#flash fiction: fwc

[bardic-tales]

Just something that I was feeling earlier. Kind of sappy but I wanted to show a softer side to Bianca when I was writing this.

"You know that my previous marriage was never consummated and he was taken from me by Asmodeus the same night I fell from the rift into the Planet. I know that there is darkness in you, but I still see you. You, Sephiroth."

Sephiroth took a small step back. "You see me? All of me?" The vulnerability in his voice broke Bianca's heart.

"Yes. I see the One-Winged Angel, the SOLDIER, and the General. I see it all, but do you know what I see the most?"

Sephiroth inhaled and closed his eyes before he opened them and stared at Bianca. Through their bond, she could hear his questions. What would she see the most? The monster? The tyrant? The god? " What do you see the most?"

Bianca sat her mug down on the wooden end table. "Past the Son of Jenova, past the Chosen One, past the god, I only see the man that I fell in love with. It doesn't matter what he calls himself or the forms he may take. He is always Sephiroth, the man that I love."

She steadied herself against the barrage of his emotions assaulting their bond: feelings that he normally keep buried deep down, emotions that Hojo had once told him was a weakness and made for a poor SOLDIER.

"Always Sephiroth . . ." Sephiroth echoed her words. No one had ever seen him like she did. No others had ever dared. Then, he looked down into her eyes: his cyan ones so full of conflict, so full of self-hatred. "Even . . . as a monster?"

"You're not a monster, Sephiroth. A murderer, yes, but not a monster. Those things in the tanks at the Mt. Nibel Reactor, those were monsters. Shinra is the monster. Hojo is the monster. Not you. You are just . . . you."

She placed both of her feet now on the cold, cabin floor and stood. Slowly, she wrapped her arms and wings around him, pressing her face against his chest and listened to the slow, steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear. Her soft feathers brushed against his sides and back.

They stood there for a moment, as if they were statues. Two broken souls trying to find solace in a world so cold.

FF 7 FWC Taglist: (+ / -) please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the list. Or, you can simply go to this tag-list.

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @megandaisy9 @serenofroses @themaradwrites

@sliceoflifeshepard @watermeezer

[artandteaandstuff-blog]

Kings and Queens - Part 22

Summary: Emma Swan is struggling as an actress. All seems lost until she manages to swing a spot on Kings and Queens, the most popular Medieval TV Show of all time. But here’s the catch: Emma hates being in love, and acting it is proving more tricky than she first thought. Her whole world is about to change, especially working alongside her new and mysterious co-star Killian Jones. It’s been so long since Emma has opened her heart to anyone. Could she start now?

Rating: T. But there is a chapter later in the fan fiction which blurs the lines a little. Apart from that, no other warnings

Can also be found here, on FF.net.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR | PART FIVE | PART SIX | PART SEVEN | PART EIGHT I PART NINE | PART TEN | PART ELEVEN | PART TWELVE | PART THIRTEEN | PART FOURTEEN | PART FIFTEEN | PART SIXTEEN | PART SEVENTEEN | PART EIGHTEEN | PART NINETEEN | PART TWENTY | PART TWENTY-ONE

Author’s notes:

STILL THANK YOU  @electrictoes and @holdmecloseandfast.

Check out the amazing art @lucythemarauder created for this, right HERE. It is brilliant, go check it out!

@katie-dub made this gorgeous edit for my story, which you can see HERE. It’s so brilliant, check it out!

Emma has barely woken up when Henry is shoving the phone at her, mouthing ‘David’. Emma groans. She needs another three coffees and a shower before she can speak to anyone and form coherent sentences. At the very least, she needs some time to wake up. The late nights are really messing up her sleeping patterns again.

“What do you want?”

“You’re very hostile today,” David muses, amusement in his voice. He sounds too chirpy for so early in the morning.

“What do you want?” she repeats.

She pads into the kitchen. There’s a coffee waiting for her on the kitchen table, steaming and inviting. She smiles when she sees it. Thanks Henry, she thinks.

“You have an interview tonight.”

“Tonight? Bit short notice, David.” She picks up the mug and takes a sip. It’s perfect, exactly how she likes it.

“I know, I forgot. I’m sorry.” He’s grinning, she can tell. “But a car will be here to pick you up at seven. Be ready on time.”

“Yeah, I won’t forget.” She rolls her eyes. “What show is it?”

“The Teddy Norman show.”

“Teddy Norman?”

He owns one of the biggest shows in America. He’s Irish and a huge hit with all sorts of celebrities from actors to writers to musicians. She can’t think of a celebrity who hasn’t been on there. That’s how she knows she’s made it.

“Teddy Norman,” confirms David. “He asked for you. You and Killian, that is.”

“So it’s just… me and Killian?” She bites her lip.

“Yup. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Mary Margaret wants me to make breakfast since she can no longer bend down to get the plates from the cupboards.”

“Sure, I’ll talk to you later.”

“See ya, Emma. You’ll be amazing tonight.”

The line disconnects and Emma’s left holding the phone in a daze.

“The Teddy Norman show,” she says to herself as she places the phone on the hook. “Right. Okay then.”

Later on she stands backstage with Killian, bouncing in her heels, a little nervously. She’s not as scared as she would have been a few months ago, not after FWC, but this is still a big thing. The Teddy Norman show. Who’d have thought, huh? If the kids at the foster home could see her now.

“You’re beautiful,” comments Killian as he watches her. He’s wearing a suit and tie.

“Why do you always say that?”

“I say it because it’s true.” And then: “Nervous?”

“A little bit.”

“You’ll be fine.”

She looks up at him. “I know.”

They can hear Teddy warming the crowd up on stage, who seem excitable anyway, cheering and oooing and ahhing. “As you should know, this is a Kings and Queens special.”

“Ooooo,” say the crowd.

“Ooooo,” he repeats. “I know, right. I haven’t had Killian Jones on the show since the first series.”

Teddy Norman is a small man with a round face and a cheeky smile. He started off as a standup comedian and as his career went on, he did some acting. Now he has this show, the best chat show around. Over fifty, he has a beard and silver hair, but he still has that same charm that made everyone fall in love with him all those years ago.

Someone backstage with a headset tells them they’re on in five seconds.

Sure enough, Teddy calls, “You know him as Alexander, it's the suave, the cool Killian Jones everybody!”

Killian gives Emma a wink, an arm rub and disappears, running onto stage.

“Now it's the very beautiful, very talented Emma Swan!”

Emma follows Killian, in front of the crowd of cheering people. The crowd doesn't even faze her now. She's used to it. She gives them a wave as she makes her way over to Teddy (who kisses her on both cheeks) and sits down next to Killian. Two drinks are waiting on the table in front of them.

Teddy sinks into his chair. “Hello, hello.” He says as he slaps his knees. “Killian Jones, Emma Swan welcome. It's good to have you here.”

“It's good to be here,” says Killian, as smooth as ever. He immediately goes for his rum and takes a sip. Emma leaves her wine sat there for the time being. She doesn’t want to get too drunk too quickly.

Teddy begins by gushing about their show. He tells them how he watches it every week without fail and goes to every premiere. He loves all the characters, and he was so excited when Emma was introduced. Rose is an amazing character, he says.

They tease what’s going to happen next. They mention about next week where there’s going to be a ball. If people have seen the promo, they’ve seen Emma’s big red dress. Teddy shows them another trailer.

“It was the worst thing ever,” Emma tells him when he asks about the dress. “I hated it. It was too heavy.”

“But it is gorgeous,” says Teddy.

“Aye,” Killian agrees.

They talk about other cast members, and about what they’re like on set. By the time half Emma’s drink is gone, she’s starting to relax a little. Though she still feels starstruck because it’s Teddy Norman.

“Okay, so I might have done something…” he says, making a “whoops” face. “And that something might include fans.”

“Fans huh,” says Emma. She raises her eyebrows. Her and Killian exchange glances. Even though Teddy mentioned “fans”, Emma feels completely at ease.

“So I put a tweet out earlier in the week that I was having you two on the show, and I asked if they could send in questions for us. And I, uh…” He paused. “I may have said they could ask whatever they wanted, no limits. I may have said that.”

“Bloody hell,” says Killian, shaking his head, but there’s a smile on his face.

“But I think you’re going to like what I picked. I picked some good ones.”

“Go on then.”

“Okay so KillianLuver5eva has asked a good question here. Funniest moment on set?”

“Oh!” Emma snorts, “I have one.”

“Do share.”

“So Robin and Will-”

“- They play Lucas and Edward on the show, don't they?”

“Yeah, they do. And they always play pranks on Killian. Always. And this one time they nicked his pants while he was getting changed and ran out onto set with them.” Emma can't stop the giggles that escape her. “And he had to run out onto set without any pants.”

“For those who don't know, American pants are trousers.” He turns to them. “I have a lot of British viewers.”

“It was funny. Elsa, who plays Elizabeth on the show, took a picture and posted it to her Instagram.”

“We actually have the photo here. Do we? We do!” The photo flashes up on the screen, showing a slightly blurred Killian in his underwear.

“I like the polkadots,” Teddy comments. “Really I do.”

“Likewise,” says Killian. His smile is easy.

“We have another one here. From KingsAndCuties. She says, Can you imagine if Teddy asked them if they know what Captain Swan is. I think I'd die. Pretty sure I'd die.” Teddy looks right down the camera. ”Well, KingsAndCuties, RIP you.” He turns to them. “So do you know what Captain Swan is?”

“No idea,” says Emma, frowning. She’s not sure how she feels about Teddy’s excited expression, or the way Killian is scratching the back of his head and sporting a nervous smile.

“Killian?”

“Aye, I know what it is,” he admits.

“What is it?” asks Emma. She takes a sip of her wine.

“Go on, tell us,” says Teddy. “What is it?”

“It is…” He clears his throat with a low cough. “The Captain part of Captain Killian Jones - I have no idea how they know about that - and the Swan from… Emma Swan. Captain… Swan.” He throws a shrug in Emma’s direction.

“Because the fans want you together, don’t they?”

“It would seem so.”

“What do you mean they want us together?” Emma doesn’t mean to make her voice sound so defensive.

“Oh no, they don’t want you together,” says Teddy. “They believe you are together.”

Killain chokes on his rum. “Excuse me?”

“I take it by that tone you’re not?”

“Definitely not,” says Emma. She flushes.

There’s a smile on Teddy’s face. “Interesting of you to say that… Because we did a little search before the show and we found a website dedicated to proof that you two are actually an item.”

“You’re joking,” says Killian, grinning. He throws a smile over to Emma, who just gives him a look. She has to press her lips together to stop a smile.

She should be angry about this, or frustrated in the very least but she’s not. If anything she’s interested to hear what they’ve come up with. A website dedicated to proof that they’re together. She hasn’t heard anything so ridiculous in her whole life. What ‘proof’ could they possibly have?

“This ought to be good,” she says, sitting back on the sofa, folding her arms.

Teddy waves his hand and the website pops up on the screen. It’s a cream colour, with an exaggerated script font spelling out ‘Captain Swan’ in pink letters. There’s an image taken from the show where they’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

Underneath there’s a subheading:

WHY CAPTAIN SWAN IS REAL.

Killian and Emma exchange glances.

“Bloody hell,” he says under his breath.

“Now obviously I’m not going to read all the reasons,” says Teddy as he scrolls through. “There’s a lot of reasons here. Someone must have a lot of free time.”

“Too much free time,” says Emma between sips of her wine. She has the feeling she’s going to need a lot more alcohol for this.

Killian is leaning forward on the sofa, eyes fixed on the screen as Teddy scrolls.

“Some of these are very same-y same-y and I don’t think they count as actual reasons.“ He pauses to throw a look down the camera. “For example there’s one that says, ‘There’s so much tension on the show, they have to be a couple’. I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s not a reason. That’s just called good acting.”

