warnings: 18+ mdni, short smut fic, very short sorry I was just feeling some type of way, cloud x reader
•
Cloud strife unintentionally gets you going way too often. It’s bad enough that he’s got the sluttiest waist you’ve ever seen. It’s downright envious that he has a body that’s toned and muscular from working out, training, countless missions, carrying that big ass sword around. It should be illegal that he has the prettiest baby blue eyes, and the softest blond hair ever. All of that aside, he’s always flexing his damn arms while in that godforsaken sleeveless top. Sure his hands are put away, but the gloves are really an added bonus to the visual masterpiece that he is. He tenses his jaw when things tick him off. The noises he makes in the back of his throat and his forced out grunts when he’s exerting himself one way or another...you have to excuse yourself because it’s doing things to you that are highly inappropriate, and poor Cloud is completely unaware. He doesn’t deserve to be ogled like that! You’re truly no better than a man.
Unbeknownst to you, you drive Cloud just as crazy. Why do your skirts have to be so short? Is it really so necessary to bend over or squat down while dressed like that? And right in front of him? Your plump thighs and ass in those little shorts, skirts, tiny dresses, he has to will his jaw not to hit the floor when he’s around you. Your skin is always so soft, it appears glossy and moisturized, the way the sun causes it to almost sparkle makes you seem angelic. It takes his breath away. Don’t get him started on your noises. Your quiet little “ah!” “mmph!” “huff!” whenever you’re helping Tifa move things around the bar, or cleaning off the tables and other surfaces. It pitches a very unwanted tent in his pants. He’s always grateful that he’s seated at the bar so at least his lap is hidden away from prying eyes.
With the way things are between the both of you, unspoken longing and hidden mutual desire, it’s no wonder things ended up the way they did. With you, sprawled out on his bed. Quiet apartment growing noisier with your desperate noises. Legs hooked over his heaving shoulders as he frantically eats you out. Neither of you had bothered to even undress, the tension between you had gotten to be too much earlier in the day.
What, with you “sneakily” pressing your backside flush against his front when you were on an unusually crowded train. The way he gripped your hips before you could fully move away from him, because he’d had it, caused a quiet yelp to escape you in the condensed space. You’d gone too far, he felt you squish your soft ass further against him. Although, it was really just to tease him! You didn’t think he’d even notice, hoping to play it off like you needed more room to move around. Like you were just being pushed into him because of the growing crowd and had to squeeze in further.
He knew better though, it was just too obvious now. You shot him a look through your lashes, a demure smile overtook your expression before you eventually tantalizingly bit your bottom lip. Finally! He’d noticed you. Noticed how much you wanted him. You’d worn that short skirt specifically for him because you knew he liked it. You did your hair in a style he complimented you on months prior. Your top was low enough for him to see heavy cleavage from his position behind you.
That was quite enough from you, if the bruising grip he had on you said anything.
It really wasn’t a surprise that you ended up laid out, thighs pressed into the mattress, skirt hiked up to your waist, top pulled up and over your bouncing breasts, while he drilled himself into you relentlessly. Not a care for any of his neighbors in the surrounding units, even though one of them was Tifa, for crying out loud. None of that mattered to either of you. Your wetly smacking bodies, his poor thumping mattress, your hasty shared breaths and sighs and quiet desperate moans. That’s the only thing that mattered, just the both of you as your noises filled the usually quiet space.
Eyes locked onto one another, your hands carded into his fluffy tufts of blond hair. He was rough, inexperienced, but that was okay. It felt great, you didn’t really have anything to compare it to either but you knew in your soul that it was way too good for a first timer. Probably better than anyone with experience. His stamina was crazy, he controlled his waist so fluidly, his wandering hands left a trail of fire in their wake as he felt you up and teased your sensitive spots. It was too good, amazing even, tears pricked your eyes and threatened to spill because you really didn’t want the moment to end.
