Wings Of Imagination

Locked

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 15:50:26 GMT

My journal will from now on be semi-friends locked. All personal stuff, and any story rated above T/R (unless for a challenge) will be friends locked, so if you want to be able to read them, ask for an add and I'll add you. ^__~

(pariswriter82 , look who it is in my FOB. Inside thing, don't ask. XD)
Edit: My MA/NC-17 fics will be available here: http://www.fos-ff.net/viewuser.php?uid=4809. I will be adding them/moving them there over the next few days, but they will remain here, locked. If you don't have an LJ account and want to read them, check them out there.

Some Kinda Innocent- Chapter Index

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 15:14:41 GMT

Well...since I am gonna be updating my Tseng/Elena story 'Some Kinda Innocent' like OMG soon, I thought a chapter index would come in handy.

1) Chapter 1: The Journey
2) Chapter 2: Puzzle Pieces
3) Chapter 3: Into Darkness
4) Chapter 4: Casual Words
5) Chapter 5: She Doesn't Remember
6) Chapter 6: Unwell
7) Chapter 7: The Fear
8) Chapter 8: Forsaken
9) Chapter 9: Down With The Sickness

FFVII- All He Was

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 04:50:29 GMT

Title: All He Was
Author: butterflys_fics
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Rude/Tifa
Prompt: 34) Darkness (50scenes)
Word Count: 290
Rating: PG-13
Summary: She lived in a dream that would always shatter.
Warnings: Mention of blood.
Disclaimer: I do not own any FFVII characters. They are all the property of Squarenix.

She had never thought there was truly much darkness inside of him. True, his work could be one that required someone to turn off their conscience at times, but there was surely no true darkness in him. If there was, then there would have been no way that he could have loved her the way he did. Dark people, cold people, they didn’t know how to love. To them love was as useless as a chipped cup. But he loved her, and he loved her with all of his heart. He breathed her in and made her senses dizzy with the force of his want for her. He loved her with every breath, every blink, every laugh.

She knew that no man could love the way he did, or want the way he did if they were truly dark. No, there was no darkness in him. She was sure of it. She was so, so sure.

She knew, deep down, that all this was an illusion. As warm and loving he could be was just how cold and uncaring he could be. But when he would hold her in his arms she would make herself forget. She would curl up against his side and bask in the warmth of his love, take comfort in his laughter and his kisses. She made herself forget. She lived in her little dream.

But the dream was always shattered. He would come home empty. He would come home blood soaked. He would come home and she would watch him in the dark, both afraid to go to him and both afraid to turn away. And she knew.

All he was turned out to be light.

And all he knew turned out to be darkness.

Tue, 18 Dec 2007 03:35:33 GMT

So, I am kinda back on LJ, possibly with stuff to post here soon. Who knows. *shrugs*

Draco/Hermione- Liar Game: Prologue: The Invite

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 22:32:04 GMT

Title: Liar Game: Prologue: The Invite (1/?)
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: 48) Reunion
Word Count: 1,264
Summary: It was just a simple game of deceit, but the effects would last a lifetime.
Warnings: None yet.
Notes: The chapter index can be found here. AU as of Book 7.

Made by avra at The Dark Arts

Everyone is changing
There's no one left that's real
to make up your own ending
and let me know just how you feel
cause I am lost without you
I cannot live at all
my whole world surrounds you
I stumble then I crawl
- Blurry, Puddle of Mudd

You told me once, so long ago now that I can hardly even remember when it was, that life was all just a game to you. Everything you did, everything you said was a move, and all of us around you were pieces of the game board.

Back then I didn’t want to believe you, didn’t want to think that you were actually that cruel, but I should have known better than to doubt you by then. Cruel was your nature, and you just loved to play games with others.

Years later I would look back on that stupid game you dragged us into, look at the way your scarred all of us for life, and wonder, just wonder, what you thought you were going to get out of it. Were you hoping for some satisfaction? Or was this some sick, twisted way you though you could prove that you were better than us.

What was your motivation, Draco? Did you even have one? Or were you just trying to hurt us? Tear us apart into smaller, insignificant pieces of ourselves. Were you really ever that cruel? Or was that a game, too?

- H.G.

Hermione couldn’t tell whether or not Harry looked more angry or more bored. She supposed it was probably a combination of the two by the way his brow was furrowed, but she wasn’t sure. He kept pacing back and forth across the room, glancing from time to time at the others there. When he noticed her watching him he smiled, but it was forced. He didn’t want to be there anymore than anyone else did. She could understand that, of course.

Three years had passed since she and Harry had graduated from Hogwarts, and out of the blue they had received letters, no, that wasn’t it. They had received invitations. The thing was, the invitations were from the last person they had expected them to be from: Draco Malfoy.

True, they had called a tentative truce before leaving school, so, she supposed that he could no longer be considered their enemy, but it was still rather odd that he suddenly decided to send invitations to many of the people he hadn’t gotten along with back in school to invite them to the Malfoy manor.

Hermione had decided upon receiving the invitation that she wouldn’t go. However, when she heard that her friends had also received invitations, they had all agreed to go to see what it was that Draco Malfoy was up to.

Ginny grabbed Harry’s arm, effectively stopping his pacing. He glanced at her briefly, and with one smile she seemed to calm him. He took a deep breath and sat down next to her, but his shoulders remained stiff with tension.

“About time he stopped that. He was about to make a hole in the floor.”

The edge of her mouth twitched slightly. “Honestly, Ron, how on earth would Harry be able to pace a hole into the floor?”

Ron shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Dunno. Anything’s possible though.”

That, she silently conceded, was all too true. In the years she had been immersed in the wizarding world, she came to realize that things she had earlier thought to be impossible were, in fact, not at all.

She glanced around the room. Malfoy had managed to gather quite a few people at the manner. She figured they had all come for the same reason: to try to figure out what it was, exactly, that he wanted. She figured that even to this day no one really trusted him.

The doors to the library opened with a loud clank and in strode the man in question. He hadn’t changed much in the last few years, except for his hair. It had lengthened considerably, mirroring in some fashion his father’s hair. The white-blonde hair brushed past his shoulders, hanging in a shimmering curtain, but his eyes, cold and gray hadn’t changed one bit. Deep inside those eyes held the Draco Malfoy they had always known.

Harry stood instantly. “What is all this about Malfoy?”

Hermione could swear that Malfoy seemed vaguely amused by the question, but he didn’t answer him, walking across the room and stopping in front of her. He gave her the once over, then gave her that infernal smirk he had perfected before he even entered Hogwarts. “Never expected you to show up, Granger.”

Her back stiffened. “I hadn’t planned to.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose the Great Harry Potter had something to do with it, then.”

She didn’t answer, merely met his cool gaze evenly. If he thought he was going to get a rise out of her, he was sadly mistaken.

“What’s this all about, Malfoy?”

“Patient, Weasley.” He gave Ron an unfriendly look, then strode past him, shoving harshly into his shoulder and took a seat in one of the fancy chairs into the room. “You were all invited here to play a game.”

From across the room Neville’s unsure voice rose. “A game?”

“Yes, Longbottom, a game.” He folded his hands in his lap, threading his long fingers together.

“What kind of a game, Malfoy?”

“A game of deceit, Potter.”

Hermione let out a small snort of contempt. “Naturally.”

The edge of his mouth twitched, almost amused. “Indeed.”

“And what is the point of this game, Malfoy?”

“The point, Potter, is to trick your way into winning. I would think that would be obvious.” His gaze skipped around the room and came to rest upon Hermione as he continued. “The object of the game is to lie, to everyone, and convince as many people as you can that your lies are, in fact, truth. You must deceive people to the best of your ability. Everyone is your enemy in this game. The one who convinces people the best of their lies, is the winner.”

“This is pointless.” Harry stood in one fluid motion, heading for the door.

“Scared, Potter?”

Harry froze.

Malfoy smirked. “The famous Harry Potter is afraid to play a little game. How sad.”

“I’m not afraid to play your game, Malfoy.”

“Lovely. Then you’ll play?”

“I didn’t say that, either.” Harry turned then to glare at Malfoy.

For his credit, the blonde merely looked bored. “Either you’re going to play or you’re too afraid to.”

“Do we lie to you as well?”