Emma snorts into her drink. The alcohol is beginning to go into her head now.

“But there are some others-” He’s smiling now, getting to the good parts. “Which I think might be plausible…” His voice raises a notch in pitch as he speaks.

“Go on then, mate. What have you got for us?” says Killian. “Bring it.”

“So according to this, you were spotted holding hands.”

“I don’t think so,” says Emma. “That’s a lie. Made up things aren’t reasons.”

“Ohohoh,” laughs Teddy. “There’s a picture.”

“No…” says Killian in awe. He’s leaning forward even more in his chair.

Teddy scrolls down a little to reveal a zoomed in picture of them actually holding hands. She recognises his rings. There’s another photo under it which shows the actual picture. It was taken when they were getting out the car at the con, and Killian offered her his hand.

“Nonsense!” shouts Killian. He’s grinning. “Slander! I was being a gentleman and helping her out the car.”

“A gentleman, huh?” asks Teddy.

“I’m always a gentleman.”

“Okay, fair enough, but how do you explain this -” He scrolls down again and up comes a picture of them in that dance before FWC.

How did they get that? Emma thinks. They get anything. Can’t she have any amount of privacy in her private life?

“Aren’t we allowed to dance?” asks Emma. She’s deliberately not looking at Killian, though his eyes are on her.

“Slow dance.” Teddy gives her a ‘I don’t believe you’ look. “And then you’ve both been spotted on the way to each other’s houses.”

“What can I say?” says Killian. “We’re good friends.”

“Emma even left your house in the early hours of the morning in the same clothes as before. It does seem a little bit odd…”

Killian raises his eyebrows. “Surely if we were together, she would have brought a change of clothes?”

“Perhaps, perhaps.”

“I have a message for the Captain Swan fans,” Killian says. Emma throws him a warning look. Teddy, however, looks amused. Then Killian looks right down one of the camera, eyes dark, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I don’t hold Emma’s hand. The only reason she’s been at my house is for rehearsal. I’ll admit, myself and Emma Swan are good friends, we always have been. I can promise you wholeheartedly and honestly that we are not together…” His eyes twinkle in amusement. “Yet.”

Now it’s Emma’s turn to choke on her drink. “Excuse me?”

Killian gives a shrug and sips his drink, trying to stop a smile.

“You heard it here first,” says Teddy into the camera. “Just to clarify, you’re not together?”

“No!” Emma all but shouts.

“Okay well I believe you,” Teddy nods. “So onto other things. I want to talk about the size of your house, Killian.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Most people do.”

“I have some pictures here, actually.”

Teddy waves his hands and a picture of the outside of his house pops up on the screen. Even the screen doesn’t do how big it is justice, which she comments outloud.

Teddy flips through different rooms in his house, starting with the living room and then going onto the kitchen and other rooms. He even has a picture of Killian’s drinks cabinet, stocked with (mostly) rum. He goes through all the hallways, and comments on how clean it is.

“I know, right?” Emma mumbles.

Teddy points to the screen. “So this is the biggest bathroom?”

“No, it’s not the biggest.”

“Of course not. It only has -what- two baths and seven mirrors.”

“You should see the size of his bedroom,” says Emma, projecting her thoughts out loud.

“You’ve seen his bedroom? Kinda looks like you are dating,” laughs Teddy. The pitch of his voice raises a little when he says, “Awkward!”

“Emma fell asleep while rehearsing,” Killian explains, as smooth as ever. “I thought she could use a comfortable bed to sleep in.”

“And you happened to put her in yours, not the other seven?”

“Aye. Well, mine is the best, naturally.”

“And you slept…?”

“In one of the other bedrooms,” Emma is quick to clarify. “Y’know, since he has so many. At least he didn’t have to sleep on the sofa.”

“At least!” Teddy chortles.

Towards the end of the show they listen to live music by some band trying to promote themselves. They sit through a little interview with the band, who also comment that they love the show and they truly believed that Emma and Killian are dating. No-one seems to mention her kisses with Graham and she’s glad about that.

At the end of the show, Teddy thanks them for being there.

“It was a pleasure,” says Killian, shaking his hand.

And then they’re on their way, in a car and off out the studio. The more distance is put between them and that interview, the more Emma can breathe easily.

Later, Killian and Emma find a bar somewhere near the studio. She isn’t quite ready to leave his company yet, and Killian seems the same. He’s the one who suggested going for a drink (even though they’ve drunk plenty already), and he seemed surprised when Emma agreed.

“You were right,” she tells him, a little shyly, when he expresses his shock. “We are friends. Can’t I go for a drink with my friend?”

That made him smile. “Aye, love. I’m all yours.”

Now they sit in a dark booth at the back of the bar, hoping not to be spotted. Emma has taken Regina’s advice and found somewhere expensive and discreet. There aren’t loads of people in, but enough to hide them, and the lighting is dark. The only people who must know who they are are the bar staff, who keep replacing their drinks when they run out.

That must be why they’ve gotten onto such a dark subject, the endless supply of alcohol.

“I have… struggled with things in my past.” He scratches the back of his ear, a little awkwardly, eyes cast downwards. “Even now, I still struggle. Sometimes it's hard to find a balance. My brother, he's always helped keep me on my path.”

“Your brother, huh?” She downs half her drink in one.

“Liam. Why the tone? I know you've met him.”

She shrugs it off. She doesn't really want to talk down about his brother, not when Killian holds him in such high esteem. “Yeah, I have.”

“C'mon, Swan. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma...”

“I just don't think he likes me very much.” She admits, finishing the other half of her drink. As soon as she places her empty glass on the table, it's replaced with another one.

“Nonsense. How couldn't he?”

“He saw an article about my past. And he… saw the pictures of me and Graham in the papers. And I guess he just…” She shrugs.

He's quiet for a moment. Then, softly: “That has nothing to do with him. Who you spend your time with is none of his business.”

Maybe it's the alcohol, but it takes a while for his words to sink in. When they do, they have a completely different meaning. “Killian, I'm not with Graham.”

“Perhaps not, love but that's none of my business either.” A jaw clench. A sip of his drink.

“He's just a friend.”

“And what am I?”

Emma meets the intensity of his gaze. For a moment, they just stare into each other's faces.

Finally, she says, “I don't know.” It's the truth.

“Graham is a better man than me.” His knuckles are white, wrapped around the glass. “I've made so many mistakes. Hurt so many people.”

“Killian…”

“Graham is worthy of you.”

“Killian, I don't want Graham.”

A crease appears between his eyebrows. “I saw you.”

“What?”

“You kissed him.”

“I thought you knew?”

“I did. The first time. But you kissed him again.”

He must have followed her home. Did he leave the blonde?

Emma takes a long sip of her drink as she thinks how to phrase her words. How does she get across that she is telling the truth? That she doesn’t want Graham. “Do you know why I kissed him?” she asks, keeping her eyes trained on his.

A shrug, a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Alas, I do not.”

It takes courage to say the next words. She knows as soon as they’re out, it will be a confession, something she’s kept too close to her heart all this time, something she’s only just beginning to realise. “I kissed him because you went out on another date with… that girl.”

“Tink?”

Tink. So precious. She nods.

“You were jealous,” he says. It’s not a question.

“I wasn’t, I just… I...”

He doesn’t look at her as he says, “I was jealous too.”

“You were?”

“I told you I was. It was maddening.”

She bites her lip, looking down into her drink, sparkling in the light. “Why?”

“Graham’s kissed you, Emma. He’s kissed you.” His hands tighten on the glass again as he brings it up to his lips and drinks deeply.

“You’ve kissed me.”

“That may be but it’s not the same, is it?” His eyes flicker up to hers, quick and embarrassed. “I’ve kissed you in a room full of people, all watching, waiting. I can’t even enjoy it because I’m too busy thinking about which way to tilt my head, or exactly where my hands should be. Do I place them on your neck because it makes you tremble or because it looks good?”

She doesn’t know what to say to that. She’s shocked. It’s almost like a confession. All of this is a confession. Dangerous ground. A minefield. She should tell him she’s going, that she has to get back for Henry even if it is a lie, but before she has chance, Killian is speaking again.

“And then there’s Graham. Bloody perfect Graham who just did it. Who just went for it and now has the pleasure of kissing you without a thousand eyes watching him do so. He can hold you just to hold you.”

“I-”

“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, he’s a better man than me, Swan.” Killian shakes his head. “A cleverer man than me. If I had any sense at all, I would have done what he did a long time ago.”

She swallows.

“Why didn’t you?”

When he meets her eyes, his hold a twinge of sadness. “I’m long past taking things that clearly aren’t mine.”

“Milah,” she says before she can stop herself. It must be the drink. “No, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

She can see the emotions pass over his face: fear, pain, loss, and it makes her want to reach out, to touch his hand. She knows what Graham told her, but Killian can’t be the only one to blame. Not with something like this.

“Yes,” he says softly. “Milah.”

“She was Gold’s wife,” she says. It’s not an accusing tone. She’s not blaming him, she’s just stating a fact.

“So you’ve heard the stories then?”

“I’ve heard one side.” She pauses, tension in the air. And then: “What happened?”

“I’m going to need another drink for this,” he says softly, signaling the bar staff. They top them up with fresh drinks. Emma takes a generous gulp.

“What happened?” she repeats.

“I fell in love with her. Plain and simple.” He’s looking away from her, down at his drink like he’s ashamed. She can’t help it, she reaches out and places a hand over his. “I met her in a bar one night. She was drinking alone. A man was giving her unwanted attention, and so I fixed it for her.” A ghost of a smile at the memory. “She told me right then and there she was married, and I respected her wishes. But the next time I met her, I…” He shakes his head.

“You?” she prompts softly. Her hand is still over his.

“It was clear she was unhappy in her marriage. She was a great deal younger than him, but her parents pushed it. He was a friend of theirs. I suppose I just…“ He scratches the back of his head. “The affair lasted months, almost a year, and for a time I almost thought we’d gotten away with it. There were a few close calls but we always knew how to cover our tracks. Until...”

He’s silent for a moment but she doesn’t want to say anything and wreck his train of thought. She’s hanging on his every word, watching every twinge of pain that crosses his face.

“He caught us. He was supposed to be away on work, a part in some British Drama, but his flight was cancelled and-” He swallows. “I was in his kitchen, and she was upstairs. He knew as soon as he walked in. I was fully clothed, I could have made up some bloody elaborate story, but he knew. He could tell by the guilt written all over my face.”

She squeezes his hand gently. There’s nothing but pain and shame in his expression, and she feels a sudden need to comfort him. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, Killian.”

“You haven’t heard the worst of it.” He laughs, but it’s humourless. “She came straight to me before he had a chance to throw her out. For weeks we didn’t see him. We thought we never would.” His face darkens. His jaw clenches. “But he turned up with a gun. It all happened so fast. He was after me but she was the one who died.”

Emma’s free hand flies up to cover her mouth. Of all the things she imagined, she couldn’t have imagined this. She would never have imagined this. Her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, Killian…” She blinks them away.

“It’s okay,” he says, tense. “It was a long time ago. It went to court, but he managed to evade prison. He’s slippery that way.”

“How can you still work with him?”

“Truth be told, I didn’t know he auditioned for the show, let alone he was one of the producers. I badly needed the money. I was already facing eviction from my home. My family had loaned me all the money they could. I-” He takes in a breath. “- had a borderline drug addiction. I needed this role to survive. I’d always prided myself on my survival skills. So we buried the hatchet. We both had blame. The only thing is…”

“What?”

