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intoxicated-chan · 8 months

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𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬, 𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Summary ➳ Anyone would’ve pointed out how cold (Y/n) was, almost like Cloud, Jessie compared her. But Biggs felt like there was something different, he knew he was right when he saw her smiling for the first time…

(A/n) ➳ I love this man too much, I really do hope he’s in the next game. There isn’t enough content for Biggs, I just had to. I also planned to make this into a series/book but wanted to see how you guys think of this. I also cut some things out so it was all crammed in and long.

Word Count ➳ 1.7k

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, Reader is a member of Avalanche, Reader is mentioned to have scars, mentions/description of violence, mentions of murder, cuts, blood, stiching, needles, soft swearing, angst-to-fluff…

“And who are they?” Cloud questioned, watching the military-like group take down the mechs and the rest of the SHINRA soldiers as the

“First guests to the party. Another Avalanche cell. Our holier-than-thou friends from the old guard... It’s always their way or the highway. Lately they’ve been a real pain in the ass... Till now.” Biggs answered Cloud. “It’s also the cell that (Y/n) apparently left.” The large door shuts and the gears turn to lock it.

“Apparently?” Cloud lifted an eyebrow as he stood to his feet.

“Some say she was booted, ran off, or chose to leave peacefully.” Biggs sighed, shaking his head. “Who knows? I can’t even tell what’s running through her head most of the time. Which is why she’s known as the Wild Card of Avalanche. So dangerous that SHINRA is scared to even bring her in.”

(Y/n) leaned on the railing of the random roof, picking at the paint flaking off the rails in boredom. She watched from above as the slums. It was a normal day for some but they don’t know that the members of Avalanche are right under their noses.

But she couldn’t blame them since the group did their best to keep their business away from the innocents.

She should be meeting with them at this time but from Barret’s words, she wasn’t necessary for the next part, probably from the last mission since she arrived late which worried the majority of the team.

She wasn’t going to admit it what caused her to be late, she just shot down a soldier or two…

“There you are.” The familiar voice broke her from her thoughts, she turned her head slightly and saw Biggs walking closer to her with his usual smile on his face. “I was wondering where you went.”

“Well, you found me.” She turned her head back, looking back at the slums. “And what brings you here?”

“I wanted to see you off before I go.”

She hummed. “Another reactor?”

“Yep.” Biggs chuckled awkwardly, sensing annoyance since he remembered her trying to get on the mission as well. “...You’re not sure how you feel about that.”

“It’s fine. Best that Barret chooses his best and the ones he trusts.” (Y/n) huffed, cleaning her hands of the chipped paint left on her fingernails. “Besides, I have other things to focus on.”

“Like what?”

“It’s best if I don’t share.” (Y/n) glanced around the roof before looking down at her phone… A stolen phone from a SHINRA personnel that they forgot to shut off. “I have some SHINRA men I have to talk to.”

Biggs watched her, wide eyed as getting one of those phones was near impossible but that depends on who you steal it from. He stretched his arm out, reaching for it, “Where- How did you get this-?”

She instantly pulled away from his reach, looking at him as if he just insulted her. “Like I said, it’s best if I don’t share.” She repeated.

“Sorry, I didn’t…” Biggs was again unsure, she was so strange in his eyes as he heard fifty-fifty things about the woman who stands besides him. He was thinking so much that he didn’t realize that she began to leave, heading towards the latter.

“Wait!” He called out, seeing her look at him. “Once I get back…Would you care to join me topside? I heard there was a good place for food.” He shyly rubbed the back of his neck, his mind racing as he felt flushed.

“Depends.” (Y/n) answered. “Do you plan on coming back in one piece and alive?” She asked.

Biggs nodded, almost hesitantly. “Of course I do.” He said, hoping that she didn’t catch the wave in his voice.

“Then you have my answer.” She smirked before climbing down the ladder.

When Biggs reached the latter, she was already gone. Like a ghost, there wasn’t a glimpse of her in his sight. His fingers ran through his hair as he continued to try to search for her. “They were right about one thing.” He mumbled. “She’s full of surprises.”

As much as Biggs wanted to get home early, he knew he couldn’t rush what they were doing. This plan was thoroughly careful, he became even more worried and impatient when there wasn’t a SHINRA soldier in sight. But when he returned home, it was late.

Some trains were stopped after Cloud, Tifa, and Barett chose to jump off the train. He was worried about what (Y/n) would have to say.

Would she hate him? Curse him out? Hopefully forgive him? He couldn’t sleep, heck, he couldn’t even clean. Not without her filling up his entire head.

The knocking on his door made him shoot up from his bed, tumbling on his feet as he put on a shirt. “Just a moment!” He spoke, nearly stumbling over his shoes before he made it to the door. He’s surprised once again when he sees (Y/n) standing outside, an arm behind her back, but his surprise is replaced with panic.

“Do you have any bandages?” She asked him out of the blue.

“W-What?” He blinked a couple of times, confused if what he’s seeing was real.

“Bandages.” She said. “You know, bandages. Do you have any left?”

“Oh yeah.” He turned back and went to his desk, top drawer to pull out bandages.

“Thanks.” She took them from him.

“Why do you need…” He looked down her other arm but he could tell she was purposely hiding it and then he saw the droplets of blood behind her, it’s almost a trail. “Are you bleeding? Like now?” He hurriedly said, stepping closer.

“It’s fine.” She spoke nonchalantly, like it’s an everyday thing. “Thanks, once again.” She turned to leave but Biggs grabbed her shoulder.

It gave Biggs a better look at her arm, a large gash, from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. “It’s not fine. This is serious.” He paid her no attention when he dragged her inside his place, closing the door with his foot and making her sit down while he grabbed the rest of his first aid kit.

“And you know how to stitch wounds?” She asked him.

“I learned back at the Leaf House.” Biggs responded, grabbing a needle but cleaning the dried blood first, using his other hand to apply pressure to her gash.

“The Leaf House?” She perked almost immediately. She winced when she felt the needle pierce through her skin, clutching her thigh tightly as she felt the threat move.

“Sorry.” Biggs apologizes, slowly stitching her wound. “Do you know the Leaf House?”

(Y/n)’s eyes wandered around the room, avoiding his gaze. “Once or twice.”

“Any family there?” She nodded, but didn’t expand and Biggs knew not to push any further. “How did you get this?” Biggs changed the topic.

“It’s-”

“And don’t tell me, it’s best if I don’t know.” Biggs snickered, even more when he felt her foot kick his leg softly. It was more of a poke.

“I just ran into some SHINRA soldiers.”

Biggs looked at her for a moment before returning to her wound, “I thought they were scared of you.”

“Who said that?” She questioned, hoping to find the one who’s been spreading stuff around.

“That’s what I heard.” Biggs replied, finishing his last thread before cutting the thread and knotting it. (Y/n) sighed and said another thank you to Biggs. She moved her hand carefully, so as to not open the wound. “The cut was clean and deep. It will likely scar.”

“It’s fine. Just another to my collection.” She mumbled, grabbing the bandages and wrapped it, but not tight.

Biggs quietly started to pack his first aid kit away, taking quick glances in her direction. “Um… I’m sorry I didn’t return early, if I known-”

“It’s okay, Biggs.” She said, handing him back the bandages. “I’m just happy you thought to ask me out.”

“...Really?!” Biggs shot up.

She nodded once more, a soft smile forming on her lips as her eyes relaxed. She no longer looked angry or cold, tense or standoffish. She looked calm, and happy.

“I… I never really thought that I could have what people have. You know, relationships with others or even friendships. I thought that if I could keep people at arms length.” She picked at her nails, nervous and scared. “Yet each time you come running back.”

Biggs laughed, smiling proudly. “You always kept me on my toes. A surprise right after another, you keep on surprising me. I barely know you but sometimes it feels like I’ve known you for years. I know what others say about you but I don’t care, I don’t care what they say because I…” He grabbed both of her hands, holding them tightly. “I love you, okay? I love you. And I can’t imagine loving someone else.”

“I don’t want you to be scared of me.” She shakily spoke. “You’ve heard what I’ve done.”

“We will go at your pace, however you like. Hell, I’ll even wait for you if you ask me because (Y/n), you have me, wrapped around your finger.” Biggs no longer felt embarrassed or nervous, he felt proud and he too, happy. “What do you say?”

“I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t.”

If the smile on Biggs’ face couldn’t get any bigger… He slowly pulled her to feet and was careful to hug her, treating her as if she was made of glass. Biggs felt her hands clutch onto the fabric of his shirt.

“To topside?” He softly asked.

She looked up at him. “To topside.”

#final fantasy remake #final fantasy x reader #final fantasy 7 #x female reader #x reader #fluff #biggs x reader #biggs #biggs ff7 #cloud strife #cloud ff7 #cloud final fantasy

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dommi-griffi · 8 months

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I’m kind of establishing a fan fiction outline for Ff7.

