#biggs x jessie

[yunieluna]

Here's a little drawing I made to accompany the Biggs x Jessie fanfic I'm currently writing.

There's 2 3 4 chapters to read available. If anybody wants to know what's happening here, check it out on my blog or AO3.

Every chapter will have a new drawing I'll post at the bottom of the corresponding chapter.

[little-black-dress-zack-fair]

Jessie: *happily eating pineapple ice cream*

Biggs: Aren't you allergic to pineapple and dairy?

Jessie: My epipen is about to expire so I wanna use it.

Wegde: Makes sense.

[yinza]

Romancing Barret Week - Day 2: the planet

Just like we promised.

[Image Description: Digital artwork of Barret, Biggs, Wedge, Jessie, and Tifa at the entrance to Cosmo Canyon. Wedge, Barret, and Jessie are seen from behind as they approach the gate. Wedge has an arm around Barret's waist, while Barret's arm is slung across his shoulders and he is leaning in to kiss him on the top of the head. Jessie has her arms wrapped around Barret's gun-arm as she leans into his shoulder. Biggs is standing a little farther back, beckoning them with a smile. Tifa stands beyond him, waiting beneath the gate with a smile. The piece is warm with sunset reds and yellows. /end ID]

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

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.

[dommi-griffi]

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.

[zanykingmentality]

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. 

[holdin-out-for-a-hero]

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.

Beat.

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.

[romancingbarret]

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.

[drabblesandimagines]

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!

[justauthoring]

against the world [1].

because against all odds, you had found reno and he'd found you.

a/n: THE WAY THIS MAN HAS A CHOKEHOLD ON ME also im a sucker for the trope where two people are supposed to be enemies but love each other and are betraying their friends/work/beliefs etc. to be with one another so this was born :)

pairing: reno sinclair x f!reader

“Where are you off to?”

Feet halting beneath you, every muscle tenses as you hear Tifa step up behind you. You mentally curse her perceptiveness, having been so close to the door and making it out without anyone's knowledge before she called out for you.

With a gentle laugh, you glance at her from over your shoulder, noticing that Biggs, Jessie and Wedge who’d been at their regular table talking were looking your way as well.

“Out,” you start, offering a small smile as you scramble to come up with an explanation. Now that Tifa had asked and gotten their attention, there was no way any single one of them were going to let you slip out with just that. Taking a glance around the rest of the bar, your answer comes to you with a blink of the eye; “it’s late. I’m gonna retire for the night.”

“Oh?” Tifa’s head tilts, a frown of concern falling on her lips. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you assure with ease, waving your hand at her. “Just tired. Didn’t get a good night's rest last night.”

“I think Y/N’s got a boyfriend she’s not telling us about.”

You like to think your expression is schooled, but even then you can’t help the way your eyes widen slightly at Jessie’s taunt. There’s a teasing smile on her face as she says the words, offering a nudge to Biggs’ arm as the two boys turn to you with wide eyes and Tifa’s concern is quickly replaced with interest.

“Oh!” Tifa calls, clapping her hands in front of her and she turns to you with a twinkle in her gaze. “Really?”

Before you can say anything, Jessie is jumping up from her seat and crossing the short distance over to you and Tifa by the bar door. She’s grinning from wide, ear to ear, moving to stand next to Tifa as she lets her eyes drag across you in thought. “Hasn’t she seemed more happy recently? A sort of… pep in her step?” She asks Tifa, blatantly ignoring the fact that you’re standing right in front of her. “Besides, she’s alway sneaking off early after meets. Especially when she used to stay and play cards with me all night.”

Panicked, you shake your head; “no, I–”

“I guess that is true,” Tifa agrees thoughtfully, nodding her head before her eyes meet yours directly. “You have seemed more distracted recently. Like you’re always lost in your thoughts.”

Feeling your cheeks warm, you stare back and forth between the two of them, suddenly realizing how dangerous they really were.

“But that’s just crazy,” Biggs finally speaks up, him and Wedge moving to stand with you three and your saving grace. “Y/N would’ve told us. Wouldn’t you?”

