today was just overall bad vibes so instead of working I drew this sketch of Rufus and Cloud boinking
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today was just overall bad vibes so instead of working I drew this sketch of Rufus and Cloud boinking
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
TREAD SOFTLY - TheGoldenAppleofAsgard
Chapter 12 is up!
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Fandom: Final Fantasy 7: Remake
Pairing: Rufus Shinra x Cloud Strife
Rating: Explicit (Please note all of the tags)
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“Look at me.”
Cloud did as commanded on the authority in his voice alone, which was surprising, and Rufus gentled his grip around the sharp cut of his Little Bird’s jawline, musing at the newfound pliancy.
Cloud had been both strong and capable before Reno had brought him down, able to fight confidently, make decisions and follow them through, even if they were to his own detriment. There was a lot of strength in his character when they had first met that seemed to be mostly absent. Perhaps the shadow of it was there, but the entirety of it had not yet been rediscovered, though it seemed it would only be a matter of time.
Even after everything, loss of memory included, Cloud had been snarky to the point Rufus would have sorely liked to tumble him protesting over his knee until he showed some respect.
Perhaps, if that mouthy little creature returned, there would be time for that later.
Perhaps he would provoke it on purpose, just for the pleasure of educating his Little Bird on how to keep his petulance in check.
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Next Time You Call
Chapter 22: Dalliance Word Count: 94,931 (total) Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 (post Advent Children) Pairing: Cloud Strife/Rufus Shinra Rating: Explicit
“Shit!!”
“What?” Reno asks dumbly just as Cloud’s legs finally regain some mobility.
He stumbles forward, falling to his knees to crawl into the gap under the desk where the basket should be. It’s a completely superfluous act, but his brain feels like sizzled meat and he can’t seem to get enough oxygen into his lungs.
“It’s–”
He clambers around, presses a cheek to the floor just so he can double check under the bed. Nothing there but the sword Rufus gave him what seems like eons ago.
“Fuck!”
“Oh, this doesn’t sound good,” Elena blurts out from somewhere up above.
Cloud stands, searching furiously in every corner, every nook, every cranny. He throws his little closet door open, knowing it won’t be there but looking anyway.
“It’s gone, holy shit, it’s gone,” he finally utters aloud as he tries to keep himself from fainting.
“What do you mean, gone?” Reno barks at him, but Cloud already has his phone in hand as he sails out the door and down the hallway, leaving the two Turks befuddled in his bedroom.
As he tosses his old office and even peeks into the other bedrooms, Reno and Elena catch up to him, their candor less desperate but increasingly uneasy. The basket wouldn’t have been moved–the kids don’t bother with his space and he’s been keeping the door locked lately anyway in case Tifa passes through to clean up or poke around for something if she takes a call on his behalf while he’s out. Even so, the minute hope that it was simply misplaced has him frantically scouring until, with a heavy feeling in his chest, he has to meet the two Turks back out in the hallway where they wait with arms crossed. It’s clear they’ve already recognized the gravity of the situation despite allowing him his spiral from denial to acceptance.
“It’s gone…” Cloud remarks a final time, his gaze distant and cast down at the floor between them.
“Yeah, you said that already,” Reno quips unhelpfully. Cloud is too anxious to care.
Without answering, he pushes past the both of them and rushes downstairs, completely oblivious to Lucy’s concerned reaction from behind the bar as he visually combs every inch of the bar and dining area. Suspicion has his senses sharpened, his blood pumping fast and hard. Suddenly, he’s out on the front stoop, scanning the intersections and alleyways, the neighboring buildings, the few people walking the street. He turns back to face the front of 7th Heaven, half expecting to see a shadowy figure perched on the roof or disappearing behind the back. It’s not until Reno and Elena appear in the doorway that he’s able to take a deep breath and pull himself together.