I know none of y’all asked for it but it’s an Anastasia au.

☁️Synopsis☁️

Cloud has only known what is left of himself, and the frigid bite of dank air beneath the plate in Midgar. Having been dropped off at the Leaf House in the sector 5 slums when he was merely 8, he does everything he can to stay out of trouble and keep his head down. He waits for the Orphanage to release him to pursue the SOLDIER program. Or, rather, to enlist in the low ranks and work his ass off to earn that title, eventually.

The thing is, no one bothers to tell him how, where, or when to start his dream. They all just expect this boy with no memory of his past to step into the unknown. No matter how comfortable he was with knowing little to nothing, it was utterly terrifying. Luckily, though, or rather annoyingly, he meets Jessie. A spitfire with more energy than a Thundaja materia. And, fortunately, Tifa. Who knows exactly how to quell Jessie’s fire enough to offer their help in his dream. With nothing to lose, he joins the two on their journey back to the old kingdom of Nibelheim, where the city is slowly rebuilding itself after the throes of a battle twelve years prior that left the kingdom and royal line in shambles.

Right before setting off, he meets the rest of the team, which he finds out is known as Avalanche. And apparently they’re constantly on the look for the lost prince, who they hope will restore Nibelheim’s once highly sought after rolling hills and vast, fertile lands. All orphans from the battle, trying to rebuild their lives. Hoping for some kind of savior Cloud is sure isn’t him.

Meanwhile, a certain King’s Shield in training has been assigned to infiltrate Avalanche’s ranks, also in search of the missing piece to his homeland. And Zack will stop at nothing to obtain the pride, and prince he once lost that fateful night twelve years ago.

Unfortunately, the team and kingdom’s military only has a year before the lost crown prince turns 21, and they are left politically vulnerable as Queen Consort Claudia is forced to step down. Which would leave the throne wide open for the King of the small southern kingdom Wall Market, Don Corneo to pick at the corpse of the once beautiful land.

Follow Cloud as he finds himself, who he has been searching for for twelve long cold years. Hoping to find his home, family, answers, and maybe even his heart.

I really just wanted to write him with his full found family and beefy ALIVE bf.

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zanykingmentality · 11 months

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title: we didn’t get it right, but love we did our best

pairing: tifa lockhart / aerith gainsborough

words: 4.3k words

tags: Major Character Death, Apocalypse, End of the World, mix of modern and canon divergence au, Social Commentary, Angst and Tragedy, Hurt/Comfort, can be read without romance, Past Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife

summary:

First, the world ends.

Then, Tifa meets Aerith.

[AO3]

The world ends on a day just like this one. This one, and every day before it.

Tifa is tending her bar. As always. She woke up this morning with a crick in her neck that abates just a bit after some careful massaging. Despite everything, she’s not really a morning person; the sun takes time to seep into her skin. Despite it all, she heads out to run errands at a prompt nine in the morning to get everything set up for Seventh Heaven’s noontime opening.

The thing they don’t tell you, when you try to start something yourself: there is never enough money. Not for the food, for the drinks, for the damn building. Maintenance costs run her out of house and home, into a dingy Stargazer Heights apartment furnished with little else than her bed and a decrepit television set that doesn’t even connect to cable. The room always tastes like static and dust, but Tifa loves it fiercely, because she has no other choice.

This particular morning, she stops by the grocery store to stock up on eggs and canned soup, and a few impulse purchases that she really does believe she’ll eat in the next week—a promise she makes every week and only sometimes follows through on.

(Of course, the irony in this is that there is no week ahead—the time remaining is markedly less than even a day. The soup boils and burns in the fires, and the eggs become soft and yolky, dripping from the fridge.)

After that, she swings by the home decor store to buy new glassware to replace the ones that broke this past month. The store can be described only as the world contained in aisles decorated with pillows reminding one to live, laugh, and love. Harsh, ambient lighting makes the whole store hum an irritating D-sharp. It would be so easy, she does not think, to get lost in these aisles, to be a restless child wandering off, stepping into the between spaces where there is nothing. Oh, there’s the glassware section.

She could easily order the glasses online, but she likes to pick out all her items herself, test their weight in her hands, their smudge resistance, their rigidity. Maybe one of these days she’ll settle for cups made of more plastic than glass, but for now, she’s a stickler for quality, and too much plastic in glassware taints the taste of the drink. She’s been doing this long enough to learn little tricks like that, and hasn’t yet fallen so far as to start sacrificing quality for cost.

She brings everything back home, stows the groceries in the fridge, and lines up the glasses into boxes stuffed with cut-up Styrofoam that she’s accumulated from old packages. Needy fingers make do; she doesn’t always say this, but she believes it, wholeheartedly. The television blares static as she lines up the glasses, humming to herself a tune only she can find in its familiar buzz. Something that sounds vaguely like the opening song of a cartoon she watched when she was little, huddled on the carpet with Cloud and her favorite worn-out stuffed animal. Back then her eyes didn’t burn if they were open for too long, and her hands were always sticky with dirt or sugar.

The glasses are packed up all too quickly, and eleven looms just around the corner. With it comes opening, checking stock, mixing drinks. Another long day, just like the one before it, and the one before that, and the one before that.

That’s okay. Tifa likes what she does. A little bit of happiness in dark times—that’s what she promises, mixing cocktails to take the edge off. So even though it’s tiring, all the upkeep, the obligatory smile, the weird comments from patrons—it’s good work, it’s necessary work, and she does it all to make things just a little brighter, in spite of everything.

Seventh Heaven, on the outside, appears shabby: built mostly out of wood and scrounged-together pieces and located right in the center of the neighborhood, furnished with a big sign Tifa painted herself back when she’d first decided she wanted to be a bar owner and a porch for the people who need a breeze with their booze. She spends the rest of the time until opening polishing the countertop until it shines and reorganizing the lowest shelf of spirits for easy access. The Friday night crowds are the largest, and their drink preferences vary more wildly than on any other night; the shelf is crowded with all sorts of alcohol, chasers, and cocktail ingredients.

Halfway through, Barret—her partner in work, among other things—comes in with his daughter Marlene, who he sets at the bar to play with a stuffed monkey and watch the old sitcom Tifa’s left playing on the TV monitor set up on the wall. Barret then hunches over the bar in the seat next to her, his prosthetic arm thunking heavy on the wooden surface.

“All good?” Tifa asks, turning from the liquor shelf.

“Yeah,” Barret grumbles. “Been tough around town these days. Folks’re gettin’ antsy.”

“And no word from the Shinra rep?”

Barret scoffs. “‘Course not.”

The tragic irony in Barret’s work—and, by extension, Tifa’s work as his consultant-slash-friend—is that he is in many ways the de facto father of their area of the city, but that he is utterly unwilling to play the games of bureaucracy. For the past week, Shinra, the oh-so-godly corporation lording over the city like its own lawless government, has put a pause on all food shipments to the poorer areas of the city, leaving so many people to fend for themselves for food and drink. Sure, it’s driven up business for Seventh Heaven (for now, while people can afford it), and Tifa’s lucky to have Cloud do the legwork in getting supplies when she can afford him, but… well. She hates the hungry look in everyone’s eyes more than anything. The hopelessness.

“Would you get the sign for me, Marlene?” Tifa asks gently, and Marlene nods enthusiastically, happy to have something to do. She jumps down from the barstool and scampers over to the door, where she flips the sign from CLOSED to OPEN. Barret huffs, breathes in heavy and slow, calming the fire in him, as Marlene comes back to his side.

“We’ll be in the back,” Barret says, standing.

“Sure,” Tifa says. Barret makes a lot of the food when he’s not running himself ragged in meetings or distributing resources, and there’s another room back there with a TV and a box of toys for Marlene. A bar is hardly a good place for a child, but the two of them make do.

Barret takes Marlene through the door to the right, and they disappear from sight. Tifa will see them in a bit, once the orders start coming in.

The first customers trickle in—a regular with someone new in tow, a salaryman with a worn briefcase, the woman who always staggers in at opening and stumbles out at closing—and Tifa shuts her brain off, switching into customer service mode. An easy smile on her lips, a bit of sunshine at her fingertips.

The best-worst thing about being the proprietress of a bar with hardly any employees is that Tifa gets neither breaks nor days off. Which she doesn’t really mind, all things considered. A day off means time to think, which means she’ll get in her head about all the things that should be happening that aren’t, or all the things that shouldn’t be happening and are: gasoline-tinged air from permanently whirring machines, mako deficiency in the planet, people with sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks unsure of their next meal. Ash in the air from distant fires, laced with hopelessness. She hates it. She hates all of it.

Cloud comes in around five, after what she assumes is his latest job. He hasn’t told her much about it; hell, he doesn’t tell her much at all if she doesn’t pry, and that was true even while they were dating all those years ago. It’s not all bad, though—he’s just started to look her in the eyes again.

