fuckyeahfinalfantasy | FYFF: MISSION ONE, ACCEPT Y/N?

FYFF: MISSION ONE, ACCEPT Y/N?

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Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

then I anon fail all over the place hahaha

The moon is full and bright when Seifer and Squall head down the street, weeks into the surreal joke that Seifer's life has become. It's immaculate and nothing like the neighborhood they live in. All the houses, fucking huge houses, are dark around them, and the street lights have already dimmed to a soft glow. Rich people don't need street lights not to get mugged, and they can afford blackout curtains.

"Why are we here?" Squall slurs it a little. Seifer is more than a little drunk, pissed off about it, and even more pissed because he thought maybe for once Squall wouldn't follow him. But that's not happening anymore. Rinoa fucking broke him, and Seifer bought the merchandise, and here they are.

"Her house is there," he says, pointing ahead, and he doesn't bother with the question.

Seifer knows how to listen. He works in a nice place, and the owners either don't know who he is or are acting like they don't, and he gets along with them. No waves, no missed shifts, no problems, so they treat him like a nonentity, and he knows how to listen and watch. He's not sure how Rinoa managed to keep her visit to her father a secret. He's not sure how she got in to the city, stayed four whole days in her childhood home, and then got out again with not even a peep from the press. He wonders if she's done it before. He also wonders if she looked for Squall, since he was antsy and frenzied the whole time she was in the city, burning with something like a fever and desperate for Seifer to touch him. Seifer doesn't want to dwell on that.

He suspects some sort of fucked up sorceress magic, silencing the people she interacted with, if she's driving Squall bonkers being in the same city. It wouldn't be stranger than anything else.

Seifer stays away for a week, but now she's gone, back to Timber and the restoration, and he's going to see if she's changed.

He ducks down an alley at the end of the block, and it leads to a service access streets and high, locked gates to the gardens and showy patios. Seifer finds the right one, halfway down, and picks the padlock with ease. Squall is a ever-growing tension at his back.

It's like walking into his own house. Spare key: underneath the loose brick in the patio. Security code: same as it was during his wild summer with Rinoa, coming in at all hours.

"What are we doing?" Squall asks. "This is crazy."

"No crazier than me putting my tongue in your ass, shut up." Seifer likes how Squall flushes, a flash of heat at his back. For all that Squall imagines Rinoa when they fuck, he still reacts to Seifer's voice, like a puppet. That's another problem Seifer's not interested in exploring right now, if ever.

The house is silent around them, and Seifer knows how to get to Rinoa's rooms through the back stairs, knows each stair that creeps and every loose board that will groan under weight. It comes back to him, like he lives here. Squall follows his lead and says nothing until they're in Rinoa's room, door shut behind them.

Seifer doesn't turn on the light. Squall breathes heavily, back against the door. It smells like her here, the soft scent she uses that was her mother's. It reminds Seifer of ripe peaches, the kind that came out of Winhill in the summer.

"Did we come here to..." Squall pauses. "Are you punishing me? Is that what this is?"

Seifer grabs the chair from the desk. "No, although maybe I should." He lines it up with the vent at the top of the wall, and steps up. The screw is already loose, and Seifer smiles. Predictable. It's easy to twirl it with his fingers, slide the cover off, and reach inside. They notebooks are in layers, toward the back so no one could see them from the floor, and he feels around for the one on the top, closet to him.

When he steps down, Squall is next to him. "What is that?"

"Secrets of the Sorcesses," Seifer said. "I could probably embarrass her into combusting into a shower of fairies if I took these to the press. Sadly, she'd know who did it and come kill me with her brain, or something." He hands the notebook over. It's full — there's no ribbon marking the page.

"This is her journal," Squall says. He holds it like it's a bar of gold. "I've seen her write in these."

"And she still brings them back here when they're full," Seifer says. "Smart, really. She's political capital, yet she's still writing all her thoughts down. Caraway isn't someone you fuck with, so she hides them here, from everyone else in the world." Seifer leans against the wall. "Privacy, right? That thing she tried to give you, and fucked it up."

"Why are you showing me this?" Squall asks. His voice is whisper-light.