Later, when things finally settle down after a few rounds of sloppy unforgiving sex, you lay in his arms desperately trying to find a way to save whatever you think you ruined. Little do you know that Cloud won’t be letting you go, not even for a second. He wanted more than your body, he had feelings for you for quite a while he was just unsure how to go about things. Don’t worry though, he’ll make sure to tell you just how he feels in the morning. For the time being, he just needed to hold you against him, and get some well deserved rest.
pairings. cloud strife x tifa lockhart (ffvii: advent children)
tags. 1.4k wc, post-AC, affectionate cloud, domestic fluff, slice of life, pre-established relationship, self-indulgent cloti fic honestly i just love them. divider by anitalenia.
“Tifa, wake uuuup!”
“Wake up, Tifaaa!”
The morning started with an unusual chaos from Marlene and Denzel, both bursting into her room with a lopsided breakfast tray and two proud grins—toast sliding dangerously close to the edge, eggs slightly overcooked, and orange juice trembling in its glass.
Tifa blinked herself awake and accepted it like it was the finest banquet in the world. “Good morning, you two,” she said with a fond smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “What’s all this about?”
Marlene beamed, almost bouncing on her feet. “It’s for you!”
“Me?”
Denzel cleared his throat, his shyness a resemblance of a particular blond with spiky hair, “Because you’re… well you’re our Tifa.”
She let out a small chuckle, tilting her head. “What did I do to deserve all this?”
“It’s Mother’s Day,” Marlene announced as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh…” Right. Mother’s Day. She wasn’t their mother—not in the way that counted by blood, but she had been there. She had fed them, worried over them, stayed up at night when they were sick, listened when they were sad. And somewhere along the way, she’d started thinking of them as hers. Theirs. After everything she’d lost, after all the empty spaces left behind, she couldn’t imagine her life without them.
“Well… thank you, both of you.” Tifa leaned down, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads. “If this is how my day starts, I think it’s already perfect.”
––
When she came down to the bar, Cloud was already waiting by the door in his riding jacket. “You’re coming with me today.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Where to?”
“You’ll see. Jacket.” His tone left no room for protest, but his eyes were warm.
And so, while she was on Fenrir with her arms snugly around him, she couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly the start of something new. It had been a month—or probably two—since Denzel had recovered from Geostigma, since Cloud had begun to forgive himself for the things he couldn’t change. But Tifa had been patient, as she always was, never forcing him forward, never demanding more than he could give. She knew grief didn’t vanish; it lingered in shards and shadows, waiting for moments of weakness to resurface. Relapse was always a possibility.
But as the road stretched ahead, and his steady presence anchored her in place, she trusted that he would always come home now. That he wouldn’t run from her, from them, again. And for Tifa, that was enough.
“You okay there?” Cloud called out, the rumble of the engine almost canceling the sound of his voice. Halfway through the ride, he reached one hand down from the handlebars and found hers where it was looped around his waist, interlacing fingers without a word.
Tifa blinked at the gesture. “I’m okay.”
They stopped at a rise in the countryside, where tall grass swayed under the sun. The air smelled fresh here, untouched by smoke and steel that clouded over Edge. The fields were in bloom, dotted with small white flowers. Cloud steered Fenrir onto a dirt path that led to the perfect spot overlooking the horizon.
“It’s beautiful here,” she murmured in a quiet awe. Her gaze swept over the scene before her—the sky brushed in soft gold, the horizon kissed by the last rays of the setting sun. She couldn’t remember when she had last seen such a vibrant sunset.
She didn’t see the way Cloud was looking at her. To him, the view wasn’t really the landscape, but her. The light in her eyes, the unguarded and peaceful smile on her face. It struck him more deeply than any sight nature could offer.
“Yeah,” he said quietly, eyes glued to the woman before him. “Beautiful.”
While she basked in the warm glow of the setting sun, Cloud was already moving with quiet purpose. From Fenrir’s side compartment, he pulled out a small box, wrapped simply in plain paper, the edges neatly folded as if he’d taken his time to make it just right.
“Tifa,” he called softly and held it out to her. “For you.”