“Hey,” he says, monotone, ignoring all the tables of people staring at him in favor of beelining to the bar. Cloud’s got quite the reputation in these parts—he takes on any odd job for a price, which makes him invaluable. He’s the reason they’re not all dying of starvation, and the reason monsters rarely foray into their sector anymore.

“What’ll it be?” Tifa asks, wearing the smirk she saves specially for him. It’s a habit from all the years they’ve known each other.

“Surprise me.”

“You never like when I do that.” Nevertheless, Tifa turns and plucks out bottles for a new magnum opus.

“I’ve never said that.” She doesn’t have to look to know he’s pouting in that way only he does, half-indignant, half-scowl. Tifa shakes his drink up and pours it: a vaguely pink concoction tinged with lilac extract and citrus, hardened by vodka. This one’s off-menu, one of her experiments. Cloud takes one sip and his nose scrunches up before relaxing hurriedly.

“Not your style?” Tifa asks.

“It’s not that,” he says. She knows him well enough to tell when he’s being polite and when he’s not, so she knows it’s not that he doesn’t like it. It’s that he’s used to eating gruel and protein bars, so anything with flavor can be too much. She knows this, and waits for him to say it. “It’s just… different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

He thinks for a moment, and says, “Good different.”

“I’m glad.” She rests her elbows on the bar and leans over. “How was work?”

“Fine. Today I tracked down someone’s chickens.”

It’s more than she’s gotten out of him in years. Some things do change. “Sounds fun.”

“Eh.” Cloud shrugs and takes another sip of his drink.

“So? Got any plans for the night?”

Cloud scoffs. “No. Do I ever?”

“Sounds about right.”

Another customer calls Tifa’s attention, and she’s back in work mode.

Seven comes and goes, and with it comes the arrival of the rest of their friends: Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge. The three of them crowd around a table and watch as Barret emerges, haggard, from the back, Marlene sitting in the crook of his elbow. The two of them take the remaining seat at the table and cheering breaks out among them.

“Another day down!” Jessie cheers.

“And another day tomorrow!” Wedge adds.

Back at the bar, Cloud sighs. “Are they ever quiet?”

“I’m just surprised you’re still here to see it,” Tifa says. “Usually you’re home by now.”

Cloud scowls. “I don’t know. I got a bad feeling tonight.”

His intuition is usually right, which makes Tifa apprehensive. All those years in the military, she guesses, honing his senses for danger. Not for the first time, she wishes they lived in a world where Cloud had never sacrificed his body for war, and she had never had to run from a burning village.

She shuts that line of thinking down quickly.

“Tifa, baby!” a regular calls out, clearly high on more than drink. Maybe life. Maybe substances. Not Tifa’s business, anyway. “You doin’ anything tonight?”

“Tending the bar, Jimmy,” Tifa replies, “as always.”

“You oughta get out more,” he says. “See the world.”

“Maybe, if I can find the time.”

“Time’s bogus. Where’re you gonna find it if you don’t make it yourself?”

There’s truth there, the kind that makes Tifa uncomfortable. She laughs hollowly, and Cloud glares until Jimmy plops his forehead down on the bartop, spent.

By eleven, the bar’s mostly cleared out—Cloud’s gone home, as have Jessie, Wedge, Barret, and Marlene, leaving Biggs behind—and there are just a few people left, sad or drunk or both. Biggs has replaced Tifa behind the bar, giving her a chance to take a seat at one of the barstools.

“It’s weird,” Biggs says. “I get the feeling tonight is the last time I’ll see anyone.”

“That is weird,” Tifa says.

“I told you.” Biggs crosses his arms over his chest, his leather harness shifting with the movement. Tifa’s never understood why he wears that, but she supposes it does look good.

Tifa closes her eyes, bracing herself against the bartop. Her eyelids feel heavy; they always do this time of night, even though her schedule is such that she stays up this late every night.

It’s in this brief moment of peace that the first explosion sounds. The entire building shudders, down to the earth it’s built into. Tifa lurches forward; Biggs catches her, extending one hand to catch her shoulder before her face hits the wooden counter.

“What was that?” he asks, looking at the door. The patrons who aren’t dead drunk have crowded the windows, staring outside. One of them opens the door.

“I don’t know.” Tifa stands, wobbly, and makes her way to the door.

Outside is chaos. Fire rains down from the sky, taking with it chunks of metal and burning wood. The city is in disarray: on fire, buildings caved in, people running around screaming, searching for shelter where there is none. Their buildings are not built sturdy enough to withstand this kind of carnage. Tifa’s chest feels tight; she can’t breathe.

“Jesus Christ,” Biggs whispers, right behind her. She can practically hear his mind racing a mile a minute—she and Biggs are too similar in too many ways, and their capacity for worry is one such example.

It’s impossible to tell what the source of the destruction is. Where did the burning start? Where do the fires end? No matter where Tifa looks, there’s smoke and ash and flames, and screaming.

“Get down!” Biggs shouts, pulling Tifa down to the wood of the porch as a chunk of burning metal flies over their heads and into the neighboring building.

“What the…” Tifa can only stare for a moment before her entire body starts trembling.

The wind picks up, whirling all around them, spewing ash and dust every which way. There’s no shelter—there’s no running.

“We’ve got to make sure everyone’s okay!” Biggs shouts over the noise, the din of dying.

“Right!” Tifa nods and takes his hand, letting him lead the way, bracing them against the wind. She doesn’t trust her feet to carry her without support, and Biggs is always steadying, even in the worst of circumstances. They shove their way through the mob of people bemoaning their lack of shelter options, since their homes are all made of wood and cheap metals, easily crumbled in natural disasters. Not like the skyscrapers in the center of town, or the Shinra live-in workers’ homes, all hard steel and indestructible titanium. They’re probably fine.

The first house they stop by is Jessie’s; it takes longer than either of them would like, pushing through a multitude of forces. The door is wide open, and two of the theater girls who live there are huddled under the table. Jessie, however, is nowhere to be found, the buildings on either side of her place having crumbled, and the street decorated in ash. Tifa and Biggs exchange concerned looks and continue on.

Next, they find Wedge’s place, now devoid of the cats it usually crawls with. On a normal day, one can hardly reach Wedge’s front door without being assaulted by at least two cats playing guard duty. Today, not only are there none in sight, there is also the marked lack of Wedge himself anywhere, either; when Biggs pounds his fist against the door, there’s no response. Tifa kicks the door down: they find all the lights off and the inside strangely silent.

The last place they look is Stargazer Heights, the apartment building where Tifa and Cloud both live. But…

The entire building is in ruins. The second floor’s caved in, a rusty chunk of steel laying where Tifa’s room used to be, and the doors on the first floor have all flown off their hinges, exposing their crumbling interiors.

Tifa falls to her knees.

“Cloud…” she gasps.

“He’s fine,” Biggs reassures her, a comforting hand on her shoulder. “He’s strong. I’m sure he got out before…”

He swallows, not able to finish the sentence.

It’s not fair. Tifa’s chest burns. There are no answers to what’s happening, no understanding, except that they’re dying because the planet is tired and taking it out on tired people—

“I’m gonna take a closer look,” Biggs says.

“Okay.” Tifa’s voice sounds small and helpless, even to her, the single word snatched away by the wind.

“Be right back.” Biggs dashes off toward the building’s husk.

It’s not fair. That’s the only thing Tifa can think, the sentence running through her head over and over like somehow it contains any answers. It doesn’t. Life isn’t fair and money isn’t fair and the planet isn’t fair. And death isn’t fair.

Then when she looks up, the wind whips a plate of metal encased in flames from its course, careening it toward where Tifa sits, helpless. She could do something about that. She could roll away or kick at it. Anything.

She doesn’t.

There isn’t any fighting a dying planet taking its revenge.

Her eyes open to blank nothingness. White space.

Tifa’s head hurts. Was it all a dream? Did she lose it and down all her stock herself?

But no—something tells her everything is real, and she’s—

White spreads out everywhere, reflecting on itself, creating strange rippling light. There seems to be a floor, but that’s white too, impossible to differentiate from anything else. Tifa’s standing on it; that’s all she knows.

And in front of her sits a girl.

A girl in a red dress, the neck cut low and dancing over her chest, spaghetti straps holding it to her shoulders. The hem is laid out on the floor, fanned out around the girl’s knees, which are folded under her.

The girl’s name is Aerith. Tifa doesn’t know her.

She doesn’t know how she knows that name.

“Hey there,” Aerith says. “You’re here.”

“Do you know me?”

Aerith smiles, bittersweet. “I think so.”

“Oh.” Both of them are quiet for a moment, before Tifa finally asks, “Where are we?”

