needed.

He offered Vincent his hand across the table. "Lucrecia's already been calling me Uncle Veld, but if you want me to be 'Daddy number two' instead, partner, it's your call."

He chuckled slyly. They'd been more open with their relationship, and their feelings in the past months.If anything, Lucrecia had helped bring them closer together.

"My call?" Vincent laughed, grabbing his hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze. "Uncle Veld does have a good sound to it, admittedly."

"Probably a little more practical than 'daddy 2', as well." He squeezed his partner's hand. "On the other hand, he is already called 'Sephiroth', so he's not starting with a huge advantage on practical names."

Vincent choked on his smoke, clapping his hand on the table as he caught his breath. 

"Dammit, Veld!" He laughed as he managed to intake a few breaths. "Lu said she wanted him to sound angelic." 

Veld laughed along with him, smoke curling out from his lips. "Well, it sure as hell doesn't sound earthly. He's gonna need a good nickname."

"I was thinking of just calling him Seph," Vincent put the cigar to his lips again with a thin, relaxed smile. "Lu loves the name though. So…I'm glad she chose it." 

"I mean, I won't deny it. It almost seems like it suits him already. Maybe it's just 'cause Lu's kept saying it this whole time, but I can't imagine him as anything other than Sephiroth. But he's definitely going to be little Sephy to me."

It was true. Sephiroth was not even two hours old, but there was something in his tiny, cherubic face that bespoke the kind of fierce divinity that Lucrecia's naming bestowed him with.

Vincent chuckled quietly. 

"I can't imagine anything else either. She chose well—I'll agree there." He took another pull off his cigar , and rested his fingers against Veld's. "you're right, though. A nickname's gonna be needed. Big time. And that's coming from a guy who's dad's name was Grimoire." 

"Bunch of traditionalists," Veld teased. "And here my dear departed father gave me a good, solid name."

He rubbed his thumb over Vincent's palm. It was good to joke around like this. To clear the air. To relax together. Once Lucrecia had rested, he was sure that she'd appreciate a light mood.

Vincent chuckled. "Veld, partner…" his fingers brushed his wrist. "It's one syllable but that doesn't make it any more common than Sephiroth." 

"Well, I said solid, not common!" He laughed, trying to weasel out of it, but Vincent had him pinned with that one. "Oh well. Not like any of us are common people anyway, are we? And your boy– our boy– isn't going to be, either."

He scooted his chair closer to Vincent's chair, feeling the need in that moment to close the distance between them.

Vincent's arm found his way back around his shoulder, and drew him close as the smoke wreathed both their heads. 

"He sure isn't. Our boy's gonna be someone special—I can feel it in my bones, partner." 

"Glad to be there with you to see it, partner." He leaned into Vincent's arms, and put his cigar down for a moment. He could always re-light it. He laid his stubbly cheek against Vincent's. This was a special moment. Not the kind of moment he'd ever pictured having.

Vincent's warm skin, clean shaven as ever, brushed against his stubble for a moment. He shifted and Veld felt the heat of a kiss on his cheek. "Glad you're here too. Dunno if I could manage it on my own. A mission's one thing, this is another." 

"I wouldn't leave you on your own for either.Anyway, this is its own kind of mission, right? A hell of a long term one."

He turned, and his lips found the edge of Vincent's mouth.

"A long term bodyguard gig," Vincent chuckled quietly, before he leaned in and caught his lips in a firm kiss. It carried the taste of cigar smoke heavy on the tongue.. 

Veld turned and put his arms around his partner, holding him close as the taste of smoke passed between them. The kiss was warm, and comforting. 

The longest assignment of their lives, but they had each others' backs.

-

A few months after Sephiroth was born, they had another reason to celebrate. Lucrecia had been officially promoted.

With Hojo's death and Gast's self exile to who knows where, the R&D department had been in shambles trying to find a replacement—especially as the prime candidate was on maternity leave.

But when the wax sealed envelope embossed with the Shinra Electric Power Company's crest arrived at the Shinra mansion door by way of one of the other Turks, it was obvious they made the right choice.

Opening it, Dr. Lucrecia Crescent was head of Shinra Research and Development, effective immediately. 

Veld had insisted immediately that they had to celebrate properly. Surely Sephiroth, a few months old now, could stay with a sitter for a few hours while they went out to dinner. He hadn't been sure how Lucrecia would take the suggestion; like all mothers perhaps, she'd been attached to her newborn at the hip.