Malfoy arched an eyebrow at Hermione. “Of course.”

“That’s why you wanted to play this game, isn’t it, Malfoy? You think you can lie better than any of us.”

“Perhaps.” He leaned forward in his seat. “Lying is what I do.”

Hermione gazed at him silently for several beats, then turns to look at Harry. “Let’s play.”

Harry looked stunned. “Are you serious, Hermione?”

“Why not? Why don’t we beat Malfoy at his own game and shut him up?”

She could tell that the idea of showing up Malfoy in his own game was appealing to him by the way he hesitated. His mouth twisted up in thought, then, after some time, he nodded, almost reluctantly. “Alright. We’ll play.”

Malfoy smiled, albeit an evil smile. “Excellent. Any one who wishes not to play can leave now.” No one moved. “Very well. The game begins tonight, at sundown. You leave the manor, you forfeit the game.” He stood, striding across the room, brushing against Hermione as he did so. “Good luck, Granger.”

As the door slammed behind him Hermione could feel her blood start to boil. She wanted to beat him so badly she could taste it, so no matter what, she would do just that.

Draco/Hermione- Liar Game- Chapter Index

Sat, 01 Sep 2007 22:26:46 GMT

Title: Liar Game
Author: blacksouledbutterfly (me)
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Draco/Hermione
Summary: It was just a simple game of deceit, but the effects would last a lifetime.

Made by Ande at The Dark Arts

Liar Game

A/N: Also posted on HPFF.com.

This story is not yet complete.

Prologue: The Invite
Chapter 1: Uneasy
Chapter 2: The Story Of Willow Roth

Birthday

Thu, 12 Jul 2007 14:43:59 GMT

Happy birthday to me. Or, well, it would be if my mother didn't ruin it every year.

Tseng/Elena- Mixing Things Up

Thu, 24 May 2007 05:04:24 GMT

Title: Mixing Things Up
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Tseng/Elena
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #18. Strained
Word Count: 1351
Warnings: Slight bondage, smut, oral.
Summary: She hadn't thought he was serious.

She couldn’t believe, in the end, that she had agreed to let him do this. She was a Turk and Turks never did things like that. They were strong and independent. They never let anyone hold them down, literally or metaphorically. And yet, here she was, tied down in the most literally form of the word.

She didn’t think he had actually meant it when he asked her if he could do that to her. She had thought he was joking around, and though he was never exactly known for his sense of humor, she knew he had one, and there were times, the rare ones, when that sense of humor would come out. It was shocking to her for many reasons, but she enjoyed it, so, of course, when he had looked at her from over his tea cup and asked her if they could try something new, if he could tie her up, she had thought he was joking and had agreed, sipping her own tea.

So, when they had finished their tea and he had lifted her from her seat, pressing his lips against hers, backing her up towards his bedroom, she didn’t think there was anything unusual about it. When he lifted her up and placed her on the bed, following her as she moved up to rest her head on the pillow, nothing seemed different. But, when she was busy kissing him, working her mouth firmly against his, and his hand moved her hands towards the bars of the headboard, something stirred slightly inside her head, but his lips felt so nice against hers that she didn’t notice it until she felt his cuffs close around her second wrist.

She turned her head away from him to look up at her wrists. She tugged slightly on her arm, testing to see if the handcuffs were really closed, and found they were. She couldn’t get away, even if she had tried with all her might. She would have ended up just cutting her own skin open against the metal.

She turned to look at him, almost asked him what he was doing, then remembered she had agreed to this. Truthfully, it wasn’t as thought she was afraid, otherwise she would have told him to unrestrain her. No, she was more interested in what he was going to do than anything.

His mouth pressed against the side of her neck, warm and strong. She shivered at the contact, arching her head back to give him better access. He fingers worked deftly, unbuttoning her work jacket, followed shortly her crisp white business shirt.

His fingers danced across the scar tissue on her chest, caressing it. She knew he was remembering their captivation by Kadaj and his gang, knew there was a kind of guilt in the back of his mind over what had happened. He was upset he hadn’t been able to protect her; he hadn’t been able to stop them from hurting her. Every time they had cut into her flesh she had seen it in his eyes- he was worried about her, he wanted to hurt them for what they were doing, and her eyes had screamed back not to tell them anything, no matter what. She would have gladly died to protect the secrets they had been entrusted with. They were marks of her bravery and they were reminders of his guilt.

His finger traced down the largest mark, the one that ran between her breasts, covered partly by the fabric of her bra. His fingers deftly undid the front clasp of her bra, sliding it away from her skin so he could bend down and trace the scar with his tongue. She gasped, arching uselessly against him. He was apologizing for not protecting her from them.

He ran has hand over one of her breasts, brushing her nipple with his thumb until she gasped and squirmed uselessly against her restraints. She could feel him smiling against her scar before his mouth moved, first placing a kiss against her nipple, before taking it into his mouth, sucking softly, running his tongue across it. She whimpered, fisting her hands, wishing they were in his long, thick hair as he continued to suckle softly on her breast before switching to the other, repeating the same actions.

She bucked desperately against him, pressing her hips into his. He growled, low and in the back of his throat, reaching down and pinning her hips to the bed. He looked up at her, smiling. “Patience, dear Elena.”

She almost growled at him, hating being confined, but she knew it would do her no good. He was in control of this, whether she liked it or not, and she would just deal with it and accept it.

His fingers moved deftly, unfastening her pants, pulling them slowly down her legs, too slowly for her liking, and she kicked out, trying to remove them faster, but he stilled the movement, taking his time, running his hands up and down her legs, brushing his fingers softly between her legs until she bit her lip and he could feel her arousal through the thin fabric there.

She whimpered pitifully and he looked up at her with hooded eyes. She could almost taste the lust in them before he tugged down her underwear and removed them as slowly as he had her pants, then kneeled between her legs. She watched him with curious chocolate colored eyes, wondering what he was going to do next. Then he cupped her bottom in his hand, lifting her bottom half up, resting her legs over his shoulders.

“Tseng…”

His gaze flickered up to her face, then back to the subject at hand as he bent forward, lashing his tongue out between her legs. She moaned quietly, closing her eyes and arching her head back into the pillows, trying to shift her hips closer to him. His grip on her was too strong, however, and her hips moved uselessly against his strength.

The blonde Turk whimpered pitifully as Tseng’s tongue flickered across her, taking the swollen bundle of nerves between her legs into his mouth from time to time, sucking softly, then grazing his teeth across it. He seemed to enjoy the sound of her panting, her squirming beneath his touch. Every time her pleasure built, he would slow his actions, denying her the right of getting too close to her release so she whimpered louder. He found the fact that he could make this strong girl plead with these sounds for release intoxicating. No one could ever make this girl weak or make her beg. She was strong and vicious. The fact that he could make her whimper and plead for him to bring her release was one of the most exhilarating things he had ever experienced.

She whimpered again, louder than before, and his gaze flickered once again to her face. She was begging him with her eyes not to torture her anymore, just to let her have her release, and he couldn’t deny her that.

He lowered his head once more, sucking firmly on her swollen clit and sliding a finger inside of her, stroking her firmly. She whimpered and bucked against him, panting. He bit down and she lost control, moaning her name and shuddering violently as she rode her orgasm, his tongue lashing out softly against her.

He kissed her stomach, lowering her to rest against the bed once more and crawled up, kissing her chest, then her mouth softly, reaching up and undoing her restraints. Instantly she was rubbing at her wrists as he took a spot next to her and pulled her naked body against him.

She breathed heavily against his chest, closing her eyes as he stroked her hair over and over again. “Rest for a bit, Elena,” he told her quietly.

“What about you?”

He laughed, kissing the top of her head. “The night is still young.”

Yes, it is, she thought. And I owe you some payback.

DEAD

Mon, 21 May 2007 14:51:07 GMT

Right, so, I am dealing with a major headache right now, which is fine, whatever, I can deal, normally, but, yeah, work is making it work. And, so, I am bored at work and my muses hate me. Help?

Draco/Hermione- Broken: Chapter 4: Hermione

Sun, 29 Apr 2007 02:27:22 GMT

Title: Broken: Chapter 4: Hermione (4/?)
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: PG-13
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: 26) Tea (100quills)
Word Count: 1,113
Summary: They thought the war was over- they thought wrong. On a search for their daughter they will encounter dangers untold and hardships beyond compare, all to come out in facing their worst enemy once more.
Warnings: None.
Notes: This part of the sequel to Foolish. The chapter index for this story can be found here.