Her brows knit in surprise as she accepted it, carefully peeling away the paper to reveal a silver heart locket. As she opened it, she found two photographs—on one side, Marlene and Denzel smiling together, and on the other, a candid shot of all four of them, their little patchwork family caught in a moment of unguarded joy. In that moment, her chest tightened. But maybe in a good way. The thing was, the locket was more than jewelry—it was something to remind her, every single day, that this was her home, her family, her reason to keep going.
“Cloud, this is…” Her voice faltered, trembling with an emotion she couldn’t quite name. Gratitude, yes, but also disbelief. She had never expected something like this from him. Not a gift. Not a gesture so personal.
He stepped closer, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His hand lingered for just a moment. “You’ve been such a great mom to them,” he said quietly. “You keep all of us together. And I don’t say it enough, but… I cherish you for it.”
Words weren’t needed. Cloud had never been one for long speeches, and she had long since learned that his silence often carried more meaning than anything spoken aloud. Still, he knew better than to let the moment pass without showing her—without letting her feel—that she meant far more to him than she could ever guess. And one best way to do it was to lean in, close the space between them, and press his lips to hers. It was soft at first, tentative in the way only Cloud could be, but it deepened quickly, his arm sliding around her waist to draw her closer.
He kissed her again. And again. Not because the first hadn’t been enough, but because he couldn’t stop himself. They didn’t do this often. Hardly ever, in fact, and maybe that was why it felt so consuming now, as if every unspoken thing between them was being poured into the spaces where their mouths met.
And somewhere in that haze of breathless closeness, Tifa’s mind wandered in a way that almost made her want to laugh. What was Cloud Strife to her, exactly? The father to their adopted kids, though they weren’t a couple? The man she lived with but hadn’t married? The partner she shared a home and responsibilities with, yet whose heart was still something of a mystery? Whatever the word for it was, she knew one thing—he was hers, in ways no label could fully capture.
“Happy Mother’s Day, Tifa.”
––
When they rolled back to Edge later that afternoon, they walked hand-in-hand until they returned to Seventh Heaven. Cloud held her hand a little too tightly, and Tifa’s cheeks were a tinge of pink from the wind and from him.
Marlene and Denzel stopped dead in their tracks at the kitchen doorway, eyes widening as they took in the sight before them—their guardians, standing close, fingers intertwined. Technically speaking, Cloud was a parent to Denzel, and Marlene still had Barret. But right now, none of that seemed to matter.
“Are you two holding hands?” Marlene asked, her grin stretching ear to ear, eyes sparkling with mischief.
Tifa chuckled, giving Cloud’s hand a little squeeze. “We are, sweetie.”
Cloud, ever the master of subtle deflection, gestured toward the kitchen table. “Wanna show Mom your letters?”
The air stilled for a moment. Both kids blinked at him, and Tifa felt her own breath catch.
Denzel’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Did you just call Tifa our mom mom?”
“Well, isn’t she?” Cloud replied, feigning nonchalance. But Tifa noticed the faint blush creeping up the curve of his ear, betraying him. “Go on, get the letters.”
The kids darted off with renewed excitement and their giggles trailing behind them. Before they could return, Tifa tugged gently on Cloud’s hand, pulling him just close enough to press a kiss against his cheek. “I could get used to this.”
“To what?” He glanced at her lips, then her deep red eyes.
“This. Us. Taking care of two kids, and you.”
“Tell me that again when it’s not just two kids anymore,” he said, a faint smirk lifting on the corner of his lips.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
Following Genesis' release from slumber below Gaea's surface, he continues to base his life out of what remains of Banora. The gardens flourish, though the ground is cracked and broken. Life moves on. There is no SHINRA. There is no War. He was proven righteous in his faith, in his pursuit of Her blessings, and as such is bound to fulfill the final act of prophecy:
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
To become the dew that quenches the land
To spare the sands, the seas, the skies
I offer thee this silent sacrifice
He won the struggle against degradation and outlived those who sought to destroy him. Genesis was given everything he struggled for, and yet is restless in his solitude. He is restless in his silence. In seeking the final places where Sephiroth lived and breathed, in seeking the place of his death, in prayer to the cruel GODDESS who has granted him this silence, he is given one final GIFT.