“Exactly,” Wedge agrees with ease, a joyful smile on his lips like there always is as he grins at you widely. “Y/N tells us everything! We’re her friends!”

You’ve never loved Biggs and Wedge more than you do at that moment.

“Of course,” you agree with ease, ignoring the small tinge of guilt that floods you when you realize that you are in fact lying. That, and you are keeping a secret from them… but if it weren’t for the circumstances, you would’ve told them all right away.

You wish you could tell them.

“I’ve just been tired recently,” you move to explain to Tifa and Jessie, hoping they’ll buy it. “We’ve been ramping up our efforts and it’s just been leaving me a little more exhausted as of late.”

Jessie still looks like she doesn’t quite trust you, a certain edge to her eyes as she glances at you, half expecting you to crack. You will yourself to hold strong, never letting your smile fade from your lips as you take a small step towards the door.

“Okay,” Tifa concedes with a nod, smiling at you. “Well, try to get some rest tonight. You know you can talk to me if it is more, right?”

Swallowing thickly, you nod, hoping it doesn’t come across too stiff as you offer them one last wave before turning and making your way out of the door. Jessie calls out to you to be safe on your way home just before you leave, and that brings a smile to your face, happy that she wasn’t actually upset with you and let the door to Seventh Heaven fall shut behind you.

Then, you take a moment, breathing in sharply before starting on your trip.

When you reach the corner you would’ve turned to head home, you turn the opposite way, and continue on from there, making your way out of Sector Seven and past that. You don’t stop, in fact, until you reach the edge of where you’d head to go up Topside, shrouded by the shadows that the night provided, glancing over your shoulder once more to make sure no one had followed you.

Then, just as you move to step forward, a hand wraps itself around your wrist and you’re tugged to the side, pressed against the wall of a fence as a figure presses itself up against you. There’s a momentary breath of panic, before you recognize the familiar shade of red and the touch of the hand that ghosts across your cheek and you let out a heavy breath.

“Reno,” you call, meeting his gaze as you blink up at him. He’s grinning widely down at you, his other hand falling on your hip as he brushes back a stray hair with the other.

“Hey,” he whispers, biting his lip. 

In the next second, he’s pressing his lips against your own and you instantly return the affection. Your hands move to grip his cheeks, playing with ruly strands of his hair and tugging at them, curling into his hold to press yourself against him. Reno moans against the action, squeezing your hips in his hands, biting your bottom lip gently as he pulls away.

Breathless, you glance up at him.

“You were late,” he whispers a moment later, frowning slightly.

“Sorry,” you sigh, letting your hands fall against his chest. “Tifa caught me on my way out and then Jessie said she thought I was sneaking out to see some guy and that got the guys’ interest and it was just… a lot.”

“Little does she know how right she is,” Reno teases, quirking a brow down at him.

You just shake your head up at him, playing with the edge of his suit. “It sucks lying to them,” you admit quietly, avoiding his gaze as you say the words. “I wish I could tell them. I wanna tell Tifa and Jessie all about you.”

“About how great of a guy I am?”

Scoffing, you lightly slap his chest; “Reno. I’m serious.”

The smirk fades from his lips and is replaced by a gentle frown. “I’m sorry,” he offers softly, tracing a loose pattern on your hip with his thumb. “I wish we could tell people too. Rude’s actually been pretty noisy lately himself and I think he knows something. But… you understand why we can’t yeah?”

“Because Avalanche is actively trying to bring down Shinra… the company you work for?” You snort at Reno, raising a brow at him. “Yeah, I know.”

Licking his lips, Reno huffs; “I wish it was different but… this is how it has to be for now.”

Nodding, you sniffle; “I just know this can’t last is all.”

Frowning, Reno’s brows furrow; “what do you mean?”

“Tifa says an old friend of hers is coming down soon,” you explain, “he’s a merc but he’s apparently an ex-soldier… I think Barret wants to get pretty serious. And I shouldn’t even be telling you this stuff because I’m betraying my friends doing it… let alone just being with you.”

