queen karmi's corner

Title: Ghosts

Chapter 5: Welcome Back

Chapter Summary: Tifa returns to school

Trigger warning: implied/referenced self-harm & panic attacks

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Tifa is not sure how long she’s been awake by the time her alarm goes off; she was on the fringes of sleep for the better part of the night, and once she was conscious enough to think about the time, she was too afraid to check. When the beeping starts, Tifa shuts it off immediately. It’s too loud and jarring.

She doesn’t get up, though, instead staring at the ceiling in the hopes it will crumble and bury her forever. That way, she doesn’t have to go. They cleared her a week ago, and she put it off—she’s not ready, Tifa had told them, she can’t go yet.

She still isn’t ready. But she can’t hold out anymore.

Tifa takes a deep breath and tosses the covers off of her, padding to her bathroom. She goes through her routine—brushing her teeth, washing her face, combing her hair. The spot behind her left ear smarts. Tifa slips on a headband, leaning forward and turning her head so the moon and stars tattoo is apparent. The skin isn’t red anymore, but it still itches like hell. Her father had been furious, but she hadn’t cared; she’s old enough to get tattoos without his permission, and she needed something to make her feel better about returning to school. This isn’t her first one anyway.

She washes the area as instructed, hoping it will help with the tingling. As she lowers her hands back into the sink, her eyes catch on the whitish lines inside her arms, and her heart stops.

The emotions she’s tried to keep at bay all morning cascade into her; the anguish she’s felt for years, with no one to talk to about it; her fear of anyone knowing her pain or using it to hurt her again; her anger at herself for what she’s done and at those who have pushed her to this point.

Tifa grips the end of the sink so hard her knuckles turn white, and she squeezes her eyes shut as if it will block out the thoughts. It feels like she’s on the ocean, waves rocking her back and forth, and a sickening gurgle slides up her throat. Tifa swallows so hard it’s painful, struggling against the nausea, the tears, the agony in an attempt to just breathe.

She isn’t sure how long it takes for her to calm down and focus on nothing but her harsh pants. Tifa gulps down again, her breaths coming out in shudders as she meets her gaze in the mirror. The bags under her eyes are so deep she could fall into them. Tifa considers dabbing concealer on the dark circles to make them less prominent. She knows she’s bound to get enough stares—for her long sleeves, for her absence. And the rumors—gods, she can only imagine the rumors. She doesn’t want to give people something else to ponder.

So she splashes her face again, rubs makeup under her eyes, and when she’s satisfied, begins to pull her hair back into a braid. The weather is still warm and sticky, and she doesn’t want to overheat. But the tattoo shines like a beacon against her pale skin, and she reconsiders the style, letting her black locks fall to cover it. It would be another thing for kids to talk about. She doesn’t want to give them more ammunition.

Tifa flees the bathroom for her closet, no longer able to look at herself. She did laundry the day before so she would have plenty of shirts to choose from and picks a thin black one with a pair of jeans. She dresses quickly and grabs her backpack to head downstairs. A shooting pain ghosts through her right arm, and she clamps down on it. Her grip makes it worse, but she digs her nails into her skin as if that can make it stop. It’s gone just as fast as it came, and she peels back the sleeve to look, half-expecting the white scars to be seeping blood. Instead, they scream back up at her like they did a few minutes before, shaming her for her sin. She yanks the fabric back down over them before leaving the room.

The flutter of turning pages alerts her to her father’s presence. She smells the looming stench of cigarette smoke only a few seconds later. Tifa checks her watch. She was hoping he would have left for work by now, but she won’t have to spend too much time with him. Barret should be here soon.

She grabs cereal and milk, pouring herself a bowl and leaving for the living room. Brian Lockhart sits at the counter with a newspaper and a cup of coffee. The offending cancer stick lies in an ashtray in front of him. He says nothing, but she catches him glancing at her as she passes him with her breakfast. His eyes swim with some unreadable emotion; she won’t allow herself to meet his gaze to decipher it, but she wonders if it’s melancholy or hatred.

The house is silent, save for her father’s browsing and her crunching. A few minutes go by before she hears him sigh and get up, folding his newspaper and putting it on the counter. His coffee cup clatters into the sink, and she imagines him picking up his briefcase and suit jacket before heading to the door. His strides lead him to the front, but he pauses. Tifa stills, the hairs on her neck standing up, and she knows he’s watching her.

