#welcome to ffvii | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drabblesandimagines · 2 years ago

Text

I wouldn't mind holding your hand. I guess.

13 from creativepromptsforwriting's Grumpy Affectionate Dialogue list.

Cloud Strife x reader Fluff

"So, how'd it go?" Tifa asks the second you've walked through the door - it hadn't even closed properly behind you yet. Had she been waiting to pounce? "We don't say hello now?" You raise an eyebrow, shrugging off your jacket. You’d been dreading her interrogation - it had been a sleepless night.

"Hello.” She grins. “How'd it go?" She puts her hands down on the counter and leans forward as you approach.

"Fine." You shrug, going to lift up the latch to join her behind the bar, but Tifa is quick – shifting so she’s now leaning on top of it, blocking your entrance.

“You pay me to work here, remember?”

“And do you see any customers? Anyway, this is important. I don’t think you understand how rare it is to go on a date with Cloud Strife. Spill!”

You sigh, sitting down heavily on the stool. Really, you should’ve known that the brunette would be keen to hear every single detail…

You’d started working at Seventh Heaven nearly four months ago now. Before Meteor, you’d worked in Wall Market as a cocktail waitress, doing bar tricks to earn tips off a bunch of Shira employees. It was just by chance you’d been walking by when Tifa had put up the help wanted sign in the window. The two of you had got on immediately and your skills honed behind the bar meant you could really start straightaway. The first time you’d seen Cloud walk in, you were immediately attracted to him - the blue eyes, blonde hair, the muscular, toned arms on display... Who wouldn’t be? He, however, seemed very indifferent to you, though Tifa disagreed. “He’s shy. He likes you - I promise."

It felt odd at first when she deemed herself a matchmaker – Cloud and her shared an apartment, with two kids – Denzel and Marlene – she assured you they were strictly platonic and she’d love to see him without a scowl on his face. Apparently he was always interested when you were working, especially if you were on a closing shift. Now everyone was based in Edge, all sorts frequented the bar. You’d experienced the same in Wall Market and weren’t afraid to cut people off but it was nice to have some sort of muscle around in case anyone became a little out of line. You thought it was Tifa’s doing, as Cloud would always offer up his services on the nights you were responsible for closing, even walking you home afterwards. When you’d thank him, he’d shrug, saying not to think anything of it.

He was chivalrous, you’d reasoned, trying not to get your hopes up there was something more to it, until two nights ago when he’d lingered at the point he’d usually head off when you’d unlocked your front door.

“Wait.” You span round on your heels at the sound of his voice, surprised that he’d gone off routine. “Erm, would you… Would you like to have dinner tomorrow night? With me.”

“With you?” You’re stunned.

“Forget I said-“

“No, I’d love to.” You interrupted, worried you’d blown it.

“Okay. Great. Er, I’ll text you.” And Cloud had then strode off into the night before you could say another word.

He’d texted - you assumed he’d got your number off Tifa from her string of texts the next morning - saying he’d pick you up from yours at 7, that he’d got a table at a restaurant nearby. You’d walked past it a few times but never been, and it seemed a popular spot for first dates - intimate, yet not overly fancy. He’d arrived promptly, saying you looked "nice" and that’s where things had gone a little downhill. There was nothing that happened to really distinguish this as a date...

“He didn’t get within three feet of me at any time the walk there, or the walk back. I know he’s quiet, but besides asking me if the food was okay, he didn’t say much at all at dinner. And then, after he’d walked me home, I said I’d had a really nice time, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, thinking he was nervous, you know?" Tifa nods. "But then he stepped forward, thanked me and clapped me on the shoulder, before he strode off.” You lay your head down on your arms. “It was a pity date, Tifa.”

“Okay, Cloud’s more hopeless than I thought,” she pats you gently on the head, “but it wasn’t a pity date. He set it all up because he wanted to take you out, I promise.”