“That’s a tough question to answer.” Aerith brushes nonexistent dust off her dress, smoothing out its folds. “We’re somewhere in between the planet and the conscious world. Something like that.”

“The planet…” Tifa looks around, like answers will make themselves known, but there is still nothing to be found in any direction. “So it was a natural disaster?”

Aerith cocks her head. She looks like she’s listening to something, closing her eyes and running a hand over the floor. Then, she opens her eyes and says, “Yes and no. The thing is, the planet is like us—with boundaries and needs. And when it’s being killed, well…”

“No one in that town did anything wrong,” Tifa says hotly. She takes a step toward Aerith, who doesn’t even flinch. “It’s those—those jerks at Shinra who—”

“I know,” Aerith says. “I know.”

Frustrated, Tifa lets out a strangled noise and buries her face in her hands. It feels so helpless. She feels so trapped.

“So?” When she finally speaks again, her voice sounds hoarse and damaged. Like something is broken. “Am I dead?”

“Something like it,” Aerith says. “When we die, we return to the planet. The lifestream.”

“Right,” Tifa says bitterly. It’s not that she doesn’t have any appreciation for this spiritual crap; she just thinks she and her friends don’t deserve to die for the wrongdoings of the people at the top, the people who don’t care about anything but their profit margins for this quarter.

“The world is ending,” Aerith says. It surprises Tifa less than it maybe should. “If it helps. No one is making it out alive.”

Tifa grinds her teeth. “It doesn’t help.”

“Sorry.”

“And you? Are you dead, too?”

“I’m an Ancient,” Aerith says, “which means I’m just as much a part of the planet alive as I am dead.”

“What does that mean?”

“I don’t know.”

This is so frustrating. “So I’m dead, but I’m not dead. And everyone I care about is also dead but not dead. And I’m stuck here with… with…”

“With me,” Aerith says. “Not for long. Once the chaos on top stops, we’ll stop being conscious and join the planet for real.”

“That’s horrible,” Tifa informs her.

“I know that.”

“There’s nothing we can do?”

Aerith shakes her head.

All the fight leaves Tifa’s body. Her hands relax, leaving biting crescents in her palms where her nails had dug in too hard. She sits down, swallowing down the promise of tears.

“Hey,” Aerith says, “it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Tifa replies.

“Okay, you’re right. It’s not. But you’re not alone.”

Tifa takes in a shaky breath. At least she’s not alone, and she knows she’ll go out with dignity because propriety states she will not cry in front of someone she barely knows.

“Why don’t we spend our last moments alive remembering all the good parts?” Aerith suggests.

“The good parts?”

“Yeah!” She scooches closer to Tifa and shifts to cross her legs in front of her, heedless of the social rule that dictates pretty girls in pretty dresses should not sit in such ways. “Like, for example, here’s a happy moment for me. I lived with my mom, and I got to spend a lot of time growing flowers. One time I got so distracted talking to them that I fell asleep, and my mom came to find me. When she woke me up… I’ve never felt as loved as I did then.”

“That’s sweet,” Tifa says.

“I’m sure you’ve got something like that.”

She has to rack her brain a bit, but in the end, the question isn’t as hard as Tifa initially thought. She tells Aerith about climbing to the top of the windmill with Cloud as teenagers and tracing patterns into the stars, creating their own constellations that looked nothing like the names they gave them. It was one of the few things to do in a village situated in the middle of nowhere. Aerith smiles at the story, her eyes never leaving Tifa’s face.

“Tell me another,” Aerith breathes.

So Tifa tells her about the bar. About cleaning up Seventh Heaven, buying the building and fixing it up, what it took to build the perfect atmosphere. Her favorite drinks, her experiments. Her regulars. The way she could watch as the stress smoothed away from their brows for just a few short hours every night. The way she believed herself a bit of sunshine for people in the dark.

“I heard about your bar,” Aerith says.

“You did?”

“The planet tells me a lot of things.” There’s that bittersweet smile on Aerith’s mouth again. “I think the idea was we served similar purposes, in our own ways. Me with my flowers. You with your bar.”

Tifa blinks at her. “The planet told you about me?”

“Tangentially.” Aerith lays her hands in her lap, fidgeting with her thumbs. “I always wanted to visit.”

Tifa’s about to tell her to drop by whenever she wants when she remembers why they’re here in the first place. So, instead, she says, “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I should’ve…” Aerith trails off, and that thought is never finished. She changes gears. “Tell me more about it? About the people. What it looked like. How it worked.”

So Tifa tells her. Everything. About Barret and his knack for sniffing out the right spices, the tiredness that never seemed to dull the warmth in his eyes. Marlene and her stuffed toys, her favorite shows. About Jessie and Biggs and Wedge, a trio unlike any other, who came and went like the wind when their schedules allowed. About Cloud and the scowl he used to hide how he felt.

She tells her about the tables, the glasses. The colors of the drinks. The string lights Tifa hung up for special events, like Jessie’s birthday and Halloween. The arcade machine against the wall and the dartboard in the corner. The regulars who flirted with her, and the regulars who cursed at her. Aerith listens like there has never been anything more interesting, like Tifa’s handing her an in-depth playbook to a successful life.

“Thank you,” Aerith says, when Tifa’s run out of things to talk about, her throat gravelly and hoarse, “for telling me all that.”

“Yeah,” Tifa says. Something unfurls in her chest; something she doesn’t have a name for. “Sure.”

Aerith looks up into the nothingness. “We don’t have much time left.”

“I didn’t get to learn anything about you!” Tifa protests. “That’s not…”

“Tifa,” Aerith says softly, though Tifa can’t remember ever giving her name, “Thanks. For once, you let me know what it’s like to really be human.”

“You are human,” Tifa insists. “You’re just as alive as me. As anyone.”

She doesn’t know why this is so important to her. Why it matters so much that Aerith knows it.

“It means a lot for you to say it,” Aerith says. Static crowds the corners of Tifa’s vision. Is that an indicator of the end? The finality of everything?

“Aerith,” Tifa gasps, desperate. She doesn’t want to die. Why did she spend all this time recounting her life? What did it matter, in the end?

“I think, Tifa,” Aerith says, “in another world, we would’ve been close friends.”

“More than that,” Tifa assures her.

Aerith’s responding smile is dazzling. Perfectly happy, at peace, her eyes glimmering like polished emeralds. “More than that,” she repeats.

The static bleeds everywhere. The whiteness falls away. Aerith throws her arms around Tifa, holding her close.

Around them, the world ends.

#final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #ff7r #tifa lockhart #aerith gainsborough #cloud strife #barret wallace #marlene wallace #ff7r biggs #ff7r jessie #ff7r wedge #aerith x tifa #aerti #past cloti #major character death #ffvii fanfiction #ffvii remake #roma's writing

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holdin-out-for-a-hero · 2 years

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Creep- FFVII Biggs X Reader Ch.17

Warnings: blood, descriptions of wounds

A/N: Sorry it took over a year for an update lol. Ya girl’s been through it. But I promise I will finish this fic this year. There are only two chapters left after this.

The familiar lights of sector 5 came into view. They shone like beacons of hope, sparkling in the dreadful darkness. Relief washed over you at the sight, albeit only for a moment.

Crowds of people were staring up at the sky behind you, pointing, gasping, and whispering to each other; the fear in their eyes was impossible to miss. Children were crying, people were moaning in pain, and worst of all, every gunshot and every explosion carried through the air as if it were right behind you.

"Help! We need a doctor!" One of the neighborhood watch boys shouted.

Some of the crowd turned their eyes to look at your bloody, panicked group. More gasps, more whispers of disbelief, looking at your dear friend like he was some type of sideshow attraction. Some of the parents shielded their children's eyes.

There was blood, so much blood. It dripped onto the dirt below; a puddle began to form. You felt sick.

You tore your eyes away from the sight.

"Is anyone a doctor?!" You shouted, eyes darting through the crowd for someone, anyone to help.

A white coat caught your eye, worn by a man crouching down on the dirt and wrapping bandages around a woman's arm. There were a few other wounded people sitting or lying around the man, but none nearly as urgent as Biggs.

"Hey!" You shouted, pushing through the crowd to reach him, "Doctor!"

The man looked up at you.

"We need your help!" You said.

You grabbed him by the arm before he could reply and dragged him towards your friend. You shoved him the final distance towards Biggs.

He stumbled, but quickly regained his composure as he looked at the source of your commotion.

"Oh my god," the man muttered. There was too much blood, anyone could see that. He placed two fingers on Biggs' neck. You felt your own heart stop as you waited for him to say something, anything.

A woman pushed her way through the crowd. Tan skin, dark curly hair, and glasses; She looked familiar.

"Biggs!" She shouted, running forward to get a better look at him.

She stopped in her tracks and gasped, her eyes wide like saucers at the sight.

"Quick!" She beckoned, "bring him inside!"