You can’t help it, your emotions catch up with you. The incident from earlier, although mild, had sent you in a frenzy and the sheer possibility of your friends, your family knowing that you were dating one of Shinra’s Turks? It had terrified you. Barret would for sure throw you out and Jessie, Biggs and Wedge would never talk to you again… And Tifa? She’d be so hurt and betrayed and–

“Hey, hey,” Reno calls out, cupping your cheek as he pulls your eyes on him. You bite your lip as he does, trying to stop the tears that refuse to stop, meeting his eyes as he brushes them away with his thumb. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Somehow.”

Nodding, you sigh. Truthfully, it’s hard to believe his words and you hardly think that any of it will end well. If anything, it’s bound to end horribly. Horrifically. But… but you can’t let that ruin the moments you have now because you’re not sure how much longer you’ll have them.

Because Reno might be Turk and work for a company that goes against everything you believe in, and you might be a terrorist in the eyes of Reno’s company… but you love him and he loves you and you’re not even sure how it all happened but he owns your heart completely and wholly.

And you wanted to cherish that for as long as you could while you still could.

“Okay,” you whisper, setting your hand over his own as you lean into his touch. “I trust you.”

[sageteapost]

hello!

May I request that you do a cloud strife x reader where the reader uses duel blades? These blades actually have short range and long range attacks and ( with enough force) can propel the reader forward? I would like them to meet in the scene where Jessie is seeing Biggs and wedge on bikes, but they see an extra bike and that’s the readers? The whole scene plays out and the reader is super badass, pulling enemy’s back with their duel blades and throwing them into a wall. Then after, they talk a bit and find out that they are a SOLDIER aswell..? IDK if this could be written so I’m sorry I’m advance if it can’t so feel free to tell me if you can’t!

| Cloud Strife & A Dual Blade User Reader |

[ Cloud Strife x GN! Reader ]

TW & CW + Tags: Violence (not super detailed). Mentions of firearms and blades. Reader is a SOLDIER as well. [No relationship mentioned. GN! Reader.]

Summary: A small fic of Cloud Strife meeting the reader who uses duel blades and eventually finds out that they are also a SOLDIER as well.

[(A/N): Hey there anon! My apologies for the late reply to your request. Not gonna lie, the reader gives off a bit of Ignis Scientia from Final Fantasy XV! I was in a mood to write a small fic for this one. I'm not sure if you wanted a fic request, if not let me know! As always, enjoy!]

"Looks like we got more company!" cries Jessie, Shinra infantrymen catching up close behind the others. The smell of rubber creating friction on the road was strong, and the roar of the motorcycle echos throughout the tunnel. "Quit moving around, or you'll fall off the bike," Cloud says while maintaining full attention on the lit road ahead of him.

"Hey Cloud! Take care of them, will ya?!" Biggs yells as Wedge holds onto Biggs for dear life. "We cannot let them ruin the mission!" Cloud hums in acknowledgement, making a cue for Jessie to take over driving the bike. She responds swiftly, and Cloud makes a leap onto onto one of the infantry's bikes and quickly taking him out.

"You!! Avalanche scum!" shouts an infantrymen, moving his bike closer towards Cloud so he can strike.

"Not so fast!"

A sharp object swiftly flys into the back of the man, earning a shout of pain from him and losing control of his bike.

Cloud makes a face of confusion for a moment, but before he could do anything he hears a motorbike pull up from behind, breaking him from his thoughts. "You guys abandoned me back at the meeting place! I was looking for y'all everywhere!"

Cloud turns to his left, and he sees you. As you're fighting one last infantrymen with your blades, your (H/C) hair lights up from the bright overhead lights in the tunnel, your mako green eyes are as sharp as a hawk, and he notices the daggers on your side as you slam the infantrymen hard into the wall.

The biggest thing he notices instantly however, is your outfit. A SOLDIER uniform, actually.

"Sorry (Y/N)! I thought you were right behind us the whole time," Jessie says with a sheepish laugh. "Glad you caught up with us! You would have missed out on our SOLDIER boy there! He's badass, don't you think?"