"Because when I fuck you, you say her name," Seifer says. "You come faster when I talk about shit she used to do to me, when I do it to you. You're in love with the girl, and I've never really been great at sharing." He gestures at the book. "This is closure, or maybe not closure. I don't care what she says. You probably do. So open it and get it over with."

Squall runs fingers across the cover and walks to the window. Rinoa's balcony is beyond, the sheer curtains drawn across the doors. Rinoa had joked that Caraway had given her that room as a taunt, since it would have been a great escape route, except for the thorny bushes he had put in. Rinoa had called him a bastard, but Seifer knew she admired it at least a little. She liked smart people.

Seifer doesn't watch Squall read the journal in the light from the window. He goes and stretches out across Rinoa's bed. Across the hall, Caraway is snoozing in his fucking king size, none the wiser. Rinoa's bed is better than his.

He dozes, a little, and blinks awake when Squall sits down on the edge of the bed.

"Done?" Seifer says. His voice is thick.

Squall nods, and then surprises the hell out of Seifer by stretching out beside him, pressing their mouths together. They're both still drunk enough for this to be a terrible idea, but Seifer doesn't care. Squall still lets Seifer turn him over, and they fuck in silence Rinoa's bed, on her perfect covers, and and when Seifer sucks Squall's cock down his throat as he comes, Seifer finally hears his name.

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

Seifer doesn't ask what was in the journal. They put things back in order, then leave the way they came, and they never talk about it.

Squall stops saying Rinoa's name. Seifer doesn't read anything into it, and they keep fucking, so why not. It's getting colder and he likes waking up in his frigid room with Squall plastered to him.

Even then, he's not surprised when he walks out of work one morning after the first snow and finds Irvine and Quistis waiting for him instead of Squall. He thinks back to the morning, how Squall blinked awake when Seifer sat up, and Seifer gave in and kissed him, sour breath and all, and told him to go back to sleep instead of walking him to work. He's somehow ridiculously glad he got that much.

"Come to take him home, eh?" He sits on the steps, which are fucking freezing. "She figured out how to fix him?"

"We think so," Quistis says. "We won't know for sure, but she's come to the city a few times in the last few weeks, and he hasn't been odd, right? She said he's felt normal."

Seifer snorts. "Why bother asking? You know already, right?" He tucks his hands into his armpits, and he tries to think back, remember any tails. He doesn't, but he's not surprised. "You've been watching him since the beginning."

Irvine shook his head. "No, we stopped once he took up with you. We figured he'd be safe enough."

"Whose genius idea was that?"

"Zell's, actually." Quistis's voice is cooler than ice, daring him to make a crack. "He got his hands on Odine's research. He suspected that what was done to you might actually help Squall from losing it. He said there's some research about knight-bonding that looked promising. We decided to trust him."

"How nice of you all to use me," Seifer says. "Did Squall know?"

Quistis and Irvine share a look. "He wasn't in much of a state to know," Quistis said. "He's the one who wanted to get away. We just chose the place."

"Rinoa is not happy about you letting Squall read her diary, by the way," Irvine says, and he sounds amused. "Or fucking him, but she says she doesn't really blame you."

"How magnanimous." He thinks about his life, the last few months of it. He maybe hasn't been happy, but it had been something. "Well, tell him to have a nice life, I guess. If that's all, it's fucking freezing and I'm going home." He heads off, but Quistis's voice makes him pause.

"He said he'll come back." Quistis stares at him hard. "He asked us to tell you."

Seifer meets her eyes. "If it works, he better not come back," he says. "It's one thing, when they're split, it's another, when it's pity." He grins. "I won't cry too much," he says, and he leaves them standing in the cold.

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

Knowledge changes everything. Seifer lives and he tries to forget. He's pretty good at it, except Quistis's words knaw at him in the middle of the night when he's freezing and his heater has gone out again. He figures it out a week after Squall's been gone, and he's so lonely it hurts. He thinks to what she said: she said he's felt normal, and how they knew, they knew about the sex and the diary, and he'd been so fucking stupid.