She ushered the men into the nearest building: the orphanage. Biggs had taken you there many times before. It always felt so warm and full of life, but this time was different. The children all crowded around the windows, oddly silent.

They all turned to look as the doors bust open, a group of men carrying a bloody, limp form up the nearest staircase. The face of the man was hidden from most of the children, who were either too short to see past the men's heads or had their eyes covered by one of the caretakers.

Except for one little girl. Five, maybe six years old, who just happened to be on the stairs as the men were going up. Her face grew pale at the sight, and her lip began to quiver.

"Biggs?" She asked.

The rest of the kids heard it.

Gasps, questions, shouts, and cries erupted before any of the caretakers could stop it. Children rushed forward, following you and the group of men up the stairs. Most were pulled back by the caretakers, but not without a struggle. The children were nearly impossible for the small staff to contain, and a few stragglers made it to the second floor.

The woman pushed a door open and held it for the men, who rushed inside. They dropped Biggs on the small cot, clearly made for a child, and the doctor made quick work cutting off his bloody shirt.

Everything was happening around you so fast you couldn't keep up with it all. The room felt like a whirlwind, people rushing past you, running in all directions; it was dizzying. The doctor shouted orders to the watch members quicker than you could process them. You could hardly process anything at all.

Your mouth felt dry, incredibly dry. And every time you swallowed, the lump in your throat nearly choked you.

"Is he gonna be ok?" You asked.

The doctor didn't look up from his work, and neither did any of the neighborhood watch members. It was as if you hadn't said anything at all. And yet you waited, unable to breathe until you received your answer.

"I don't know," the doctor finally answered, continuing his work without a second thought.

Your eyes locked on Biggs' abdomen. With his shirt now gone, you could see his wounds on full display. A gash, a bullet hole, both oozing fresh blood. There was dried blood everywhere.

You couldn't stop staring at it. The sight of the still bleeding wounds scared you to death. He had already lost so much blood, and yet you were afraid that if he stopped bleeding, that would mean his heart had finally stopped. So you watched the blood, it bubbled at a steady pace, fluctuating with every beat of his heart.

Beat.

A hand grabbed at your arm gently; the woman. She gave a small sad smile. And without a word, she led you out of the room.

She closed the door quietly behind her, ushering away the children who had managed to sneak upstairs against the staff's wishes. She scolded them quietly and told them not to talk to the other kids about what they saw. A request she knew would not be fulfilled.

She turned back to you, the same unconvincing smile on her lips as she whipsered, "Let's get you cleaned up."

Her hand wrapped around your wrist, giving a slight squeeze as she led you to the bathroom. The gesture, although kind, made you feel like a child in trouble.

Pushing the door open, she led you inside the small communal bathroom. Then, she crouched down to search through the cupboard under the sink.

You took a step towards the mirror, finally taking in your own appearance. It was then that you understood why she dragged you in; you likely would scare the children.

Your face was covered with sweat and dirt, black mascara had pooled under your eyes and run down your face, and worst of all, trails of blood caked your skin. It was his, you realized. His blood was all over your face.

You reached a shaky hand up to touch it. Some of it flaked off with the pressure, the brown flecks falling into the sink.

"My name's Folia," the woman said, moving beside you to wet the washcloth. You snapped out of your trance and looked at her.

"I'm-" you started

"Y/N, right?" She cut you off.

"How did you know?"

"He talks about you all the time to the kids," she said, giving you a smile that faded into nothing as she wrung the cloth. The mention of him made both of you grow silent.

She took your face in one hand and started dabbing at the blood with the washcloth. It came off your skin with relative ease, and so did the dirt. The mascara was a little bit difficult, but it came off eventually. And then she was done.

She took the washcloth under the sink again, washing away the stains.

"What all did he say about me?" You asked quietly.

"Don't worry, It was all good," she gave a small laugh, "he really seemed to have a thing for you."

The lump in your throat grew and your vision went blurry. The lights in the room looked like starbursts.

"Were the two of you ever... Y'know, together?" She asked.

You quickly shook your head no, a tear sliding down your face.

"Hey, don't lose hope just yet. He's a fighter, a real stubborn one too."

You huffed out a small laugh.

"You're right about that," you said, wiping the tears away. "What about you? How did you know him?"

"He was my teacher when I used to stay here as a kid... more like the older brother I never had. He was the whole reason I wanted to become a teacher."

Another solemn beat of silence.

It occurred to you that he had touched everyone's lives that he was a part of. He brought joy, comfort, humor, intelligence, strength, guidance, and solidarity to so many people. What a selfless man he was, spending all his spare time and paychecks on the kids at the leaf house, like a modern day saint.

It made you wonder, how could a man like him fall in love with you? And how on earth is if fair that his life could be taken so easily?

No, You shook your head.

He wasn't dead yet. He wasn't dead yet. He still had hope.

He was in the safest place you knew of, all things considered, and being treated with the best care a citizen of the slums could ask for.

There was nothing more you could do to help him. Whether he lived or died, that was up to Gaia.

Your friends were still on the pillar, though. And you couldn't live with yourself if something happened to them. Jessie, Wedge, Barrett, Tifa, and even Cloud. They were still fighting. Even though the battle was clearly lost...

You had to go get them.

You looked back at Folia, who was wringing out the wet washcloth, and mustered up the courage to tell her.

"Look,” you exhaled, “I really want to stay and look after Biggs, but I've got to make sure my friends in Sector 7 are ok."

Folia stopped what she was doing and stood frozen as she looked back at you, reading your expression.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" She asked, “I heard it's like a war zone out there, and the plate could fall any minute."

"I can't just stay here and wait for it to happen," you said, “They could be hurt, just like Biggs.”

Folia's brows knit together as she looked down at the cracked linoleum tiles.

"What if you don't come back?" She looked up at you, "When he wakes up, the first thing he's gonna do is ask for you."

You bit your lip, there was nothing more you wanted than to be by his side if he woke up. You'd do anything to stay with him. But you wouldn't, no, you couldn't, just leave your friends.

You couldn't shake the images of them in your head, images of them riddled with bullets, slumped against the pillar, covered in blood. Just like Biggs.

"I know...," you looked Folia in the eye, "But I need them to be safe too. If something happened to them, I don't know what I'd do."

Folia shut her eyes and sighed, she knew you weren't going to be persuaded.

"I understand. If you've got to go, I'll stay here and make sure the doctor doesn't need anything."

"Thank you," you said, turning to leave the bathroom. But before you could leave, Folia caught your wrist.

"You better come back," she said, her gaze was intense, "He needs you."

You nodded to her.

"I'll come back. I promise."

She let go of your wrist.

You hurried out the hall and down the stairs, brushing past the confused children crowded in the lobby. Little hands tried to grab at you, and little voices tried to ask how Biggs was, but you weee too quick. You made it out the door before they could get to you.

You looked up in the sky. The plate was still there. There was still time.

But then you felt something. Something bad, something wrong.

The ground shook beneath you, and a deafening rumble echoed through the streets.

Your heart sank.

You could only stand and stare as the sector seven plate fell from the sky and crumbled to the ground, in large, flaming chunks.

What couldn't have been more than a minute felt like a lifetime as you watched each piece of debris descend upon the city below...

Then came the wave of dust.

You managed to break free from your trance and run back into the leaf house just before it hit you. As soon as you turned around, the windows had become fully clouded over.

You placed a hand on the glass, trying to look past the endless sea of brown. It was pointless, you couldn't see anything, and yet you couldn't tear your eyes away, trying to find any figure, any silhouette in the fog.

Your friends weren't in there, right?

They had gotten out, right?

If there was one thing you knew about them, though, is they'd rather die fighting then sit back and watch this happen, so the answer was quite clear...

You suddenly felt lightheaded, your mouth incredibly dry, and a lead weight in your heart.

Folia rushed down the stairs, stopping in front of the window only for a moment before running to console the screaming kids.

Weird, it was only then you noticed the kids crying. You didn't notice anything happening around you. And even now, you still felt disconnected from it all. Chaos was unfolding all around you, and yet it didn't feel real. Nothing felt real.

Brown splotches were taking over your vision, and you grabbed onto the chair next to you, your hands shaking as they guided you to sit down. It was only then you realized how quick your breathing had gotten.

You leaned forward, trying to increase the bloodflow in your brain. Shutting your eyes, you took a couple deep breaths. They didn't come very easy, so you counted each inhale and exhale, just like Biggs had taught you.

Inhale...1...2...3...4...

Exhale...1...2...3...4...

Inhale...1...2...3..4...

All your friends were dead.

Inhale ...1...2...3...4

Barrett, Wedge, Cloud,

Exhale...1...2...3...4

Jessie and Tifa

Inhale...1...2...3...4

Marlene.

Your eyes shot open.

It couldn't be... she couldn't be...