Harry left early in the morning to go visit Ginny in the hospital. We hadn’t expected him to do anything less. She was his wife, the only person he cared about more than anything in the world, and she was pregnant with his child, and there was a good possibility that she was never going to wake up. If Harry hadn’t have gone to the hospital I would have hexed him to Hogwarts and back again. According to Molly he had left as soon as the sun had come up.

Draco sat next to me, hand holding mine under the table, running his thumb in circles across the back of my hand. Tonks sat across from us, sipping her tea slowly. Looking her over I wondered how I hadn’t noticed before that she was pregnant. Okay, so I had been a little preoccupied. Being trapped under part of a building with a nail through my leg was a bit distracting, but, usually, I had no problem telling women were pregnant.

The guys wouldn’t have noticed the subtle change in her skin, the way she sat. She was barely showing, but her stomach was definitely rounding.

I was happy for them. Tonks and Remus would make wonderful parents. If anyone deserved a family, a life, happiness, it was Remus. He had lost some of his closest friends, part of his freedom due to his curse, why shouldn’t he have some sort of happiness in his life? Was there a rule against it?

Molly held a plate of eggs in front of my face and I instantly felt sick. “Breakfast, dear?”

I calmly raised a hand. “No, thank you.”

Draco gave me a concerned look. “You aren’t going to eat?”

“I’m still not feeling well,” I explained.

Tonks looked up from her tea and at me. She had a look in her eye I knew all too well. She wanted to talk to me, in private. We would talk, later. Right now I was more concerned with what was going on in our world. St. Mungo’s had been attacked. Ginny was on death’s door, my daughter was missing and we had absolutely no clue where she was or what was happening to her. For all I knew she was being hurt, tortured, or starved. All I could focus on was what was tangible, what could be touched. Whatever Tonks wanted to talk about could wait for however long it took for something, anything to happen. Any kind of an answer would be enough for me to start breathing again.

I turned my cup around on the table, running my fingers along the rim. I knew everyone was watching me, waiting for me to break or something. I wouldn’t break. I wouldn’t be weak right now when Danica needed me to be strong.

Draco lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it. “You look awfully pale, love. Are you feeling alright?”

I shrugged slightly, still looking down at my tea. “I suppose.”

“You should go get some sleep, dear.” When I looked up, Molly was smiling at me. She was worried about Ginny, I saw it in her eyes, but, she was trying to make me feel better, and in truth, I appreciated it. We had a common ground right now, her and I. We were both in limbo, not sure what would happen to our daughters. My only child, her youngest. We could feel each other’s worry and pain. Things like that, it brought people close.

I shook my head. “But, the situation at the hospital-”

“Will still exist when you’ve awoken,” Tonks said. She reached out, laying her hand on mine. “Get some sleep, Hermione.”

I almost told them ‘no’, but, the look in Draco’s eyes told me he wouldn’t allow it, so, in the end, I went back to bed. I dreamt of smoke and blood and I heard my little girl crying my name, and when I awoke, my chest felt tight.

Harry was sitting next to me, and I guess I had been thrashing because he had a hand on my shoulder, holding me in place. “It’s alright, Hermione.”

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. Harry looked older at that point, worried more than I had ever seen him worry before. If Ginny died….no, I would think about that. “How is she?”

He eyes were haunted when he answered. “No change.”

“Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry.”

He forced a smile. “It’s alright, Hermione. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m still sorry, Harry.” I reached out and took his hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. He squeezed back.

“Tonks wanted me to get her when you woke up.”

“Okay.”

He kissed my cheek, forced another smile. “I’ll go get Tonks.”

I watched him leave the room, then flopped back on the bed, sighing. Ginny had to get better. If she didn’t, it would kill Harry. They were a family. Ginny, Harry and their children. Without her, I don’t think he would know how to survive. Harry had lost so many people already in his life. I couldn’t even fathom how much it would hurt him to lose her, too.

Tonks knocked on the doorway, then stepped inside, closing the door behind her and took a seat on the edge of the bed, the spot Harry had just abandoned. Today, her hair was surprisingly tame, a dark shade of blonde. She looked rather pretty, I had to admit. “You haven’t been feeling well lately.”

I nodded slightly. “I know. Probably just sick with worry.”

“Hermione.”

I looked at her, and she had that look my mother wore a lot. She had a look that said she didn’t believe me, that she thought I was lying. I sighed. I wasn’t ready to discuss this.

“Are you?”

I shrugged a bit. “I don’t know.”

“Could you be?”

“It is possible, yes.”

“Perhaps you should find out.”

“I can’t.”

“Why ever not?”

“Because if I am, Draco won’t let me be involved with finding Danica. I can’t have that.”

“It means he worries about you, Hermione. That’s a good thing.”

“I’m not upset that he worries about me. I just don’t want him to stop me from trying to find my daughter. It’s all I can focus on right now.”

“I understand that.” She rested a hand on my arm. “But if you are pregnant, you need to know so you can be careful.”

I sighed. “I know.”

“So, find out, alright?”

I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, it was one more worry I didn’t need, but I knew Tonks wouldn't leave unless I agreed.

So, I agreed.

Draco/Hermione- Still Frame: Chapter 1: Diplomatic Tape

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 17:16:04 GMT

Title: Still Frame: Chapter 1: Diplomatic Tape (2/?)
Author: butterflys_fics/blacksouledbutterfly
Rating: R
Prompt Set: 100.3
Prompt: 57) Lightning
Word Count: 1,711
Summary: My name is Hermione Granger, and I am a private investigator. My cases were simple, but Draco Malfoy changed all that.
Warnings: Descriptions of violent death.
Notes: In order to understand this, reading the prologue is a good idea. The chapter index can be found here.

Made by .showmethelove at The Dark Arts

For almost six hours after I decided to take the case, I cursed myself for getting involved. There were two reasons for that. Firstly, this was Draco Malfoy I was working for, and true, he hadn’t said I had to prove him innocent, but, still, working on anything that involved Draco Malfoy was destined to end badly. It was just a matter of time, really. He was, for all technical purposes, a magnet for horrid things. After all, he had been shagging the victim, and she died, in a most bloody way. Had Draco done it? Surely he was capable of it, the great son of one of the most dangerous Death Eaters I had ever seen. Yes, he could have done it, his heart was cold as ice and black enough where he could have taken the life from this woman and then sat down for tea while her bloody body lay on the floor. Oh, yes, I did believe Draco could have killed her, but the question wasn’t could he have killed her. The question was: did he kill her? And where the thought that he killed her was frightening enough, the idea that he hadn’t, strangely, was even more frightening, because if Draco didn’t do it, that meant the Ministry had no idea who did, and this man, this killer, was still out there, choosing another victim.

This case was dangerous, and I felt a fool for having gotten myself involved in the first place. I was mad, utterly mad, but damn it, Draco had piqued my interest. He knew just how to get to me: find a person killing innocent women. Well, then again, exactly how innocent could Marya Corbin have been if she had been involved- intimately- with Draco Malfoy. Could she, like him, have been involved with the Death Eaters? Was she also part of a group of pureblood extremists who decided that the wizarding world had to be purified and that to do so all muggleborns or those with muggle blood had to die? And if not, why would she have gotten involved with someone like Draco?

And since when did I call him Draco?

So many questions were floating around in my head, and for once in my life, I didn’t have an answer to a single one of them. None of my books and studies could answer them, only research, digging for information and digging into the past could do that. And even then, was I sure I could, in fact, answer the questions? Maybe I was just fooling myself. This could have all been an elaborate plot by Draco- no, Malfoy damn it- to give the ministry reasonable doubt. He was probably looking for me to find some small shred of evidence that could point to a possible other culprit. If there was any doubt, they couldn’t touch him. Of course, it was entirely possible- though unlikely- that Malfoy was actually innocent. After all, could I really picture Malfoy getting his hands that dirty? Too much blood, too messy, too un-Malfoy like. No, I wasn’t even sure of anything anymore, and the only place I would find any answers was at the Ministry.