What dad? What do you want to say?

But the lock turns and the door swings open with a faint creak, then closes. Her anger rushes back and she chews even harder on her cereal. A simple Have a good day at school is too hard. Too hard for him to acknowledge her pain. Too hard for him to acknowledge her at all.

Honking pulls Tifa away from her thoughts, and she swallows her last bit of breakfast. She waves her hand around to try and get rid of the smoke as she washes her bowl and puts it away to dry before racing outside. She smiles at the sight of Marlene hanging out of the window and grasping her hands in the air toward her.

“Tifa! Good morning! Let’s go to school!”

Tifa falters, tripping on the sidewalk, but wills herself to keep her smile on her face. She has to be strong in front of Marlene—her precious girl can’t know of Tifa’s fears. Marlene is the only one with an untainted view of her, and Tifa wants to keep it that way.

Once she slides into the seat next to Marlene, the girl hugs her tight and then clips on her seatbelt. Barret reaches over and ruffles Tifa’s hair as she straps herself in. She notes the concern in his frown lines but keeps up her smile as she pushes his hand away.

“Let’s get the day started,” he greets.

It’s not until Marlene has said goodbye —Have a great day big sis!— and is running up the sidewalk of Nibel Elementary that Barret clears his throat. Tifa knows exactly what he wants to talk about.

“I’m okay,” she tells him before he can get the question out. Her eyes dart to him, then back out onto the road. His frown lines get deeper; he doesn’t believe her.

“Then why are you fidgeting so much?”

The question comes out as a soft rumble, and Tifa looks down at her hands. Her fingers are all tangled together, pulling and straining against one another. She lets go and smoothes her palms on her jeans.

“I saw the way you reacted to Marlene. And Shera told me about what happened on Friday…”

“I…” Tifa tucks her hair behind her ear and inhales. She doesn’t want to be short with him, but she can’t have this conversation. Not now, not when they’re almost there. “I’ll be okay. I… have to go back, right? One day at a time.”

Barret gives her a side-long look that asks if she’s saying this for his benefit or her own. She doesn’t know the answer to that question.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, baby girl. You know that.”

Tifa stares into her lap and her fingers itch to intertwine again. “I know.”

But she can’t, and she hates herself for lying about it.

Barret doesn’t push her anymore, and the last minutes of their ride is quiet. But as Tifa slams the door of the truck and stares up at the school in front of her, she wishes she were back in there with him. At least there she was safe.

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Title: Ghosts

Chapter Summary: Cloud tutors Tifa and learns a little more about her. He also comes to grips with his loss.

Chapter 4: One Last Letter

Trigger warning: referenced domestic abuse

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Three weeks into the school year, Shera decides to test him. That’s what he thinks it is anyway.

Cloud is tapping his pencil against the table when the knock comes. He takes a deep breath as he gets up, exhaling slowly before he answers.

Tifa stands on the other side of the door, one hand letting her ponytail down. Her other clutches the strap on her shoulder, her eyes fleeing his after a few seconds. Her jaw is tight as she chews on her lower lip. Cloud clears his throat.

“Shera told you she’s stuck in a meeting, right?”

Tifa nods. Her gaze doesn’t meet his, instead remaining fixed on the door frame. “You’re supposed to tutor me?”

Cloud moves out of the way to give her space. “Yeah. Come in.”

There is a moment of hesitation before she quickly shuffles past him. Cloud trails her, making sure not to follow too closely.

“Want anything to drink?”

Tifa slides into the breakfast nook and deposits her bag next to her. “Water?” Her voice is uncertain, as if she doesn’t want to impose even though he just offered.

He grabs two glasses and fills them with ice and water before joining her. “It’s pretty hot outside, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” She lifts the glass to her lips and uses the end of her sleeve to wipe her forehead. Tifa doesn’t continue the small talk, so he drops it and opens his math book.

“So, what was the last thing you did with Shera?”

He wants to get started as soon as possible so they have something else to focus on other than the awkward tension. His uncle’s warning rings in his head, and he wants to be nice—Tifa doesn’t seem so bad. He has to see her on a regular basis, and she hasn’t given him any reason to be a jerk, unlike a lot of other people he’s met since coming here. Her anxiety is so palpable that it rubs off on him, but it also makes him want to create a comfortable atmosphere for her to relax in.

