|faicinn_rocais (faicinn_rocais) wrote in areyougame,|
@ 2009-07-22 17:06:00
|Current location:||among some plants|
|Current music:||t.A.T.u & Rammstein - Pruzhinki|
|Entry tags:||*final fantasy vii, author: faicinn_rocais|
[FFVII: Sephiroth/Cloud], [FFVII: Zack/Cloud], [FFVII: Vincent], [FFVII: Rufus/Reno]
Overall A/N: These would have been posted on their correct dates, but a good friend of mine passed away after an illness they'd been fighting turned terminal. Sorry the titles aren't in the Subject line; they wouldn't all fit. The next two will be posted on time.
Warnings: Deviousness on all involved except an oblivious Zack
Word count: 266
Prompt: -July 6--- Final Fantasy VII, Sephiroth/Cloud: predatory behaviour – The way that he was so nervous just made it worse
A/N: Had trouble figuring out a plot, not too happy with it, but it's better than the other drafts. Hope you enjoy.
The way that he was so nervous just made it worse. Everytime green eyes would pick out the chocobo-like youth, the Cadet would make the most interesting noise and somehow hide in plain sight; be it behind someone—Strife was rediculously small—or something. Sometimes the youth would assume a stance and seemingly fade into shadows like the Turks did. All it did was make the chase more fun.
Every one of Strife’s defensive behaviours had something within him purring. Why, he wasn’t too sure yet, but to find out, Sephiroth was pretty sure he needed to get into close quarters with the blond.
Making up his mind, perhaps he’d get Zack invovled. The First Class thought that he needed more social interaction.
Plan forming, the General smiled as he left his office.
Cloud looked desperately at Zack as Sephiroth—the General—lounged against the wall, posture screaming, “predator!” and it was everything Cloud could do to not run. “Zack?”
The First smiled. “I have a mission with some Turks. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Seph said he’d take over your sword play while I was gone,” the older youth explained.
Well fuck, Cloud thought when he saw the amusement dance in those deceptively beautiful green eyes. He was well and truly caught. As Zack left and Sephiroth advanced upon him, Cloud finally gave into the voice in his head that had been screaming “run!” at him, knowing, as he heard the deep chuckle behind him and the flap of leather, that it was useless.
He had no idea how right he was.
Title: Voyeuristic Intentions
Word count: 247
Prompt: -July 13--Final Fantasy VII, Zack/Cloud: chocobos – “Zack! I think they’re watching us!”
A/N: Chocobo names are from Ciceqi's 'verses. Go read them if you haven't. If you're interested, the rough draft, which is completely different, will be posted in my journal.
Cloud ardently returned Zack’s heated kisses. Fridays his squad cleaned out the chocobo stables. With nothing to do afterward, he usually hung around and groomed Djarfr and skritched Skadi if she was in a good mood. When Zack had shown up as his squadmates left, the smouldering look in his eyes told him that Djarfr wouldn’t be getting his rub down. Zack had pounced on him as soon as he was sure none of his squadmates would come back and proceeded to ravish him.
He gasped as Zack moved to his neck and his coherent thoughts were scattered to the four winds. “Zack!” Cloud couldn’t help the moan that escaped his mouth. His head hit the back of the empty stall with a hollow thunk. Zack’s hands roamed lower. Cloud moaned, rather loudly; his head thrashing as he tried to hold more sounds at bay.
It was when he froze that Zack’s attention was diverted from his activities. “Cloud?”
“Zack!” Cloud whispered furtively. “I think they’re watching us!”
Purple-grey met sky blue before glancing across the stable corridor. Curious deep blue eyes were paired with a focused green pair; Skadi and Djarfr. Zack couldn’t help but laugh as he rebuckled Cloud’s fatigues. Gently tugging on Cloud’s hand, the First Class SOLDIER led Cloud to a ladder and into the hayloft. “There, now we have some privacy.”
The General found them a few hours later, sleeping in the hayloft of all places, when he returned from exercising Draugr.
Title: Misplaced Assassin
Word count: 416
Prompt: - July 15 --Final Fantasy VII, Vincent: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder - Should he check? What if he...no...he should really check
A/N: inspired by the writings of Staci-Diane603 and their story Set Me Up In Slow Motion Playback....it's a very amusing read. A lovely piece of satire if you like that kinda thing.
Vincent was tapping his fingers against his arm under, not that anyone could see his brand of nervous tick; his bloody-scarlet cape successfully hid it from view. He was waiting for Cid to land the Shera so he could get on with this damn mission from Reeve.