You turn your head slightly towards Cloud, making eye contact with his mako green eyes. Cracking a small smile, you reply, "Oh no, I saw. He's pretty good!"

Cloud quickly shifts his eyes back to the road. "C'mon. We're almost at the end of the tunnel."

"Right. Let's get a move on!" Jessie shouts out with pure energy.

...

Mission success! Now it was time to get the hell out of there and go home. Before you could drive off on your bike, Cloud stops you.

"Nice job back there."

You look at him in confusion, before replying with a smile. "Thanks, just what I do. I could say the same thing about you too." Cloud hums quietly, before asking, "...You're a SOLDIER, aren't you?"

Your smile drops just a tad bit and your eyes drift away from his. "That obvious, huh?"

"It's the uniform. And the trademark mako eyes."

"Right. Figured you should have known, since you are one too."

"Ex-SOLDIER. I'm just a mercenary now. I quit a long time ago."

You chuckle lightly, the cool night breeze of Midgar brushes away a strand of your hair. You look up towards a mako reactor, its bright light beaming up into the night sky. "It's getting late. We should go home," you say.

"Right," Cloud adds moving away from your bike and hopping on to his own and starting the engine.

"Wait," hearing your voice and looks up. "I never got your name. Who knows? We might meet again someday."

Cloud stays quiet for a moment. Only the sound of the humming engine fills the brief silence between the two of you. And with that, he finally replies.

"...Cloud. Cloud Strife."

[yunieluna]

Another pic that's featuring my fanfic... chapter 2 ...and they're both looooooking so concerned 🥲

[little-black-dress-zack-fair]

Jessie: Tifa! I need a favor!

Tifa: I’m not kissing you again

Barret: Kissing?

Biggs & Wedge: AGAIN?!

[quartzalynlove]

Die Trying

Pairing: Cloud x reader

Summary: it was chaos at the pillar, but why did you have to caught in it

Warnings: angst

A/n: got this prompt (and probably a lot of future ones) from a finish the story book I have

Maybe it was faith, maybe stubbornness, maybe something else. Maybe you didn't know the risks. But still, he had to admire how you wouldn't leave him behind.

The pillar was coming down, and Reno and Rude were berating what was left of Avalanche with every last shot they had. It was just you and Cloud. Biggs and Jessie didn't make it, and you were still searching for Barret. You all knew trying to stop Shinra from dropping the plate was a suicide mission, but the Avalanche motto was "save the planet or die trying". The group had taken a few hard lumps in the past, but they were all bruises compared to this.

Biggs was like a brother to you, Jessie was your best friend, and Cloud, pinned beneath a collapsed wall with dust invading his pressured lungs. He was the best thing that ever happened to you. The two of you were inseparable before he became a soldier. Once he left, you began to realize how deeply you cared for him. Tifa was a saint for staying with you all those anxious nights you stayed up worrying about what could happen on the battlefield. You even prayed on occasion, but no gods could help you now.

The battlefield was overseen but never interfered. You could feel the eyes of gods watching as your hands cut and scraped against the debris suffocating Cloud. Neither of you were sure how long you had been there, but he knew it was too long.

You strained yourself, crying in pain, but the wreckage wouldn't budge.

Cloud saw the tears streaming down your face as he struggled to breathe with broken bones and collapsing lungs. He coughed from the dust that still hadn't cleared before finding your eyes. Although they were broken, begging please with their red tint, the love still remained. He was glad he would see it one final time.

"Find Barrett." Cloud rasped from under you.

You quit struggling with the rubble and looked down at him in disbelief. You should've known Cloud would pull something like this, try to make you leave. It was a miracle you didn't lose him the first time, and by every higher power you could name you wouldn't lose him now.

"Yeah, right, you're coming with me." Your hands returned to the wall that still wouldn't move.

"Y/N," his voice was weak and it sent a chill running through your bones. "If we both die here, the mission wouldn't mean anything."

Why didn't he think that you knew that. To hell with the mission; you couldn't do anything without Cloud. You needed him. You loved him.

"Stop," your voice broke as you screamed. "Don't do this, Cloud, don't make me leave you!"