She'd been initially hesitant—but ultimately wasn't hard to convince. Her stipulation—have him and Vincent pick the sitter.

Someone they could trust, someone they could verify. And with that, her mood seemed to instantly lighten when she admitted that she did in fact feel like she could use a little celebration. 

Of course their pick had been a fellow Turk.

"You're sure you don't mind, Finn?" Veld asked for perhaps the fourth time as he lingered by the door. Vincent and Lucrecia were already waiting outside.

Finn laughed, pushing his sunglasses up into the auburn waves of his slicked back hair. His smile, as often, was cocky and assured as he leaned his lanky body against the door, Sephiroth cradled in one arm.

He'd forgone his usual cigar when Lucrecia yanked it from his mouth and told him to keep it outside…after he was done babysitting. "Hey, Veld. Come on. I got this, they don't call me a rising legend for nothin', right?" 

"Sure but I didn't think that was for your love of children." Veld chuckled. Funny that he was the one being overprotective now. "But if you pull this off, I'll add it to your resume."

"Hey, kids love me. Don't worry, Veld." He slapped his back with his free hand, his grin hitching a little wider. "I can see if I can teach him to read early. Maybe a nice bomb manual or somethin'."

That got Lucrecia to give him a look from where she was smoothing out her party clothes near Vincent.

"Reading's fine, but wait til he's teething for the practical lessons," Veld drawled, giving him a look of his own.

With a few more chuckles and reminders, the three of them were off. Their first official date as a… Veld realized he was struggling to find a word to encompass their relationship.

It was a unique sort of relationship, not your typical husband and wife connection you'd see back in Midgar. Maybe there wasn't a word for it.

Lucrecia seemed happy though, hanging on Vincent's arm in her casual clothes. She'd dressed up—a body hugging dress the same color as the ribbon she always wore, her hair down and free around her shoulders as heels clacked on concrete.

She'd offered her hand to him, beaming like the sun slipping through the plates of Midgar, and dragged him out.

They'd be going a bit afield. The Nidhogg inn in Nibelheim was nice, but—it was a small town. But a relatively short couple hours away by helicopter was Shinra's largest tourist trap—and home to a famous seafood restaurant.

Costa del Sol. 

Veld had been a little dubious, but if Lucrecia was happy with the idea he sure as hell wasn't going to tell her no. She deserved to celebrate however she wanted. It had been a hell of a few months.

He said as much as he guided the chopper in toward the landing pad.

Vincent was never one for the sun, but he tightened his tie with a wry smile as it touched down "Sephiroth's in good hands with Finn," he said again—he'd been reassuring her a few times during the trip.

Excited as she was, and she was excited, eagerly leaning to look out the window as the bright, sunny waters of Costa del Sol greeted them below, Lucrecia had admitted being a little nervous being so far.

But it was only a day. She smiled, and brushed her hair from her face before clapping her hands.

"Good. Then let's have FUN. If we were a little closer to Midgar, I'd have had a perfect recommendation—but well. This one comes highly recommended from an old friend." 

Veld put his arm around her from one side, and Vincent from the other.

"Just let us know if you get tired, alright? You're still recovering." Veld smiled at her. "That said, this place does have a very relaxing air."

Vincent chuckled, shoulder to shoulder with him as he stepped out onto the helipad. Their hair flew, mussed by the great blades of the chopper as Lucrecia hopped down with a chuckle. "I know, I know—but a place like this' supposed to be healing. There's a reason it's been turned into a resort villa!"

A Shinra vacation villa, it seemed, which was quickly becoming a full blown resort from the activity all around.

Luicrecia took a deep breath as she squeezed Veld's arm. 

"Smell that sea air, hear that music on the wind!" Her smile grew soft for a moment, her voice subtly somber as she murmured. "It really makes you feel alive." 

Veld had to agree. He stroked his fingers in the strands of her hair. "Just the thing to help you get your energy back for your new position."

Veld was no doctor, but he knew better than to expect a woman who'd just given birth to be ready to wrestle tigers.

"I'm going to need it," she said as they were ushered forward by smiling women in beachwear excitedly welcoming the 'Department of Research and Development's party' to Costa Del Sol on behalf of their mayor.

