#aerith/tifa

[theoreticalconstruct]

Reveals have happened so here's one of my sketches for Fic in a Box. I wanted to draw Aerith carrying Tifa so much.

Pose ref by @adorkastock.

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[dracoqueen22]

For @jeegoo, who requested the schmoopiest, cutest, most fluffiest aerith/tifa valentine you can produce, please. ♥ I know this is months late, but Draco's finally got her groove back, so these flash fics should start showing up! <3

The internet is full of ideas. There are a thousand ways to celebrate Valentine’s Day with your loved one, from balloons to flowers to chocolates to gifts to extravagant trips and public displays of affection. 

Tifa has spent hours trying to find something perfect. She’s wandered in and out of stores. She’s smelled so many flowers her head aches. She’s tasted chocolate until she was sick of it. She contemplated jewelry and stared aghast at the prices until she reminded herself that Aerith doesn’t want to be doused in gems. 

She still hasn’t found a gift that would out-do Aerith’s performance in Gold Saucer, and the song she’d sang that captured Tifa’s heart forever. 

The boys – and Yuffie – are of no help whatsoever. 

“Booze,” Cid suggests as he yanks something grease-covered out of an old car he insists is going to run any day now. “Something to share. Get you both nice and warm and tipsy. Oh, and lingerie. Works like a charm.” 

“I’m asking you what you think Aerith would like, not you,” Tifa huffs. “But I’ll be sure to pass the message on to Vincent.” 

Cid tilts back, shoving up his goggles to reveal two perfectly circular patches of clean skin surrounded by something tarry and oily. “Ya really think he’d wear lingerie?” 

“I think he’d wear anything if you asked him to,” Tifa says with all the honesty in the world, and then she makes herself scarce before Cid offers anything else unhelpful. Or puts more images into her mind that she doesn’t want to have there. 

It doesn’t stop her from searching online though. There are so many lovely lace and satin things that would look phenomenal on Aerith, but lingerie is really a gift for herself, isn’t it? So Tifa sadly closes the tabs. 

“A book,” Nanaki suggests when she dares stir him from a nap in the noonday sun. His ears flick, chasing off an irritating gnat. “Aerith likes to read.” 

“It’s not really romantic though,” Tifa says, scrunching up her nose. 

“A book of poetry?” Nanaki tries. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you want me to say. Human customs elude me.” He puts his head back down with a long, mournful sigh. 

Tifa thanks him with a scritch behind the ear, which Nanaki insists he does not like, but still tilts his head into her hand just so and makes a rumble of content.

“Materia!” Yuffie declares, swinging down from an overhead branch and landing without a sound. 

Tifa hadn’t even realized she was up there. 

“Materia is not romantic,” Tifa says.  

Yuffie plants her hands on her hips, squints, and says, “red materia?” like changing the color of the magical orb is going to change the romanticism of it. “See? It’s romantic because it shows her that you like kicking ass together.” 

“That would work if Aerith were Barrett,” Nanaki says, attempting to swat Yuffie with his tail, but she backflips out of the way at the last second. “I’m trying to nap.” 

“You’re always napping,” Yuffie complains. “You promised you’d spar with me, remember? We’re supposed to be working on our new attack!” 

The last time they created an attack together, they set a grocery store on fire. Cloud’s still paying for damages. It is fortunate that monster extermination pays well, and that Cloud is susceptible to Yuffie’s pleading face. 

Tifa wisely makes herself scarce. 

Barrett, currently scrunched at a table meant for children, with a coloring book and crayons while Marlene sits across from him, says, “She likes flowers,” as if Tifa could not figure this out for herself. 

“Flowers are cliche,” Marlene pipes up, legs swinging beneath the table. 

Tifa plants her hands on her hips. “Where did you learn that word?” 

“I read,” Marlene beams and leans over the table to peer at her father’s work. “Daddy, grass is green, not purple.” 

Barrett harrumphs. “It’s my coloring page, and I’ll color it the way I want to.” He puts down the purple and picks up green, which he uses on the petals of a sunflower. “Some rules are meant to be broken, sweetheart.” 

“Grass is green,” Marlene insists with that certainty of all children everywhere but she looks up at Tifa and smiles, “I’ll bet Miss Aerith thinks you’re the best gift of all, Miss Tifa.” 

Tifa chuckles and musses Marlene’s hair. “You’re probably right,” she says, and makes herself scarce before the argument over what color the grass is supposed to be turns into a war in which Marlene confiscates all the purple. 