“I didn’t exactly bury the hatchet. I did everything I could to get him off the show. I thought if I took the role, I could destroy him. Exterminate him like the bloody... crocodile he is. So I sorted myself out, spent time in rehab during the filming hiatuses, and got myself back on track. I needed a clear head to get rid of him. I wanted him dead.”

“But he’s still on the show,” she says.

“I know. Every plan I had was foiled.” Another one of those ghost smiles crosses his face. “Though last autumn, I had a plan I knew would work. I was going to frame him. I’m good at things like that. I have connections. I won’t tell you the specifics - I don’t want you to think even worse of me - but it was foolproof. It was all going according to plan until…” He drops his eyes to the table.

She squeezes his hand again, brushing her thumb over his. “Until…?”

His eyes return to hers. “Until I met you.”

“Me?”

“You make me want to be a better man for you.”

Her face is slowly turning white. She doesn’t know how to process this, any of this. She can’t blame Killian, she just can’t, but that doesn’t mean she knows how to feel. She starts to move her hand away, but he holds onto it and flips them over so his hand is on top. He intertwines their fingers.

“Milah was my first love. My only love,” he says to their hands. “I never truly believed I would be able to … care for anyone else, not like that. And yet, here I am.”

“Here you are,” she says, barely audible.

“I’ve never told anyone that. About Milah. Liam knows, but he’s the only one.”

“And you trust me not to tell anyone.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hopefully you won’t share such things during your intimacies with Graham.”

“Killian, I’ve told you before. I’m not with Graham. I never was. He kissed me and I kissed him back just to see, on a whim. But I…” She shakes her head. “He’s just a friend. A good friend.”

“I’d hoped so. After all, you don’t have a good ship name.” This time when he smiles, it’s more genuine. “Not like Captain Swan.”

Despite everything, she giggles. “I can’t believe they think we’re together.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

“What a completely stupid, ridiculous-”

He stops her words with a kiss. It comes out of nowhere, a complete surprise. A good surprise. But his lips hardly touch hers, before he’s pulling back, cheeks flushed and embarrassed, “I’m sorry, Emma, I shouldn’t have-”

She’s kissing him again before she can stop herself. Both his hands move up to her face, over her hair, as he slides closer, mouth soft and insistent on hers. It’s hot in the bar and dark in the booth and he’s kissing her and it’s better than all the times she’s imagined it. It’s better than the filming because it’s real, and it’s better than Graham because it’s what she wants.

“Neal,” she says when they break away. Her nose is still bumping against hers.

“Uh… It’s Killian, love.”

A breathless laugh. “No.” She moves back to look up into his face; into his eyes suddenly sparkling with a new light. “That’s my baggage. Neal. If we’re talking about baggage.

“Who’s Neal?” He asks softly, head tilting to the side.

“Henry’s father,” she says.” Killian raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t speak, urging her to continue. “He stole a couple of watches worth ten thousand dollars. We were going to take the watches and move away, start a new life. But he took off with the watches himself, and let me take the fall.”

“Bloody bastard.”

“And then there’s Walsh.” She takes a deep breath. She doesn’t know exactly why she’s being so open with him, but it could have something to do with the drink. It must be the drink. “We were engaged and he, uh, left me. At the last minute. Days before the date.”

Killian gently strokes her hair. “Why?”

“I don’t know.” She bites her lip, brows furrowing. There is still a twinge of pain when she thinks about him, no matter how thick she makes her skin. She finally opened her heart to him, finally agreed to marry him after months of asking, and then he left her. “I guess he didn’t want me anymore.”

“If I were that lucky, I would never let you go.”

She looks up into his face. He’s telling the truth. “I know,” is all she can say.

After one smouldering look which turns her insides to jelly, he’s kissing her again, pulling her as close to him as possible. He touches her gently, like he’s trying to memorise her, and it’s not too long before they’re tangled, wrapped up in each other in that little dark booth and it’s insane, it’s like she can see fireworks and she knows she’s too wrapped up in him. But here, cushioned by the blurring lines of alcohol, that’s okay.

For now.

[bardic-tales]

Title: Deals with a Devil

Pairing: Bianca (F!OC) x Sephiroth

Rating: General

Word Count: 2028

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Setting: Pre-Games

Warnings: mild mentions of blood and violence (Past events), light references to demonic and angelic themes

Summary: Bianca and Sephiroth share a quiet, intimate moment as Sephiroth braids Bianca’s hair while they discuss a costume party and the playful bargains she traded with Shinra and their friends.

Created for: @prehistoric-creatures

Snippet:

Bianca reached past the diverse bottles of lotions, creams, and perfumes and picked up the boar bristle hairbrush with the ivory backing: her favorite brush. Wordlessly, she handed it to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth stood behind the bench and gently lifted her hair from the back and glided the brush through the massive brown locks. “The party is in two hours. We have plenty of time, but you know how you are. Taking all the time in the world to get ready.”

“Well, if some guy I know didn’t use all the hot water in the shower.” Her shoulders relaxed as he separated her hair into three different chunks before leaning over her and picking up the white, yellow, and green ribbons. “I still cannot believe you use one bottle of shampoo and conditioner per day. A whole bottle of each.”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “My hair is longer and thicker than yours. Besides, you always take over our bathroom. I’m sure you don’t need all of those products.”

Deals with a Devil

As the Shinra Electric Power Company extracted the lifeblood of the Planet and refined it into energy with the reactors that dotted the edges of the circular city, the bright lights of Midgar twinkled below their studio apartment like stars in a darkened sky. To the North, the screeching of the locomotive’s wheels herald the incoming third shift of the weary workers. Sparks showered the track as the night train ushered them to the stop closest to the Shinra Building, the jewel of the sprawling metropolis.

Meoooooooooooowww. The onyx-colored cat, a chunk named Nyx, grumbled as she jump up onto the bed, pressed her paws onto the soft bed linens, leaving miniature indentations behind, as she walked around in a circle with her bushy tail held high in the air. Once the bedding was completely flattened to the feline’s liking, she lowered herself down and curled into a ball, keeping her gaze onto the couple before her.

Bianca Moore stood before the poster boy and General of the Shinra SOLDIER program and smoothed out the black sleeve of his heavy linen himation. Sephiroth was always the picture of handsome: silvery hair which was now pulled up into a ponytail, cool cyan feline-like eyes, and his broad shoulders and chest.

“What time did Genesis say the costume party started?” Reaching up, she placed the floral wreath she made for him on the center of his head. Wisps of silver mingled with the green leaves, crimson roses, and black iris.

After he placed his left hand on her shoulder, his hands slip down over her shoulder, her arms, and to her hands before he lead her before the vanity table straight across from the foot of their bed. Bianca stared at their reflection within the oval-shaped mirror for a bit before she sat down on the cushioned bench. Her head barely reached his chest: a size difference that Sephiroth noticed, encouraging him to give her the nickname ‘little dove’.

Sitting there, Bianca crossed her slim right leg over her left. The light green woolen fabric was pleated and draped over itself, pinned at the shoulders with a shiny broach featuring a single, black wing, and formed elbow-length sleeves. Beneath her perky breasts, a brown belt stretched across her sternum and looped below her wing’s forelimbs flowing out from a large diamond-shaped hole stretching from the top back of the chiton stretching across from one shoulder blade to the other.

Bianca reached past the diverse bottles of lotions, creams, and perfumes and picked up the boar bristle hair brush with the ivory backing: her favorite brush. Wordlessly, she handed it to Sephiroth.

Sephiroth stood behind the bench and gently lifted her hair from the back and glided the brush through the massive brown locks. Working the brush through her hair with surprising ease for how dense and long her hair was, he was careful and gentle, making sure not to tug on the strands. “The party is in two hours. We have plenty of time, but you know how you are. Taking all the time in the world to get ready.”

“Well, if some guy I know didn’t use all the hot water in the shower.” Her shoulders relaxed, as he separated her hair into three different chunks before leaning over her and picking up the two different white, light yellow, and green ribbons and pinned them to each thick strand of hair with bobby pins. She chuckled. “I still cannot believe you use one bottle of shampoo and conditioner per day. A whole bottle of each.”

A low guttural chuckle rumbled from his chest at her words. As he started to braid, he crossed one thin strand and ivory ribbon over the other before tucking it around the right section. “My hair is longer and thicker than yours. Besides, you always take over our bathroom. I’m sure you don’t need all of them.”

Nyx jumped off the bed, walked over to Bianca, and jumped up on the angel’s lap. She stroked the black fur, running her hand down the feline’s back.

Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the gentle brush of his fingers against her neck: a softness which surprised Bianca as his hands had seen so much bloodshed. There was a certain intimacy having a lover touch her hair.

Angels from her dimension typically only styled their hair for one reason: battling against cosmic threats, such as the entity that Shinra named J.E.N.O.V.A. For Bianca, it was no different. When she was younger and hunted by the cult mercilessly by the Cult that devoted itself to her father, Asmodeus, her father’s allies could use her longer hair styles to capture her by just grabbing the thick locks.

As he crossed another strand, a gentle flutter rose in her belly. His touch always did strange things to her. It always reminded her that while she may not be human that should could still feel emotions and Sephiroth brought a whole range of them: affection, confusion, and, most of all, love.

“Hey, I need the correct soap for every season,” Bianca said. “You don’t want to wash with cucumber melon in the winter and pumpkin spice in the spring.

“Besides, it���ll be time for the cinnamon apple body wash in a few months, and I know how much you like that one.” Bianca scratched between Nyx’s ears, as the cat flicked them back and a low purr vibrated her on Bianca’s lap. “I actually had R&D find a way to make it smell like cobbler this time. I guess it’s perks of being the Silver SOLDIER’s girlfriend. I just say, ‘Sephiroth wants to use this scent this season’. Fancy that. They actually make it. Agnes in R&D is waiting for you to wear her patented pumpkin spice and marshmallow creation. Wait until she smells me wearing it Monday.”

“Using my position for such trivial things? It seems you’re abusing your privileges, you know?”

“Well, I am half-devil.” Her gaze met his through the mirror. He gave an airy laugh before returning his attention to the braid. “Exploitation comes naturally to me. In fact, do you remember how Angeal let you out of training last week? You really thought he was going to let you out early? You really think I didn’t have anything to do with that?”

“Bia, you didn’t.”

“What can I say? That man is partial to those double-fudge brownies I bake. Just slip him a tray or two, and my boyfriend is free for the day date I planned.”

“So, it was all you.” Sephiroth laughed now. The corner of his eyes crinkling in his mirth. “Using your baking skills to tempt my friends. Just to have me all to yourself, huh?”

“It was an even trade. Brownies for my Sephiroth. I just didn’t think that we would spend the entire day in the 3rds’ training room with you actually training. Yet, you still don’t know the depths of what I would go through for you to have a day off. I would give a certain poetic soul we know front row seats to LOVELESS. We go next Tuesday with him.”

“I appreciate the lengths you go to get me a day off, Bia.” Sephiroth shook his head and leaned forward, placing a kiss on the crown of her own head before he went back to his task of braiding her hair. “But I would have hoped you would have traded Genesis something better than LOVELESS. Now, we’re going to have to sit through that damn play as he recites the entire thing.”

“What would you have rather me trade? He’s been eying Noctemaris and mentioning training with it a few times.”

“Absolutely not. Genesis is not going to train with Noctemaris before me.”

“Hm.” Her fingers scritched beneath Nyx’s chin now. The cat stretched out her neck and allowed Bianca to rub the palm of her hand over her throat. “How about I will let you train with Noctemaris, then? I know you have been eyeing it for awhile now.”

Sephiroth’s fingers stopped their braiding for a fraction of a second at her words, but he quickly resume the process. She knew how much he was fascinated with the demonic tachi, as well as Solstice, the angelic great sword that was once a shining beacon held by her mother.