Tifa fishes out her textbook and pencil. Her fingers tap the pages of her planner as she scans it to find her last lesson.

“Accuracy and precision.”

Cloud hums, flipping to the correct chapter. “Did you go over bias yet?”

“Uh… no.”

“I think you’re a day behind where we are in class, so I’ve already done this.”

Tifa puts her glass down a little too hard, and he glances up from his notebook.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean for that to sound…”

“It’s fine.” Her hand runs through her thick hair again, shifting most of it over one shoulder.

“I just meant that, since we’ve done this, it should be easy to teach you.”

“Okay.” Her voice is strained, begging him to move on.

Cloud fights the urge to scratch the back of his head. His jitters will make things worse.

“Okay then, uh…” He’s never been a tutor before and wasn’t sure if he even had it in him to teach anyone. Cloud isn’t the most patient person, but that’s because he doesn’t like to deal with other people’s shit. This isn’t the same, and Shera has put her faith in him. He only has to take it one step at a time, beginning with the last thing she remembers.

“Can you tell me about accuracy?”

Tifa’s brow pinches as she puts her eraser between her teeth, her eyes sweeping over her notes. “It’s… it’s how close the measured values are to each other?”

The confusion etched into her features fades into dismay as he shakes his head. Cloud turns his notebook so it is facing her, his finger near the top of the page.

“That’s precision,” he says, skimming over the lines. “Accuracy is how close any individual measured value is to the true value.”

She gnaws on her lower lip again as she follows his hand, reading his notes. “I don’t really… get how they’re different,” she mutters, and she sounds like she’s ready to give up on the topic already.

Cloud sits back in the booth. It’s easy enough to him, but how to show her…?

He recalls something Shera showed in class.

“Are you a more visual learner?”

“Mmm.”

Reaching back over the table for his notebook, he draws a chart with several lines and numbers, before turning it back to her.

“Okay, let’s say the actual, or true, value is 20.” He points to the middle of the line, then drags his finger across. “17 is one of your values. Compared to the other values, since it’s closer to the true value of 20, it’s the most accurate.” Cloud looks up at her, giving her time to ask a question. She only stares at the number line, so he continues. “These values — 10, 11, and 12 — are all relatively close together. So they are more precise.”

Her face doesn’t change; her brows remain pushed together, her mouth set in a firm line. Cloud ponders another tactic, drawing several circles onto the paper.

“Think of these as targets. Bullseye in the middle, right?” She affirms with a curt nod. Cloud draws a few dots spaced around the center. “These values are close to the bullseye, so they’re more accurate.” On the second circle, he draws a cluster of dots near the top of the target. “And these values are more precise because they’re so close together. But they aren’t very accurate because they’re far away from the middle.” Cloud creates a group of dots huddled over the center of the third circle. “These are both accurate and precise because they are all close together and they are close to the bullseye.”

Tifa’s eyes widen as he goes through the lesson, and she scribbles in her notebook. Cloud waits for her response, and when she looks up, comprehension shines on her face. She pushes her notebook forward for him to see she’s replicated his number line with some additions.

“So, if 20 is the true value…” she starts hesitantly, glancing at him, “and I have values of 17, 18, and 19, those are precise because they’re close to each other. And they’d be accurate too?”

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “Because…?”

“Because… because they’re close to the actual value. Closer than my other values of 10, 11, and 12.”

Cloud smiles. “Yeah, you got it.”

Relief washes over her, and the tension melts away as she shifts back. Her lips curve just slightly in satisfaction, but it’s enough that Cloud notices how different her face looks when she isn’t so tense. Her eyes soften, the creases around them diminishing. As her jaw slackens, the roundness of her cheeks becomes more apparent. For the first time, Cloud sees something other than her anxiety - a gentleness that almost startles him. Through their sparse interactions, he was beginning to think she’d never allow herself to unwind around him. Cloud takes a bit of pride in not only getting through the hurdle of the first lesson, but in making her feel a little more comfortable.

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Summary: A collection of one-shots that will serve as previews for future ideas!