Chapter(s) Posted:
PROLOGUE—WINTER 0011
I. BANORA—SPRING 0011
II. BANORA—SPRING 0011
Tags: Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Comes Back Wrong, Cohabitation, Farmcore, Post-Dirge of Cerberus (Compilation of FFVII), Post-Canon, Food as sex, Food as Lust, Heavily Coded Neurodiversity, Banora Whites | Dumbapples, Banora (Compilation of FFVII), Banora Underground, Gaslight Gatekeep Genesis, Comfort/Angst, Unhealthy Relationships, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Dubious Ethics, Chocobos
Potential TW(s): manipulative or deceitful behaviour (in pursuit of personal/intimate desires)/borderline gaslighting
Current WC: 7.7k (15-25 minute read)
Sample below the cut!
PROLOGUE—WINTER 0011
Iridescent smears of colour bounce around the air bubbles between thin layers of ice. They pop and crunch under Genesis’ boots as he steps. Newly freed water bleeds down over the frozen-over, irregular rock faces on the crater’s edge. He can taste spent fuel in the dry, crisp air.
He wonders how long it has been since someone came so near this frigid hell, how long it would take for their waste to leave.
He decides to run the math later, should he grow restless.
“It does not exactly match the map anymore…” he mumbles to himself, approximating the width of the geological blemish by eye. “It has lost the ‘curving in’ of stone towards the top. If I had to guess, there was likely some sort of…high-strength explosion from inside.”
Taking another deep breath, he stares into the fog thick with drifting snow. The white shroud obscures the crater’s insides.
“At least he will have gone out with a bang.” He chuckles dryly. Wing outstretched, Genesis drops into the gaping crater. Falling with no visibility to speak of, he relies on his intuition for when to brace.
The snow and soot and filth raises halfway up his calves when he hits the ground. The white haze is thicker here; it pools in his lungs. Soft green light filters through the filth on the ground—the lifestream, he figures. The ground is steady, though Genesis can feel the layers of settled particulate around his legs.
With a sweeping gesture forward towards the centre of the crater, Genesis lets free an overcharged firaga. The flames surge forth and lick the edge of the iced over rock. Clouds of falling snow evaporate into steam, carrying the smoke of vaporised contaminants on an updraft. The air is still thick, but clear enough to see for now.
The lifestream bubbles up from cracks in the ground, the residual life energies of the damned wander aimlessly Genesis can hear their whispering in the back of his mind—those final thoughts and cries that linger, imprinted in their life energy for eternity. He doesn’t mind it; that cacophony of pleas is far louder at home. He can see the crater’s floor better now: the destroyed shadows of root-like structures stained into the soot and snow-covered rock; the desiccated strings of some dark unknown ooze; the ripples in the stone where some unspeakable force broke free and upward from the centre of the protected hole.
Genesis’ chest feels tight, tighter still as he approaches the centre of the great crater. He feels as though he did the day he stepped into that horrid chamber in Nibelheim and witnessed that cruel specimen for the first time. It is as though history itself weighs on him; it is as though time itself happens all at once. He can taste that wretched parasite’s suspension fluid in the back of his throat.
The disturbed sediment crunches as he kneels down, reaching forward to brush the clinging snow and ash from a nearly invisible off-white feather. A spot of freeze-dried blood sits at the bottom of the shaft. The vane is unbroken and pristine.
Though it is unclean he brings the sample towards his lips and gently sniffs it like a dog.
It almost smells like him.
Genesis knows his mind plays tricks, but he can smell the rosewater underneath the dust and ash.
He imagines the afterfeather, were it not so cold, would be nearly as soft as his hair used to be. He imagines, he would have found a way to keep himself soft.
It is the closest Genesis has been to Sephiroth in years.
He tips his head back and looks up at the empty white sky through the clear column of air, though the filth begins to drift and swirl into it once again.
Genesis knows that somewhere above this very spot, Sephiroth breathed for the last time. He would have done anything to be there. He would have woken himself from death’s sweet sleep for one last argument, if only he knew.