“Training with Noctemaris,” His voice was low and neutral, but she could feel his excitement through their bond. The string looping around their wrists pulsated a deep pink, as he considered her words.

“That would be an interesting experience, but I’m also assuming there will be a condition or exchange of sorts?”

Got you. As the left corner of her mouth lifted, her white fang peeked out from behind her full, bubble-gum-colored lips.

Once again, their gazes met in the mirror. “I wonder what I can hold over you in exchange?”

“Let me guess, you’ve already thought of something. So what do you want in exchange for my training with that infernal-looking tachi?”

“Well, I do abhor doing the dishes.”

“So that’s your proposal?” Sephiroth flashed her an amused grin before he turned his attention back to the task of finishing the braid. “One evening of dishes in exchange for a day of training with Noctemaris?”

“Did I say one day? After all, Noctemaris used to be a celestial weapon. It’s not every day that you can come across something like it, apart from Masamune. I was thinking more like two months. And you need to wear that frilly apron in your birthday suit.”

I’m getting the short end of the stick. His thoughts filtered through their bond. Even as she tried to suppress the sound, several muted staccato shook her shoulders.

“Two months? Really?” He finished braiding it with the last part of her hair and ribbons. Then, he picked up the white flowers that he was going to place to the sides of her hair. “And I have to wear the damn frilly apron? Naked?”

“And I get to watch with my feet up. Most preferably with a glass of red wine in my hand. I think something should be said here about making deals with devils.”

Bianca imagined him standing at the sink as she lazed on the couch with her feet up and a glass of wine in her hand. He was her own version of Hades, knowing he had never refused her anything.

“You do know that devils are known for twisting their deals in their favor, correct?” He attached the bobby pin to one flower and pinned it in place to secure it on the left side of her hair.

“What would you call oogling my man while he does dishes in nothing but an apron? Twisting the deal in my favor, yes? After all, you and I both know how badly you want to use Noctemaris. It’s my most prized possession, so a little quid pro quo, Seph.”

She had him cornered. As much as he wanted to wield Noctemaris, there was always a price that one had to pay. For Sephiroth, that price was being eye-candy for Bianca for two months. She really didn’t think that was too bad of a price.

“You are relentless, Bia.” He let out a soft laugh and finished putting the last flower in her hair.

“Mm.” She picked up Nyx from her lap and sat the cat down on the floor before she stood up. “You knew that when you started to date me.”

Then, she walked to the dresser and picked up her silver clutch with the black beads adorning the entire bag. She also bent to the mini-fridge and retrieve two small bottles of whiskey, shook them before him, and shoved them into the small purse. “A little courage for you to listen to his ramblings of LOVELESS. Since alcohol doesn't affect me, I'll just tune him out. Shall we, my Hades?”

He gave her a wry smile before he offered her his left arm, assuming the role of Hades, the Greek god of the Underworld. “We shall. Let us go and listen to the drunken ramblings of Genesis about LOVELESS, my Persephone.”

FF 7 FWC Taglist: (+ / -) please let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the list. Or, you can simply go to this tag-list.

@prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen @megandaisy9 @serenofroses @themaradwrites

@sliceoflifeshepard @watermeezer

[bardic-tales]

Title: Scarred Soul

Pairing: Bianca (f!oc) x Sephiroth

Rating: explicit

Word Count: 845

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Setting: Final Fantasy 7 Remakes

Warnings: Body modification, emotional trauma, graphic sexual content, manipulation, physical scars, sexual tension, torture, violence.

Summary: Sephiroth comforts Bianca in the midst of vulnerability and desire, offering both physical and emotional solace while grappling with the weight of her trauma inflicted by Shinra’s cruel experiments.

Created for: @prehistoric-creatures

Excerpt:

“Never call yourself disgusting or shame yourself for what they did to you. You endured torment unimaginable — but that doesn’t define you, Bia.

"You are more than a victim, more than a pawn of Shinra.” Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and cradling her head to his chest. As her cheek lay against his bare chest, the SOLDIER suspenders pressed into her skin, and the smell of roses, vanilla, pineapple, and lily of the valley caressed her senses. His long, silvery-gray hair tumbled over her shoulders, blocking out the rest of the world as he held her there.

“Sephiroth. . .” She clutched the edges of his lapels, curling the ebony fabric of his trench coat tightly in her hands.

“Bianca, my lovely bird, shh. You are a strong, resilient, and beautiful woman. Do you think I would call anyone less than that mine?”

“I missed your fiery spirit,” Sephiroth whispered against the soft curve of her throat where her neck met her shoulder. His breath warmed her skin, and Bianca closed her eyes. He wound his left arm around her waist, as his fingers splayed across her flesh, stroking her hip in smooth circles with his thumb.

As a soft moan escaped her full, slightly parted, crimson-painted lips, he slowly walked her backwards until her back hit the rocky wall behind her. He leaned his chest against hers, slid his thigh between her legs, and captured her wrists with his left hand before he lifted her arms over her head and holding her still.

The piercing coldness of the crater seeped through the rock and into her back, sinking into her body like an embrace from an icy specter. The frigidness bit through her wings, feathers, and muscles to her very bones. Despite the scorching heat of Sephiroth’s lips and tongue tracing a fiery trail down her shoulder, the iciness overshadowed any heat he was making.

Cold. Like a medical gurney. Her eyes wrenched closed now, as her heart slammed into her chest. She tightened her grip around Sephiroth. Her ruby-colored claws dug deep within his coat, piercing his back with each sharp nail’s stiletto tip.

“I want you. Now.” His free hand cupped her breast, palming her skin, while his thick fingers teased her pebbling nipple, rolling it between his leather-clad index, middle, and thumb before he continued to trace the contours of her body until he brushed against that awful blemish on her body.

Her present from Diana Ravenscroft and Professor Hojo. The puckered flesh begun at her right side, and twirled up to below her ribcage before dipping back down into a circle around her belly button: purple against her skin.

Bianca stopped responded to him as he traced the length of it. The memories of the past intertwined with the presence. Once more, her fingers clamped down on his back, almost as if she was trying to ground herself to the present but kept slipping into the past. This blemish on her body served of a reminder of what happened to her: brutal vivisection with saw her ribs splayed, her heart and lungs played with, and her blood siphoned after she was infused kept in a Mako containment chamber while her wounds healed during the night. Most of all, it was a reminder of her downfall and her complete fall from Grace.

Even in his madness and plans to absorb the Lifestream, Bianca still knew she could lean on Sephiroth, but that didn’t mean she wanted him to the pain and misery she still went through. She didn’t want him to see that she been corrupted and was disgusting: that the experiments made her fuck things — everything — up. Did he notice?

Of course, he had. He heard this through their bond that they shared. The twine looping around his and her individual wrists twisted into small hearts — one on the top of the wrist, one at the back, and two on either side, forming snugly around her 5-inch wrist and his 6.5 to 7.5-inch wrist. It glowed red with her self-doubt.

Sephiroth pulled back so there was a short distance between the two and stared down into her eyes: anger flared within that gaze at the thought of what Shinra did to her and how she wanted to hide the scar from him. He had never made her feel less then.

His hand left her side and held the back of her head now, as he gently stroked the long dark tendrils. “Don’t you dare hide this from me. From us.

“You’re mine.” Those low words were like a promise but served another purpose. They were like a balm to her: knowing he would accept her no matter what those monsters did to her. “Every part of you, even the ones you hate. Especially the parts you hate. I will never allow them to take that away from me. From us.”

“How can you not see me how I truly am? I am disgusting. I’m corrupted. I don’t even know how you can love-“ “Never call yourself disgusting or shame yourself for what they did to you. You endured torment unimaginable — but that doesn’t define you, Bia.

“You are more than a victim, more than a pawn of Shinra.” Sephiroth wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him and cradling her head to his chest. As her cheek lay against his bare chest, the SOLDIER suspenders pressed into her skin, as the smell of roses, vanilla, pineapple and lily of the valley caressed her senses. His long, silvery, grey hair tumbled over her shoulders, blocking out the rest of the world as he held her there.

“Sephiroth. . .” She clutched the edges of his lapels, curling the ebony fabric of his trench coat tightly in her hands.

“Bianca, my lovely bird, shh. You are a strong, resilient, and beautiful woman. Do you think I would call anyone less than that mine?”

[bardic-tales]

Title: Lights and sirens

Pairing: Bianca / Sephiroth

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 936

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: Death, violence, emotional distress, supernatural themes, war/conflict, loss of a loved one, dystopian oppression, child endangerment, existential themes, doom/fatalism.

Summary: Bianca Moore is haunted by the death of her lover, Sephiroth, as she navigates the chaos unfolding in Midgar after multiple explosions. Plagued by his voice calling her to join him in the Reunion, she struggles with grief, loss, and her desire for release from the mortal world.

Prompt Filled: 270: Lights and sirens

Created for: @flashfictionfridayofficial

1.

Midgar, Gaia 0007

“Multiple explosions in the Mako Reactor,” the woman relayed from the tv through the quaint little room. As she sat on the armchair, Bianca Moore focused her attention on the reporter on the TV. As she leaned forward, the squeak of the chair conglomerated with the terror in the reporter’s voice.

“Come to me.” Bianca was captivated by the mesmerizing sound of a masculine voice, which seemed to caress her ears and fill the surrounding silence. In that moment, she had a fleeting sensation of someone’s presence behind her, their touch lingering on her right shoulder, but when she turned, there was no one there.

With each beat, her heart throbbed in her chest, mirroring the underlying dread carefully masked by the news anchor. Who said to come to her? Why did it sound so much like him?

In a state of confusion, Bianca’s head jerked from side to side as she tried to locate the elusive owner of the voice. It sounded like him, but it couldn’t possibly be him. Five years ago, Bianca witnessed his death, her voice echoing in despair as the spiky blond-haired trooper plunged a stolen sword into his back.

The familiar wave of sheer terror washed over her, as if five years ago was just yesterday, leaving her heart pounding in her chest. How long would it take for the grief to release its tight grip on her heart? Her rapid breaths hammered against her chest, but she leaned forward, desperately seeking comfort as she cradled her face with her shaky hands.

Her long brown hair fell gracefully down her back, dancing with the rhythm of her steps. As the past events unfolded before her mind’s eye, she attempted to avert the devastating outcome, the heartbreaking demise of the man she held dear, as madness consumed him.

As the thoughts from the past collided with the present, a sudden, forceful knock shattered the continuous hum of the television and its piercing alarm from the Emergency Broadcast System, urging everyone to remain indoors as Shinra tackled the terrorists.

She rose from the chair and sauntered to the door. Her heart still pounded, and as she reached for the doorknob, her hands trembled. It was a strange sensation: hearing the mortals crying out and watching the acrid smoke billowing in the distance like some black cloud washing over the plate, but not feeling anything except wanting the sweet release of death finally.

She, being an outsider to the Planet, experienced a paralyzing dread, knowing she could never join the Lifestream and be reunited with her departed lover. She wouldn’t rejoin the Celestial Realm either. Exiled from those lands, she bore the weight of her doomed love for the mortal man. The sensation of the Eternal Moonlight on her skin will forever remain beyond Bianca’s reach, causing her to miss out on its embrace.

If, by some tragic circumstance, she were to meet her demise, her physical being and inner essence would gradually dissipate, eventually ceasing to exist altogether. There was nothing that would prevent that fate. It was the true nature of an angel’s love for mortals and the willful defiance of divine laws. That was a fate far kinder than being trapped in the heart-wrenching memories of the harrowing events that occurred five years ago. Tears welling up in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away.

