#inacoffin

14. How did mun get into the fandom?

Well I like to say the Ds ff4 and dissida help greatly. FF is pretty large so I won't cover it all.

15. Does mun believe in love?

 I do somewhat...you can make a good guess on the somewhat part.

sanguinesaint said: "I suppose my secret is out." 8/

"You are.... My fire."        "Valentine let go." "My one, desire."        "Valentine stop singing." "Believe... When I say."         "Are you on drugs boy??" "I want it that way."                   "VINCENT LET GO OF ME." "TELL ME WHY-"                  "Because I'll strap you down to the nearest table and rearrange your                             organs if you don't shut up this instant!"

[ ♛ ]  This was a time when Rufus would have actually prescribed to his father’s way of thinking. Throwing money at the problem had always worked for romance in the past, even if it was a means to an end. (He hadn’t had a steady relationship in his life—he was always preoccupied with far more important things than remembering phone calls and thinking of precious nicknames, and thus over time everything simply broke down) But Rufus had hit a roadblock on this one. Vincent didn’t give a damn about his money. He didn’t even give a damn about his status, if his insolence was any indication. Rufus had never been so lost. If it wasn’t money and power, what exactly did people like?

He had tried flowers—they were a commodity. He’d sent flowers to Vincent’s house in Kalm, but the gunman had seemed more mystified than seduced. Unless the meaning of sending someone flowers was different thirty years ago, Rufus didn’t know what that issue was. Perhaps he thought he was being mocked, though Rufus Shinra was not the type to waste time sending someone flowers as a prank.

So maybe Vincent was practical sort. He couldn’t do anything with flowers besides stick them in a vase to brighten up his likely dreary and lonely home, and that was fine. Rufus had seen Vincent’s terribly ratty red cape. It was absolutely shredded—it looked as though it’d been set on fire. Rufus had confiscated the cape from Reno, though he hadn’t even progressed far in having it mended when Vincent barged in, wanting his clothing back. When the gunman had seen the handiwork, he was.. livid, actually, and it hadn’t even dawned on Rufus that he would want to walk around looking like a lout. Perhaps he thought it made him look threatening. Rufus thought it made him look like he was overcompensating.

The next time Vincent came by, Rufus foully noted that the stitches were torn out and his cape looked just as ragged as ever. But Vincent had not come to apologize—he wanted to know exactly what ufus was up to, and for a moment Rufus was tempted to play the innocent fool because it was so charming to see him wound up like this. He’d been mulling over it, Rufus was certain. But Rufus was honestly tired of this charade when they could be spending their time doing something more useful and so he’d asked him if it was not obvious, because he didn’t think Vincent was honestly that dense. The gunman looked as startled as a school child but didn’t do anything when Rufus leaned in and slipped two fingers under the buckle across his collar and pulled him into a biting kiss. And then finally Rufus felt him exhale against his cheek and his hand moved to Rufus’ hip with a strange possessiveness for a man who was baffled by flowers.

FIRST THREE IN MY INBOX GET KISSES