Cloud shows up with a delivery just after sunset, covered in dust from a day spent riding to Junon and back, all for the sake of a particular brand of whiskey Tifa can’t get anywhere else. 

“What’re you doing for Valentine’s Day?” Tifa asks as she leans against the door frame and watches Cloud unstrap and unload the carefully packed crates. “A trip out to Gongaga perhaps?”

Cloud’s cheeks go an adorable shade of pink as he ducks his head. “No,” he very much lies. “I’m working.” 

“Sure.” Tifa pretends to let him have his privacy. Besides, she’s not sure which of the three surviving members of SOLDIER are currently courting Cloud or which one he’s actively entertaining at the moment. 

He’s really spoiled for choice. 

“Why?” Cloud asks, all gruff machismo restored as he hauls one bottle-heavy crate onto his shoulder without breaking a sweat, muscles rippling beneath sun-browned skin. 

Tifa has eyes so she lets herself ogle the scenery. She’s only human and well, Aerith understands. She’d be ogling too if she were here and not at the orphanage today. 

“Just curious.” She steps back to give him room to get into the bar. “I’m stumped for what to get Aerith.” 

Cloud sets the crate onto the counter, the bottles rattling noisily. “Give her a memory,” he says after a moment of staring into the middle distance. “She’ll like that.” 

“A memory,” Tifa repeats. She supposes for someone like Cloud, that would be a precious thing. “Thanks. That helps.” 

Cloud shrugs and goes back out for the other crate. Tifa follows. She could easily carry these in herself, but Cloud likes to feel useful, so she lets him. 

“You should go to Gongaga,” Tifa suggests. “Make a few of your own.” 

Cloud’s blush deepens. He ducks his head and gives too much focus to unbuckling the last strap. “I’ll think about it.” 

Tifa tilts her head, unable to stop the grin. “Wear the dress.” 

“I’m not wearing the damn dress!” Cloud huffs, but his face is a fierce crimson, deeper than Vincent’s cape. He’s definitely considering the dress. 

Tifa laughs and goes back into Seventh Heaven to start unpacking the crate. 

Cloud’s suggestion tugs at her, and Tifa spends the rest of the night chewing on it. She serves drinks, listens to tales of woe, throws out a man who’s getting too handsy, and pours a very drunk Reno into the back of a taxi, sending him home to Rude. 

His idea, offered without asking, was booze and cigarettes. While great gifts for Rude, they are completely unhelpful for Tifa. 

It’s Vincent who helps make the idea click. He shows up right before closing as he often does, and Tifa allows it because Vincent knows how to use a broom and dustpan. He doesn’t argue when she hands them over. 

“Make her a promise,” he says, pausing to squint into the middle distance just like Cloud. Lost in decades of loneliness and old memories, she guesses. He and Cloud are a lot alike. “Something tangible.” 

Tifa hums as she scrubs at a particularly sticky patch on the bar. “I expected you to suggest a weapon or a crypt or, I don’t know, a Queen’s Blood card.” 

“...Why?” 

“Because all of our friends are idiots,” Tifa huffs. She throws down the rag, victorious. She swears that was gum, and if she finds out Reno’s leaving it all over the place again, she’s going to snatch him by the ponytail and make him lick her floors clean. Asshole. “Cid wants you in lingerie by the way.” 

Vincent ducks behind his collar, but his sigh is audible anyway. “I know,” he mutters and sweeps that much harder. 

Tifa laughs. 

The idea is nebulous, but it takes shape until Tifa knows exactly what she’s searching for, and that’s when the excitement sets in. There’s a craftswoman in Wutai who sells what Tifa needs, and she pays triple to bump her request to the top of the queue. Reeve assists by offering a private courier to ensure a speedy arrival, though it now means Tifa owes him a diplomatic mission.

Ah, well. Anything for her girl.

Gil is going to be tight for a while, but the expense is worth it when she unwraps the box to take a peek. Rose gold and silver intertwine in delicate braids as blooming flowers intermittently sprout in metal whorls. It’s elegant and beautiful, but sturdy. 

Aerith may not be one for jewelry, but hopefully she’ll make an exception this time. 

Valentine’s Day comes, and Tifa’s blown her whole budget on the gift, but that’s alright because Aerith cooks and bestows Tifa with a photo of their victory at the Gold Saucer Arena, arms wrapped around each other as their opponents lie in defeated heaps. 

“You should hang it in the bar,” Aerith suggests. “That way all your patrons will know not to mess with you.” 