Bianca cautiously peered through the slender gap between the slightly ajar door and the doorjamb. She watched as a swarm of people quickly dashed past her, their hurried footsteps fading into the distance. The sight of their battered bodies, wrapped tightly in thick bandages, was a sobering reminder of the violence they had experienced. Her heart sank as several more individuals walked past, their downcast eyes and slow pace echoing the weight of their sorrows. Staring forward with haunted and vacant eyes, they seemed oblivious to their surroundings.

Despite straining her eyes, she couldn’t glimpse who knocked on her door. Not a single soul stood on her stoop. As she stood there, another man hurried past, clutching a young girl tightly against his chest. The blaring sirens muffled the child’s screams and shrieking of terror, amplifying her sense of impending doom. The child’s face contorted with terror, tears streaming down her cheeks, as her wide, fearful brown eyes darted around the street, searching for the man’s reassurance as young children were apt to do.

A group of troopers, their tense bodies rigid, stood near the entrance of the Sector, the blinding beams of their spotlights scanning the crowd, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the onlookers. No one could escape their watchful eyes, but their loyalty was directly proportional to the amount of money Shinra paid them.

Shinra. She thought, as the man and young child now stood in line with everyone else who was trying to get out and away from the bombing. AVALANCE. That blond man who now pretended to be a SOLDIER. They were the source of all the terror and grief that permeated the air.

Surrounded by the pulsating blue lights of the ambulance parked next to her apartment, Bianca’s eyes welled up with tears as she bitterly observed how quickly the civilians carried on with their lives—even amid a tragedy. If he hadn’t died, he would have been sent here to help the civilians, or at the very least, she would have persuaded him to come and help her and the people who lived in the sector. Her grief weighed heavily on her shoulders. Fists clenching together, Bianca seethed with fury. How she wanted to expose the President and the board’s deceit at his supposed defeat by the monsters of Nibelheim. The fan club mourned him, but he was quickly forgotten about as they moved on to the next upcoming SOLDIER.

“It’s time, Bianca.” Once more, she heard his voice — Sephiroth’s voice— in her head. It was lulling and demanded to be heard, much like a siren luring sailors to their demise. “The Reunion where you and I will finally be one again. A melding of souls. Make your way North. Mother and I are waiting.”

For more Flash Fiction centered on Fantasy Worlds Collide, please see the tag flash fiction: fwc.

[bardic-tales]

@prehistoric-creatures. Here's that drabble / flash fic that you requested on Discord a few months back. Sorry i just got around to it. Hope you like their dynamics, cause once they get going, there's no stopping the two from bantering.

NOTE: For a little story behind this, I shared one of Bianca's quirks with my friend. Instead of holding and eating pizza, Bia likes to cut it with a knife and fork.

"Oh really?" Sephiroth snarked. He leaned back in the booth, watching her careful cut her pizza with a fork and a knife. Although he didn't say anything, he was definitely judging her for it. "So, I'm straddling the line between love and hate, huh? Well, I suppose it keeps things interesting, doesn't it?"

"I can hear your thoughts, you know?" She shook her head, looked at him out of the corner of her eye, and stabbed the fork into the middle of the pizza slice before she begun to take her knife and sawed back and forth. "Fine line, Seph. Fiiine line."

His smirk widened as she read his mind with ease. Damn, their bond really never hid anything from each other: his plans, his thoughts, and his emotions were always laid bare for her.

"Yes, yes. Fine line." He raised a silvery eyebrow as he watched her to saw at the pizza, and he couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Seriously, what in Ifrit's hellfire are you doing to that poor pizza?"

"What? I'm eating it."

"Right, you're eating it. But you're doing it very . . . creatively, shall we say. Why are you cutting it with a fork and a knife like that? It makes me question your pizza etiquette."

Sephiroth shook his head. He leaned against the table, placing his elbow, and rested his chin on his hand. Locks of his light hair tumbled over his shoulder, over his lap, and onto the booth's seat.

"I didn't know there was a pizza etiquette." She swatted at him. Her palm connected with his cool, round metal pauldron, the impact making a clink sound. "Cutting it like this makes the pizza easier to eat without making me look like a heathen ripping it to shreds."

"Oh, so you're civilized now, eh?" he teased. "No. No. I see your point, Bia. Because there's nothing more refined than sawing at a pizza like you're trying to carve a turkey."

For more Flash Fiction centered on Fantasy Worlds Collide, please see the tag flash fiction: fwc.

[bardic-tales]

Title: Monster Made From Memories

Pairing: Bianca / Sephiroth

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2948

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: abandonment, abuse, body horror, demonic imagery, emotional breakdown, emotional manipulation, existential dread, gaslighting, graphic violence, hallucinations, intense sorrow, loss of agency, mind control, psychological trauma, religious references, supernatural elements, trauma flashbacks, unrequited love, vivid depictions of fire, vivid descriptions of injury. Whump focused

Summary: In a dream-scape, the One-winged Angeal torments and gaslights by changing the dream-scape to the Nibelheim Incident. Bianca confronts Sephiroth and takes back control, attempting to reach the man she once loved despite his transformation into the One-Winged Angel.

tagging: @megandaisy9 @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon @themaradwrites @prehistoric-creatures

@creativechaosqueen

1.

“The only ramen I had was from those from the grocery store.” As Bianca Moore sat across from Sephiroth, the sun beat down upon her and warmed her bare shoulders. The wind swayed the crimson ruffles of her bandeau bikini top, flipping the ruffles up and down as the red and white fabric of their picnic table umbrella fluttered. She swept an unruly lock of her wavy, jet-black hair behind her right ear.

The piercing cry of the gulls echoed overhead, and Bianca and Sephiroth watched the birds dive bombed each other for a stray fry or two. The food tumbled across the boardwalk as another seagull landed on the wooden boards and pecked at it. Occasionally, a bird flew off and landed on the edge of a roof of a quaint beach-side cafe, screaming at the sun-kissed beachgoers who walked by.

Bianca leaned back in her chair and placed her hands behind her head, threading her fingers through her hair again. Her black, see-through sarong parted at her hip. The soft fabric separated over the curve of her hip, exposing her right knee and calf that was crossed over her left leg.

“You really never had authentic ramen?” Sephiroth scoffed. His husky voice softened more at the word ramen, causing a small twitch within Bianca’s core. A coy smirk pulled on the left corner of his lips, brightened his face, as she knew he could feel the erotic sensation through their psychic bond. His cyan, feline-like eyes sparkled in the sunlight. The corners of his eyes wrinkled in amusement while his hip-length silver hair danced on the sudden breeze. “That’s blasphemy, my dear angel. I can’t have you only experiencing ramen through those instant noodles and that little silver package of seasoning. Real ramen is more rich.”

As she opened her mouth to speak, she noticed a sole black feather fall from the heavens. It floated down to her, dancing from side to side, as if it were a leaf upon a dead wind: the last defense of a colorful autumn turning into the frigid winter. She reached for the familiar but unknown plumage and picked it up, examining it, but it was her surroundings that gave her pause.

While these plumes usually gave her joy, there was something about this one. The feathers radiated an aura that caused Bianca to drop it. It burst into a wispy, black smoke and disappeared.

Everything around her froze, as if they were in a status field. The seagulls hovered in the sky above Bianca. Their wings suspended in mid flight as if time itself had stopped. As she looked towards the side, she noticed that even the waiter pouring drinks froze with a perpetual grin crossing his angular face. The coffee tumbled out of the carafe. The dark liquid froze like a waterfall amid a deep freeze.

“What’s going on, Sephiroth?” She returned her attention to her companion, but he didn’t respond. Like everyone who surrounded her, Sephiroth remained still. His mouth hung opened as he was amid a quip. Most likely, he was going to tease her more about her ramen preferences or lack thereof.

As she looked at Sephiroth, he didn’t move. He looked blankly forward with his eyes unfocused. The wind that had been blowing their hair around stilled, and Sephiroth’s long, gray hair lay limply over his shoulders and cascaded down his back to the seat of his chair.

What the hell is happening? Bianca thought. She continued to look around. It was as if she were the only person alive in the world: the only one who could move around freely.

She felt the soft touch on her right shoulder; the leather creaked as his gloved-clad fingers curled over her bare shoulder. As she jumped, her heart thumped wildly in her chest. So, she wasn’t the only one who could move. The leather felt cool to her skin. Strands of long silver hair flowed over her shoulder and mixed with her dark locks. As she looked down, her heart raced, threatening to beat out of her chest. Her eyes widened. Bianca didn’t move.

“Oh, what fun we had here, my angel.” The words were mocking: cruel whispers masquerading as affection while he leaned forward behind her. He leaned forward behind her, his breath caressing the shell of her ear. She trembled beneath his touch, reminding herself that the scene that was laid out before her had happened in the past and in another timeline. “All these emotions that we pretended to feel for each other here.

“But it’s time to stop pretending, dear Bia,” He continued. “I died at the reactor and you didn’t even shed a tear. Why is that? Why didn’t my death affect you?”

The cruelty in his voice cut through her. She turned her head slowly to look at him. She couldn’t breathe, as her breath seemed to be stolen from her now.

“Why?” Bianca closed her eyes, clenching them tightly shut. Her fingers clutched at the tablecloth. Her body shook. This man was part of her being — her other half — and here he was, staring at her with such madness within his eyes, such malice in his gaze.

But she remembered everything: every kiss, every embrace, and every heartfelt declaration. That was the price of being a temporal being. Every outcome shimmered before her mind’s eye, as if she were looking at it on the mortal plane.

“Is it not enough that you took everything from me?” Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked at him. Her breath now came out quicker in small, quick bursts: almost as if she were a dog stuck outside in the middle of a heatwave. Sweat dripped off of her chin face and down her chin onto the table that she had previously sat at. “Why show me the moments when I was so sure that we were in love?”

His cold eyes fixated on Bianca. Spreading across his flawless countenance, a smirk played upon his lips as he observed her. Her entire body pleaded for him to leave her and return her to the dreams’ illusions, as that was better than opposed to going about her life without him.

The cool seaside resort shifted instantly. Wooden buildings with pointed arches and mahogany framing greeted her, replacing the soft sound of waves lapping the shoreline and the women in tiny bikinis and men in board shorts. Each home’s alabaster plaster glimmered in the moonlight flowing down upon their bodies as the beam of light broke through the clouds high in the heavens above them.

Her eyes widened as their surrounding leapt in flames, the surrounding fires burnt brightly: the Nibelheim Incident. It painfully reminded her of her final experience with genuine love before everything was destroyed.

Her breath came in pants now, as she could not focus on him. The acrid smell of the wood burning saturated her surroundings. The burning scent of bodies overwhelmed her, as she felt as if she were going to be sick. Bile filled with her throat, threatening to burst out like a geyser. Despite the burning sensation, she swallowed it back. Her breath kept slamming within her throat, coming faster and faster as the flames circled around her and her surroundings burnt.

“Love, you say?” He spoke in a tone heavy with his enjoyment of her pain and suffering. “Such a pathetic sentiment. A concept you never truly understand, little angel.

“You think you loved this man?” As he leaned closer, his hair on her shoulder brushed against her cheek. “This hollow form of myself? You were a fool to believe that I ever loved you back.”

Their bodies glistened in the blazing light of the shared memories. With a relentless fury, the flames crept along the windows’ sills and frames, before suddenly springing to life on the roofs of the cottages.

As her body shook, the past consumed her. She could vividly remember the suffocating hopelessness she felt during that day, the profound failure of not being able to protect the townspeople from his rampage, and the excruciating grief that washed over her when he jumped from the reactor platform into the mako tanks.

“But it is amusing to watch how you flail about with your pathetic love.” Even though he crouched down to her level, he still towered over her.