Genre: Modern AU, Office Romance

Chapter Summary: The office New Year's Eve party is always a hit. Cloud usually hates these events, but his new assistant, Tifa, definitely makes them more enjoyable.

Trigger warning: BDSM & Bondage

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what are you wearing?

The message alert flashes for the second time, reminding Tifa to pick up her phone and give Cloud an answer. Unfortunately, she doesn’t have one. She stares at the five dresses across her bed, unable to choose which one she wants to put on. Tifa makes a snap decision and grabs the blue off-the-shoulder gown with a bow, racing for the closet. In front of the mirror, she steps into the dress and smooths her hands down the front while assessing herself. The hem stops right above her knees, which she figures might be too short for the cold. The bow in the front is also too big for her liking, so she slides it off of her body and goes back into her room. Her phone flashes again.

angel.

Tifa smirks. Someone’s getting impatient.

i havent decided yet.

She tosses her phone away and selects a long, green dress with spaghetti straps to try on in front of the mirror. The skirt flows well when she turns, but the top of her bra peeks out of the bodice. Tifa adjusts herself, but the bra becomes uncomfortable, so she decides against it and fixes her strapless bra. Her phone lights up as she re-enters her bedroom.

something black.

Tifa scans the dresses she’s picked out - none of them are black.

i wasnt planning on that color master.

i’m not asking.

She pouts, a huff of air pushing her bangs away. Tifa wanted to do something more lively for the New Year’s Eve office party, and she’s worn a black dress before. She sits on the edge of her bed as she types a message.

are you wearing black?

The phone feels heavy in her lap as she looks at the three remaining dresses. Questions sometimes read as a challenge to his authority, which he does not like. She is genuinely curious about what he is wearing, and why he’s insistent on her color choices. As her fingers glide over a burgundy satin dress, the phone buzzes.

yes. would you like to know the color of my tie as well?

Her tongue clicks against her teeth. Cheeky bastard.

it wouldnt hurt, master.

red, angel.

Tifa can almost hear the growl in his throat. She continues to massage the material between her fingers once she puts her phone down. The longer she stares at the burgundy dress, the more she wants to wear it. Tifa snatches it off of the bed and hurries to her closet.

The satin feels lovely on her skin as she slides it up her legs and past her hips, the bodice dipping into her cleavage. The train twirls with a flourish, high slits showing off her legs. The sleeves are off-the-shoulder and stop below her elbow, giving her plenty of room to move around. As she studies the back of the dress, she sees a strip of material hides her bra, creating a window down to her hips. She admires the way her tattoo shows in this dress. The moon shifts between phases down her spine, different sized stars overlaying them. The points of a waning crescent, with half of an eight-pointed star between them, peek out of the top, then disappear. The full moon and the rest of the phases line down her skin amongst the ties of the gown.

Tifa scans her shoes, settling on a pair of black stilettos that emphasize her legs and lift the hem off the ground. As she scans her jewelry, she spots a black lace choker with beads dripping from the front. Tifa puts it on, marveling at the way the beads brush against her collarbone. She carries her shoes to her room and checks her phone.

a car will be there in half an hour.

yes, master. cant wait to see you.

She smirks as she adds a cute emoji to the end of the message and presses send, hoping he’ll forgive her for misunderstanding his instructions.

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Title: Ghosts

Chapter Summary: Cloud meets a few characters at his new school. Will they turn out to be friends? Or foes?

Chapter 3: Friends Wouldn’t Hurt

Trigger warning: recreational cannabis use & referenced domestic abuse

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For the rest of the week, Cloud comes to school, doesn’t say more than he has to, and keeps to himself. Students continue to point and stare, but as the days go on, they lose interest — or at the very least are more discrete. Some of his teachers are welcoming enough. Cloud figures he can stay out the way of the others, and hopefully they will stay out of his.

Cloud squats against the gate on the far side of the field again. A twinge runs down his arm to his fingers, and he scratches it over the brace, wishing he had a smoke. His phone buzzes, drawing his attention.

ZF: yeah man, i was on janitorial duties for two WEEKS!

CS: that’s it? you didn’t get shipped off for a year zack.

ZF: THAT WAS ONLY THE BEGINNING!