Tifa grins. “I’m pretty sure they already know that, but I still love it.” She leans in, steals a kiss that tastes like the sauce Aerith’s been simmering and taste-testing. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” Aerith rests her head on Tifa’s shoulder and looks up at her imploringly. “Now where’s mine?” 

“You’re so impatient,” Tifa says, but she pulls out the small clamshell box, takes Aerith’s hand, and sets it into her palm. “Here.” 

Aerith’s eyes go wide. She practically holds her breath as she pushes the top up and beholds the handcrafted ring, which manages to perfectly sparkle under the cheap fluorescent bulb. 

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Tifa says as she strokes her thumb over the back of Aerith’s hand, tracing little scars born from too many years handling thorny roses. “Or it can mean everything. It’s up to you.” 

Aerith curls her fingers around Tifa’s, warm and tender. “I think it means yes,” she says, her eyes wet and her cheeks pink. She’s the loveliest person in the world. “Will you put it on me?” 

“You really like it?” Tifa asks. “It’s not too soon…?”

“I love it.” Aerith’s voice is thick, a bit snotty. “And I love you. I’m saying yes.” 

Tifa’s heart swells in her chest. She takes the ring and slides it onto Aerith’ finger, where it fits perfectly, the rose gold matching with her skin tone, and the delicate leaves like a flower in fresh bloom. 

“It’s perfect,” Aerith warbles and pulls Tifa into a fierce hug that turns into a sweet, sweet kiss that tastes a bit like salt from happy tears. 

Tifa doesn’t ask it, but she thinks maybe, just maybe, she’s given Aerith a wonderful memory. Almost as good as the song. 

***

[team5ds]

i can feel you all around me

Summary: she's not gone. she's still there. in the life stream.

Rating: T

Ships: Tifa Lockhart/Aerith Gainsborough

Author’s note: written for @sapphic-september with the prompt of "undead" and also partly for @millenniumpuzzle. hope i did your girls justice. aerith is technically dead in this but also in theory she isn't.

read on ao3 / support me on kofi (battle city & up supporters get early access) / join my discord (18+)

Tifa swore she'd been here before, but her mind was blanking on when. She felt too serene, but something was tamping her emotions down, leaving her unable to react. Her mind could sense something wrong, and yet whatever was impacting her made it difficult to care. The contradictions were annoying. She felt like she needed to rest, actually. Just let whatever was ensnaring her take her away. Aerith was here too, and so inviting. She was smiling, like nothing was wrong. "Tifa," she said, and oh, she liked the way Aerith said her name. "It's good to see you again."

Except... no. This wasn't right, was it? Her mind was sluggish, trying to figure out what was so wrong about this scenario. Aerith smiling at her was fine - she did that all time. It hit her just a little too late. "We're in the lifestream," Tifa said, immediately looking around. It'd been obvious - Mako surrounded them. How had it eluded her? Whatever the reason, Tifa didn't like it. "We need to get out of here."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Aerith said with a laugh. "Don't you remember what happened?"

Her stomach lurched as it all came rushing back: Aerith had died. And yet here she was, standing in front of her, fully alive. The two realities didn't make sense. Tifa knew there was only one way any of this made sense, but it wasn't an option she was quite willing to accept. Still, she had to ask. "Am I... dreaming?"

Aerith tilted her head thoughtfully, and Tifa recognized that look. It was the "it's complicated" expression - one that she wore whenever she was trying to best think of a way to explain any given situation. "Well, you see, I think something happened when you also fell into the Mako," Aerith said, tapping her chin. She grinned, and laughed, shaking her head. "Then again, what do you think?"

"I think that..." Tifa paused, trying to piece together the information she had. She could smell flowers in the air - ones she didn't have names for. That wasn't something that happened when she dreamed. She reached to press her hand to Aerith's, and was shocked by the fact it felt fully solid. She could smell and feel here, so perhaps it wasn't entirely a dream. It couldn't be real, but it couldn't be just a dream. "We both fell into the Mako. Together." Aerith nodded, stepping closer. She could feel warmth radiating off her like she was still alive, and her stomach churned. "Am I... dead?"

"Don't think so," Aerith said, pressing a feather light kiss to her lips. The floral perfume ensnared Tifa for a moment, grinding all thoughts to a halt. She could catch a whiff of Aerith's shampoo, and her hair brushed against Tifa's shoulder. "Nope. Definitely still alive."

"But you're not," Tifa said, shaking her head. "I saw it happen. You died. I can't be here with you, and not dreaming. But... this isn't like any dream I've ever had. You're... I don't like this."