It wasn’t an easy task to get into the section of the Ministry I needed to, but, my connections there paid off, because not only could I get Arthur Weasley to give me information, but dropping a famous name like Harry Potter was enough to get me into the department, but then, of course, diplomatic tape kicked in. Hush-hush investigations were not open to public access, no matter whom you knew, so, after arguing with the poor Ministry workers for over an hour I had all but given up and gathered my things to leave. That was when the unexpected happened.

I was already out the door when Kingsley Shacklebolt approached me. It had been quite some time since I had actually seen Kingsley, since the great battle with Voldermort, actually, but, I recognized the voice without even turning around. A very specific voice, that’s for sure.

He questioned my reasons for investigating these killings, and I told him, in an almost completely honest way, I wanted to know the truth about what happened, no diplomatic tape rubbish, no lies, no manipulation. I wanted to know what was happening to these women. I don’t know if he was completely convinced, but, he relinquished his inquiry after a bit and handed me a folder, deceptively small in appearance, but surprisingly heavy in my hand. “If anyone asks, Ms. Granger, you didn’t get this from me.”

I nodded. Of course I knew how much trouble he could get into if they found out he had given my confidential files, but, his faith in me wasn’t lost. I thanked him, what seemed like a million times over, then left, heading back to my office. If the file was this heavy, going through it would take a while. And it did.

Almost midnight and I was still sitting in my office, finally eating dinner, looking through the written reports on the women who had been victims. All young, all beautiful, and all very much dead. Even the magic of wizard photography couldn’t make these women look alive. Their eyes stared up at the camera, white, empty. My stomach clenched. There was a distinct look in their eyes, each of them, a look I knew all to well: pure fear. They had probably died wanting to scream their heads off, but had been too afraid to do even that. Poor women. Whoever had done this to them was a monster.

I started to flip through the crime scene photos and ended up throwing out most of my dinner. Enough blood could make even the strongest stomach afraid to eat. These women, pale skin splattered a violent red, surrounded in a dark halo of blood, made my stomach lurch.

“Looking a little green, Granger.”

I nearly jumped out of my seat. Malfoy had managed to sneak into my office and watch me long enough to see me pale before I even noticed him. I was losing my touch, and when I was on a case like this, that was never a good thing.

He smirked at me, that bastardly smirk I hated so much, and sat across from me. “Did I scare you, Granger?”

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?”

He crossed his legs in an elegant, aristocratic way, resting his hands on his knee. “I came to see how your investigation is progressing.”

I watched him quietly for a while, then back down at the photographs in front of me and began digging through them until I found the one I was searching for. Alexia Dragen, age 20. She was a beautiful girl, high-class, model beauty, and the first victim. Poor girl had died of a broken heart, literally. True, she had been eviscerated like Marya, but, Alexia had died from a wound to the heart- it literally split her heart in half. The other wounds followed shortly there after. The photograph in my hand smiled back at me, a picture of her in happier times, when her skin wasn’t graying from death’s cold kiss.

I turned to picture to him, pursing my lips. “Did you know her?”

He took the picture from me, purposely brushing his fingers against mine, and despite myself, my stomach warmed at the feeling. No, damn it, I was not attracted to Draco Malfoy. I refused to be.

He examined the picture, inclined his head ever so slightly in a way that could be considered a nod. “I know who Ms. Dragen is, yes.”

“She’s the fist victim.”

“Ah. I had wondered why I hadn’t seen her as of late. Such a shame. She was a very pretty girl.”

I snatched the picture back from him, tucking the smiling girl safely away from his prying eyes. “Strange, isn’t it Malfoy? Two victims you know. Did you know her as…intimately as you did Ms. Corbin?”

“Yes.”

The answer was so simple, so matter-of-fact, that it startled me at first, but soon I was scowling. “Have you no morals, Malfoy?”

“Now, now, Granger.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on my desk. “You speak as though sex is a disturbing thing.”

“How many women have you slept with, Malfoy?”

“Do you really want to know?”

His tone told me I didn’t. “It’s disgusting to sleep with that many women, Malfoy. You should have some restraint.”

“Oh, I have restraint, Granger. You don’t see me trying to sleep with you, do you?”

“And sully yourself with impure blood? Never.”

The edge of his lip curled slightly as he leaned back in his seat. “You believe I did this, don’t you, Granger?”

“I’ve seen absolutely no evidence to the contrary. And, seemingly, you have no alibi for either of the killings. What would any rational person think?”

“I never took you for rational, Granger.”

Now he was teasing me, I could tell by the tone of his voice. Bloody hell, Draco Malfoy was flirting with me.

We sat there watching each other for a long while, me looking into those cold, pale gray eyes, almost too hypnotized by their depth to look away. I did look away however, when a bolt of lightning sounded outside. I jumped a bit, and he smirked slowly.

“Believe I am guilty all you want, Granger. I know I’m innocent.”

“Unless that’s proven, Malfoy, you will pay for these crimes.”

“I am well aware. I also know, deep down, you are thinking I should pay for many others as well.”

I shrugged. Was I going to deny it? Surely not. He knew how I felt about him, all too well, and I knew how he felt about me. We were comfortable in our mutual disdain: it was a pattern for us, and why go messing with what works?

“Let me know when you find anything out, Granger.”

I nodded a bit, leaning back in my seat. “Very well, Malfoy.”

He stood, fluid and almost inhuman, like he had muscles no human should. “I’ll be seeing you soon.”

As he left I realized how seductive his voice had been.

And how close that had sounded to a threat.

Rude/Tifa- Kills Him

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 18:21:45 GMT

Title: Kills Him
Author/Artist: butterflys_fics
Pairing: Rude/Tifa
Fandom: FFVII
Theme: #29- argentine, Gamma (30kisses)
Disclaimer: I do not own Tifa or Rude or anyone else in FFVII.
Rating: Older Teens for mild sexual content (more like a slight mention)

He remembers their first kiss, and he remembers their last, both actions that hacked pieces of his heart, one with love and one with sorry. He remembers how beautiful she always looked to him, strong and fearless, and oh, so lovely, pale skin bathed in silvery moonlight, beautiful like a legendary goddess. He remembers how soft her lips felt against his, the slight gasp, the way her body tensed the first time, then slowly relaxed against his chest, in his arms, surrendering herself to this meeting of lips. Her skin was impossibly soft, her hair heavy and silken in his hands, and even through the thick material of his gloves, he could feel her skin heat beneath the intensity of their kiss, felt her chest heaving against his.

He remembers their last kiss, and how she was bathed in moonlight as she had been for the first, only she looked so broken this time that his chest felt tight and his hands shook. He remembered that she was the strongest woman he had ever met and to see her so helplessly broken made him feel like a monster- and maybe he was, with bloodstained hands and empty eyes, except for her. He was only whole for her.

He stops sometimes, and he remembers all the kisses between, the times his lips traveled down her neck, teeth grazing skin, the way her breath hitched and her body arched into his touch, the small actions that always made her breathing turn ragged and made the strong girl he loved become a whimpering fool, eyes closed, chest heaving. His lips would dance across her flesh, caressing, cherishing, listening to her gasp with every touch of his teeth or flick of his tongue, and to him it was music, this beautiful girl squirming and writhing and panting and moaning beneath him, nails digging into his shoulders, whispering his name as she thrust against him in a wild fashion, almost feral. He remembers how warm and whole and safe it felt to be inside of her, the satisfied sigh that would slip through her lips when he was inside of her. He remembered how beautiful she looked, skin flushed, bathed in an argentine glow, smiling almost shyly at him and holding her arms out to him. She would hold him against her, sweat glistening in the dim light, rest his head on her chest, kiss his temple, whisper that she loved him over and over again until they both drifted off to sleep, wrapped around each other.

He remembers their first kiss and he remembers their last kiss. He remembers all the little details of their love, and each detail kills him.

Irvine/Selphie- Bliss (I Don't Wanna Know)

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 17:39:26 GMT

Title: Bliss (I Don't Wanna Know)
Theme + Number: 2) Fear, 20) Blue, 32) Coffee, 60) Depression & 65) Irrational (fated_children)
Claim: Irvine Kinneas/Selphie Tilmitt
Rating: K+ (for mild alcohol drinking)
Warnings: Slightly depressing.
Author's Notes: Inspired by the song (by the same name) by Hinder.
Summary: Sometimes, you just want to ignore the truth.