You couldn't will your arms to lift again, and you collapsed onto fallen wall, sobbing. Cloud watched you sadly from underneath.

"Save the planet or die trying"

You hadn't lived under that mantra for long, but the words had coursed through his bloodstream for a long time now, and it was time for him to see the end.

After letting out all of your tears, you sat defeated on the floor, your eyes lost and confused. You looked at Cloud.

"It's alright, Y/N," he had the audacity to sound so content, so accepting. It wasn't fair.

The limited and dust filled air was finally bringing Cloud to his end. He look at you one last time, the last image he wanted in his head before it all went black.

"I love you."

You sniffled, squeezing your eyes shut as if you'd open them again and he would be fine, but that wasn't the case.

"I love you too."

[ff7-has-taken-me-over]

Randomly, I had a thought on how likely it would have been for different characters to have fallen for Cloud and why they would have fallen for him and now I’m here! Once more! So going in no particular order let us begin (this is just the main sort of batch of characters, let me know if you wanna see any of the side ones like the Turks or Rufus)

Also keep in mind this is just me, my opinions and my blog. Don’t like, don’t read, don’t bring your ship hating or ship wars in here or I’ll punch you. Please and thank you!

Zack: I am being mildly biased with my own shipping head canons when I say that he would’ve fallen head over heels upon first meeting, but also it is canon that he was a chronic flirt and had multiple ‘girlfriends’. So I say it’s not entirely out of the question.

Sephiroth: before he lost his mind there wasn’t a chance in fucking hell it would’ve happened I think. Besides the whole difference in rank thing Seph was already far too traumatised and probably would have just seen Cloud as another guy that saw him as nothing but a war hero. He might have entertained the thought of sleeping with him, maybe, but I really don’t think it would’ve happened. We all know how he is after he loses his mind so I don’t think I gotta delve into that.

Angeal: probably not. He definitely would’ve taken some sort of liking to Cloud, whether as a friend he could find good conversation with or a sort of protege like Zack, I dunno. But ultimately I don’t reckon they’d have too much of a connection, not without some form of poly going on or something. Which leads me to this next one.

Genesis: I for sure reckon he would’ve fallen for Cloud. It would’ve been fucking messy and drama filled and more than likely would have stemmed from an enemies to lovers cause they’re both so incredibly stubborn and head strong, but they would end up loving each other. They’d definitely still butt heads and get into useless arguments but there were far too many pros to even think of giving up on the other.

Aerith: without the whole Cloud resembling Zack thing, maybe. There’s a chance that she could have but it would have been slow. Would’ve been one of those things where they hung out and talked and did all this stuff together so often that one day she would’ve turned around and realised she was in love with him. Like a full on ‘oh’ moment.

Tifa: this is another thing that’s mildly biased based off my own head canons but I honestly don’t think Tifa would have fallen for Cloud. If not for the Nibelheim incident and Cloud being exactly what she always wished for as a kid I do not think it would’ve happened.

Barret: definitely fucking not 😂 besides the fact that he hated Cloud when they first met, Cloud is so far beyond his type it’s not even funny. Plus I feel like Barret would either be one of those guys who’s like ‘my wife was the only woman for me’ or he just wouldn’t wanna put Marlene through the stress of suddenly gaining another parent.

Biggs: maybe. Like a heavy ass possibly honestly. I feel like it would have been the most generic romance in history and it would’ve been so unbelievably normal and it most likely would have been short lived, but maybe.

Wedge: I’m not gonna lie. Wedge gives me aromantic vibes for some reason. I dunno why, he just does. He’d definitely befriend Cloud (eventually) and be willing to wingman him or something if he needed it but yeah, I don’t think Wedge would’ve fallen for him.

Jessie: she absolutely loves flirting with Cloud and teasing him and being all over him, but she is definitely a lesbian. Don’t even argue with me! That woman is a full fledged lesbian and she only flirts with guys so heavily cause it’s funny to watch them scramble.

Vincent: nah, not really. Would they have a friends with benefits thing? Probably. But I feel like Vincent is far too emotionally unavailable and traumatised to even entertain the idea of being with someone again.