Cloud scoffs at his friend’s dramatics. Zack is still the lucky one. He’s back home where he belongs, amongst people he knows and who support him. Cloud is aware Zack’s commanding officers will breathe down his neck for the foreseeable future, but at least the military decided they would deal with him themselves. On the other hand, Cloud didn’t have that kind of protection and had to move halfway across the world. He was already on strike ten, and his former principal had decided Cloud’s behavior wasn’t worth the trouble it brought the school — getting into a fight with the wrong people had its consequences.

A commotion draws his eyes to the baseball mound. Rufus stands in the middle, tossing a ball back and forth with the redhead who always accompanies him. A third kid with a shaved head stands next to Rufus, his attention on the others. They have an audience, and Cloud thinks the high schoolers weirdly resemble a cult. Girls point and wail whenever Rufus flashes a grin or throws a fancy spin on the ball. Boys laugh and watch with reverence. Even the redhead seems to have a little following, a group of girls who can’t take their eyes off of him.

Cloud’s brace gets suffocating as he watches Rufus pitch, and he removes it to rub his wrist and lessen the discomfort. Despite the casual setting and theatrics, Rufus throws with practiced form.

“That’s our team’s star pitcher.”

Cloud startles and stares up at the boy towering over him. He didn’t even hear him come up.

“That right?” he asks. His tone evens out as he regains his composure.

The other boy nods as he sits next to Cloud and takes a pack of cigarettes out of his shorts’ pocket. His long black hair is tied back, allowing Cloud to see his sharp features.

Cloud glances back at his phone to type a quick reply.

CS: you’re such a baby.

“Mind?”

Cloud shakes his head. “Won’t the coaches see you, though?”

The boy shrugs, then pauses before reaching inside of the pack. He looks at Cloud and tilts his head.

“Come on.”

He crosses the field, staying along the fence. Curiosity gnaws at Cloud. Something about the way the boy speaks to him — with ease, like he doesn’t care about Cloud’s status as the troublemaking new kid — makes Cloud want to see what he has to say. So he shoves his phone into his pocket, puts his brace back on, and follows him. There’s another gate on this end, away from the coaches, and the taller kid leads him through it. Cloud looks down the field, wondering if anyone sees them, but everyone is either focused on their own groups or on Rufus and his friends. Even the coaches are watching with something akin to adoration. Cloud isn’t sure if he’s more dumbfounded or disgusted by what he sees. He turns away and continues to follow the other boy.

When they’re halfway down an alley next to the gym, the boy finally takes his cigarettes out. “Cloud, right?”

He smacks the pack against his hand and a smoke pops up. Cloud raises a brow in surprise, recognizing what the boy is about to light up.

The kid flicks his lighter and inhales before removing the joint from his mouth and blowing away.

“Vincent.” He reaches out, the cigarette in hand. “Do you smoke?”

Cloud shoves his hands in his pockets and leans back against the opposite wall. “Not at school.”

“Hm.” Vincent holds the joint between two long fingers, watching his companion attentively. “I guess you’re on pretty thin ice already.”

“Am I?”

Vincent takes another long drag. “Kids aren’t whispering about you just because you’re new.”

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Title: Ghosts

Summary: Forced to move away for his senior year, Cloud is determined to keep his head down and count the days until he can go back home, while also grieving the loss of something important. He meets Tifa, a new classmate who yearns for the day she can leave this miserable town behind and her past along with it. She doubts it will ever stop haunting her, but she has to keep fighting. He only has to stay out of trouble for one year. She only needs to survive.

Chapter 2: Play Nice

Trigger warning: n/a

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A door slams downstairs. Cloud blearily looks toward the entrance of his room as footsteps climb up into the loft. An older man stops at the top of the steps. There’s a hard glint in his eye as he stares at Cloud, who can feel his uncle’s aggravation from across the room. A cigarette smokes out of the corner of his mouth.

“We’re makin’ breakfast. Wash up and meet me downstairs when you’re ready. Don’t keep me waitin’ all morning.”

His uncle doesn’t wait for his response, instead clambering back down and slamming the door behind him. Cloud groans in annoyance, wondering why the hell Cid decided to let him stay there in the first place if he is just going to be an ass. He rubs his face and tosses his legs over the side of the bed, cursing as his foot knocks against a box. It might have been a good idea to clean up a little last night after all. He carefully makes his way through the maze of boxes to the bathroom.