“He could’ve swung that big sword of his all around him and not hit me, the distance he was keeping.” You continue talking into your arms, your voice muffled.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, don’t!" Your head shoots up, “That’ll make me look and feel even more pathetic. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s a wake-up call.”

“You’re not pathetic. He’s just shy. Plus, I bet he’s feeling even worse than you are. He was out before I even woke up this morning.” She pauses, grinning slyly. “I did think that he might’ve stayed the night at yours…”

Your face flushes at that. “What?! No. He couldn’t get away from me fast enough.” The door opens and the two of you look, you praying it's not Cloud. "Delivery!" A man chirps. "Enough about my dismal love life, okay?" You get to your feet and go to take in the stock.

You got home that evening just after 6pm, preparing yourself for a quiet evening and an early night after the sleepless one before. It was surprising when there was a knock at the door an hour or so later – you weren’t expecting anyone. You looked through the eyehole and were nervous to see the tell-tale spikes of blonde hair, a nervous expression across Cloud’s face. Had Tifa spoken to him? Oh, Shiva…

You unlock the door, pulling it open cautiously.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles, a little awkwardly, but it’s sweet too. “Sorry, are you busy? I should’ve texted…”

“No, not at all.” You curse inwardly, you could’ve phrased that differently, sound more aloof. “What brings you here?”

“Uh, yeah…” It’s then you notice he has a hand behind his back. It’s quickly whipped out in front of you, holding a small, handpicked bouquet of pink, white and yellow flowers. “I wanted to give you these.”

“Cloud…” Your eyes widen, taking in the display. They’re the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. “Thank you.” You accept them delicately, worried they might wilt instantly if you’re too rough with them.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

“Sure. Let me just put these in water. Erm, do you want to come in?” You step back in anticipation.

“No, I’ll wait here.” He folds his arms.

“Oh, okay,” you nod. “I won’t be long.” You let the door swing close behind you, still holding the flowers so delicately. He delivers you hand-picked flowers but doesn’t want to come in? Is he breaking up with you? Can you break up even if you weren’t together in the first place? You grab a glass, filling it with water from the tap and placing the small bouquet in gently, before setting it down in the windowsill. You wonder if you’ll look at them in the same light when you return.

Edge, like its predecessor, had never been a pretty city in the desert. In the early evening though, fairy lights donned by the surrounding buildings cast a nice glow about the place and it was quiet as the two of you strolled through. Cloud hadn’t been the most talkative, as usual. Sometimes it looked like he wanted to say something, a comment on the tip of his tongue, but then his mouth would close and he’d nod to whatever nonsense you were spouting to fill the silence. It was at one of those moments when you hadn’t particularly been paying attention to where you were walking, catching your foot on an uneven part of the ground. You brace yourself for the impact and the embarrassment, but a hand grabs your own, yanking you back and upright, another hand on the small of your back – Cloud.

“You okay?” His brow is furrowed in concern. Your heart is thudding at the shock of tripping, or maybe the closeness of you two? It’s hard to tell.

“Y-yeah. Sorry, clumsy,” you know your face is red. “Thanks.” The hand from your back falls away, deeming your balance stable enough but your other hand isn’t released straightaway. You look down at the appendage in question, Cloud’s hand firmly clasped around yours. His eyes follow what you’re looking at and he seems to realise as his cheeks grow flush in the dim light of dusk, letting go abruptly.

“Do you even like me?” The question slips out of your mouth before you can even think what you’re saying. He looks almost startled by the directness of it.

“I thought the date and flowers made that obvious.”

“The flowers, okay, but the date and just now… Like, I know not everyone’s keen on public displays of affection, but you don’t even want to be within arm’s length of me…”

“I wouldn’t mind holding your hand. I guess.” It’s mumbled, his blue eyes directing at the ground.

“What?” You wonder if you misheard.

“I’d quite like to, to be honest. I’m just…” He meets your eyes at this point. “I haven’t really done this before.”

“That’s okay, neither have I.”