He kneels as the air fills with snow and particulate, until the taste of ash grows stronger than the whimpers of the lifestream licking at him through Gaea’s broken crust.
The thought, for some reason, couldn't leave Cloud's mind as he drove from Seventh Heaven to the Forgotten City.
He wanted to focus on something else. Anything else. But he was curious.
Kadaj looked really young. So did the other Remnants- Yazoo and Loz, if he was remembering correctly- but Kadaj especially.
Fifteen? Sixteen? He couldn't be older than eighteen. He looked like a baby. When Cloud looked at him, he just thought of Denzel and Marlene, because he just looked so young.
He shouldn't be fighting. The Remnants shouldn't be fighting at all. They should be in a nice house, being taken care of, being loved.
Were these children loved at all?
Did they know what that was? Did they know what love felt like? Why did they take Marlene? She didn't have geostigma, right? So, did they envy her?
Then, Cloud was annoyed. He was going to fight the Remnants. Possibly kill them. And they wanted to kill him, too. They had his kids, and a bunch of other kids like them, sick kids, using their innocent nature and bending it to their wills.
But Cloud still...pitied them.
They look like little Sephiroths. They look little.
(Maybe not the big one, but he certainly acted little, sometimes. The way he cried made Cloud think of Marlene.)
Cloud had to shake away the thoughts as he drove on. But dread struck him in the chest when he thought of Kadaj calling him big brother.
Dread turned into guilt. The guilt made him numb.
(and part two)
Cloud had never felt so light- he defeated Sephiroth for the second time and his body was cured- but he had never felt so horrible at the same time. Not since Aerith.
Kadaj was in his arms, his body growing limp and colder by the second. The boy always had a chill surround him, but this was different. And he was scared. Not once had Cloud seen Kadaj scared (but there was a moment right after he absorbed the Jenova cells where he thought maybe there was a hint of fear in his little brother's eyes) but this was different.
Kadaj was terrified. Cloud didn't know what to do.
This was different.
When Zack died, he was smiling. He seemed happy. There was something in his eyes that betrayed that notion, but Zack died with a smile on his face nonetheless.
When Aerith died, she was already too far gone by the time Cloud got to hold her. Her eyes were closed and she, too, died with a smile on her face.
Kadaj was still alive, but his life was slowly leaving him. His horrible existence of nothing but torment would be over soon, probably.
But how was Cloud supposed to comfort a dying boy?
The word "brother" passed Kadaj's lips like a breath and Cloud's own had hitched in his throat. He exhaled and blinked. He tried to steady himself.
Cloud smoothed Kadaj's hair away from his face. An unconscious action, one he had done to Denzel a few times before when the boy was sleeping. Kadaj had leaned into Cloud just a bit.
Then Kadaj perked up as if someone spoke to him.
"Mother, is that...?"
Was Kadaj crying, or was that the rain on his face.
He slowly reached up as if to grab someone's hand. Cloud's eyes followed. He held Kadaj a little closer out of reflex.
And then, before Cloud knew it, he was watching Kadaj disperse into nothing, returning to the Lifestream, his torment put to an end.
And then, Cloud peered down at his empty hands, and he felt himself begin to cry.
Zack and Cloud end up in a certain corner of Wall Market and proceed to do something of a reverse heist. They obtain thirst trap body pillows of the firsts and sneak them into each other's rooms - Sephiroth ends up with an Angeal pillow, Angeal has Genesis', and Genesis has Sephiroth's. What happens???!!!
The Body Pillow Fiasco
• After borrowing one of Sephiroth's shirts (without asking), Genesis does what all good friends do and launders and irons it for him.
• Knowing he's a busy man (and because Sephiroth would rip him a new one), Genesis decides to just drop it off in Sephiroth's apartment when he's not there.
• He uses the extra key card he stole borrowed from Sephiroth and lets himself inside, humming as he does so. 'I'm such a good friend,' he thinks to himself, 'look at me being the pinnacle of human decency, putting this shirt back in his room where I found it—'
• Genesis stands in the doorway of Sephiroth's room. He has the folded shirt in one hand and holds the door open with the other.