Your breathing regressed back into a shallow, ragged mess, like someone or something was crushing your chest, breaking each and every rib in the process. You gasped for air, tears pricking at your eyes.

"Y/N!" A voice shouted, and footsteps rushed towards you. You didn't look up, you couldn't. Any sudden movement and you'd surely pass out.

"Y/N, you gotta breathe," the woman said, kneeling down to your level and taking your hands into her own. You recognized the voice; Folia, “Hey, look, breathe with me."

"Breathe in..." she instructed, you sucked in a quick breath, "Hold..."

Your lungs felt like they were on fire.

"Breathe out..." she said calmly, you quickly expelled the air out of your mouth, "Breathe in... hold... breathe out."

"Marlene," you managed to spit out, "I-I think Marlene was still in there."

She froze, you could feel it.

She must have recognized the name; Biggs probably brought her up all the time.

She didn't say anything, instead she sat down on the chair beside you, dropping her own heard into her hands as the full weight of the realization hit her.

And with that, you fell back into your fit of sobs, crying for your friends, crying for your family, crying like your life fucking depended on it.

#biggs #biggs x reader #ffviir #final fantasy vii #tifa lockhart #jessie rasberry #barrett wallace #cloud strife #ff7 biggs #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy #ffvii remake #ffvii biggs #ffvii tifa #barret wallace

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markcampbells · 7 months

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“Alyx anyone I’ve seen around here before?” May as well learn who to steer clear of if he ever sees them around. “Ah, no. It’s been a year or two.” Grimacing, Biggs picks a strip of bacon up off his plate. “That’s kind of a sore subject, for Tifa anyway.” When Wedge lets slip some details about a past relationship of Tifa's, Cloud learns a few things he didn't know, and finds himself wanting to reassure Tifa he's not going to cut and run. (Cloti Fall Festival 2023, Day Three: Oak - Steadiness)

My fic for Day Three of @clotiweek is up and it's one of my favorite things I've done yet! Featuring himbo Cloud learning Tifa is bi, Biggs and Wedge being lowkey busybodies, and a lot of talk about food.

My other fics for Cloti Week: day one - healing / day two - protection

#cloti week 2023 #cloti fall festival 2023 #cheers to five years #cloti #final fantasy vii #cloud x tifa #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #biggs ff7 #wedge ff7 #final fantasy 7 #my writing #my fanfiction

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romancingbarret · 1 year

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Rating: Teen Relationship: Barret/Cloud, Barret/Biggs/Cloud/Jessie/Tifa/Wedge Characters: Cloud Strife, Barret Wallace, Tifa Lockhart, Jessie, Biggs, Wedge Additional Tags: Cuddling & Snuggling, Polyamory, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship Wordcount: 514

Summary: Cloud gets yet another of his PTSD flashes spliced with Sephiroth-influenced migraines but this time doesn't have to deal with it alone.

#final fantasy vii #clarret #barret x biggs x cloud x jessie x tifa x wedge #barret wallace #cloud strife #tifa lockhart #jessie rasberry #biggs #wedge #fanfiction #rellanka #queue

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drabblesandimagines · 3 months

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Hi there, I would like to request Cloud, if thats okay. A sparring session that leads into an unexpected kiss?

Just read you are feeling under the weather, hope you feel better soon!

Sweet anon, I'm sorry this took me literally months! Please lemme know what you think x

It’s late as you leave your room at Stargazer Heights, pulling the door closed behind you with a gentle click. The weight of your new sword still feels unnervingly foreign on your back as you head down the stairs carefully, not wanting to disturb any of your neighbours’ sleep with your heavy footfalls.

Just because you couldn’t sleep didn’t mean theirs should suffer in return.

Your beloved, trusty sword, after many years of faithful service in the Watch, had snapped clean in two after a particularly good thwack against a hard-shelled creature whilst on a job in the scrapyard earlier that day. If that wasn’t enough, it just had to happen in front of Cloud Strife, the blonde ex-Soldier who had joined the Avalanche ranks - temporarily, at least – and who you were somewhat hoping to impress with your mastery of the blade as common ground over the past few weeks.

“You’d be good for him, you know?” Tifa had teased over the bar one night, catching you staring a little too long as he sat down the opposite end, nursing a drink. You’d have told her to hush if Barret’s voice wasn’t booming around the establishment, meaning you were lucky to have even heard her comment in the first place.

Instead, you answer flustered. “What? I… He’s your… No!”

“I don’t like him like that, sweetie.” She’d reassured, patting your hand with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Me?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t think he’s aware I exist, not with how Jessie has been all over him.”

“Mm.” Tifa purses her lips in thought before they pulled back into a knowing smile – she’d caught the merc’s gaze flickering in your direction before it settled back on the drink before him. “No, I think Cloud’s warming up to you. Let me see what I can do.”

“Tifa-“

Biggs’ warm hand wrapped around your arm and tugged you up from the bar and away from your protest in an instant. “Come on, you owe me a rematch and I’ve finally convinced Wedge to let us have a round.”

You concede, destroying Biggs at darts once again would be a good distraction from the blonde at the bar. Besides, what could Tifa do anyway?

What Tifa could do, apparently, was make it so whenever Cloud took on a job, Biggs or Wedge would insist you tag along to help him navigate the area – sometimes with Tifa, sometimes without – and that’s what had led you to today, stuck deep within the scrapyard with a broken blade.

You’d never been any good with your fists, nor could aim a gun straight – despite tips from Tifa and Biggs over the years – so, reluctantly, you’d been relegated to the back line for the rest of the outing. At the most, you could fling a spell or two from the materia still equipped in the broken hilt when you could.

Unfortunately, it meant you didn’t have anything really to defend yourself with whilst the materia recharged. A nasty hit from a retreating drake had sent you tumbling backwards, head literally over heels. It dived back down at you, realizing you were now easy prey, ready to go for a nasty bite when a certain blonde merc’s sword dug into its side, sending it flying over in Tifa’s direction who finished it off with a perfectly executed roundhouse kick – all before your life could flash before your eyes.

“Are you okay?” Cloud crouches in front of you, his sword already sheathed, and places a hand on your arm as he awaits your answer. His expression, usually stoic and unreadable, is marred by a slight furrow in his brow as he looks you over with concerned Mako-blue eyes.

He must find you at least tolerable, you’d decided, as he didn’t seem to protest as much when you joined them on jobs like this around the slums.

Though maybe not ever again after today’s pathetic display.

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling foolish. “Still in one piece. Thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” He shrugs and gets to his feet, offering you his hand in assistance.

You take it, relishing the feeling as his gloved fingers wrap around your palm. He pulls you up with a little too much gusto – or maybe underestimates his own strength - sending you stumbling forward. You try and catch your balance, only to find your hand placed firmly against his chest, his other hand now on the small of your back in alarm.

“Uh…”

“S-sorry,” you stutter out and retreat back, bowing your head as your face feels horrendously warm. Somewhere behind you, Tifa poorly attempts to hide a giggle.

“It’s fine.” His tone is back to his usual curt manner. “Come on - we should head back.” And without another word, Cloud spins on his heels and storms off ahead.

“Cloud, wait up!” Tifa calls, threading her arm through yours to pull you along with her. “He’ll get there – don’t worry.”

You’d taken the blade in to the weapons store below the Watch’s HQ after reporting in, Cloud and Tifa following behind. The proprietor dutifully inspected it for a few moments before deeming it beyond reasonable repair - said he could re-forge it, but it would only last a hit or two before it snapped in two again and he didn’t want the bad advertisement. He’d offered some gil for the scrap metal value and waved to the selection of his ready-made wares. Even with the gil he’d proposed and from your own pocket, the prices made your eyes water.

“Can I pay in instalments?”

He scoffs.

“You know I’m good for it.”

“This ain’t a charity, kid.”

“Here.” Cloud had stepped forward then, placing a pouch of gil on the counter. “That should cover it.”

“What?” Your eyes widened in disbelief. Cloud had been hounding Tifa and Barret for his pay for days and you knew he still hadn’t received all of it yet. “No, I couldn’t – that’s yours.”

“You need a weapon.” He shrugs, Tifa bouncing on her heels behind him at his act of generosity, a told you so smile plastered across her face. “Pay me back in instalments, if you want. I don’t care.”

“Are you sure?”

He nods, crossing his arms. “You’re good with a blade, it would be a waste for you not to have one.”

Your scalp tingles at the compliment.

The blades all felt lighter - maybe you’d grown stronger over time? - though they were thinner in width in comparison to your old blade. You’d performed a cautionary test swing of each towards the back of the shop but they all felt off, unbalanced. Begrudgingly, one felt a little less odd to wield so you’d settled with that, thankful it was a mid-range price of the selection so you hadn’t needed the entirety of Cloud’s gil pouch.

“I’ll pay you back as soon as I can – I promise.”

Cloud shrugs, as usual.