She smiled in bemusement at it all. "Especially if I'm going to make my voice heard over that loudmouth ape and screeching harpy."

Vincent coughed, covering his mouth to hide his smirk. His hand rested on Veld's side, and gave it a little squeeze as a chuckle leaked through. "I'd certainly say, Lu. But we can handle it. WIth enough rest—the sea air, a little good seafood. Maybe even a dip if we have time." 

Veld laughed. "We'll have to pick up some swimsuits in that case. I don't think I'm exactly dressed to get wet."

"And ruin your suits? We couldn't have that," Lucrecia squeezed his arm with a wink. "so we'll get to share the gift of you two shirtless with the world. Lucky Costa Del Sol. Then we'll really be able to get things wet."

Vincent flushed, stifling it with a soft cough. "Lucrecia—the dinner reservations." 

Veld was glad to Vincent for reminding her– he was too embarrassed to get words out of his mouth. He just laughed.

-

The restaurant alone was well worth the helicopter ride. A large seaside restaurant attached to the big hotel; it was open on all sides to the salty breeze and the smell of the ocean beyond, bedecked in local flowers and reeds. The table— fitting Shinra's sway over things—had pride of place overlooking the sea and instant service the moment it was requested.

A bottle of wine, and a course of fish and shellfish spread out over the table as Lucrecia laughed with a relaxation they hadn't seen in her for along, long time.

She was telling some story about her intern days when the waitress came back to swap out their bottle of wine. 

"Glad to be able to drink again?" Veld teased. "I did owe you one from our first little encounter, didn't I?"

Lucrecia laughed, twisting a lock of her long hair around her fingers as she watched the waitress top them off. "Well—I always did like a little wine to un-wined"

Vincent snorted "Lu, that was terrible."

"I know, I know." She laughed, shaking her head. "But Veld DID owe me. I had to go through that whole seduction without a drop to drink. Do you know how nervous I was? I thought he wouldn't be interested!"

"As if anyone could not be," Vincent's half smile was fond—soft, as he cut into the tender flesh of a tropical fish. 

Veld chuckled, flushing a little. "Well, I think I've gotten to know you pretty well in the last couple of months Lucrecia. My suspicion is that if I'd turned you down the first time you would have just sent in reinforcements!"

Vincent smirked at him. "She'd have convinced me to show up at your door dressed in ribbons or somesuch."

"You know me so well, sweetheart," Lucrecia's angelic face carried a smile that was anything but. "The both of you. The game was rigged from the start."

She took a long, and clearly satisfied, sip from her wine before helping herself to a scallop.

Veld gave his partner a sly look. "I wouldn't have turned down the ribbons. But I know when I'm beaten. Vincent warned me when the two of you started together that you were 'adventurous'. I had asked if he and I needed to break up."

"Break up". He wouldn't have used those words back then, because he hadn't really considered them 'together' But now they certainly were.

"And I certainly didn't want to do that. Even if what we were calling it wasn't exactly 'dating'," Vincent mused. "Glad that I didn't have to choose."

Lucrecia looped her arm around him, winking at Veld with a smile as she popped a scallop in her mouth. After a moment, she pointed the little stick at him with a wink. 

"He was right of course—I've always enjoyed adventure…i've been called a little brash, but—well. Why would I break the two of you up if we clearly get on as well as we do?" 

"You might have wanted him all to yourself," Veld offered. He swirled his wine in the glass, very glad that hadn't turned out to be the case.

She leaned in and kissed Vincent's cheek. 

"I just wanted him in my life," she said with a fondness to her smile as she went back to her wine "I saw a future where my stubbornness—my fears about old mistakes—drove him away. I didn't want that. I decided, then and there, that I wasn't going to let myself do that. But, that doesn't mean I can't share with a charming man like you, Veld."

Vincent looped his arm around her shoulders, a note of timidity in his normally composed expression. "Well—I can say with certainty that I wasn't driven away. Not when I knew you weren't happy with …him…" 

Veld felt the note of tension descend over all of them, and was determined to drive it away. He filled each of their wine glasses again.

"Let's not talk about him," he said. "After all, with Lucrecia's promotion, Shinra can put him in the past. So we can too."

Lucrecia raised her glass once it was filled. "And cheers to that! It's going to be a new era, my dears. A grand one—full of scientific discovery, progress—and of course, our dear son Sephiroth."