Even if I would like to believe in their good intentions, he herd Reeve’s voice repeat in his head, if something does go wrong, you have a better chance at defusing the situation than most.
Vincent sneered at his reflection, red eyes narrowing over the cowl of his cape; the garment effectively hiding the rest of his expression from view. Not that the crew would have gone running in fear or anything—some of his teeth could be classified as fangs by the general populace—but they probably would have freaked nonetheless due to him showing something more than a pokerface.
It was when he had to forcibly stop tapping his foot that he violently pushed himself away from the railing and headed across the bridge in a swirl of red cape.
“I’m ah tell ya again, Vincent,” Cid barked in his rough voice. “Yer guns ain’t going nowhere.”
Vincent paused long enough for his cape to settle around him. From the corner of his red eyes, the ex-Turk examined the pilot.
“I’m just going to check the lock,” he spoke in that voice all Turks did when they had ulterior motives.
Unluckily for Vincent, Cid had had too many dealings with Reno as of late. The pilot’s face looked angry, but it was clear his eyes were full of laughter. “Then ya go do that. Wouldn’a want yer guns ta myst’riously go missing.”
Vincent had the distinct impression he was being humoured.
With a barely audible growl and a dramatic swirl of red cape, Vincent stalked back to Holding where his chest of guns were; his hearing enhanced enough to hear Cid’s chuckles for most of the trip. The chest opened with a soft “click” after a complicated series of combinations were put into it. Red eyes lovingly took in the thirteen beautiful works of art that were his guns; Cerberus being on top in a special case he had custom made for it. The rest were in various cases and wrappings for protection.
“Initiating landing sequence! Please secure yourself for landing!” a much too happy female voice chirped over the intercom.
Vincent snarled and bared his teeth.
…who in Ifrit’s fiendfyre sent an assassin to peace talks?
Title: Just Another Day
Warnings: coarse language, drinking, rough/forceful foreplay
Word count: 496
Prompt: -July 20--- Final Fantasy VII, Rufus/Reno: better than it should be - I hate everything about you; Why do I love you?
A/N: Based loosely on the world created by kremesch in The Dance of the Macabre. A very good read if you haven't read it yet. Title is from an Aunt Ange song from the album "Apathia".
Reno scowled as he smoked on Rufus’ balcony. The little fucker had had the audacity to move him into his own suite of rooms after he had hired that other Turk to increase their numbers. Taking a swallow of scotch, the redhead just couldn’t understand why the blond asshole couldn’t put him in another room somewhere else in the Tower.
The prick’s excuse? “If I left you somewhere with no supervision, you’re bound to cause me endless amounts of trouble. Just think of all the paperwork that would cause.”
Reno snarled as he threw back the rest of his scotch and went in search of that two hundred gil bottle he had bought the other day. Taking some leftovers out of the fridge, he nibbled on some rice balls he had made Rufus for lunch the day before, the redhead threw himself unceremoniously onto the black leather couch that Rufus refused to let him bounce on.
…not that he ever bounced on it when said person was gone, mind you.
He supposed that his situation was better than it should be. He could still be under the Plate, doing who knows what with surely not the most trustworthy people running from those he was currently employed among. On another note, the boss stuck his neck out for him even if it looked like he didn’t…even if he got a load of shit over it. Come to think of it, Reno thought as he swilled his drink, the blond prick hardly does fuckall over some of the shit I pull.
The few hours it took Rufus to wind down shooting his gun down at the range, something he did every night, Reno had managed to get himself wound up and thoroughly drunk. Green eyes watched as Rufus meticulously removed his jacket and hung it up, wrinkling his nose when he saw Reno’s haphazardly thrown over the back of a chair this time. He sniffed at Reno’s unkempt look.
“I see you’re as well dressed as always,” Rufus drawled.
“Fuck off,” Reno snarled, baring his teeth. “S’not like ya give a shit when there ain’t anyone ta see!”
“I see you’re in a good mood.”
“For fuck’s sake!”
The lapels of his shirt were grabbed as Rufus violently dragged him off the couch, spilling his drink everywhere, and was shoved up against a wall. His head might have hit a bit too hard, but with all the alcohol saturating his system, it was a wonder he could think yet alone form coherent sentences. Rufus violently brought their mouths together, searing and demanding. Teeth clicked, tongues fought, and Reno found himself clutching the front of Rufus’ suit.
They broke apart, each slightly breathless.
“I hate you,” Reno softly said, foot brushing against the slider glass that had been otherwise occupying his attention moments before.
“I know,” Rufus softly replied.
Reno thought, as he allowed Rufus to kiss him again, why do I love you?
Something he’d never say aloud.