She remembers a time when he took sugar and cream in his coffee and she didn’t taste the bitter sting of vodka when she would sneak a sip. Month had passed- both of them too upset and stubborn to actually try to mend what had gone on between the two of them.

He sips his coffee and stares at her with empty eyes, trying so hard to disguise the anger and the resentment, and hell, the self-loathing, the depression, the pain. But that mask he uses it a weak one and she sees right through it and straight to the fear: the fear he has of her seeing through him. Imagine how surprised he would be to find out she already did see through him.

“Irvine-”

“Don’t.”

Just like that, one word, and the petite girl’s mouth slammed shut. She twisted her mouth up, gnawing on her bottom lip, tapping her nails- painted such a violent shade of blue that it made his head swim- against the table in a maddening rhythm. Tap, tap, pause. Tap, tap, pause.

He knew it was irrational to stop her every time she went to speak. He knew what she was trying to say, knew what it would change. He didn’t really care though, hearing the words would have been so much worse, hurt so much more.

She reached out, running her thin, pale fingers across the back of the gunman’s man, smiling at him in an almost pitying way. For an instant he wanted to hurt her for looking at him that way, then he wanted to hold her and never let her go.

“I love you, you know,” she whispered.

He nodded, sipped his drink again. “I know.”

“But, we need to take a break for a while.”

“Don’t.”

She sighed, brushing her fingers over the back of his hand again. “It’s been so long since I’ve smiled. What happened to you, hmm?” She brushed her thumb over his wrist, watching him for any sign of emotion. “What happened to that man I fell in love with?”

He just shrugged, an exaggerated action meant to make her drop the subject, and drop it she did, sighing and standing, then leaning down and kissing him, tasting the bitterness of both coffee and vodka on his lips. “Goodbye, Irvine.”

He watched the door long after she left, not daring to say goodbye to her as well.

He didn’t want to know it was over.

Tue, 03 Apr 2007 21:51:18 GMT

Bored..........

............depressed

................anyone alive out there?

BANG

Wed, 28 Mar 2007 13:43:26 GMT

Okay, so, apparently my muses think that they are on vacation or something and won't respond when spoken to. *head desk*

On a completely different note, pariswriter82, how is your new layout coming?

...................

Tue, 20 Mar 2007 22:02:44 GMT

To my muses:

Stop being annoying little brats.

-Me

Rude/Tifa- Comfort

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:48:27 GMT

Title: Comfort
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Rude/Tifa
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #60. Enemies
Word Count: 1419
Warnings: Sex.
Summary: Enemies find comfort in each other one night.

She knows this is wrong, but she doesn’t really care. It was a decision, made by both parties, that this would be a one time thing. They were enemies, after all, and enemies didn’t do this sort of thing. They were more careful, more aggressive, more violent. This wasn’t how enemies should be, but they didn’t care. He was trying to regain some form of humanity; she was trying to gain some kind of balance.

Perhaps she had known he would find her when she wandered off on her own from the group. She knew if she left while they were asleep that they would never find her. They were too wrapped up in their own little world or sleep and dreamless times. They were too concerned with their mission to wonder, really, how the others were doing.

He had startled her at first when he found her, coming up behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist, dragging her back against him. She followed her first instinct, bringing her elbow back harshly into the stomach of the man who had grabbed her. He had grunted loudly, but his arm didn’t loosen up on her. As a matter-of-fact it tightened. She could feel his breath close to her ear, warm enough that even if she was afraid, it made her shiver. “You are lucky I am the one that found you here.” Then, as quickly as he had grabbed her, he released her.

She had turned, fists raised to lash out at him, but he had made no move to take a fighting stance, didn’t move from his spot at all. He merely watched her in the dark, almost like a statue. For a moment she had to remember he was in fact breathing, because it was pretty easy to think he wasn’t. She never saw anyone so still before, and the idea was actually a little bit scary.

“You shouldn’t wander off from your friends.” He stood there, adjusting his tie. “It can get rather dangerous. And if the others had found you, you wouldn’t be standing right now.”

“Threatening me?”

“Warning you.”

She knew, vaguely, that this was the most she had ever heard him talk, even with all their fights, she barely saw him talk. His partner was the talker, loudmouthed and rather annoying. He was the quiet, strong presence standing next to him with the dark glasses and the unwavering expression.

She relaxed her stance, arms falling to her sides. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained. “I had to get away for a bit.”

He nodded, once again being the silence presence. She couldn’t understand it, she should have wanted to hit him, or run, or both. He was her enemy, but, she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t going to try to hurt her. Not then, she could tell. How she wasn’t sure, but she knew it deep down.

She sat then, folding her legs beneath her. “Do you ever…..need to get away from everyone? Just sit and think and be you for a little while?” She paused slightly as if waiting for him to answer, picking at the grass beneath her legs. “Sometimes I need to get away from everyone, just need to think about things.” She watched him, without invitation, sit next to her, long legs half bent towards his chest. “I guess….you can’t understand.”

“Perhaps.”

She turned to look at him slightly, peering from under her hair. “Maybe you can. We both have our purposes, our missions, don’t we? They’re just….different.”

“I suppose so.”

“I…just want to try to forget sometimes. There are things I want to just leave my mind. Things that happened, things that might. Sometimes I need to be away from them. I want to forget about my past…..Cloud is always trying to talk about his for us, for himself. I want mine to go away. I want it to have never happened. I hate that feeling.”

He had watched her for a while, quiet as he usually was. Maybe he wasn’t sure what to say, or maybe just not sure how to say what he wanted to. But he did speak after a while, almost too quiet to be heard. “I know how it feels to want to forget.”

She didn’t remember later on who had moved first, or who had decided this was a good idea, but she ended up laying on the grass, his lips against hers, firmly, almost bruising her mouth, but she kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need. She would look back and forget when their hands started to wander across each other’s skin, when their clothes were removed. The air was cold, and she shivered before her body was warmed by his, much larger than her own, resting gently on hers, his mouth pressed against her neck. His fingers danced across her skin, calloused tips making her shudder.

She remembers being so self-conscious about her scar that she almost pulled away from him, she was afraid he would look at her and see that damage and find her as ugly as she felt. Then his fingers brushed against the scar. She tensed, wishing she could crawl under a rock and hide her mark from everyone, wished she had never let him see it. But his fingers were sweetly tracing the scar, almost caressing it, almost telling her it wasn’t ugly, she wasn’t ugly. It was oddly sweet for a man who was her enemy to be doing that. It made her lose all train of thought. She was afraid to think, afraid to rationalize what was going on, because if she did that she would make it stop, but this was a comfort thing: she could tell he was looking for a comfort as much as she was, even if he didn’t say it. He actually didn’t do say much of anything, and that didn’t surprise her- he was the strong, silent type.

She had closed her eyes and let his lips press against her skin, across the skin of her neck, her collarbone, down her chest, across the scar. She let her mind wander away from where they were and what they were doing, let herself just dwell in the moment, and the movement of his mouth and fingers against her, the way his hand reached down, stroking her softly until her eyes rolled in the back of her head and she was bucking against his hand, whimpering, trying to get both closer and to pull away.

The sex wasn’t quite as gentle as the rest of it. He had slid inside of her quickly, sharply, making her bite her lip to keep from making sounds too loud. She had gripped his shoulders tightly, digging her nails into his skin, drawing blood out under her pale, pale nails. His movements were precise, quick and deep and rough, and at first she whimpered slightly with pain, but it didn’t take long for her to get used to it, arching her body up against his, meeting him thrust for thrust, her whimpers turning quickly into almost inaudible moans as she tried to keep her voice down, afraid if she was too loud they would be discovered, and then what would her companions think? But, she wasn’t actually focusing too clearly on that, mostly on the thrusting of his body inside of hers, the way her toes curled into the ground, the way his breath was hot against her neck. She felt a warm coiling in the pit of her stomach, that growing trembling feeling that said she was close, very close. He felt it, too. She knew he did, because his calloused fingers reached between them, flicking at her swollen clit until she reached her orgasm, throwing her head back into the dirt, crying his name out in a harsh whisper. And he was right there with her, grunting quietly against her neck as he spilled inside of her, his thrusts slowing until he had stilled completely inside of her, watching her lying there with her eyes closed, chest heaving, her breath slowly returning to normal.