You swing at the tower of boxes you’d assembled in the middle of the wasteland, trying to be precise and knock out the one in the middle, but as soon as you release the momentum you nearly lose your balance, missing entirely. If you were in combat, it would’ve been a pathetic sight to behold. Thankfully, you were the only one to wit-

“Hi.”

You jump, spinning on your heels to face the blonde mercenary, holding your blade aloft in a defensive stance to an unimpressed face.

“Cloud! Hi.” Your heart is pounding at his sudden arrival – how could you not have heard him approaching? You lower your blade to rest on the floor. “Sorry, did I wake you when I left?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep so I heard you leave.” He folds his arms, looking a little displeased. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, you know? It’s not safe.”

“I wanted to get some practice in, that’s all.” You look down at the sword in your hand in demonstration. “There’s been no more wererats here since you cleaned out the nest either, so it’s safe enough.”

“It’s not just fiends I’m talking about.”

That’s true – unfortunately, you weren’t a complete stranger to the troopers that often patrolled the slums. All it took was one to recognize your face and you’d be dragged to Shinra HQ faster than you could blink.

“I really need to get used to the weight, though. Barret wants to strike any day and-“

“Fine. I’ll spar with you.”

You weren’t expecting that. “Really?”

“Why not?” He reaches back for his sword, before swinging it out in front of him playfully. “Unless you’re scared.”

You bite your lip in a smile. “Bring it on, Strife.”

Cloud holds back at first, acting more as a training dummy for you to swing at. He doesn’t even need to deflect any of your blows at the beginning, but as you become familiar with the weight and how the new blade swings, finally he starts to raise his sword in return, the sound of metal clashing echoing through the air before one firm blow sends you toppling back, the Buster Sword now inches above your neck.

“Better.” He pulls back his sword and offers you his hand, which you gratefully accept, bracing yourself for his strength this time to avoid what had happened that afternoon. “Try again.”

You’re not sure how much time passes like that, but steadily your confidence in your weapon grows and it turns into a proper sparring bout, both giving it your absolute all. As your blades clash, crossed in front of each other’s faces, you risk a smile at the blonde merc. Suddenly, Cloud’s forearms lose their tension, meaning you get an upperhand you were not expecting. You swing your sword out to the right and fall forward, Cloud toppling backwards, his sword to his right, and his head smacking into the ground as you fall on top of him.

“Oh… Shiva,” you gasp, heart pounding, your thighs somehow straddling around his. “Are you hurt?”

Cloud doesn’t reply, staring up at you in bemusement as he tries to catch his breath.

“Cloud?” You lean down, planting your hands either side of his head for balance.

He lifts his head, suddenly, and presses a kiss to your lips.

Your arms go limp and you drop into his embrace, his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you close as you return the kiss, lifting a hand to cup his cheek, fingers curling into his blonde hair, blissfully lost in the moment until there is an odd, inhuman sound from behind you.

Cloud sits bolt upright, twisting you as he does so you’re sat in his lap, one arm still wrapped tightly around your waist and, somehow, the Buster Sword back in his other hand as he holds it out in defense.

A cat sits a few meters in front of the two of you, flicking its tail back and forth curiously. You feel his muscles relax beneath your touch at the realization. You get to your feet then, grabbing your blade as you do so and securing it against your back. Though you feel flustered, you can’t turn down the opportunity to offer Cloud an assisting hand this time.

To your delight, he accepts, somehow twisting it as he stands in order to intertwine your fingers within his.

“We… We, er, should get back.” He mumbles.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

He leads you back through the tunnel, silently, fingers still laced, and back towards Stargazer Heights. You climb the stairs together before he brings you to a stop outside your door, hesitating. Your stomach twists – does he regret what happened? Are you just to wake up tomorrow morning and it will feel like nothing but a dream?

A firm squeeze of your hand brings you back to the present, as if he could read your thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about that for a while.” Cloud whispers, cautious of his voice carrying through the neighbours’ door. “It’s… unfortunate that we were interrupted.”

You place a hand on your door handle and smile, coyly. “Would you like to come in?”

Cloud smirks. “Do you have any pets?”

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

Comments, follows, likes and reblogs make my day!

#ghostdogwrites #cloud strife x you #cloud strife x reader

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 2 months

Text

The avalanche trío being so protective over Cloud that when Zack shows up they’re like ‘who tf are you? What do you want with our boy?’ And give him a shovel talk when it becomes obvious what he wants with Cloud.

They don’t care that he knew Cloud before them. Don’t even care that he’s just as protective over him and so obviously loves him. They know Cloud’s been through a lot and despite his prickly and brash nature, he still cares so damn much. Even if he denies it to hell and back.

He looks out for them and he tries to protect them when he can. So of course they’re gonna return the favour in any way they can. Especially when it comes to this SOLDIER boy waltzing in out of the blue and sending their golden boy into a rather messy spiral.

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justauthoring · 2 months

Text

the harsh truth [2].

because the truth was, it just wasn't possible. even if you and reno desperately wished it was.

a/n: this didn't start as a continuation of my other reno fic but it ended up being one :) you also don't need to read part one, but it's recommended!

pairing: reno sinclair x f!reader

tw: potential rebirth spoilers? just be cautious if you haven't played

part one.

This was so wrong.

Unbelievably, without a doubt, to the point your friends would hate you if they knew, wrong.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

He was everything you stood against. The perfect embodiment of everything you fought against. He worked for Shinra… and not just a businessman or a foot soldier, but a Turk. He’d spent the entirety of his career trying to convince your friend Aerith to help Shinra, and while he’d never physically harmed her nor did she seem particularly afraid of him, it still stood to point that his and the rest of the Turks intentions weren’t all that innocent.

Cloud had fought against them many times. Yes, more times than not, Cloud had come out on the winning side, it didn’t erase the fact that they’d been at each other’s throats more times than you could count.

He was the enemy.

He was Shinra.

Sure, you didn’t inherently think he was a bad person. In fact, you thought he had the capabilities to do great things, that deep in his heart he was a good person but he still did bad things.

He’d actively participated in the Sector Seven plate falling. There was no doubt, no way to change the story in small tweaks that made him seem just a little better. You’d been there. Sector Seven was your home just as much as it was Tifa’s or Barrets, Jessie, Wedge and Biggs had been your friends just as much as anyone else's… You’d seen him that day, in that helicopter, had nearly been barrelled by his own bullets.

Of course, he hadn’t known you were there. Not at first.

But still, it didn’t change anything.

It terrifies you though. Scares you to the core. Watching as Cloud pulls back his sword and aims it directly for Reno’s head. He’s going to kill him, you realize, going to hit him without a second thought. And sure, the others looked just as horrified; particularly Tifa, because killing was never something any of you had ever done.

Hurt, maim, beat… sure. All of those. But never killing.

It’s different, though, for you. Means something else.

The striking, paralyzing realization that despite all of it, the thought of Reno dying makes you feel sick. It hurts in a way you can’t directly explain and there’s a desperation that’s bleeding through you to save him without a second thought. It’s why your feet move before you can stop them, it’s why it feels like you blink and then suddenly you’re in front of Reno, holding onto him tightly, on your knees, turning up to look at Cloud’s terrifying gaze and pleading with him.

“Please,” you cry, hoping there’s a shred of some care in Cloud for you that he’ll hear you and that he’ll stop. “Please don’t hurt him!”

And the words are intimate. More intimate than you mean. You’re not begging Cloud to stop for him, nor are you doing it because the act in itself is wrong… you’re begging him because you don’t want it to be Reno on the other end. You don’t want Reno to die. You’re doing it because you can’t stomach the thought of losing him.

There’s a moment of hesitation, Cloud stops and his fingers twitch on the handle of his buster sword but then, he’s leaning forward, shifting with the intention of following through and your heart sinks. But you refuse to move. You’d rather be hit then Reno.

Reno shifts when he realizes Cloud isn’t going to stop, and there’s a paralyzing fear as your name leaves his lips in a shrieking cry and he moves with the intention to shove you aside but then Tifa’s arms are wrapping around Cloud and she’s pulling back, screaming his name.

You watch for a moment more, heart pounding against your chest, eyes drifting across everyone else who stares in a mix of shock and confusion, particularly aimed at you. But then your eyes fall on Aerith, and oddly enough she’s smiling; there’s a hint of worry behind her gaze as she shuffles to Cloud but she winks at you and despite it all, you flush.

Pushing yourself to your knees, you turn, knowing that Tifa has Cloud and let your eyes drift across Reno. You avoid his gaze even as he stares deeply back at your own, letting your eyes drift across his entire body. He’s got a few bruises here and there, and there’s a cut across his arm that’s bleeding but–but he’s okay.

When you finally meet his eyes, Reno is staring back at you, lips parted in disbelief.