He looks sceptical. “That can’t be true.”

“I wasn’t exactly surrounded by gentlemen wanting to sweep me off my feet in Wall Market,” you smile. “Besides, it means we can try and work this stuff out together, if you want.” You hold your hand out, hoping he won’t notice the slight tremor.

To your relief, he takes it, deftly lacing his fingers through your own.

“I’d like that.”

- Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #ff7 x reader #cloud strife x you #cloud strife x reader #ff7 x you #ff7 drabbles #reader requests welcome #ff7 #FF7 imagines #cloud strife #final fantasy 7 #final fantasy vii #ffvii #cloud strife fluff

725 notes · View notes

prismaticpichu · 4 months ago

Text

IN TANDEM WITH LAST POST; MUST COUNTERVAIL WITH FLOOF

Zack, following Modeoheim, growing dangerously bitter at Sephiroth for not bearing any scars. He can’t stand to look at him anymore, to stare at the pristine and untainted terrain of skin… Gaia. He doesn’t have a single scar. Not one. Not one. Why does he always have to carry the burdens? Why does he always have to clean everything up? Why… why… WHY—?

And he loses it one day, when Sephiroth comes to check on him in the training room, continuing to ask if everything is alright.

And he punches him.

Fist bloody; the warrior’s nose crumpled; blue eyes ablaze with hate… and envy.

And Sephiroth stares back, clutching his reddened face, his own eyes narrowing to serrated slits.

And he glares at him…

But doesn’t say a word.

And in moments, the man is gone, storming out of the gym doors without a single utterance or scold.

And Zack is left there.

Stewing; panting; staring; thinking; contemplating…

…Regretting.

Zack has always been one to succumb easily to guilt, and so it’s only hours later that he finds himself standing in front of Sephiroth’s office, his expression pained, knocking on the door with such delicate raps that one might think it’s made of glass. Will Sephiroth even forgive him…? Will he ever want to see him again…? Will he—?

After five unanswered knocks, Zack decides to enter anyway.

Sephiroth has a bandage on his nose as he glances up from his paperwork, green eyes bladed against the office’s professional light, scanning the aching First up and down with scrutinizing light.

He opens his mouth to speak, to—

But Zack’s apology comes quicker.

He confesses all his feelings, letting them cascade out of him, admitting all his plaguing emotions and envy toward Sephiroth’s scarless skin. He says he doesn’t want to carry these burdens anymore; he says that he can’t take it; he says it’s brutal, uncontrollable, painful…

…And he says that he can’t stand feeling so utterly Alone anymore.

Cold air; words looming; Sephiroth’s mouth remaining ajar as, still struck silent by Zack’s heartfelt confession, now contemplates an appropriate response to give.

And he thinks.

And he thinks…—

But no words come out.

Instead, Zack watches with a meld of awe and disbelief as Sephiroth, never letting his softened gaze leave the teen’s, begins to roll up his sleeve, rolling and rolling and rolling and—

Zack’s eyes widen, the temperature around him seeming to drop….

And he stares.

And he stares even longer.

And his eyes begin to glisten; hazy, confused, shocked…

…Because there, branching along Sephiroth’s wrist, hidden under the blackness of his coat but very much real, was a scar.

A scar from the training room.

From the day he lost Genesis.

From the day a piece of metal went into his skin, but didn’t cut him severely enough to warrant concern, leaving Genesis to endure the more serious wound.

From the day he was left wondering Why Couldn’t It Have Been Him.

More silence; raw and beating silence; heavy, humid, but warm silence…

And Zack pulls Sephiroth into a hug, the man now anguished and dim, and tells him what he always wanted to hear himself, the four medicinal words somehow just as healing when they are directed toward someone else.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

#ffvii #sephiroth #zack fair #crisis core #ff7 #angeal hewley #final fantasy vii #pretzel salt floof #welcome to a headcanon that’s been plaguing Pichu for years!!#genesis rhapsodos

37 notes · View notes