Vincent's expression unclouded , and he raised his glass with her. "Cheers to that. Maybe with you in charge things may change for the better. R&D holds a lot of sway with the president." 

Veld raised his glass. "Cheers, Lucrecia. To your new era at Shinra. And to all of our new era, together."

The glasses clinked together. Wine was tipped back. And as soon as it was, Lucrecia kissed Vincent then Veld on the lips before dropping back in her seat with a catlike smile. "To our new era. A whole new world of possibility." 

[alestra18]

Hey, I'm trying to find a Zack Fair and Cloud Strife fanfiction. I do believe I originally read it on AO3.

The premise from what I remembered is the planet brings back Zack for Cloud. It was a soul mate story, where the first words they say appear on you.

When Zack is brought back, Cloud is worried he has a new soul mate, not knowing Zack is back. Their new words keep changing though, as them meeting again shifts.

I also remember that it switched from current events happening to flash backs of when the two first met and started being friends, etc.

[afi-writes]

Winning the Battle

Final Fantasy VII

Pairing: Reno x Tifa

Rating: Mature

Summary: The Turks spend the evening at 7th Heaven, and once again, Reno can't take his eyes off Tifa's perfect body. This time he decides to fulfill a long-time dream and finally get what he wants.

CW: Reno's shameless male gaze

Translated from the original Finnish version.

Written for @marikamalia.

"Have Lockhart's bazookas got even bigger?" Reno's question was never answered, but instead, he received a glare from Elena and a remark about his attitude.

"Huh?” Reno drained his whisky. “I love women in every possible way."

Lockhart worked behind the bar as usual. Sometimes it seemed as if she knew the next customer's order before they had even voiced it out. The pints were filled, the bottoms of the whisky glasses rattled with ice before the heavenly drink was poured, and the perfect knockers bounced Lockhart's every move. It would have been great to cum between them.

Reno leaned back in his chair and raised the pint to his lips. Nowhere was the beer as good as in the 7th Heaven. Where did Lockhart order it? Had she secretly started her own brewery? The thought brought a grin to Reno’s lips and the beer guttered toward his lungs, making him wince.

"Damn it, Reno," Elena snorted. "Can you be any more disgusting?"

Tseng was as expressionless as ever but set his pint on the table and glanced at the coughing Reno.

One of Rude's eyebrows rose slightly. The gesture was likely to be noticed by no one but Reno, who over the years had trained himself to notice his partner's every micro-expression.

Reno had just finished coughing when Lockhart sailed over to the table to collect the empty glasses. burgundy eyes gave Reno a look that made his stomach churn. Jest aside, the woman made his heart race with her mere presence, but she was as unattainable as the moon. Although there was a persistent rumor in Edge - okay, Rude had said it once - that Strife and Lockhart were no longer together, Lockhart had reportedly not warmed to anyone's attempts toward her. Reno had seen how deftly she'd shooed the candidates out of her sight and, if necessary, thrown them out of the bar with her bare hands.

On the other hand, that wouldn't have been a bad option either, at least it would have given him a chance to get up close and personal for a while. A stiff fist would probably leave a sore jaw, but that was a price Reno was willing to pay.

"Are you okay?" A soft, friendly voice. Customer service clearly.  Reno knew the Avalanche still didn't look kindly on the Turks, yet Lockhart leaned in. "It looked like you were choking on that ale."

“…m fine…” Reno wasn't usually at a loss for words in any situation, but now such a moment had come close.

"Good. It would have been unfortunate if anything had happened.” Lockhart smiled in a way that made Reno’s heart rate take a rapid turn. Fuck.

“Bring me one more.” He raised his pint.

Lockhart nodded and continued to collect glasses from the other tables. A short black miniskirt barely covered her backside. There was an area between its skirt and the over-the-knee socks that made you want to grab her thighs. With her hips still swaying with each step, Reno was finally forced to look away for a moment. Gotta-Get-Laid-beer and Lockhart were a hazardous combination.

The evening went as usual. When the last call came Reno wasn't sure how many beers he'd downed. Tseng and Elena had sneaked away earlier, and even Rude hadn't stayed in the bar through all night, announcing that he was going home. He had even offered a ride, but Reno had refused. This would be his night. Tonight, he would find himself either plowing Lockhart or on the street in front of the bar, depending on her compliance.