Cloud doesn’t dawdle, showering quickly. He doesn’t care about the old man’s warning; he’s more concerned with getting bogged down in his turmoil. More and more, Cloud wishes he had stayed up last night to unpack and get his emotions in order, get the thinking over with. Now he avoids his gaze in the mirror, afraid to see what his face looks like, pacing as he brushes his teeth. After spitting into the sink, he catches a glimpse of himself.

Dark circles underline his eyes, which doesn’t surprise him considering the lack of sleep he’s been getting. The chaos so visibly raging within his eyes is what alarms Cloud and makes him pause — anyone staring too long would see how much of a mess he is. He can’t go to school like this. In his experience, kids can sense vulnerability and weakness a mile away. He won’t give them the satisfaction of putting that label on him from the start.

Cloud splashes water on his face until he feels more awake and able to control himself. The green flecks near his pupils flash as he swallows down his unrest, his eyes turning hard. He sets his features into a neutral grimace, then removes his eyebrow piercing. He takes out the wolf’s head and two cuff earrings in his left lobe and the one at the top of his ear. They go into a tiny bowl on the sink next to his toothbrush; he typically gets more stares at school when he wears his jewelry, and he’s sure to get enough already.

After taking another close look at himself, Cloud dries off and exits the bathroom.

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I’m rewriting my high school AU, and I’m very excited about it! I will post a section of each chapter here and include the link where you can go read it. It’s going to be a pretty heavy fic that deals with some triggering themes and elements, including self-harm and suicide; mental illness and; abuse and sexual trauma. I'm going to make sure I include a warning at the beginning of every applicable chapter to give you all an additional heads-up for what that chapter contains.

Title: Ghosts

Summary: Forced to move away for his senior year, Cloud is determined to keep his head down and count the days until he can go back home, while also grieving the loss of something important. He meets Tifa, a new classmate who yearns for the day she can leave this miserable town behind and her past along with it. She doubts it will ever stop haunting her, but she has to keep fighting. He only has to stay out of trouble for one year. She only needs to survive.

Chapter: Prologue

Trigger warning: implied/referenced self-harm and suicide.

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Cloud whips his phone out as he walks to the train station and pulls up his messaging app. His heart sinks a little when he sees she still hasn’t replied, but he tries not to think too hard about it. As he waits at the platform, he types a new message.

f: hey, you okay? i know you were stressed a few days ago. you know you can talk to me.

Whirring from the tunnel alerts him, and he looks up just as the train honks its approach. He chews the side of his lip as he stares at his message, then adds more.

f: i have something for you btw. where can i send it?

Cloud puts his phone away as he boards the train. He always loses service in the tunnels of this part of the city, so no point in watching for a reply. Staring at his phone on the train always made his motion sickness worse, anyway. He finds a seat and puts the jewelry bag inside his backpack before leaning his head back and closing his eyes. Out of habit, he counts the stops as he rides, massaging his right arm. It’s throbbing a little, which he’s come to expect when going underground.

Twenty minutes pass before his stop is announced. Cloud waits until the train comes to a complete halt before getting up, steadying himself using the poles, and walking out. As he climbs out of the station and turns toward a familiar cluster of apartment buildings, he lifts his phone out of his pocket and checks his messages.

l: im sorry.

Cloud stops and stares at the screen, brow furrowed. He reads the next message.

l: you were an amazing friend to me. thank you fenny. for everything. im sorry.

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Just being held by her and feeling her love through her touch is all he needs.

Title: Love Through Touch

May 9: Free Day - Favorite Moments

Read it here on AO3.

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If Cloud had to name his favorite moment with Tifa, the best time he’s spent with her, he isn’t sure he would be able to. There are just too many - she brings him so much love and life and joy that it’s impossible to narrow down when the best moment is. But if he had to name the best kinds of moments with her, it would be the ones like this.

They’re in bed well past noon, the sun spilling onto the mattress and warming their bodies. She’s in his t-shirt, snuggled tightly against him with her back against his chest, curving into every mold of his body like she was made to be there. Like he was made to hold her. His arm is wrapped securely around her waist, the fabric of his shirt bunching in his hands as he rubs her stomach. Their limbs are otherwise intertwined; he’s not sure where her legs start and his end. One arm curls back and into his hair, massaging his scalp in lazy, rhythmic motions. He kisses her shoulder, nuzzling his face into her neck as she softly giggles from the embrace.