Afterwards they lay next to each other, half asleep, her pressed against his chest. She thought how she looked so pale next to him, so much cleaner in many ways. They stayed like that for a while before they separated without a word, dressing again and going their own separate ways.

They knew the next time they met, what they had done, would mean nothing.

AVALANCHE- Misunderstood Intentions

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:40:01 GMT

Title: Misunderstood Intentions
Canon: Original Game Cannon
Theme + Number: 51) Limit & 71) Tingle
Claim: AVALANCHE
Characters/Pairings included: Yuffie, Cloud and mentions of Aeris and Tifa
Rating: K+
Warnings: None
Summary: They thought she was fascinated by him for a different reason.
Spoilers: Original game cannon.

She could feel this general tingling across her spine every time he was around her. She would never admit it, and she had learned to hide it rather well, but still, there it was whenever she would see him. It was pushing her to the limits of her own mind, but she ignored it.

The other girls knew, of course. Girls always picked up on these things before men. They thought it was a crush, but it wasn’t that. She didn’t actually like him. It was more than he fascinated her. There was something deep inside of him that he loved to keep hidden, like a weakness she couldn’t place. A vulnerability he wanted to hide from the world, so in the end, he hid from himself.

She would watch him, head tilted to one side, examining their leader with curious eyes and small smiles. They would always ask the ninja what she was looking at, and she would smile, folding her hands behind her back and tell them nothing.

The girls always knew she was watching him.

They just always got her intentions wrong.

Rinoa- A Strange Kind Of Healing

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:28:26 GMT

Title: A Strange Kind Of Healing
Theme + Number: 38) Disaster, 57) Saying Goodbye, 60) Depsression & 74) Learning
Claim: Rinoa
Characters Included: Rinoa, Seifer, Seifer/Rinoa
Rating: T (to be safe)
Warnings: None
Summary: He thinks I’m crazy...

He thinks I’m crazy when I tell him I’m a disaster. He reminds me time and time again that he is the disaster and I am the one who seems to be the only one that holds him together in tough times. He reminds me that he was the one who did horrible things, he is the reason that I almost died.

He isn’t the kind of guy to show his feelings easily. He doesn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, and he never will, but there are times when we sit there in the quiet, dark of his room, learning to take the silence as a healing. He is healing from what he did, and the hatred he feels for himself, and I am healing from not being able to stop him from doing those horrible things. We are a support system for each other, a way to heal. Maybe the way we heal isn’t the best way, but it works for us, works with out life.

We are trying desperately trying to say goodbye to who we were, accept who we’ve become. We know nothing will ever be the same, know we have changed both for the best and the worst. He has come to know he is weak, and hates himself for it. I have come to know I can’t save everyone, can’t always protect the people I care about the most. We both hate our revelations, we both know they are supposed to make us stronger and sometimes make us weaker. We wonder sometimes, how we are going to live with what we now know.

He asks me, more often than I would expect him to, to stay with him throughout the night. He hates me leaving him there with his misery, with his fears. He never lets anyone else know he feels that way- not even his closest friends- but hatred and betrayal, and love can tie people together in ways that you could never imagine, so I stay with him, let him rest his head against my shoulder, stroke back his light hair. There are times when he cries, so quietly he thinks I don’t know he’s doing so, but I never sleep when I stay there at night, and I can feel the little droplet of tears falling against my shirt.

I will never tell him I know he’s crying. He has lost so many things.

I will let him keep his pride.

Zell & Selphie- It's Strange, She Thinks

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:23:09 GMT

Title: It's Strange, She Thinks
Theme + Number: 14) Old, 39) Reunion & 52) Longing
Claim: Zell & Selphie
Rating: K
Warnings: None
Summary: Memories are a strange thing.

It is strange, she thinks, that the first time they were reunited they didn’t even know they had met before. She thinks now that perhaps in the back of their minds that they must have recognized each other in some shape or form. Like waking from a dream, that strange déjà vu feeling. A kind of feeling where you long for answers and there are none to be found.

It is strange, she thinks, now that they remember everything. They seem to act differently around each other, almost afraid to say the wrong thing, afraid to spoil their memories. There are times when she, ironically, clams up entirely around him, biting her bottom lip in order to keep from saying something stupid, and he wonders why she pretends to be someone other than herself.

He tells her this, more than once, but she seems to forget his words.

Until, of course, she surprises him by jumping onto his back in the middle of the hallway. She laughs as he stumbles and almost falls, reaching behind her to grab her, to steady them both. But she knows he isn’t angry, it’s as clear as day. Especially when he smiles at her from over his shoulder.

Zell & Selphie- It means Friendship

Mon, 12 Mar 2007 00:17:37 GMT

Title: It Means Friendship
Theme + Number: 44) Ink & 85) Untidy
Claim: Zell & Selphie
Rating: K
Warnings: None
Summary: Selphie and Zell spend some time together in his room.

She is oddly fascinated by the curves he is etching across her skin, a stark black ink against the pale of her skin. She watches him draw a design across her arm she can’t quite figure out, but is oddly familiar to the design on his face. It is both a comfort and strange. He can’t decide which it is more of.

She stretches out her legs in front of her, kicking papers off of the bed and onto the floor of his messy room. She asked him when she first came in how he could live like that, and he just smiled and told her it had become pattern. If it worked, why deviate from it?

Her eyes jumped back to her arm and the black ink rapidly drawing across it, smiling slightly. “Why this pattern?”

He looked up at her, eyes smiling. “It means friendship.”

Well, she thought, she could definitely have worse friends.

FFVII- How It's Supposed To Be

Sun, 04 Mar 2007 16:28:58 GMT

Title: How It's Supposed To Be
Author: butterflys_fics
Fandom: FFVII
Characters: Rude/Tifa, Senna (OC)
Prompt: 14) Sing (50scenes)
Word Count: 190
Rating: G
Summary: They both figured this was what was supposed to be.
Warnings: Nope.
Disclaimer: I do not own any FFVII characters. They are all the property of Squarenix.

He always thought she was adorable, twirling in a circle, her dark hair trailing behind her. They knew from an early age she would attract attention wherever she went, just because there was something about her that managed to catch people’s eye. Some kind of deep beauty that shown out through her pale blue eyes.

She would spin there in a circle, her younger siblings watching her from out of the corner of their eyes as she sang, rather badly. She would do that for hours, until her legs got too tired to support her.

That’s when Rude would pick her up, cradling her to his chest, watching her tiny little fists curl around his jacket, mumbling quietly as she drifted closer to the sweet oblivion of sleep.

He would lay her down in her tiny little bed, uncurl her fingers from around his coat, and tuck her into bed while his wife’s arms would wrap tightly around his waist. He would turn his head and kiss her temple, the two of them quietly watching their first born sleep. Perhaps, they both agreed, this was the best thing in life.

FFVII- A Little Twist

Sat, 03 Mar 2007 23:58:45 GMT

Title: A Little Twist
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Rude/Tifa
Rating: NC-17
Prompt: #9- Massage (smut_69)
Word Count: 1405
Warnings: Sex.
Summary: Tifa turns the tables on Rude one night.

His fingers danced gently across her shoulders, smooth movements, pinching the nerves with slow, distinct movements. She sighed softly, leaning back against his chest, his firm, calloused fingers working the tension out of her shoulders, pressing his lips to her neck. He had grown accustomed to doing so for her when she had experienced a hard day at work. She had needed to throw more than a dozen people from the bar, each one more annoying than the last.

She sighed softly, rolling her shoulders, and his arms lowered, rubbing her arms softly. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, ever so slightly, turning to look at him, a small smile gracing her beautiful face. “Much. Thank you.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart.”

She blushed, still, even after all this time, uncomfortable with terms of endearment from him, but of course, it only made him smile. He reached out, stroking her cheek with his thumb, watching her eyes close contentedly.

She turned slightly, tucking her legs underneath her, wrapping her arms around his neck and bringing his lips down to hers, moving her soft lips against his, slowly. He placed one hand behind her head, tangling his fingers in her long hair.