The last customers roamed out just before the bar closed. Reno emptied his pint and slammed it on the table in a way that made Lockhart flinch. Had she even noticed that Reno was still sitting in the corner?

"We're closing for the night." Lockhart grabbed the handle of the pint.

Reno placed her hand on Lockhart's wrist and made the woman stop. Burgundy eyes met his gaze, and her lips parted in a silent question. Damn, it would be great to stick a tongue between them and maybe something else too.

Lockhart pulled her hand from Reno's grip and hurried to take the pint to wash. Reno hauled himself out of his chair and staggered towards the table. Damn, the level of drunkenness was higher than he'd thought. He should have taken that offer of the ride.

Reno wobbled towards the door. Shit, he hadn't spent the whole evening in this taproom for nothing. As he turned around, he was greeted with arms crossed under the bouncy twins and a stare that could pierce his brain.

"That's a waste." The words slipped out before Reno could stop himself.

“What’s a waste?” Genuine confusion rounded Lockhart’s lips. Or was it genuine? Perhaps it was a deliberate attempt to tempt Reno because surely Lockhart could read any man like an open online forum.

Reno’s mind felt sticky. There must be a way to save the situation. Yes, even Reno knew you couldn’t just say whatever to a woman’s face. A certain amount of subtleness combined with a slight lewdness was needed. The trick was not to cross an indefinite line.

Lockhart lifted a brow. “Hiding your bazookas behind your arms perhaps?”

Shit. How good was her hearing?

"Should I call you a taxi?" Lockhart continued before Reno could respond.

"I do it on my own.”

"Good. You know your way out, don't you?" Lockhart turned her back, walked behind the counter, and dampened a tablecloth, which she began to use to wipe the surfaces. The said chichis jiggled with the force of the motion, causing an unbearable ache in Reno's crotch.

"The door is behind your back." Lockhart didn’t bother to look at Reno.

"How about offering me a place to stay?"

Now Lockhart straightened up. Reno looked her straight in the eye and let his signature smirk curl on his face – at least he thought he was doing that. The one that made the nightclub chicks go wild. The I-know-I-look-fuckable-smirk.

Lockhart strolled across the room. Her journey seemed to take forever, and Reno didn't know whether he'd rather be looking at the tight top covering her hooters or her deliciously well-formed hips.

Reno made sure his grin widened as Lockhart stopped in front of him. Burgundy was unwavering. It dug in and left a lasting imprint on something people usually called the soul. Not that Reno was sure if he had such a thing. But he had, Lockhart was free to carve anything on it.

Lockhart raised both hands, and Reno's gaze instinctively dropped a couple of notches as huge hooters were finally within touching distance. However, he didn't have time even to hook his fingers as cool water trickled into his hair and down his face.

Lockhart dropped the tablecloth on the floor, grabbed Reno's coat collar with a grip quicker than his gaze, and dragged him toward the door. She managed to push it open, and Reno plunged into Edge's night. The street stuffed his cheek, leaving a mark he could wear with pride.

Footsteps pounded down the stairs until the crimson combat boots stopped at Reno's face. Another tug on the collar of his jacket forced Reno back to his feet. Unable to focus his gaze, Reno could only stare at two pairs of burgundy orbs that drilled through him, until the view became clearer, and eyes melted into just one pair.

"There are often taxis leaving from that street corner." Lockhart released her grasp on Reno's jacket. She took hold of his chin, pushed closer, and suddenly soft lips brushed Reno's cheek. The kiss felt all the way to his groin, though it was too quick.

"Damn it, Lockhart..."

"Ask me again when you're sober and have offered me at least three coffees somewhere other than my own bar." Lockhart turned, marched up the stairs, and slammed the door behind her.

The smirk returned to Reno's lips.

If you like my work, consider reblogging it. That helps more people to find it. Don't feel obliged though. Only do it if you want to, but I do appreciate the gesture.

[yuriko-mukami]

I'm translating my novel-length Final Fantasy VII fic into English... and the more I read my own text, the clearer it becomes that the portrayal of Rude of the Turks in this story reminds me scarily much of Ruki... 😱

The thing is... I hadn't seen the anime or played a single DL game when I was writing this fic. And since FFVII doesn't exactly reveal what kind of person and lover Rude is in his private life, I have created this side of him mostly from my own headcanons.