Cid: I feel like this is similar to Angeal. He’d definitely like Cloud and they’d bond over mechanic shit and complain about the people they chose to surround themselves with, but he definitely wouldn’t fall for him either. Cloud is way too young for him and not nearly his type in a guy. Plus he has a wife.

[dommi-griffi]

!!!TW: graphic depictions of death and gore!!!

(Here’s a snippet from the first chapter of my Ffvii Anastasia au I’ve been working on for a week, if it gets responded to well on here I’ll post it to my ao3)

(Cloud’s personality throughout the fic is a combo of Crisis Core and Ffvii:remake)

He felt antsy like his knuckles ached to lay against something, anything. He didn’t have a weapon, and as he looked down at his hands, they were tiny. Everything seemed so tall around him. He had never been to this place before, the walls were washes of yellows and reds, either from the wallpaper or the flames rising to lick the chiseled, decaying ceiling above him. He was frozen still and yet felt like he was everywhere all at once. The smell of the room wafted into his face and he covered his mouth as his stomach churned. Rotting, burning flesh. Garbled screams, pleading, crying, for help, help, help. The smell was dreadful, it made his nostrils burn and his head feel fuzzy. There was smoke filling the room, and the images of burning, writhing people were being filtered out with the smog. He was grateful for it, a woman was lying a few feet away, her figure convulsing as flames tickled up her dying body, and she couldn’t even make a sound anymore. Her face was burning off, her cheeks peeling and stretching her skin until she almost seemed as if she was smiling, her tears doing nothing to quench the flames enveloping her life.

(And here’s a snippet from Chapter 2 bc it’s not all dark gore don’t worry)

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Cloud was seething. His heart froze in his chest. The recruiter at the table shook his head with a glare and a grimace.

“Missed your chance, man. Reno’s a busy guy.” Cloud tensed and flexed his hands.

“I don’t understand, we had a meeting time, I’m twenty minutes fucking early-”

“You lied on your application.” The soldier said coldly. Crossing his arms as he stood up, nearly a foot taller than Cloud. “Said you were taller, bigger, and that your last name was Gainsborough.” Cloud clenched his teeth.

“Gainsborough is my legal name-”

“Leaf House said you came without a name. Just a sickly fragile child. A refugee from Nibelheim probably.” The recruiter set him with a nasty glare. “We’ve overlooked this in the past, but what we can’t accept is the fact that you would never even pass the physical to enter the low-ranking recruits, let alone the SOLDIER program.” He smirked, shifting his weight to loom over Cloud like a statue.

“Where is he?” Cloud tried to stay calm, his muscles tense as his heartbeat in his eardrums.

“Left on a train two hours ago. Missed him by a longshot, kid.” The recruiter began packing up the pile of blank application papers.

“That's bullshit, we had a deal!” Cloud argued, what was he supposed to do now? This guy sure as hell wasn’t going to let him sign his name even on the basic training applications. The guy set the pile of paper in a case and leaned forward over the table, he got in Cloud’s face, his breath smelled like cigarettes and black coffee, his teeth yellow, and his eyes were dull and blue.

“Reno doesn’t keep deals with liars and kids with stupid dreams that’ll never come true.”

Cloud wasn’t sure why he thought it was a good idea, maybe his anger shrunk the guy in his head, making him seem as if he wasn’t a giant stone fucking wall that he decided to punch in the nose. His knuckles burst with pain and the man’s face bounced off his fist, falling back with a spin and a faceplant that left him unconscious. There were gasps around him. He didn’t have much time to celebrate the fact he’d just laid out a 6’4” army guy on his ass.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” One of the recruiters from another table asked him with a raised, authoritative voice. He was probably from the aquatic division of Shinra, most likely. Cloud figured he might be able to take this guy in a fight, he was just a bit shorter than the man on the ground, and much more lithe, having a swimmer’s build. But he couldn’t take the other two recruiters from other divisions who seemed to fall in line behind the guy rushing towards him.

With a crunch of snow or maybe even trash beneath his foot, Cloud booked it down Station Way.