They fall asleep like this eventually, the warmth of the room lulling them into yet another nap. When Cloud stirs, Tifa does as well, shifting even deeper into his hold. He sweeps her hair away and plants kisses on every inch of skin he can reach until she wakes up and turns over to cuddle into his chest, pressing her lips onto his chin as she wraps her arm around him and begins to play in his hair again. It’s something that has always soothed him, always made him feel calm and safe. He lays another kiss against her forehead as he feels himself drifting, and her breathing evens out as well.

Cloud reflects on those who receive Tifa’s love.

Title: This Woman’s Heart.

May 8: Favorite Relationships

Read it here on AO3.

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Cloud flips a pancake and hears Tifa laugh behind him.

“Did you really? How was it?”

He can hear Barret’s excited shouting from here - Tifa is checking in with him and the kids. They’re staying with him in Corel and are currently on a trip to the Gold Saucer.

Cloud and Barret didn’t always get along. For a long time, Cloud wasn’t sure if they’d ever understand each other. But he’s always appreciated what Barret did for Tifa - taking her in, watching out for her, never abandoning her. Sometimes Cloud regrets that someone else had to take care of her when he couldn’t, even though he knows it’s not his fault, but at least it was someone with a good heart. Barret became like a new father for Tifa - she looks up to him in many ways, even when they disagree. She can be honest with him while also seeing his perspective. And after traveling through Corel a couple of years ago, Cloud can say that he and Tifa finally had a much deeper understanding of this man who claimed he only wanted to save the planet.

Barret had his demons, and he almost let them catch up to him. But he had Tifa, and Cloud, and lead him out of his own darkness.

Tifa always maintains that she owes him her life. She was struggling to find any real direction in Midgar, beginning to feel lost in the sea of people that inhabit the slums. Afraid of becoming another cog in the wheel and that her hatred would consume her. But Barret gave her a purpose. Even though she always had issues with their methods, Tifa loved Avalanche with all her heart because they became her family - Barret, their father and leader, holding everyone together with his strength and will. Barret showed her that she could strike back against Shinra - even though he never knew what her exact motivations were until their journey, he knew she needed to do more. He understood her feelings of helplessness, understood her drive and determination - Barret saw a lot of himself in Tifa. He wanted to help her, so he invited her into the fold.

“Marlene rode that rollercoaster by herself?!”

Cloud chuckles as he adds a pancake to the stack and starts another. Marlene helps keep them all grounded, as precocious and observant as she is. Sometimes when the adults were too busy being stubborn, she would be the one to say what needed to be said. Cloud is grateful that Tifa had Marlene to lean on during their rough period, though Tifa hates to admit how much she depended on the child. But Marlene has depended on Tifa since she was a baby, and Tifa has beautifully filled the motherly role for her. Tifa has done as much for her as she could, raising her like she were her own, and Cloud marvels at the amount of love that radiates from that woman’s heart. He remembered speaking to Marlene about Tifa once he returned home, and she’d told him that she didn’t mind if Tifa depended on her - Tifa had done and sacrificed so much for her that she would do anything to help. And even though Cloud knows that’s no position for a child to be in, he knows it comes from the love that Tifa has put into her.

“You can tell Denzel that I didn’t like that hotel much either… some of the effects are so corny but some are a little too realistic.”

Cloud presents her with a hearty stack of pancakes and a cup of orange juice. Her eyes light up in that brilliant way he’s always loved, and he leans across the counter to kiss her forehead before getting back to work. Her love for the young boy started out of some mixture of guilt and pity - it did for them both. He was a victim of the sector seven plate collapse and Geostigma was killing him. They related all too much to him. But, their love - and Tifa’s especially - blossomed into something neither one of them could have predicted, and Denzel’s adoration for them grew as well. He was like the final piece to their little family, and just when they thought they couldn’t love anymore, they found out they could.

He joins Tifa at the counter as she’s wrapping up her call.

“I love you too! We’ll see you soon. And Cloud sends his love as well.”