There’s a moment where the two of you just stare at each other, no words spoken, and then Reno leans towards you; “Y-Y/N–”

“We need to get going.”

Cloud’s sharp tone pulls you from Reno, eyes turning only to find him staring back at you, gaze harsh. Your heart plummets to the pit of your stomach, the realization of what you’d just done catching up to you; they probably all hated you. Tifa, Aerith, Barett… all of them were probably looking at you with a similar look because of what you’d done and it was you standing with Reno, on the opposite side of them.

With the man who had indirectly or directly hurt them in some way.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Cloud continues, and you flinch at his tone.

Eyes falling to your feet, you can’t bear to look at the others. “I…–”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Aerith cuts in and your eyes snap to her at her soft, warm tone. “We understand.”

She’s smiling, just like before. A gentle, comforting smile as she steps forward and nods at you.

Your lips part, shock flooding you.

When your eyes drift across the rest, they all wear similar expressions. Tifa, though clearly worried about Cloud, is smiling at you too and Yuffie’s grin mischievously down at you, wiggling her brows. Barrett looks somewhat confused, but he doesn’t look mad and Red and Cait’s expressions are just as eased.

None of them are mad.

“We’ll keep going,” Aerith nods at Cloud who has since turned his back to you. “You should get Reno somewhere safe,” she explains, sending you a thumbs up, stepping until she’s right in front of you.

You blink, body easing as her words settle.

Then, she leans down, lowering her voice; “and don’t worry about Cloud.”

She pulls back before you can say anything else, grabbing Cloud by the arm and tugging him with her as Tifa and Barrett both send you nods and then they’re all turning, walking off.

And just as Aerith turns the corner, she smiles back at you; “try to catch up you can, kay?”

You nod, still in shock, numb somewhat, until a minute passes and it’s just you and Reno.

Turning to the man, your chest tightens when you realize you’re faced with a whole new reality and that is Reno who no doubt will say something.

“Where’s Rude?” You find yourself asking, shifting to grab him so you can help him up. “Can you walk? If not, I can–”

Reno stops your movements, grabbing onto your arm with a tight hold before tugging you back down to sit with him. You stumble slightly, falling against him, your hands falling on his shoulders to catch yourself as you meet his gaze, faces inches apart from one another.

“Reno–”

“That was insane,” Reno breathes, shaking his head at you. “He would’ve killed you.”

Frowning, you swallow thickly; “it’s Sephiroth, I think… Cloud–well, I don’t think he’d try to hurt me–”

“Y/N,” Reno cuts in, “that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Lips parting, your shoulders fall. “My feet just moved.”

“You could’ve been killed!”

“You too,” you find yourself crying, eyes widening in exasperation as you meet his eyes. “And I couldn’t… let that happen, okay? Not to you… I was so scared and then my feet were moving and I just… fuck, are you okay?”

Reno stares back at you in disbelief.

“I thought you hated me,” he whispers, finally letting go of your arm.

“I tried to,” you mumble, glancing at your lap. “But I can’t. I… I love you.”

Reno sighs. “I’m a Turk.”

“I know,” you echo, biting your lip. “And I'm a part of Avalanche.”

His hand twitches by his side and he leans closer; “we could never work out.”

“I know,” you repeat, finally raising your head to meet his gaze once more. This time, you hold it, refusing to look away. He’s inches away, you can feel his breath ghost across your skin and feel his warmth radiate off of him. It’s the closest you’ve been to him since before the plate fell and you’ve missed him so much. “I couldn’t let you die though.”

Reaching forward, Reno cups your cheek and instantly, you lean into his touch. His eyes are sad, and there’s a deep frown across his lips. “I know,” he mimics, having nothing else to say. “I love you too, you know.”

Eyes falling shut, you let out a shaky breath. Normally, someone telling you they loved you as well would be happy but it pulls an ache from you that you can’t rightly explain.

“Can you walk?” You decide to ask after a moment.

“Yeah,” he grunts, pulling his hand away as you shuffle back, grabbing him by the arm and helping him to his feet. He lets out a groan as he does, and you frown up at him, watching as he uses his free hand to hold his stomach.

“Here,” you mumble, wrapping your arm around his waist and letting him lean his weight against you. “I’ll get you to Rude, okay?”

He hums lightly; “okay.”

“Then… then I have to go after them… you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “yeah, I know.”

He says it with a heavy heart and you feel it all the same. Because you loved him, and he loved you, but he was Shinra and you were Avalanche and despite it all, you both knew the reality of your situations.

Even if it hurts.

So damn much.

#final fantasy vii #final fantasy vii x reader #ff7 #ff7 x reader #ffvii #ffvii x reader #ffvii rebirth #final fantasy vii rebirth #reno #reno x reader #reno sinclair #reno sinclair x reader

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ariseur · 3 months

Note

THE ROCK IS BACK‼️‼️‼️ And has brought you… Cloud Strife x Baker!reader. Imagine teaching him how to bake and he’s just standing there like “huh?” After you just reread him the instructions for the millionth time, which results in him being covered in flour.

-🪨

“then you just mix them in like,” you paused as you whisked the thick batter around, cloud noted how your tongue poked out in concentration, “this!”

cloud’s eyebrows furrowed, mako infused eyes flickering between the mixing bowl and you as he cocked his head. you simply grinned at him, hand still mixing the thick cake batter. your hand looked comically small against the big silver bowl.

you had decided to bust out one of your old recipes, chocolate cake with some raspberry mousse on top. simple but definitely one of your favorites. you had offered cloud to try some, even if he wasn’t so much a dessert type person. but then aerith found out. and then tifa. and then biggs. and suddenly—you’re making a lot of chocolate cake. you decided that you underestimated how much help you would need and the duration of time it’d take you to just bake these cakes. so who else to call but your trusty mercenary boyfriend?

“wha—?” with another tilt of his head, cloud watched you curiously as you grabbed his hand, having him hold the whisk while you let out a singsong, “keep it moving!” while you twirled your way to the cupboard and grabbed some cocoa powder along with some various other ingredients.

you giggled as you watched cloud hesitantly stir the mixture, big eyes following you while you walked back up to him and held the ingredients out to him. you beamed at him, “do it just like how i said, ‘kay?”

cloud let out an unsure, “okay.” while you held your hands behind your back and watched as he scooped some cocoa powder out with a tablespoon. mako eyes hesitantly darted between you and the cake batter, unsure if he was doing it right. his worries melted away though—when he saw that your smile never faltered. to be honest, cloud hadn’t been listening to a word you said, only focused on the way your lips moved and how you seemed so sure of what you were talking about.

“i still don’t know what you find fun about this, though. it’s so many..” he trailed off.

“steps?”

“yeah.” was all he said. he watched as you put a hand up, signaling for him to stop as you stepped closer, mixing all the powders and liquids together in one big, chocolate-y mess.

a small silence fell over the two of you as you could feel cloud’s presence behind you, watching each of your movements intently to try and find some sort of meaning behind it. you were doing so many things at once, it was hard to keep track of. a soft smile rested itself on your lips, watching cloud through your peripheral try and lean his head over your shoulder to get a better look.

“have i ever told you how cute i think you are?” you said. your eyes never left the whisk, watching as it created swirls and ripples in the thick chocolate. you heard cloud make a small noise, clearly taken aback as his eyes widened and his posture became stiffer.

“what makes you say that?” he finally asked.

you simply giggled and pointed at the mixture that lay in the bowl below you, “because you put way too much powder in this.” you finally put the whisk down, it making a clank as the metal hit the cool countertop, littered with an assortment of packages containing ingredients.

cloud tipped his head over to get a better look, his face trying its hardest not to redden as he felt your fingertips graze his jaw, softened with the flour that covered them. you were right, he thought, as he saw the clumps of leftover powder that wouldn’t break down. the corners of his mouth quirked downwards as he felt your gaze on him, almost shrinking like a dog that’s been caught red-handed.

“‘s alright, cloud. we can just try again.” you gently guided his gaze towards yours, watching as his eyebrows knitted together once you made eye contact. you rubbed your thumb along his cheekbone, peaceful grin still painted on your face when you looked at him. cloud had wondered how you could be so soft, sometimes. your hand slowly fell, the pad of your thumb making sure to run itself along the entirety of his cheek.

“did you just smear chocolate on my cheek?”

“sshh..” you said, bringing a finger to his lips. you closed your eyes as you took in the moment before you, removing your finger and giving cloud a chance to actually lick his lips and confirm it really was chocolate. it also gave him the chance to grab a pinch of flour from the counter behind you, except instead of a pinch, cloud more so grabbed a handful. and perhaps he dumped it on your head, too.

you gasped, watching as he narrowed his eyes playfully at you. backing away with his hands in a smug surrender motion, before you grabbed a handful and threw it at him, too.

“you’re on!” you shouted, and then began what would soon be referred to as ‘the flour war’.

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