Aerith's eyes went wide, and she dropped Tifa's hand. She wished she could cram the words back into her mouth and have Aerith's hand back in hers again. It'd been too long since she'd gotten to hold her in her arms, and she was desperate for her touch. It didn't matter what the truth was if she could stay here with Aerith. "Don't you dare think about that," she scolded. Tifa looked back up at Aerith, stunned at the reaction. She seemed genuinely upset by something. "You can't stay here. You have to go at some point, you know."

"So this place is real then," she countered, her eyes wide. If this place was real, then she had to stay here with Aerith. There was no point in going back if it meant she could be with the love she'd lost too young. She made an accusatory point to Aerith as she said, "You know where we are, and you're not telling me. Why won't you tell me where we are?"

"As I just said: you can't stay here. Technically... you're not even supposed to be here," she said softly, before giving a big smile. The same big smile she gave whenever she was really upset about something but trying to be brave. "I have things to do here. You have things to do before you can come back here. Tell Cloud to not be so miserable all the time for me, okay? And tell Zack... tell Zack I'm sorry I couldn't meet up with him."

It was too late that Tifa realized where they were, and that her time here was running out. She could hear her name being called by a frightened Cloud, even if she couldn't see him. Tifa rushed forward to give Aerith one last desperate kiss - one last kiss to last a lifetime - as she woke up to stare into a pair of Mako colored eyes that were not Cloud's. "Aerith wanted to tell you she's sorry."

[anonarat]

Aerith kneels to kiss Tifa’s bloody knuckles as the fighter takes a breather. The thugs that tried to mug them piled up in the alley entrance.

“Thanks for protecting me,” says Aerith, her smile, radiant. It was like Tifa didn’t stop to think as soon as she had been threatened, and that meant so much to Aerith. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re safe then, that’s good. I don’t think I could live with myself if they hurt you,” replies Tifa, letting out a breath. Despite knowing that Aerith would have been more than strong enough to handle herself it was reassuring.

[rocketbirdie]

uh huh. you sure about that?

[hu-manbee-ing]

Sora lore

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[alligaytorswamp]

Cloud receiving her daily kisses commission for @indeedjaffa

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[neirorien]

[say0ranarts]

scattered pieces🧩

[kifaprokumiv]

Beefa the sequel

[allisonmckenzieart]

Valentine's Date 🌹 --- These are the spot art illustrations I did for Wingsyouburn's adorable fic about a date at the Golden Saucer Arcade! This story and artwork were featured in our AerTi/Zakkura charity Fanzine last year!

[yukinnn]

Experimenting on a new style

[dracoqueen22]

For Melly: Aerith/Tifa - against all odds

Tifa is exhausted. 

She’s covered in cuts and bruises. Her body aches. Her head’s spinning, and worst of all, her heart has taken a beating. She doesn’t understand Cloud. She doesn’t know Cloud. She wonders if she ever did. 

And she definitely isn’t sure what happened five years ago. Not anymore. 

Tifa’s exhausted, but she can’t sleep. Energy runs through her veins, adrenaline certain another battle might come bursting through that door. She can’t seem to calm down. 

It doesn’t seem like Aerith can sleep either. She’s been staring at the ceiling and fiddling with the buttons on her dress for as long as Tifa’s been fruitlessly counting chocobos. She’s up to 963. 

Tifa rolls on her side, facing Aerith, arm tucked under her cheek. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” 

“You’d think I’d be exhausted,” Aerith says. She turns to face Tifa, their bodies a pair of parentheses on opposite beds. Her shoulders are bare, but Tifa isn’t sure why she’s focusing on that fact. “I mean, I’m definitely tired, but I guess that’s not enough.” 

“Worried?” Tifa asks. “About your mom?” 

Aerith smiles, gentle and sweet all the way to her willowy bones. “No. She can take care of herself.” 

“Do you think we made the wrong choice?” Tifa blurts out, almost before Aerith can finish answering. It’s something Tifa’s gnawed on, over and over, especially after Cloud’s recitation of an event he can’t have seen. 

Is he wrong because he’s lying on purpose? Or is he actually remembering something he experienced because the choice they made, there on that highway, has fundamentally altered the course of their universe? Is he even her Cloud? Or is Tifa the one misremembering? 

Tifa doesn’t know. 

“It’s too soon to say.” Aerith draws nonsense on the mattress in front of her. That soft smile lingers. “It’s terrifying, but it’s also kind of exhilarating.” 