• No no that can't be right.
• Genesis closes the door. He waits a few seconds. Then he swings it open again.
• After confirming he isn't having a LOVELESS-mania-induced-incident, Genesis slams the door shut, throws Sephiroth's shirt onto the nearest surface and books it out of the apartment.
• He sprints across the building all the way back to the 49th floor. Passing SOLDIERs and other personnel wonder why Commander Rhapsodos looks like he's seen the death as he barges into Angeal's office.
• Angeal looks up from his paperwork.
Angeal: Hey, Gen. What's—
Genesis: SEPHIROTH IS IN LOVE WITH YOU.
• Angeal rolls his eyes and goes back to his reports.
Angeal: That's nice, Gen. And did him and I end up in bed, married, or in a polycule with you this time?
• Genesis stomps into the room and throws himself on the opposite chair.
Genesis: I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT FANFICTION!
Angeal: Then for the love of the goddess you so revere, Rhapsodos, stop dumping rum in your morning coffee.
• Genesis tears the papers from Angeal's hands and forces his friend to look at him.
Genesis: I'm not drunk, you oaf! I walked into Sephiroth's room and found an Angeal body pillow on his bed!
Angeal: What were you doing in Sephiroth's apartment?
Genesis: I was returning a shirt I borrowed from him!
• Angeal sits up, looking hopeful.
Angeal: Sephiroth owns a shirt?
Genesis: THAT'S NOT THE POINT! HE HAD A YOU BODY PILLOW ON HIS BED! HE PROBABLY SLEEPS WITH IT OR USES IT TO—
Angeal: Don't finish that sentence, you've described enough of your fanfiction escapes. I get the picture.
• While Genesis rants about how Sephiroth is a sick individual, Angeal starts to feel sad. He's always been Sephiroth's go-to emotional support friend. And the two had always maintained a close and harmonious relationship. If Sephiroth was going as far as sleeping with an Angel body pillow, perhaps he was feeling lonely and using it to feel safer at night.
• Angeal starts thinking about Sephiroth not having any family, being raised in a lab, sent to war when he was still a prepubescent child....
Genesis: And then Zack's going to start dating Strife, and I'm going to end up alone—WHY ARE YOU CRYING?
• Angeal is literally sobbing, hysterical by the thought of Sephiroth wanting to be nurtured and swaddled by him. Angeal's in tears. He may be the imposing silver General, but he's still their baby friend who's younger than them.
• Angeal is up and running out of his office before Genesis could get another word out.
Genesis: Where are you going!?
Angeal: TO LOVE HIM
• When he's alone, Genesis sinks into the seat and groans. "Well if it was that easy I should've sneaked a Genesis body pillow in everyone's beds ages ago. We could've been in the middle of an AGS fic by now."
• Sephiroth may not own many shirts, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know exactly how many shirts he does have.
• And if something goes missing from his apartment, it usually has Genesis's hand all over it.
• Sephiroth had already been to Angeal's apartment looking for a spare key card to Genesis's door. He found it, and he also acquired another curious object.
• Sephiroth disapprovingly grabbed the Genesis body pillow from Angeal's bed and sighed. Oh Genesis. Leaving his rubbish all over the place.
• No worries! Sephiroth will just return the body pillow to Genesis's apartment before Angeal can find it and scold their poor, flamboyant redhead. He already has to go in there to retrieve his shirt anyway.
• Sephiroth tries the key card on Genesis's door and it doesn't work.
• Huh? That's odd. Perhaps it's outdated. No worries! He'll just pry the door open with his sword!
• Sephiroth grabs Masamune with one hand and clutches the Genesis body pillow with the other. Then he casually starts beating the door down with the grace and finesse of an axe murderer.
• Genesis steps off the elevator at his apartment's floor. He's disgruntled, as told by the prominent frown on his face. He cannot for the life of him understand why Angeal didn't find Sephiroth's behavior as creepy and unhinged as he did.