Pathetic love? Something within Bianca snapped. She pushed down the sheer terror and misery that Sephiroth evoked in this moment. She stared at him, gazing deep into his feline-like eyes. A flutter raced in her chest: hope. It was tiny, but it was still there. She could feel Sephiroth beneath all the layers of corruption, influence, and madness.

2.

“That’s not true. We loved each other before you b-before you set our world aflame.” Bianca turned towards him now and cupped his cheek. Her demonic blood roared to life and fought his control over her. As she stared into his cyan eyes, she could still sense him — the man behind the One-Winged Angel and Son of Jenova—within their bond.

“You’re still in there.” Her hand still stroked his face, as she could feel the confusion seeping in through their bond. “I can feel you. Beneath the pain. Beneath the madness. Beneath the chaos. Like you, I too have a calling and destiny that I will answer it. I will free you from yourself and your mother.

Sephiroth took a step back and narrowed his brow at the feisty angel before him. Both of them knew that her demonic blood often dominated his and Jenova’s control, since her father was one of the original primordial demons, but he couldn’t comprehend the source of her immense power.

“It is true,” Bianca continued. “You may have changed, but in doing so, so have I. Our souls mirror each other. If there’s anyone who can save you from the chaos, it’s me: your angel.”

With a firm grip on his suspenders, she forcefully pulled him towards her, their lips meeting in a rebellious display of passion. Their kiss was a delicate balance of vulnerability and resistance, as their lips moved in a slow, tender dance.

The fires raged on around them, but her gentle touch on his cheek provided her a moment of solace. As the weight of the heat bore down on her skin, she found herself even more resolved in the conviction that she had to save him.

Her heartache lingered deep within, like a thick coating of molasses, but she refused to let it consume her, knowing that her mission to save Sephiroth required her full resolve. Yet, her heart clenched every time she laid eyes on him, making it nearly impossible to offer any help. He would have denied it, anyway. In death, he relentlessly refused to find rest or to join with the Planet. His anger and madness refused to let him rest.

“I cannot be killed,” she said, emphasizing her heritage as the daughter of Asmodeus and Seraphine. Strands of her saliva still clung to his lips, making them shimmer in the firelight. She stood. “And when you remain after the Meteor falls, I too will persist. I will spend eternity freeing you from your madness, if I must.”

Bianca now stalked towards him. She stared intensely into his eyes as her hips swayed as she walked deliberately while the flames of the fire flickered around them, making her seem as if she were a demon exiting hell.

With her head tilted up and her wings spread wide, she finally stood before him, exuding confidence and grace. Amidst the dying flames of Nibelheim, her feathers, a mix of purple and black, gleamed with an otherworldly beauty. As she emerged from the flames, she masked her true feelings, burying them deep inside. She concealed her pain of losing him five years ago beneath a stoic expression, making it invisible to his eyes. As she wrested her dream-scape from him, her eyes glinted with determination, and a powerful sense of empowerment overcame her.

Once more, the landscape shifted, revealing a breathtaking panorama of rolling hills and vibrant wildflowers. Behind the evergreen forest, a majestic mountain rose behind them, casting a shadow that made her feel small. This was the original home to the Biblical Nephilim: a race of ice giants that lived beyond the mountain range. In the forest, the sound of the cherubs’ fluttering wings accompanied the mesmerizing sight of their iridescent light, as Bianca stood firmly planted her feet.

Sephiroth’s eyes widened further as the fiery hell-scape of the Nibelheim Incident faded away, promptly replaced by the ethereal beauty of the Celestial Realm. His feet remained planted, but a deep frown creased his forehead. Their shared soul-bond revealed a cacophony of thoughts: a blend of bewilderment, rebellion, and, above all, seething rage.

“You are right, Sephiroth, though,” Bianca declared, quietly. Her voice may have been soft and husky, but there was a power to it. “You love to say how this and the Reunion are homecomings. It right here and now is. It’s your homecoming. While my concern for humanity and the Planet is significant, it is the harm done to your soul that weighs heavily on my mind. But fear not.

“I will save you, the Chosen One, the Son of Jenova,” Bianca’s voice resonated with conviction as she made her declaration. Her hand pressed firmly against her chest, feeling the rapid thumping of her heart, as it still clenched from sorrow.

How could she promise to save him? Five years prior, she had experienced failure. He had chosen Jenova, forsaking their love in favor of fulfilling his destiny. She couldn’t let him see the vulnerability that lingered in her eyes, a result of the impact his choice had on her. With a burst of black and purple smoke, Sephiroth vanished, leaving behind an eerie silence. Despite the immense sorrow of her soul, she found herself in a quiet recreation of her homeland. The night air was cool and crisp, providing a much-needed respite from the fiery and acrid atmosphere that lingered after the hell-scape he had conjured of the Nibelheim Incident.

The occasional hoot of an owl and the gentle rustling of leaves filled with a serene silence, interrupted only the dream-scape.

The last black feather gently descended from the Heavens, and Bianca sank to her knees, feeling the coolness of the moss and grass beneath her. Her hands trembling, she gently pressed them against her cheeks, muffling the sound of her sobs. With her palms pressed against the moss, grass, and feather, she hunched over and wept in silence. Every inch of her body shuddered and trembled, as if she had reached the brink of despair, but a glimmer of hope pulsed in her heart, as if it was her only chance to rescue him. His scent and feather provided her with a fleeting sense of comfort, although she remained unaware of the unfamiliar presence.

3.

With the world holding its breath, the air stood completely still as his black feather gracefully descended to the ground, resting on the cool moss beside her. But there, beneath the silence, a faint whisper lingered, barely audible, like a gentle breeze. A flicker of emotion crossed her face - a mix of regret, pain, and something unspoken.

Only a being as divine as her and Bianca herself could hear the ethereal whispers that resonated deep within her soul. In a spectral manifestation, Sephiroth materialized, his figure ghostly and translucent, extending his hand to gently wipe away a stray tear from her cheek. As she looked into his eyes, she was struck by the profound warmth that radiated from them, a stark contrast to Sephiroth’s previously menacing gaze. The moment he got close, she realized something was off. The aroma coming from him was completely unlike the Sephiroth who had just left her, but it matched the scent of the man who had fallen into the mako and left her in deep sorrow, confirming that he was not Sephiroth — or the Sephiroth that had fallen to Jenova and madness.

“Are you a dream? A vision of the past?” As she looked up, her eyes widened in recognition and joy when she saw her SOLDIER, a familiar smile on his face. Although he appeared identical to moments ago, a subtle radiance emanated from his eyes and his demeanor exuded an air of lightness. He existed in a liminal space between the detached SOLDIER and the sinister One-Winged Angel, an enigma that became intertwined with her soul.

As he bent down and brushed her cheek, she shivered from the warm connection: his touch was divine. Tears still coursed down her face, dripping off of her chin as she held onto the One-Winged Angel’s black feather.

“I am a fragment of a memory,” Sephiroth whispered to her. “A whisper of a soul. A fate that was once promised, but was cruelly snatched away.”

Her eyes, full of emotion, remained fixed on him as she continued to watch. Sephiroth’s ethereal form gracefully knelt before her, his long silver hair cascading down his shoulders and back. As she looked into his cyan eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of gentleness and sadness emanating from them. Once again, he tenderly brushed his fingers against her cheek, feeling the wet trails of tears on her skin, as if he wanted to remember every contour.

“But I am what was meant to be.” He continued to brush the tears away. “And yet, not what I am. I am a shadow of the man you once loved, but I am still him. And I will always come for you when you need me.”

[bardic-tales]

Also, I am finding it hard to concentrate after this RP between my husband and I. He is playing as Sephiroth. It may be the start of a fan fiction short story.

Her lips lifted aloft. She treaded the water before splashing Sephiroth again. The water trickled down his chest, over the suspenders crisscrossing his chest, and streamed off his leather obi. Her brow arched. "I'm waiting, Seph." "Be careful what you wish for." Sephiroth chuckled once. His tone dripped with confidence. Then, he peeled off his suspenders, his obi, and boots. As his hands hovered above his button and zipper, he quickly undid his trousers and dove into the pool. He swam directly towards Bianca, moving with powerful strokes. His silver hair floated out behind him, as he pushed his way through the water. He was now just a few feet from her.

Tagging some of my different fandom friends. Please remember, if I don't respond to your tags, that I'm not getting Tumblr notifications when some tag me.

@starryeyes2000 @residentdormouse @megandaisy9 @themaradwrites @prehistoric-creatures @arrthurpendragon @serenofroses

[bardic-tales]

Title: Halloween Hijinks

Pairing: Bianca || Sephiroth

Rating: General

Word Count: 332

Fandom: Final Fantasy

Warnings: AU: Canon divergent. Canon x OC

Summary: Bianca insists on offering high-quality treats for trick-or-treaters, while Sephiroth has a very different point of view.

Prompt Filled: “You can’t buy candy corn for trick or treaters! That’s the fruitcake of Halloween.”

Created for @occreatorexchange

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @residentdormouse @megandaisy9 @themaradwrites @prehistoric-creatures @arrthurpendragon

Halloween Hijinks

1.

“You can’t buy candy corn for trick or treaters!” Bianca exclaimed, as she snatched the bowl of candy from Sephiroth’s hands. She clutched the bowl, not wanting to return it to Sephiroth and his bad candy. “That’s the fruitcake of Halloween!”

This was her first Halloween since fate transported her from Earth to Gaia, and it was her favorite holiday. The celebration was among the things that she missed most about her home world. She didn’t know why dressing up in a costume meant so much to her, but it did.

It’s the perfect night to be my true self. During Halloween, Bianca had no one demand of her to bind her wings or wear normal color contacts to hide the color of her eyes. She could simply exist in her skin and none would judge her. They’d simply compliment her realistic costume.

In exchange, Bianca loved to serve only the best treats to visiting trick or treaters. She was the house that gave out full-size candy bars, making sure that her home would be well-remembered by the kids.

“You doubt me?” Sephiroth stared at her and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. His lips curled into a faint smile, which dissipated quickly and made Bianca wonder if it was even there. “It’s sweet and comes in three colors.”

Bianca’s ebony wings rested against her back as she stared down at the bowl of candy. The candy corn pieces seemed never-ending and kept appearing.

“Candy corn doesn’t taste sweet,” Bianca went to the metal cupboard, opened it, and retrieve several packages of full-sized Shinra Caramel Fusion, Peanut Blast, and Marshmallow Delight. “It tastes like sadness and tears.”

“Sadness and tears?” Sephiroth tilted his head. “But candy corn tastes sweet. It’s the quintessential Halloween candy.”

“And fruitcake is the quintessential Christmas food. Yet no one likes to receive fruitcake, and no one likes to receive candy corn. I think you are the only one who likes candy corn — and, of course, old people.”

[bardic-tales]

Title: Panic in the Lab

Characters: Bianca & Shinra Scientist

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 310

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: Anxiety, Body Horror, captivity, graphic violence, medical experimentation, non-consensual surgery, panic attack, psychological distress, torture, violence

Summary: Bianca endures a brutal experiment and torture while grappling with intense panic and psychological trauma.

Squared Filled: Panic Attack

1.

They cut and cut. Bianca laid on her back on the hospital gurney. Her thick wings draped over both sides of the make-shift bed, as blood slowly dripped down onto the floor in a widening puddle. Drip. Drop. Splash. Drip. Drop. Splash.

Her heart pounded in her chest, as the blonde Shinra scientist leaned over with the bone saw. The whirling sound echoed around the room as she sliced into Bianca’s cavity. Bianca felt the fear sink it: the overwhelming, suffocating anxiety clutching her heart in its icy grip. She may have been on the mortal plane, but Bianca could not die. Still, she could feel every cut, knowing that she would face the same torture tomorrow.