Tifa would chalk Aerith’s optimism up to naivete, but that’s far from the truth. Aerith’s life hasn’t been a picnic and that she can still be sweet is a testament to her strength. 

Tifa envies her for it. That strength that allows her to be weak. 

“How so?” she asks. 

“Well, I’ve never had a sleepover before,” Aerith says with the frankness that makes Tifa’s heart ache. “Or a girlfriend.” She pauses, cheeks going pink. “I mean, a woman who is a friend. Woman-friend? No, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it.” 

Tifa laughs quietly as Aerith’s face scrunches with genuine confusion. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a girlfriend,” Tifa says. “Most of the kids my age were boys.” 

“Like Cloud?” 

Tifa’s too slow to stop the flinch. It’s hard to say if Aerith noticed. “Yeah,” she says quietly, but then the memory hits her, easing the sting. “Though he’s always been pretty enough.” 

“He sure is.” Aerith giggles and turns on her back, stretching her arms over her head with a hum. “But that’s what I mean. We made a choice and decided to fight, and now here I am, against all odds, on my first sleepover.” 

Tifa doesn’t tell her all the ways this doesn’t count. It’s a simple wish. A simple joy. She wants Aerith to have it. 

“Do you think we should have a pillow fight?” Aerith asks, but before Tifa can answer, she laughs and says, “Hmm. Maybe not. I think you’d win in one hit.” 

“I’d be gentle,” Tifa says. 

“I know you would.” Aerith’s grin makes Tifa’s heart go thump-thump-thump in a way it hasn’t before. 

Aerith abruptly sits up and looks around as if an idea has popped into her mind. “Hmm,” she says. “There’s not enough furniture to make a fort, and I don’t think that vending machine had any candy. I’m stumped on ideas.” 

“Aren’t we a little old for sleepovers anyway?” 

“Probably.” Aerith sighs, and there’s a wealth of disappointment in the small sound. “I guess we should be sleeping. We have a lot more walking ahead of us.” 

Aerith flops back, pulls the blanket up to her chin, and stares at the ceiling. She dutifully closes her eyes, and Tifa feels a bit like she’s kicked a bucket. Could it really hurt to entertain such an innocent joy? 

Tifa rolls off the bed, bringing her blanket with her, and flops down next to Aerith. “Tell me a secret,” she says as she squirms down to get comfortable. 

Aerith blinks at her. “What?” 

“It’s what you do at a sleepover.” At least, in Tifa’s experience, that what she thinks most young girls do. “You tell each other secrets.” 

“Oh.” Aerith’s cheeks turn a pretty pink. “I don’t think I have any that you don’t already know.” She presses her lips together, face scrunched in serious thought. 

“Nothing?” Tifa prompts as she tucks her arm under her head. “Not even an embarrassing story you don’t want anyone to know?” 

Aerith laughs and turns to face her, voice going softer like they are two young woman sharing a secret with no one else. “I have plenty of those stories. But what about you? Do you have any secrets?” 

“Too many,” Tifa sighs, and her thoughts wander again, to home, to Nibelheim, to five long, confusing years, and one stubborn, confusing blond the next room over. Maybe this is a bad idea after all. 

She shouldn’t spill all the troubles on her shoulders. Aerith shouldn’t have to help bear that load. She has enough problems without Tifa adding to her stress. Maybe this was a bad idea after all. 

Tifa shifts, intending to go back to her own bed, and back to chocobo number 964. But Aerith touches her arm, and that’s enough for Tifa to freeze. Surprised. 

“We don’t have to share secrets,” Aerith says, her resting hand curling into a gentle hold, “But we can share the bed. If you want, I mean.” 

Tifa’s heart throbs so loud, it thumps in her ears. Slowly, she settles back into place, arm tingling under the barely noticeable weight of Aerith’s hand. 

“That is one of the rules of sleepovers,” Tifa says, even though they’re both too old and bruised for such a thing. But they are also a lot alike. Tifa’s never had a “girlfriend” either. 

Aerith giggles and winks at her. “I won’t tell if you don’t. It can be our secret.” She holds out a hand, pinky crooked. “Promise?” 

Tifa’s face heats, almost like she’s blushing, but that would be ridiculous. No less ridiculous than hooking her finger with Aerith’s and saying, “Promise.” 

Lying there next to Aerith, Tifa doesn’t even get to chocobo number 965 before she’s fast asleep. 

***

[ryuuna]

old aerti comic wip I'll get around to eventually

[logiies]

pretty women... pretty women save me... save me pretty women.....