Rinoa knows everything. She was with Squall the entire time, every single thing Seifer had that he thought was his, and his only, no more sharing. What's worse, is that Squall read the diary. Seifer imagines that he knew, too, and that's where all the fondness came from, Seifer's name torn from his mouth instead of Rinoa's. Permission granted from the boss. Seifer can't decide whether it's shame or lust or something else, but he strokes himself to it and comes so hard he sees white and it's ridiculous. He's pathetic and pissed off and he wishes he could get to her to throttle her.

Of course, he doesn't have to get to her. She comes to him.

He knows when she comes into the bar because the whole place goes so silent it's like they've also stopped breathing, and maybe they have. Seifer tosses back the last of his drink.

"Ah, two weeks, huh?" He doesn't turn around. "Figured it would be longer than that."

"Just as pleasant as ever," she says, and sits beside him. Her hair is longer, and her face sharper, older. "Are you miserable and lonely yet?"

Seifer meets her eyes. "Well, your genius bond researcher sent your broken knight to another broken knight, didn't he? Why don't you tell me how I'm feeling? You can do that by now, I assume."

Her smile is sneaky, but fond. "He does feel a little bad about it," she says. "But not too much."

"Let me guess, he laughed so hard he fell off something, and then rolled around, laughing." Seifer rolled his eyes. "He's laughing right now, too."

"Probably." Rinoa lays a hand on his shoulder. She's not dressed for the weather, at all, but then, all her bare arms and perfect, pale skin conceal so much magic she could probably power the entire city. Seifer feels like he's on fucking fire where her palm is, but also more relaxed than he's been in weeks. It feels like home, like it does when Squall is pressed against him, pliant and soft. "I am sorry. You didn't even ask. You didn't even know."

"What's a little non consensual bonding between ex-lovers?" He is suddenly trapped between wanting to laugh and cry. It's a strange feeling and he's not sure he likes it. "How's Squall feel about it?"

She doesn't answer at all, but instead pulls him forward. Her lips are cool on his cheek. He feels wrecked. It's different from the last time, though. Warmer. "Come home, Seifer," she says. "I'll let you have kinky sex with our boyfriend, promise."

He looks at her, tiny and small and gorgeous and full of magic that's already tangled up with his. He sighs, and says, "Oh, well. Why the hell not."

One-sided (preferably from Cecil, but Kain is just as good) as little kids.

this was so quiet and lovely. wise lulu! although now I so want fic about lulu and yuna working out new spells together.

Thank you! This makes me happy.

Thanks! :)

although now I so want fic about lulu and yuna working out new spells together.

Oooh, me too. One of us should totally request it. >.>

Hope you enjoy!

Not the requester but OMG that is the most adorable picture EVER!! Curled up in his lap!! So cute!!

So yeah, I like this. :)

#: awwwwww
me: ;ALSKD;AKLSDAKA
me: OH MY GOSH
me: OH MY GOSH
#: that is so adorable!!
me: MY HEART JUST FUCKING EXPLODED

The newer FFT is much like the older FFT, and in my not so humble opinion, this is awesome. Mustadio and Agrias are in all their awkward glory, and they're so adorable I could eat them with a spoon. Thank you for fulfilling my request. Now to get the other 903859802345 filled. XD

not OP but hurgurhurrr so much win.

'The official website used to say that Rosch was Lightning's former instructor at the Academy.'

A day in the life of cadet/student Farron and instructor Rosch.

not OP but holy fuck on a stick.
this.. i. this.

hi. this is wordless me. loving this.

Rivals and lovers during their Academy days, cliche? Maybe but I don't care. Bring on the porn.

Shinra is restructuring to keep up with the changing world. Cloud is (somewhat reluctantly) made use of as an errand boy and go to guy. The more time they spend together, the more interested he becomes in a certain Turk from Wutai.

omfg, this is basically canon in my head forever now.

WAAAAAAAANT

One night in bed, Aeris decides to try something risque that Cloud never thought she would ever do. Dirty talking, biting, rough sex. Aeris taking control. :)

SO MUCH SECONDING IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY

Academy days. Nabaat is a dominatrix. Rosch likes it, very much.