Basically, I was writing about Ruki before I knew that he even existed. So, is it even a wonder I fell for him so hard when I finally met him? 🤔

[snowboundranger]

Starting a new FF7 fic, where they get their golden ending, but gold is a heavy thing to carry on top of the guilt and self-doubt you already have.

[bardic-tales]

Title: First Kiss

Pairing: Bianca Moore (f!oc) x Sephiroth

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1537

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Setting: Two days before the Nibelheim Incident

Warnings: Blood (mention of slight injury from claws), breathlessness, Emotional manipulation (through the intense bond and unspoken promise), Imbalance of power (emotional and physical), Intimacy, Kissing, Overstimulation (heightened sensory experience), Sexual tension

Summary: Bianca and Sephiroth share a passionate, intense kiss, connecting emotionally and physically in a moment of vulnerability.

Squared Filled: Jan: First Kiss

Created for: @yearoftheotpevent

The air in the underground library of Shinra Manor was thick with the scent of old parchment and dust, mingling with the faintest trace of something sweet and comforting—pumpkin spice. The warmth of the room contrasted with the chilling void that enveloped the mansion’s deeper underground levels. Bianca stood there, taking in the labyrinth of bookshelves and the haphazard piles of files scattered across the cold stone floor.

How many books had she dodged that he threw in search of his origins? She had lost track on the fourth day, but she could sense that something was off about him. Bianca didn’t know how to even approach it or why the string tied around their wrists was blackening. She was only wearing a cream-colored oversized sweater, the fabric soft against her skin, and dark slacks that hugged her legs with each step. The heels of her sandals clicked across the stone floor as she walked towards him. Despite the overwhelming darkness that pervaded the air, there was a quiet softness to her presence, a vulnerability that softened the harsh edges of the dimly lit study. Sephiroth stood across from her with his back towards her and running his fingers over the dusty spines of the books, searching for the research that would answer all of his questions. His tall frame radiated a tension that seemed to stretch out and consume the surrounding space. The weight of his turmoil — the relentless pursuit of truths that seemed to slip further from his grasp — was palpable. His normally composed demeanor was cracking, the edges of his sanity teetering. In that moment, as she had the previous days, Bianca could sense the rawness beneath it all.

She stepped closer to him. Her breath was shallow, yet her heart pounded in her chest. A pull, something magnetic and uncontrollable, drove her forward. As her eyes met his, she found something in the depths of his gaze that mirrored her own inner chaos: a longing, a pain, a quiet desperation. She needed him, aching for the sense of belonging that this man could only give her. He had become the only stability in the mooring of her soul: the wound left behind by her first husband’s death days before.

Without a word, she reached out, her fingers brushing against his, the touch light but electric. The contact sent a surge of heat through her body, and she could feel the rapid pulse of her own blood mingling with the undercurrent of energy between them. There was no plan or expectation, just a need that was almost primal.

Primal. That scared her. Bianca had never just followed her primal instincts, as she knew well that it would unleash the beast dwelling deep within her: the gift of her father, the archdemon who went by the name of Asmodeus. She feared losing control of her inner demon, but Sephiroth and his sad — and a bit crazed eyes — called to her.

Sephiroth turned towards her. His hand still rested upon the book he was about to pull from the shelf. His gaze softened slightly; a flicker of something unspoken passed between them. His mouth parted, barely a breath between his top and heavy bottom lips. In that fleeting moment, Bianca saw the raw, unguarded Sephiroth—the man not defined by his legacy or his dark search, but the person beneath it all. She only saw him in that moment, and he only saw the woman beneath all the pain and torment: souls tied beyond something greater than their heritage and circumstance.

Then, without warning, he closed the space between them and bent down. His lips crashing into hers in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender. It was as if the world around them ceased to exist, leaving only the taste of their shared breath and the warmth of their bodies. Bianca gasped into the kiss, her senses igniting in an instant.

The kiss was intoxicating, rich with the taste of the breakfast they shared earlier and the faint scent of lily of the valley on his skin. His lips were firm, yet his touch was careful, as though testing the waters of something he had long kept at bay. As their mouths moved together, Bianca felt a sharp pull deep within her, a gravity that seemed to tether her to him in a way that transcended logic. She kissed him back. Her own lips were soft but insistent.

The thread around their wrists now glowed a vivid crimson, the heart-shape loops pulsating from the desire that pooled between them.