• He needs to go home. Maybe after a hot bath and a drink he'll decide what to do next—
• Genesis stops at the end of the hallway.
• And there's Sephiroth beating Genesis's door down while clutching a Genesis body pillow to his chest.
• Genesis screams. It catches Sephiroth's attention but Genesis is already running back into the elevator: "GET AWAY FROM ME YOU OBSESSED PSYCHO FREAK!"
• Sephiroth watches the elevator doors swing closed, then promptly shrugs and gets back to work.
• Zack and Cloud are standing in Genesis's room. Cloud has the Sephiroth body pillow they're supposed to plant in Genesis's room clutched in his arms
Zack: Uuuh...Spike?
Cloud: Yeah?
Zack: Are you sure we're in the right place?
• There is already a Sephiroth body pillow on Genesis's bed. And an Angeal body pillow. And a Zack body pillow. And a Cloud body pillow next to a Genesis one. All of them piled on Genesis's bed.
Do you have a favorite fic that you've written? Or maybe a top 5?
Hello! This is an interesting question. It's hard to like fics that have been posted for a while... My favourite fics are always ones I'm currently working on, I think. Very changeable and unhelpful answer, there.
This list would change depending on my mood I think, but here are five fun fics on my Tozette account, in no particular order:
Kabu (Naruto, Itachi & Radish (Cat OC), https://archiveofourown.org/series/2663095). This is a series where I kind of just do whatever I want, and what I want is to write about Itachi suffering his genteel decay from chronic illness in a pastoral fantasyland. It's very cottagecore. Soothing.
Be Not Afraid, Behold. (SPN, Sam/Gabriel, https://archiveofourown.org/works/45049897). I like the concept and I actually don't mind the writing in this one. It's SPN but Sam meets Gabriel in his first year at college, which means he's not with Jess at the beginning of the series and she doesn't die.
but friends don't let friends fight zombies on their day off. (FFVII, Sephiroth & Aerith, https://archiveofourown.org/works/10642113/chapters/23545761). This is a chapter in one of those annoying compilation fics, but it's a fun fic. It's a silly short fic from the Crisis Core era in which Sephiroth is forced to take a day off even though his friends are dead/deserters. He meets Aerith.
In Which Hanataro Has a Series of Unfortunate Experiences. (Bleach, Hanataro & Espada, https://archiveofourown.org/works/14765880). I would love to come back to this concept, or this kind of concept, one day. It's a fic in which Hanataro gets stuck in Hueco Mundo, accidentally becomes a vaizard, and begins the process of being adopted as the cute mascot to the Espada after (a canon divergent version of) Aizen's death.
Deadbeat. (Naruto, OFC-centric, https://archiveofourown.org/works/56638825). I like this one because I only rarely manage to pick up and execute a linear plot in a sensible number of words. The pacing is unusually alright for a Tozette fic! Also, I ended up quite liking the character. She's a suspicious and avoidant creature which means she fits right in. :)
The rare times he shared a bed with Genesis were some of the times he actually slept well, slept peacefully. Sephiroth wished those moments could’ve been fit in more but between their busy schedules, the war in Wutai, and anything else that came up, it was difficult to say the least. But the lulls in their schedules did have somewhat of a pattern and that became the closest thing to routine they would get.
It had been a while since Sephiroth had gotten a semblance of good sleep and tonight was supposed to be a night they were spending together. He rolled over and felt the other side of the bed for Genesis. It was cold.
He had forgotten in his sleep deprived haze… Genesis had been MIA for several weeks now. The sterile whites, grays, and blues of Shinra Tower felt at least a little warm when Genesis was around. But now, even his own bed felt uninviting. And he was cold; so cold…
Sephiroth wraps himself up in the blankets tighter and rolled away from the empty space. He reaches for his PHS on his nightstand and flips it open, scrolling to Genesis’s contact. He hesitates for a moment before pressing CALL. He doesn’t dare let himself hope, especially not at this time of night but still, anxiety and desperation rush through him for Genesis to pick up.