She took his other hand, much larger than her own, and led it to the top of her shirt. He hesitated- she was not one to take charge, not one to ask for sexual contact, but he wouldn’t- no, he couldn’t deny her.

He grasped the shiny zipper of her shirt in his fingers, tugging it slowly down, his fingertips brushing against her pale skin. She shivered beneath the touch, pressing her lips more firmly against his. His strong hands moved, pushing the shirt from her body, watching the heavy material fall to the bed behind her, bending his head down and kissing the column of her neck, a soft line down her chest. She arched her back, breathing quickening slightly as her own small fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, slowly peeling the thin fabric from his body.

He turned his face upwards, watching her as she gazed down at him with her dark eyes. She was beautiful, more beautiful to him every time he would look at her. She always had this look of perfect trust in her eyes when she would gaze upon him. She knew he would never hurt her, knew that he loved her.

He brushed his thumb across one of her nipple, listened to her breath sharpen, watched her skin color slightly. He enjoyed that, knowing how he could make her react, make her breath hitch. He bent forward, latching on to her nipple with his firm mouth and sucked gently. She cried out, whimpering softly, gripping his arms tightly. He bit down softly, then lashed his tongue across the wounded flesh, and she panted and whimpered once more.

Then, all at once, she was pushing him back and away from her and pressing her mouth to his chest, placing kisses across the firm expanse of his chest. He stroked her hair softly, letting her place gentle kisses across his skin, let her run her fingers across his skin, explore his flesh. His breath hitched as she mimicked him, latching her mouth tentatively onto one of his nipples, sucking softly until he let out a soft groan.

When she looked back up at his face again, there was something in his eyes he had never seen. A kind of boldness he never knew she possessed, a kind of predatory look that shocked him beyond reason. She pressed her lips against his again, firm and insistent, drawing a low groan from the back of his throat. She pressed her palms flat against his chest and pushed until he went with it, lying back on the bed with her hovering over him, lips still moving against his. He brushed his fingers across the underside of her breasts, listened to her gasp and feeling her shudder beneath his touch.

Her lips moved from his to place soft kisses against his collarbone, a spot she knew was extremely sensitive to him. He shuddered beneath her as her fingers danced down across his stomach, stopping to undo the closing of his pants. She undid the closing, placing her hands at the waist and tugged softly, silently commanding that he lift up his hips, which he did, watching her peel the fabric from his body.

Her lips met his again as she brushed her fingers across him. He let out a startled sound as her small fingers wrapped around his firm erection, gently stroking him. He pulled his lips away from hers, groaning softly while tilting his head back. “Tifa…”

She didn’t need him to say anything else. She knew- he didn’t want to come that way. He wanted something more. That was only confirmed when his hands reached down to push at her shorts, but she pulled back from him, removing the last of her clothes, somewhat shyly, on her own.

She kissed him again, sitting on his stomach. He could feel her, warm and wet, pressed against his heated skin. Part of him wanted to roll her over then and take her, but he was more curious about what she planned on doing than anything. She never took charge, so who was he to stop her when she decided to be bold enough to do so?

She pulled back from him slightly, gazing down at him with heated eyes. She smiled at him, flushed slightly, eyes singing out how much he loved her. He loved her, and that’s all she cared about. He was in love with her, and that was more than she ever thought would happen, more than she could have wished for.

She pressed her palms flat against his chest, lifting herself up slightly, watching his face the whole time. She positioned herself above him, brushing slightly against him.

Rude arched his head back, groaning as his hips arched towards her. “Sweet Shiva….”

She took a deep breath, then lowered herself over him in one swift movement, closing her eyes and letting out a soft moan as he filled her. His groan mirrored her sound as his hands went to her hips, holding her in place as her head tilted back, her body slowly adjusting to the new feeling. He felt so different from this angle, larger, able to fill her entirely. She clenched around him, and he shuddered beneath her.

She pressed her palms against his chest again, bending down to kiss him, then she began to move slowly, rocking her hips against his. He gripped her hips tightly, groaning with each movement of her hips, thrusting up to her. She was finding her rhythm, growing used to this, moving slowly as she gained confidence. She began to ride him, fast and confident, enjoying the new feeling and the look of pure ecstasy on his face as she moved against him.

His fingers on her hips tightened and she knew he was as close to orgasm as she was. She looked down at him with hooded eyes, grinding against him. He reached between thing, finding that swollen bundle of nerves between her legs and fondled it, making her moan loudly, arching her neck back and press herself against him faster. Then he felt it, her body tensing around him, squeezing him as she reached her orgasm. She moaned above him, and he gripped her hips tightly and thrust up into her harshly a couple of times before he was there with her, groaning out her name as he spilled himself inside of her, her body milking his the whole time.

She shuddered slightly as she felt him filling her, then all but collapsed onto his chest, panting and covered in sweat as his arms came up to wrap around her. He stroked her sweaty hair, kissed her smooth forehead, and laid there with her as their breathing slowly returned to normal.

He smiled against her hair. “Not that I’m complaining, but…..where did that come from?”

She blushed as she looked up at him. “Well……you always said it would be interesting to see me being more bold…..”

He kissed her then, softly. “Well, that was interesting. And I quite enjoyed it.”

She blushed even deeper, resting her head against his chest. “Well….don’t get used to it.”

She could feel the rumbling of his chest as he laughed. “Of course not, sweetheart.”

Rude- You're Beautiful

Sun, 25 Feb 2007 21:35:14 GMT

Title: You're Beautiful
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII
Claim: Rude
Characters: Rude, Tifa, Senna (OC)
Prompt: 45) Thigh Highs (50_smutlets)
Word Count: 2509
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Smut, oral

Shoes clattered softly to the floor as he came back into the bedroom, having put their daughter to sleep. Once he had been sure the little girl had fallen into a state of sleep, he had stroked the child's sleep and kissed her smooth forehead before vanishing back into the bedroom to watch his wife remove her shoes. They had been out for most of the night, attending an event at his job. He knew she wasn't too thrilled about the idea of spending all the night there, but she had done it because she loved him, and if she hadn't shown up, she knew how it would look.

"Senna asleep?"

"Of course."

She smiled, taking her hair down so is cascaded across her shoulders. "She is a sleepy child."

"Her mother can be, too."

He loved how her skin would stain with a dark blush when he said things like that, how she would look down at her legs as the did blush in hope she wouldn't be seen.

He chuckled at her, removing his tie as he did and placing it on the dresser. "You look so beautiful when you blush."

Her blush deepened as she leaned down, rising the bottom of her crimson dress and began tugging down her thigh highs. His gaze stayed on her long, firm longs as he watched her roll down the dark fabric and roll the thigh highs up, placing them on the bedside table, eyes never moving to him. He knew, deep down, she didn't even realize how alluring she could be to him when she did such things. She was beautiful beyond her own knowledge, but she never would agree with him when he said to. To her she was always plain, always average. How she couldn't see her own beauty he would never know: she was the most beautiful women had ever met. No woman he had ever cared for before her could even compare, but she would never believe that.

She stood then, hands reaching behind her to unzip her dress, but his hands stilled hers, so much larger than her own, palms calloused from years of work. He gathered her dark hair in one hand, moving it over one shoulder as he bent down to place a kiss on her neck, feeling her shiver. He smiled against her skin. "You looked beautiful tonight."

He could see the pale flesh of her skin darken red again as she protested that she hadn't, but of course, he never agreed with her. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and she thought the same of him: he was the most handsome man she had ever met, kinder than she could have ever imagined him to be. He was a loving father, a loving husband. She couldn't imagine ever spending her life with anyone other than him.

He unzipped her dress, fingers dancing across her spine, watching her body shudder under the touch and he placed another kiss on her shoulder bare shoulder as he slid the sleeves down from body.

He stepped back when she turned around, skin bright red. "Reno seemed to be having fun." And just like that she was changing the subject, trying to take the focus away from her. It was her habit.

Rude nodded slightly, stepping back over to his dresser as he unbuttoned his shirt, fingers working of their own accord. "He did. He looked rather happy."

"He always is with her."

The edge of Rude's mouth curved into a small smile. "He's in love."

"It's hard to imagine that Reno would ever fall in love."

"Yes, I suppose it is."