Cloud have a nightmare where Yuffie 'steals' Tifa from him.

Bonus points if Tifa and Yuffie verbaly humiliate him.

Oh wow! That is so gorgeous and sweet. I love the colors. And I love how protective he looks. And I... just love it.

Thank you so, so much. This is wonderful.

Eclipse
FFIV, Kain/Cecil (+ Kain/Rosa, Cecil/Rosa), no warnings.
[1500 words] Notes: trying to write kid-to-teen Kain was... interesting.

_____

In the old forgotten passageways beneath Baron Castle the walls exhale ghosts like vaporous winter breath: a fine spice on a hunt for treasure, harmless old haunts that feather around them as they creep down the halls with their stolen torch, their voices a nervous-laughing titter of echoes.

When the revenant comes Kain's blood freezes and he sees the panicked bloom of Rosa's untutored magic, shielding them; Kain's lips parting in awe and breathlessness as they flee.

But as they tumble back down the halls, to light and safety and a likely spanking, it is Cecil who clutches his hand.

---

The water turns all their hair an indeterminate grey, leeching out Rosa's bronze and darkening Cecil's until they might all three be ashen-mopped siblings. But the soft brushes of skin as they play raises the hairs on Kain's nape in a way the chill water doesn't, and he watches them, trying to understand: Rosa's bright eyes, Cecil's quiet face.

He stays in the pond after they leave (the water feels like flying); settled close together on the grass, the sunshine falls on their drying hair, washing them a clean pale gold, and though he's not underwater anymore he can't breathe.

---

When the air starts to feel electric-thin between them he thinks it's Rosa's magic — and it is but it isn't, small sharp-gold glints when they touch that have nothing white or holy about them. He wonders desperately if she can feel it, if she tastes metal on her breath like rain and lightning churned inside — if she senses his presence on her skin, feels his absence when they're apart.

Kain stares at the ceiling, sleepless; listens to Cecil's breath in their room and covets the aware prickle of his skin that never fades, because Cecil never leaves him.

---

He knows when they discover each other: words turned thick and clumsy, falling into the sudden silences in awkward bursts; accidental brushes of limbs gone abruptly long and disobedient seeming to scald them. Kain would laugh if not for the confused tightness of his heart, watching them: a happy-hollow emptiness and he tries to distract himself, distract them all with talk of their futures, mage and soldiers; the sharp nervousness of impending training so unlike the soft buzz of being with them.

It eases them a little and he breathes easier and loves them and thinks: I discovered you first.

---

Cecil is not the kind to speak of it, but Kain knows when it has happened and he finds himself alone on the practice fields, angry desperate jabs of his spear slicing the air as he remembers the soft flush of Cecil's face, red blooming across pale skin and the fine lines of his nose, the way Kain's fingers had itched and wanted to touch, wanted to take, wanted.

He wants to taste her on Cecil's lips.

He wants Rosa to taste Kain the next time they kiss.

He wants to take Cecil's face in his hands and share nothing.

---

Rosa pulls him into their small circle endlessly, her invitation sunshine on his skin, gentle in intent and scalding in effect; he burns cold. She doesn't know how it sears him — nor will she, ever; she and Cecil share their hours with him and he is grateful-jealous-silent when their time alone without him is scarce: he can taste those hours as they tick by, burned into his palms, stamped by his hands onto his own body.

They share themselves with him: Rosa's sun-kissed purity and Cecil's moonlit regard in her reflected light, and he feels like twilight between them.

---

The irony of it is that Kain had already chosen a path alone before it happened: he will be a dragoon, as he knows Cecil won't. Cecil and Rosa for each other, and the skies for him, where moon and sun dwell, where their light will always touch him.

But when the parting comes it cleaves them not in two, but three: Cecil consents to the dark knight's path and the three spend the last night before training begins together, talking on the hill by the pool. Kain chokes on it: the first time they have felt all-three-together in months.

---

The sky sweeps across the darkness inside him, chasing the thick roils of himself until he feels nearly scoured. He touches down to find Cecil watching him, helmless, his hair a white spill against the dark armour. Kain regards him across the steps between them: the clean line of jaw, the tired flatness of his mouth.