Bianca was a divine being — an angel — but here in this lab, she was nothing but a lab rat: an experiment and cattle for her demonic blood that was being used to stabilize some alien’s cells. Her breath caught in her throat, trying to force its way up but was lodge there no matter how many times Bianca wheezed trying to let it out.

I can’t stop this! She thought to herself in a panic. I can’t stop her! There is nothing I can do to prevent it! Her heart raced in her chest, the rapid thumping feeling like it thundered between her ears.

Her body erupted into a cold sweat, mixing with the crimson life-fluid that poured off her body now like a torrent of rain. Her breath still caught in her throat, still lodged deep within her as she gasped for air.

Reaching up to claw at her throat, she found herself held fast. Her shackles clanged against the cold, steel bed. Her fluid dripped out of the gurney’s holes beneath her, joining the widening pool in the examination room. She couldn’t escape her fate. Drip. Drop. Splash. Drip. Drop. Splash.

[bardic-tales]

Title: The Legacy of Seraphine

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 541

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Warnings: au: canon divergent, graphic violence (including dismemberment), dark themes, main character death, existential angst, cosmic themes, emotional turmoil, romantic themes, fantasy violence, and ethical dilemmas

Summary: In the eerie depths of the Northern Caves on Gaia, Bianca, a celestial guardian, faces a heart-wrenching choice. Prompt: Day 01: Honorbound

Created for: @angstober

Tags: @starryeyes2000 @residentdormouse @megandaisy9 @themaradwrites @prehistoric-creatures @arrthurpendragon

1.

The eerie green light from the Lifestream illuminated her facial features. The green ethereal river flowed past a large rock overhand. Tiny glowing orbs rose from the gleaming beryl-colored river.

Bianca Moore stood in the middle of the large cavernous chamber and gazed up at the gelatinous chrysalis. She smiled up at the disembodied body of Sephiroth slowly reforming within the jelly vessel as her violet eyes glimmered in the natural light.

A severed lower forearm suspended in time next to his entire upper torso. Bits of ropy, gray intestines hung out of his severed bottom half: a testament to Cloud Strife’s cowardice. This was what the great Sephiroth was reduced to: an upper torso and an arm.

A sweet inner voice interrupted her unending vigil in the Northern Cave. “Daughter, your destiny with this man and the creature that inhabits him will lead to innocent bloodshed.”

Bianca ignored the voice. Seraphine, the celestial archangel, had given up her life for Bianca when the latter woman was only an unborn child within Seraphine’s womb. Then Seraphine sent Bianca forward in time to save her from a cosmic threat, but she used her last of celestial essence to accompany her daughter on Bianca’s life’s journey.

Seraphine always reminded Bianca that her duty to the realms was more important than any relationships. Bianca understood that her life was not meant to have an abundance of people in it, according to her mother. It was to be a solitary life as she carried out her mother’s work. Seraphine told Bianca that when the later woman dared to hope for something grander than what God — and, of course, Seraphine — had chosen for her. She was a child with a destiny far reaching mortal understanding. Her own life didn’t belong to her.

Bianca stepped up to the chamber where the silver-haired man currently stayed in stasis. She reached up and gripped the gnarled tree roots that held the chrysalis in place. Her gaze softened as she looked onto his visage: a heart-shape face, white brows, and bottom-heavy lips. For the brief, heartbreaking time she knew him, this man had always been a pretty boy, but more importantly, he was a love lost to Bianca.

“Listen to me, Bianca,” Seraphine insisted. “You will be a guardian of the celestial and mortal realms. This man and the creature within will need to be slain. Our honor and your future duty demands you see it through.”

My honor demands I slay the man that I love? The question echoed through Bianca’s heart. Her heart clenched, and for a moment, she had trouble catching her breath. The only sound was the soothing rhythm of the Lifestream passing through that part of the cave system.

Her large black wings wrapped around her as her SOLDIER suspenders slid down her shoulder. She never felt so torn before.

It cannot be. Bianca pressed her lips together in a slight grimace. Bianca refused to make a choice that would harm him in order to protect her honor. There was no justice in cutting him down while he was reforming. She couldn’t betray her own sense of honor for Seraphine’s zealous drive.

Still, she felt the pull of that destiny that seemed laid out for her. She feared it.

[bardic-tales]

Title: A Battle of Desperation

Pairing: Bianca Moore || Sephiroth

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 594

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: abuse of power, addiction, body horror, canon divergent, captivity, corruption and fallen status, dark themes, emotional distress, experimentation, explicit content, implied violence, isolation, mental health, obsession, oc x canon, psychological distress, self-harm, violence

Summary: Bianca’s journey through experimentation and self-discovery leads to a fateful decision.

Squared Filled: Day 3: A Dangerous Gamble

Created for: @angstober

tagging (fandom friends): @starryeyes2000, @residentdormouse, @megandaisy9, @themaradwrites, @prehistoric-creatures, @arrthurpendragon, @serenofroses

Author Note: Please read the full warnings on this one. I'm still getting back into the swing of writing.

1.

Come to the Reunion, Bianca. His words still echoed in her mind, drowning out all the sounds of the sterile lab. She looked around. With her violet gaze, she waited for Professor Hojo and Dr. Valtair to arrive.

She spread her black wings to their impressive twelve-foot wingspan, but she discovered that Dr. Valtair had trimmed several of her primary feathers to prevent her flight. As she moved, several of her feathers floated around her and landed on the medical bed and floor.

Did Hojo and Valtair think that she wouldn’t have been able to flee? She still had more strength than a normal person, and her entire being longed to reunite with him and the others like them. They couldn’t stop her from returning to his side.

No, she thought. Her clipped wings would not stop her from returning to her lover’s side. She was sure that he needed her to watch over his body. As she tried to remember their last encounter, her head pounded. She lifted her hand and squeezed her temple. All she could remember was the fire enveloping the buildings and the soul-crushing agony of losing another beloved.

They recited the news that they heard about the great war hero Sephiroth dying to the monsters surrounding Nibelheim. They parroted the news that they heard on the televisions, and through his heroic death, the SOLDIERS still wanted to emulate the war hero. All Bianca did was love him briefly. She could not imagine the depressive and stoic soul would leave the study seven days after they met and set Nibelheim ablaze.

Come to me, Bianca. Once again, she heard his words. Her entire body urged her to listen. It was a siren’s call: one that she found intoxicating and hard to ignore. In her dreams, he still came to her like a lover in during the witching hour, a dark example of an obsessive love that encompassed everything Bianca knew and felt.

Despite the intense longing, her heart beat rapidly in her chest. Shinra was not going to just allow her to walk out of the basement laboratory and out of the manor. She was their property now: a lab rat that could potentially help stabilize an alien’s cells with her infernal essence.

As she was invaluable to their research, she was sure that they wouldn’t allow her to just walk out the front door, but as his words encourage her to venture North, she knew she couldn’t ignore his request. The resistance to even leave the manor would be heavy. SOLDIER trained to take on monsters with their superhuman strength, speed, and agility. They were much stronger than the Shinra Peacekeeping Troops and the Turks, but Bianca was not a normal human, either.

Bianca was a Nephilim — part celestial and infernal. She looked down at her claws. Her claws were grown out and just a slash from them tore skin and flesh. She noticed the blackened free edge of her claws, which reminded her of her fallen status. She was disgusting. She was corrupted.

Come to the Reunion. His seductive words echoed inside her mind, drowning out all sense and reason. Bianca’s heart pounded in her chest, the desire to be reunited with him outweighing any sort of punishment Hojo and Valtair could do to her. She’d destroy anyone who stood in her way of freedom and her true love.

Listening to her steady heartbeat from the machine to her right, Bianca grasped the wires connecting the electrodes to her chest. She yanked. Despite any potential threat or recaptured, she couldn’t keep Sephiroth waiting any longer.

[bardic-tales]

Title: Control

Characters: Bianca & the One-Winged Angel

Rating: Mature

Word Count: (minimum 300)

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: abuse, non-consensual physical contact, possessiveness, emotional manipulation, choking, violence, implied captivity, forced ownership, fear, mention of blood, wing injury, restrictive behavior.

Summary: The One-Winged Angel punishes Bianca for attempting to escape, reinforcing his control over her through physical and emotional manipulation.

Squared Filled: I warned you

Created for: @whumptober

1.

Bianca swallowed back the quaint dinner of potatoes and steak she had made for herself and stared into his emotionless cyan eyes, watching the feline pupils constrict in the candlelight. The rest of her steak sat upon the white china. The bloody juice spread across the plate’s surface and beneath her mashed potatoes, tinging it pink.

“I warned you what would happen if you tried to escape, Angel.” The One-Winged Angel loomed over her. Silver hair flowed down his back and gently swung against his rump, shimmering like a waterfall reflecting moonlight as he slammed her against the wall directly behind them. His hand curled around her black choker, grasping the heart charm that denoted ownership: his ownership over her, the warning showing that she belonged to none other than the One-Winged Angel. Not even that alternate version of him could claim ownership. There would be no doubt about his claim: his warning to her and others.

“I—” She couldn’t speak. It was as if the words were stuck in her throat and she had just swallowed thick, black molasses. Bianca had to escape and flee, but in the end, he learned all of her plans and forced her to stay. This was all her fault, right? He warned her. Once again, the blame circled around her. Those thoughts echoed in her head and played on repeat.

His fingers wrapped around her neck fully, as her back and wall pinched her black wings behind her, bending several feathers. He had clipped several feathers, serving as another warning not to flee him. Bianca couldn’t fly away from him. She couldn’t breathe.

“There’s no escaping me, Bia,” the One-Winged Angel murmured as he leaned closer to her. His breath fanned her ear, igniting fear in her belly. Dark strands of her hair danced against her throat. He continued to squeeze as she clawed at his fingers around her neck. “I will find you in whatever dimension you’re in, wherever you are on the Planet, or any time-line you try to hide in. I will always find you. Mother promised you to me. You are mine by right.”

[bardic-tales]

Title: Healing

Pairing: Bianca (F!OC) / Sephiroth

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 374

Fandom: Final Fantasy 7

Warnings: Dark themes, emotional trauma, emotional vulnerability, implied torture, mental anguish, mistrust, physical abuse, psychological conflict, PTSD, scars, strained relationship, supernatural powers, toxic relationship, trauma recovery, trust issues, unresolved conflict.

Summary: Bianca struggles to trust Sephiroth due to the physical and emotional trauma inflicted by his future self, despite his efforts to heal her and provide comfort, leading to an unresolved emotional conflict between love and fear.

Squared Filled: Trust Issues

Created for: @whumptober

1.

“Why are you doing this?” Bianca shied away from his hand, as her breath hammered in throat. Ugly marks ringed around her wrist: crimson against the delicate skin. The raw skin ached when it was touched, as small, bloody lines amalgamated with the dark purple bruises.

“I would never hurt you, Bia.” Sephiroth knelt before her. A forest green haze oscillated around him, raising up off of his shoulders like fine mist before twisting around, descending, to rejoin the rest of the wispy veil that covered his body.

As he gently grasped Bianca’s arm, he brushed his thumb over the marred flesh. The coiling, wispy, green mist floated from his fingertips over to Bianca like threads snaking out and wrapping around her forearm. Despite the magic bathing her in its calming embrace, the doubts and insecurity bubbled to the surface like the various Mako fonts around Gaia.

“How can I trust you when you look so much like him?” Bianca said as she tried to remove her hand from Sephiroth’s tender touch. He held onto her, allowing his limited magic to wash over her wounds, knitting the flesh close and repairing the damaged muscles.

Sephiroth wanted to help her, but she couldn’t calm the suspicion flowing through her thoughts like the Lifestream, the river of memories and souls, streaming within the Planet. Once again, she tried to pull her hand away but he held her still.