Bianca tasted the salt of his flesh. Her body shivered against him, the warmth of him pressing against her own as her hands slid up to grasp his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his SOLDIER suspenders crossing the broad expanse of his chest, the tension coiling in every movement. Her fingers curled around the middle of the straps, as her claws nicked his skin just slightly, but not enough for Sephiroth to bleed.

Then her right hand slid over to his arm. She felt his forearm flex beneath the ebony coat covering his entire body. Her hand gripped the silvery strands, brushing against his arm, trapping his hair between their skin.

A low hum reverberated through her, the sensation of his touch flooding her senses. The scent of him—a mix of sharp floral and earthy warmth — invaded her senses, making her head spin.

Need him. Need him. Need him. The thoughts kept repeating as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss. Her heart raced, the rhythm erratic as she sank deeper into the kiss. The heat between them growing.

His powerful hands found her waist, pulling her closer, as though trying to erase the distance between them. How his hands now trembled against her. She could feel the heat of his body seep into hers, a quiet fire that matched the burning need coursing through her veins. The kiss was no longer just an act. It was a communion, a shared moment of understanding that transcended the chaos of their individual experiences.

The sound of their breathing mingled, becoming erratic as the kiss deepened. Bianca’s mind raced, her body responding to the undeniable pull of Sephiroth’s presence. A flash fire of wanton attraction spread within her body, engulfing her senses just below her flesh. His fingers trailed up the soft fabric of her sweater before his hand dove beneath her clothing, brushing against the warmth of her skin beneath. The touch was almost too much, sending waves of sensation rushing through her, as it made her feel both lightheaded and grounded all at once. It was like drowning and soaring at the same time.

Her lips parted against his, and in that moment of minute separation, she could feel his breath on her mouth. Hot and unsteady. Full of want and need. For a fleeting instant, the world outside the confines of the library ceased to exist: Zack wasn’t tossing and turning in his bed as he tried to make sense of Sephiroth and why the other 1st Class SOLDIER locked himself in the basement or a creature of unknown origins named J.E.N.O.V.A wasn’t in the containment tank in the reactor in the mountains. It was just the two of them. An unlikely pair bound by something darker and deeper than either of them could fully comprehend — beyond Jenova, beyond Asmodeus, beyond Shinra. This union was fated to happen by a prophecy she had been running from her entire life.

His hand cupped her cheek. His thumb grazed her skin with such tenderness that it contrasted with the intensity of their kiss. Bianca leaned into the touch, as if she were a thirsty man deprive of water in the desert and his touch was her only oasis, and felt the pulse of his hand against her skin and the warmth of his presence anchoring her in a way nothing else ever had. No one had ever made her feel like this before.

The kiss lasted for what felt like an eternity. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads touched, as he still bent down to her level. Their breaths mingled. Both of them were silent. A thousand unspoken words hung between them, as they stared up into each other’s eyes: gold peering into cyan hues. Bianca’s lips tingled from the kiss. Overwhelmed, she could still taste him, feel the warmth of his skin against hers, and his hand, a feather-light touch. The pumpkin spice of her scent clung to the air, providing a soft contrast to the sharpness of Sephiroth’s presence.

In that moment, there was no past, no future—only the now, the bond they shared, and the unspoken promise of something more. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the unvoiced understanding that this moment, raw and unguarded, was a turning point in their tangled fates.

Bianca stood there. Her heart still pounded. Her body hummed with the aftershocks of the kiss. She didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time in a long while, she felt connected—truly connected—to someone who understood the weight of the circumstances that shaped her life.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @whatwedointhecraft @serenofroses @megandaisy9

@watermeezer

@seastarblue @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen

@chickensarentcheap

[akatsuki-shin]

"RELIANCE" — #TsengRuWeek2024 Day 7: Free Day (Geostigma)

1,6k words | PG

Takes place at the beginning of Advent Children, before Tseng departs for his mission with Elena to the Northern Crater

(link in the reply below)

[vincentvalentineweek]

We are officially 100 days away from Week One of Vincent Week 2025! Starting in 2025 VVW will be a bi-annual celebration of all things Vincent Valentine to take place during February and October. Week One will take place on February 7-14, so if you missed out on the October fun you can get in on February's celebration!