"Her touch sears me," Cecil says, quiet on the wind.

And yours me. These words burn. Kain doesn't know what his silence says, but Cecil takes a long breath. "Help me with the armor, please." Kain nods, and keeps his touch distant and cool.

---

The armor seems to eclipse Cecil, swallow him, as close to his skin as touch; Kain tries not to stare. Cecil tells him of the darkness it seems to seed inside him and Kain wants to laugh, cruelly, because Cecil does not seem to see the shadows that dog Kain: jealousy, pride, selfish want, hovering over him like Baron's ghosts, clinging to his skin where only high-borne winds can tear them free. Cecil begins to find himself unholy, and Kain wonders if that's so wrong: let us be unholy together, then.

He wonders if Rosa's touch would burn him, too.

---

He finds Cecil exhausted in Kain's room, waiting. The blue shadows under his eyes match his complexion too well and Kain simply looks, for a moment.

"I can't take it off," Cecil whispers. "I want to. I can't."

Kain kneels before him. He takes his gauntlets off, this time: the armor feels less like metal and more like sharkskin, organic and rough under his fingertips. Cecil's breath quickens as it comes off, piece by piece under Kain's hands, and Kain watches his face, steadily, to remind himself every moment that what the shaky exhalations hold is the edge of tears.

---

Rosa seeks him out, and he keeps the bitter twist off his lips: he knows it's Cecil. She tells him he's her closest friend, their closest friend, as he silently drinks in her face; she tells him she needs him and takes his hand. Her touch is a sudden frost, spreading crystalline across him like all his dark silent thoughts leap from his blood up to his skin, to be near her, to confess, to freeze forever visible, tattoos on his fingertips that will ever speak for him: I want too many things.

"Help him," she says. "Please help him."

---

The armor is learning Cecil's skin: it deepens into the grooves between muscles, learns the lines of bones; Kain watches as it hollows itself into place, casts shadows upwards onto Cecil's face. Kain wonders what magics Rosa's fingers would feel seeping from it, hungry and dark. He helps Cecil with the pauldron, rubs his fingers together and looks at them, curious at their lack of this perception.

And he puts his hand on Cecil's bare shoulder over hunger-etched red lines, and neither of them flinches and Cecil's eyes are endless: Kain had thought no vaster need existed than his own.

---

He can touch where Rosa can't, and the knowledge burns in his fingertips, settles on his tongue; he looks Cecil in the eye as he aids him and he knows his hands are hungry, wanting the armour's knowledge, the secrets of Cecil's skin: wants to know what blackness it feeds on in his heart because Kain remembers his face after Cecil and Rosa had first kissed and thinks: if we are both now too unholy for her, can we find each other in darkness?

And they are all three of them empty with hunger: the armour, and Cecil, and Kain.

---

Cecil grows less bowed under its weight, his eyes less hollow; he leans into Kain's hands, lids closed, breath deep like he inhales the moment, as if Kain's touch is an assurance of his own humanity underneath that dark and hungry second skin, and Kain does not laugh; does not ask Cecil if it is humanity they share or something else.

Kain places his palms on Cecil's back, leans his forehead against it, exhale long down his spine, and listens to Cecil's breath catch.

Rosa thanks him for Cecil's ease; he does not tell her how he came by it.

---

When Cecil stumbles into Kain's room and tears the armor off, piece by piece with his own hands, Kain understands: a full dark night at last, and Cecil weeps; Kain wonders if it is for himself or Rosa and—

"Kain," Cecil breathes, "Kain," wet with tears, desperate, unarmoured in the moonlight and when Kain touches him he takes Kain's face in his hands, kisses him in the dark, Kain's hands in his hair.

The moment slides bitter-coveted down Kain's throat: Cecil could not go to Rosa for this, and Kain knows he will never be this weak again. Kain breathes.

SO. CUTE.

Thank you! =D

oh gosh thank you so much XD

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Page 5 of 9

FYFF: MISSION ONE, ACCEPT Y/N?

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