There was no resolution, but Sephiroth continued to hold her in his arms, trying to blot out all memories all the pain and torture that his future self put her in like an eclipse beautiful and dangerous to look at but protecting her from the harsh rays of the sun. He couldn’t reach her, but she knew that he would be strong for her. Sephiroth always was. He tried to be her rock, the very essence of her soul, but she couldn’t see past the gray hair, the cyan eyes, and the soft, whisper-like voice that he shared with his other half. She stayed completely still in his embrace with her arms hanging down to her sides like wet noodles. How could she trust him when he looked so much like the One-Winged Angel? Bianca asked herself again.

[bardic-tales]

Title: Youth

Pairing: Bianca Moore (f!OC) / Sephiroth

Other Character: Professor Hojo

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1591

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII, Ever Crisis

Setting: AU: Redemption

Warnings: Abuse, body horror, combat violence, cold & hypothermia, death, emotional distress, experimentation, fear, isolation, manipulation, paranoia, psychological trauma

Summary: In a stimulated combat scenario, Bianca and Sephiroth confront the powerful summons Bahamut and Shiva to prove their abilities to Professor Hojo.

Squared Filled: Youth

Created for: #SephirothWeek which is hosted by @week-of-silver-winds

Note: This is from my redemption!AU where the timeline becomes very canon divergent. Also, for anyone who is following along with my passion project, Sephiroth and Bia meet very young in this AU.

In it, Hojo is the primary antagonist. This fan fic takes place during Ever Crisis before the First Episode of the First SOLDIER. So, Seph is 15; Bia, 13.

Excerpt:

In a cry of agony, tendrils burst forth from her back, surged towards Shiva, and pierced the summon’s defenses.

Still, the battle raged on. The sound of steel and the crackling of frost echoed across the virtual world. Shiva moved weakly as they continued to carve into her. Sephiroth knew they couldn’t waste anymore time. Drawn-out displays wouldn’t satisfy Professor Hojo.

Thump. Thump. Thump. His heart beat. The young man held onto the military saber and slowly lifted the blade parallel to his head and shoulder as he eased into his combat stance. He looked at his companion: the young girl that had been a constant in his life for five years now, the only one he was allowed to converse with.

Their environment flickered and glitch before them. Solid powder-blue boxes swayed, pivoted on their axis, rose, and descended. From the west, a warm breeze blew across the stimulation, waving his shoulder-length silver hair and her waist-length midnight locks behind them like banners welcoming warriors home from a battle. He looked at the force before them.

The battle was yet to be won. He didn’t scowl or have much emotion, other than looking at their foes before them: Bahamut and Shiva.

“On my mark,” he said.

Bianca nodded, as she curled her right hand into a fist and slammed it against the silver habaki and ebony tsuka, gliding her hand to the left and pulling Noctemaris from the void between dimensions. The black and dark gray blade emerged behind her fist, sparkling and glimmering with star dust. “Which one first?”

They had to preform above expectations or Hojo would take Bianca from him and return her shaken, bruised, and broken. Even if that meant endured their training, he had to protect Bianca.

“Shiva,” he replied. “She’s the most threat to us, as you’re delicate around ice and cold.”

Without another word, Sephiroth surged forward. His eyes fixated on the ice goddess who loomed ahead. The air around Bianca and Sephiroth was already thick with frost. The chill clawed at his skin, but he pressed on. His determination was unyielding.

If I hesitate, he thought, it would mean failure. Failure would mean Hojo’s interference with Bianca once again. This was a thought he would not tolerate: her experimentation.

Nameless flashed as he closed the distance to the scantily clad summon. His movements were precise and deadly. The ground beneath him cracked with each step forward, as the frozen ground protested his advance.

Without breaking stride, he launched himself into a serious of rapid slashes. The rapid successions of strikes aimed at childing away at Shiva’s defenses. Her green hair flowed around her as she tried to defend against Sephiroth’s graceful brutality.

Bianca darted to the side, using his assault as cover. She moved with a grace that belied the dark power coursing through her veins. Her wings unfurled and cast a shadow over the battlefield. With a single, powerful beat of her wings, she lifted herself into the air. The surrounding shadows deepened and obscured her from Shiva’s gaze.

Sephiroth knew they would have to finish this quickly. The cold gnawed at Bianca, lining her flesh with ice crystals. If they didn’t end it quick, there was a real possibility for her to develop hypothermia.

He glanced up for a moment as darkness oscillated around her, concealing herself from both Sephiroth and Shiva’s view. As he continued his relentless assault, Bianca descended from above and plunged downward with Noctemaris.

In a cry of agony, tendrils burst forth from her back, surged towards Shiva, and pierced the summon’s defenses.

Still, the battle raged on. The sound of steel and the crackling of frost echoed across the virtual world. Shiva moved weakly as they continued to carve into her. Sephiroth knew they couldn’t waste anymore time. Drawn-out displays wouldn’t satisfy Professor Hojo.

“Now, Bianca,” he called above the din, signaling her to finish the summon while he intercepted Bahamut. Sephiroth spun on his heel. The dragon’s roar shook the stimulator.

With a surge of shadows, Bianca’s blade plunged into Shiva’s chest. The dark energies expanded from the blade, as the star-drench blade glowed now: a crimson nebula surrounded Noctemaris, the arms spinning wildly around the length of the blade.

Shiva shattered in a explosion of crystalline shards and darkness.

“Move!” he commanded Bianca. With a swift leap, he launched himself toward the dragon, ready to engage their next challenge before Hojo ended the stimulation.

Sephiroth now leapt at Bahamut. His saber poised to strike as the air seemed to crackle with the dragon’s raw, untamed power. The beast’s eyes glowed red as it inhaled the surrounding air. The very air sizzled around Sephiroth as the dragon prepared to unleash a burst of Mega Flare.

There was no time to hesitate. He pushed forward, leaping up into the air again and bringing down Nameless with a downward strike. The ground beneath him split into a pentacle. The impact sent a tremor through Sephiroth’s arms, but he didn’t relent.

Bahamut recoiled while Sephiroth concentrated. A large fireball hovered over his hand, which he immediately threw at the dragon’s large silvery leathery wings.

As Bianca still soared through the air, her tendrils quivered and writhed around her. The darkness emanating from her wings intensified, casting blackness over the entire stimulation. With a fierce cry, she dove before the dragon’s belly and jabbed at it with the tendrils. They lashed at Bahamut’s underside.

The dragon roared in fury. It swatted at Bianca with its colossal claws, but she weaved and bobbed out of reach, siphoning blood from the creature through her appendages. As she danced through the air, Sephiroth struck from the ground. A rapid sequence of eight quick thrusts and slashes severed the joints of Bahamut’s massive limbs. His blade moved like a flash of silver.

With a surge of dark energy, Bianca unleashed her fury. Her movements became a blur as Noctemaris carved through the air and Bahamut. Each stroke left behind a trail of shadow, sapping the dragon’s will and strength.

Bahamut’s once-mighty form wavered. With a last thrust from Nameless, the giant beast collapsed. Its form and energy dissipating into the air.

Silence fell across the stimulation as Sephiroth reached into his coat and retrieved his flip phone. With the press of the downward arrow, he scrolled through the options and hit ‘Mission Successful’. The screen flashed in confirmation. Before the stimulation collapsed around them, he took one look at Bianca and ensured she was unharmed. Tiny cuts and bruises lined her arms, but nothing severe.

After they removed their V.R. headsets, they were met by the calculating gaze of the Head of Research and Development.

“You both need to be faster. Train harder or you’ll never unlock your full potentials.” The mad scientist, a Shinra board member by the name of Professor Hojo, held the clipboard in his hand. He was shorter than the teenage boy, but he still held power over Sephiroth.

In his other hand, Hojo held a pen and scribbled down notes on the sheet of paper clipped to the board. “Especially you, Bianca. You have barely tapped into your potential abilities."

Sephiroth’s brilliant cyan gaze flicked towards Bianca. Her indigo eyes widened, blowing out her feline-like pupils. The string looping around their separate wrists pulsated an angry red, allowing the anxiety and fear running through the strings to settle deep within his own stomach. It amplified the fear, sending it back to the small girl.

“This separation will make both of you stronger,” Hojo said, as he gripped onto Bianca’s right bicep. His spindly fingers bit into her soft knitted turtleneck.

Although he didn’t show it, his heart galloped as he watched Hojo lead Bianca away. He had to shelter her from Hojo, and he would. Thump. Thump. Thump.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @seastarblue @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen

@chickensarentcheap

[bardic-tales]

Title: Lost

Pairing: Bianca (f!OC) / Sephiroth

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 448

Fandom: Final Fantasy VII

Setting: FF VII OG

Warnings: Violence, mental health, body horror, dystopian elements, fear / anxiety, paranoia, toxic relationships, isolation, enviromental destruction

Summary: Bianca and Sephiroth navigate the ruins of a decaying city in search of a remnant of Jenova.

Prompt Filled: Lost

Created for: #SephirothWeek hosted by @week-of-silver-winds

Excerpt:

“I think we already came this way,” the short, raven-haired woman craned her neck up and stared at the buildings towering towards the sky.

“We’re not lost. I know where we’re going.” Sephiroth replied. As he walked beside her, the wind whipped his silver hair around his waist and shoulders.

“I think we already came this way,” the short, raven-haired woman craned her neck up and stared at the buildings towering towards the sky.

Metal and other debris fell from the buildings, crashing around them, and kicked up dirt, dusting her darkened wings. Her feathers fluttered, shaking the crud from her velvet wings.

“We’re not lost. I know where we’re going.” Sephiroth replied. As he walked beside her, the wind whipped his silver hair around his waist and shoulders.

Bianca held back her sarcastic remark. His frustration echoed through the bond that tied them together. Clearly, he knew where they were going, as they passed the same bent street sign three times. He insisted he could feel the remnant of Jenova — a cluster of cells that was hidden away by Shinra.

Sephiroth walked further ahead of her now. His boots crunched over the fallen leaves and crumbled cobblestones in the relentless pursuit of his mother’s cells.

“There’s Pestock Ave again,” Bianca pointed out as they passed the green sign another time. They were going in circles — or so she thought.

Except, this sign did not read Pestock Ave. Rust eroded the first half of the name, but if one really squinted, they could make out the letters: est Prestock Ave.

Once again, Sephiroth marched forward. He held Masamune in his hand with the blade of the ōdachi pointed behind them. The black and silver blade gleamed in the moonlight flowing down on them. “This way.”

Fifteen minutes went by before they stood before a dilapidated building with a blinking green cross. Over the decaying arch, Bianca and Sephiroth could make out the words ‘Evergreen Hospital’.

As they stood before the ruined hospital, Bianca looked towards Sephiroth. Her stomach dropped. She couldn’t go in there. Through the bond that linked both of them through time and space, Bianca had been privy to the suffering Sephiroth had gone through at the hands of Hojo, as well as her own vivisections by the hands of the mad scientific and his assistant, Diana Ravenscroft. She was only alive thanks to her demonic regeneration.

No, she thought. I can’t.

“Come, Bianca.”

“Sephiroth? Are you sure it’s in there?”

He didn’t answer her. Instead, he walked to the entrance. She didn’t want to stay out there by herself. Who knew what types of fiends his presence kept at bay?

As she glanced over and stared at the back of his leather coat, which contoured to his body and stopped at his ankles, Bianca took a deep, steadying breath. He held the door open for her. Despite the anxiety rising in her, she stepped inside.

Still, she wondered if they were still lost.

tagging some fellow mutuals: @themaradwrites @littleshopofchaos @serenofroses @megandaisy9 @watermeezer

@nightingaleflow @seastarblue @prehistoric-creatures @creativechaosqueen

@chickensarentcheap