He turned back to her as she was folding up the smooth fabric of her silken crimson dress. Her back was to him, the smooth expanse of her skin unmarred by her life, unmarred by the horrible things that had happened to her. She laid the dress on the bedside table over her thigh highs, then turned back to face him, a shy smile on her face. His eyes jumped across her body, over the smooth tops of her breasts peering out from the top of her lace bra, she smooth pale pink shimmer of her giant scar disappearing into the dark fabric. That one thing, that one scar, was the only thing that marred her perfect pale skin. That one mark from the crazy general when he had nearly killed her with his giant sword.

Her skin was so much purer than his, contained fewer scars. He had so many of his own, some small and crisp, some large and ragged. But she never seemed to mind his scars, just gently traced them with her small fingers, kissed them with her sweet mouth.

He walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and bending down to kiss her, enjoying the way she sighed at the contact and melted into him, stepping closer to him and placing her palms flat against his chest. His fingers danced across her naked back, loving the way her skin sunk away from him, shuddering under his touch.

He tightened his grip around her waist, lifting her up. She squeaked softly, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if afraid he would drop her, but he would never drop her. He was always so very careful with her, treating her like some fragile treasure.

His lips met her again as he brought her over to the bed again, and kneeled down on the bed, setting her down in front of him. She pulled back far enough to see his face, to lift her small hands up and pull off his dark glasses, to fold them up and place them on the bedside table.

He blinked twice to adjust his eyes to the light and watched her smile, fingers reaching out to trace his cheeks. She loved him without his glasses- not that she ever minded when he wore them- but she thought he looked so much better with out them. The loved his face, his eyes, so much lighter than she would have expected.

He kissed her again, firmer, pressing one hand to the back of her head to cup her skull and draw her closer to him, and she kissed him back, arms wrapping around his neck. His other hand slid down, dancing across her back, pausing at the hook of her bra, then undoing it, sliding the fabric away from her body.

Even now, after he had seen her nearly a hundred times with out her clothes on, she still blushed when even partly naked around him, blushed under his sweeping gaze. He reached out with one hand, running his fingers across her breasts, stroking one nipple softy with his thumb, listening to her gasp and hiss slightly under the touch. He couldn't help it, a smirk crossed his face. She always melted under his touch. It gave him some sort of pride to let him know that he could make the girl he loved react so strongly with a few small touches.

His lips pressed against his neck as he laid her back on the bed, listening to her smooth, slow breathing. His lips traveled across her neck, down across her collarbone. He knew she was watching him, cautious, curious. She trusted him beyond reason, but she was always cautious, always curious.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to one nipple, listening to her hiss in surprise, then his tongue lashed out across the sensitive skin. She whimpered, softy and almost pitiful, and the sound made his back twitch. He dipped his head down lower, taking the nipple into his mouth, dragged his teeth across the nipple, lashed his tongue across the flesh, then sucked softly on the nipple, listening to her whimper slowly turn into a barely audible moan. He pulled away from her breast, placing a soft kiss on it, then jumping to the other one and repeating the same actions on the other.

She was panting softly by then, squirming softly beneath his touch and his mouth as his kissed trailed down her chest, lashed his tongue out against her stomach. She whimpered and her stomach sank away from him. He kissed her stomach again, fingers grasping the edges of her dark underwear, tugging softly. She seemed to hesitate, then lifted her lips up slightly and allowed him to remove the fabric from her body.

Instantly she crossed her legs, always so shy, always so modest. He couldn't help but chuckle at how modest she could still be, and danced his fingers across her stomach, enjoying the way it shuddered beneath his touch. He leaned down, kissing her hip, listening to her soft sigh, then he leaned further down, gently prying her legs apart and settling himself between them, kissing her inner thigh, then lashing his tongue across it until she whimpered.

He looked up at her, watching her face, then ran a finger, slowly, softly between her legs. She moaned softly, sinking her hips slowly away from him. He gripped her hips gently in his hands to keep her from moving away from him, and bent his head down, lashing his tongue against her, slowly, caressingly, tasting her slightly. She moaned again, attempting in vain to arch away from him. Then, he went to work, licking at her, listening to her pant and moan as she gripped the sheets tight enough to turn her knuckles white. He found her swollen clit, rolled his tongue over it and took it into his mouth, sucking softly, then bit down on it, drawing a low scream from her throat. "Rude......"

He pulled away just enough to kiss her thigh. He knew what she was going to say. "Go ahead, Tifa." Then, his mouth was on her again, her swollen clit in his mouth again as he sucked, softly at first, then more insistent as he felt her holding back, felt her resisting. He growled softly, gripping her hips more firmly and bitting down on the swollen bundle of nerves again, feeling completely at ease as she moaned out his name, arching her back off of the bed as she reached her peek and her body shook with her orgasm, his tongue slowly stroking her during the process, and as she came down, before kissing her thigh softly and dragging himself up her body, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, listening to her pant softly, her skin softly glowing.

She reached up with her small hands, pushing his shirt from his body, watching the crisp, white fabric flutter down behind him, then she was sitting up, forcing him to sit on his knees as her small mouth curved over one of his scars, caressing it with her lips, then softly tracing it with her tongue until he groaned.

He laid her back on the bed, removing the rest of his clothes with steady hands, placing soft kisses to her neck, her forehead, her lips, then his hands were back on her hips, and he was thrusting inside of her. Her head arched backwards into the pillow as she moaned softly, hair spread out across the pillow like a dark curtain. He kept his eyes on her face, thrusting slowly inside of her, drawing nearly completely out of her, then thrusting slowly back into her, drawing out the pleasure, feeling her slowly contracting around him.

Her hands reached up to grasp his shoulder tightly, nails digging into the skin of his back until he hissed as they pierced his skin, leaving little crescent marks and his blood flowed out. Her legs wrapped around his waist, almost of their own accord and he began to move faster, moving deeper inside of her. She moaned loudly, arching her head back again and his kissed the curve of her neck, lashing his tongue out across the skin. She shuddered against him, whimpering softly, and he could feel her beginning to tighten around him with her approaching orgasm, but she refused to let herself go.

Rude buried his face against her neck. "Let go, Tifa."

The brunette shook her head slightly, refusing to do it, too stubborn, too wrapped up in what was going on. He reached down and stroked her swollen clit, rolling his fingers over it, watching her bite her lip as she reached her orgasm again, clenching tightly around him and letting out a small moan, head tilting back again as her body shook. He thrust inside of her a few more times, riding out her orgasm until he reached his own, burying his face against her neck and whispering her name against her skin as he emptied himself inside of her.

They stayed there like that for a while, him buried inside of her, their breathing short and ragged, waiting until they felt they could move, then her legs slowly unwrapped from his waist and he slowly removed himself from her, groaning softly. His pressed his lips against hers, kissing her deeply, showing her with that small action just how much he loved her, then bent down, sliding down her body and pressing another kiss to her stomach before laying down next to her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to his body.

She sighed softly as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing his bare chest, both coated in sweat, both of their hears beating erratically. His fingers brushed softly against her stomach, slowly caressing the skin as she slipped off to sleep, picturing the small life that was growing inside of her. He smiled slightly, kissing the top of her head, both extremely happy that they were together, and perfectly both anxious and proud that she was carrying his child, again. Seven more months and he would be able to look into their new child's eyes.

The next morning she came down the stairs into the kitchen, holding their daughter in her arms, wearing his shirt, their daughter's darker skin making her mother's arms seem pale in comparison. He smiled as she came by him, placing a soft kiss on his bald head, handing their small daughter over to him.

He gazed down at Senna's pale blue eyes, stroked her cheek as he watched Tifa moving around the kitchen, setting the coffee pot up, then taking their daughter from him again, cradling their six month-old daughter to her chest as she slowly unbuttoned the shirt, pressing her child to her chest.

He watched them quietly, listening to the soft sounds of their daughter being fed and knew she couldn't be happier. He knew, soon enough, Tifa would be switching Senna over to a bottle, but he also knew, soon enough, they would have another child for her to take care of the same way she did Senna, a child just over a year younger than Senna.

Life, as he knew it, was perfect.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For more on Senna check out ffvii_tng.

Sat, 24 Feb 2007 05:08:46 GMT

I had a bad fucking day.

This all sucks.