[the-bar-sinister]

Surprise Visitor (806 words) by thesavagesabretooth, VickytheSnake Chapters: 1/1 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Cissnei/Reno (Compilation of FFVII), The Turks/The Turks (Compilation of FFVII) Additional Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Drunken Flirting, Turks (Compilation of FFVII), Polyamorous Turks (Compilation of FFVII), Turkfic, Background Poly, Before Crisis Era (Compilation of FFVII)

-

When Cissnei came home, a quarter before one in the morning, and switched on the light in her dark living room she had not been expecting to see someone else there. A lump, flopped across her couch cushions and buried in her half askew throw blankets.

The pair of black goggles resting on the coffee table and the askew red hair sticking up from under the blankets painted an immediate picture, if a confusing one.

She hung up her jacket on the peg by the door with a raise of her eyebrow and a quietly amused sigh. Reno, for some reason, had broken into her house.

To collapse on her couch, it seemed.

She walked over and placed her hand on the pile of blankets and shook the sleeping form lightly.

"Reno. Tell me you at least stole a pillow." 

"Muh?" He uncurled from the way he was sleeping, snuggled up on his arms and his balled up suit jacket. He had not stolen a pillow. As soon as his eyes were half open, a big smile pulled across his face and he opened his arms toward her. "Heeey, Cissnei! Whatcha doing here?"

The smell of booze absolutely wafted off of him.

It assailed her nose, causing it to wrinkle slightly before she got used to it. It wasn't as if she wasn't a drinker. She drank plenty, but she'd never been as much of one as Reno.

She bent down, and wrapped her arms around him in a half hug, half getting him to sit the hell up before he gave himself a migraine sitting like that.

Pulling back to look into his eyes, she continued with wry humor. "Oh, nothing much. Just decided to stop in. See the sights. In my own house." 

Reno unfolded, half sitting up but tugging her basically into his lap in the meantime. He squinted around the apartment. "Your house? Oh! Oh right! My bad. I needed a place to crash and your apartment's the closest to the elevator."

"I'm touched," Cissnei drawled as she slid into his lap. "And you're drunk as hell."

It wasn't hard to imagine Reno having gotten hammered and crashing in the first place with a decently available couch; regardless of if he knew the people inside the apartment or not.

"Just your standard overindulgence or did you piss someone off out there before you were through?" 

Reno stared vacantly at her like he was working through the question with great difficulty.

"They're fixing the ceiling in my apartment," he answered, which at first seemed like mostly nonsense. "The guy on the floor above me put some weird chemicals down the drain. I was gonna beat his ass, but we ended up getting drunk instead."

He leaned his head– really more like flopped it– on her shoulder.

Well, it was an explanation. Which was more than you usually got when he was this sauced. She tutted her tongue, running her fingers through the long strands of his hair.

"Glad I don't have to write an incident report then." She glanced sidelong, shifting against his lap to loop an arm around him. "So here you are. Snuck into my apartment, and sleeping on my couch." 

"I kinda expected you to be home," he admitted plaintively, nuzzling into her. "Is it morning? Do I need to shower for work?"

It was very much not morning. Though he could definitely use a shower.

"It's the middle of the night, Reno. I just got off shift. Tseng had me up and down Loveless Avenue looking for some double agent." Cissnei poked the tip of his nose. "But you smell like booze, weird sink chemicals, and unwashed Reno. So maybe you could use a shower." 

He gave her a hopeful look, his bright eyes half lidded and his smile broad. "Wanna take a shower with me? And maybe I could steal one of your pillows."

Cissnei's normally composed face took on a hint of pink flush. 

"...I was thinking you looked pretty uncomfy on the couch. You'll just make my job harder tomorrow if you show up to work with a hangover and a stiff neck so—" She leaned in with a smirk. "Why not. Since you were polite enough to drop by and all." 

"You're the best!" Reno's grin widened even further and he grabbed her wrists, pulling her into a sudden kiss that tasted like scotch and cigarettes.

The familiar taste—a particularly 'Turks' taste, in her experience—met her tongue as she let herself melt into the kiss. Like a lot of things Reno did, it was chaotic, spontaneous. Charming, in its own madcap way.

As her lips tugged teasingly at his, the thought came to mind. A butchered quote from some daytime drama or another. Of all the apartments in Midgar, you break into mine. 

[burnyourpagoda]

Ooops. Oh well - party hard.

I'm guessing I'm not the only one.....