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For the writing prompts (no pressure!): Rufus/Cloud and something about Rufus' big fucking gun maybe? :3c
Cloud is the perfect picture of silence as he watches Rufus from across the room, polishing the dual barrel of his beloved sidearm with near surgical precision. Flames from the fireplace situated between them lick outward, as if equally drawn to the sight. Rufus has an almost eerie grin curling his lips ever so slightly as he buffs, lifts the weapon to his eye-line, lets the light reflect off of it just so until he finds another imperfection to rub into oblivion. It’s clear to Cloud that this work satisfies him.
“I never let anyone touch it, you know,” Rufus says suddenly, pride brimming from him precariously, like an overfull cup threatening to spill if someone takes too deep a breath near it.
Cloud stirs from where he sits on the plush carpet, but only barely. Rufus rises soundlessly from his perch on the leather seat opposite to carefully replace the gun to its perfectly balanced mount on the mantle. The fire seems to recede then, as if it was waiting all the while for its companion.
Rufus turns to Cloud, the shadows flickering across his smile, demented. Cloud shifts in place to meet his eyes, his heavy chains softly clattering.
“Save for the bullets, of course.”
Heich, what kind of hobbies or recreational activities you think Rufus would pursue? Because in fics, whatever he is presented doing, is usually work or for work or at least work related. That man needs a break.
(For reasons I can't explain my brain decided *mountaineering, bc Cloud would make a great mountain guide and could join him* and that was that.) But I was wondering what you think.
Nothing team related. No team sports, he would pick something that requires him to rely solely on himself, and I think that has more to do with ego and vanity than a desire to challenge oneself. Maybe a one-on-one sport. Like tennis. But I could see a young Rufus fencing or doing kendo. Something like that.
Oh my god, skiing. Can’t you just picture it? The most expensive gear in mostly white against the snowy mountainous backdrop? Can’t WAIT to see his après ski fits! We already know Cloud would make a good winter sports comrade…
I can see him having bouts of being an avid reader, but only in solitude. Like in bed when suffering insomnia. It’s not a ‘hobby,’ per se, he almost treats it like a guilty pleasure. A dirty secret.
It’s okay not to know everything, Rufus!
I randomly read a strifra omegaverse fic the other day (it included other ships, too) & it was a wild ride but also shoved me inexorably into omegaverse au headcanon hell with Rufus & Cloud…the last thing I need is another distraction
Next Time You Call
Chapter 21: Absence Word Count: 90,793 (total) Fandom: Final Fantasy 7 (post Advent Children) Pairing: Cloud Strife/Rufus Shinra Rating: Explicit
Midday, when the sun is high and the sky is clear, Kalm’s clock tower is plainly visible from the highest functioning stretch of roadway still standing post-Meteorfall. Cloud sits atop Fenrir, silently searching because it’s the easiest waypoint to utilize in order to find WRO HQ, Reeve’s preferred base of operations.
Once oriented, he fires up the engine again and closes the short distance to the exit ramp that leads down into the winding streets below. The building itself is fairly nondescript, but it stands apart from most structures in Edge by looking like it had a blueprint to begin with and not like it only came to be thanks to tireless remodeling and salvage.
After pulling into the roundabout that leads to the main entrance, he parks the bike and spares it a backward glance on his way through the revolving glass doors. The headquarters staffing may appear scant upon first blush, but he’s come to learn that the building is practically teeming with armored guards at all times, they simply monitor from behind closed doors and deploy minimal security on the ground floor. The overall effect is somewhat eerie, as if it's been made to look purposefully liminal.
Cloud approaches the information desk at the center of the lobby, a perfect circle encased in tempered glass that seems to rise straight up to the ceiling. A single young woman in a pencil skirt mans the computer there, typing away with her deep brown eyes glued to the monitor before flicking them up and flashing him a smile at the last second. She greets Cloud warmly, likely remembering his face from prior visits, and radios Reeve’s security detail before sending him off to the elevators.
Reeve fancies the WRO a more egalitarian, more moral alternative to Shinra, so the headquarters is meant to be more welcoming, less exclusive. However, he still can only be found at the top floor, hidden behind a gaggle of guards and passcodes.
“Cloud!”
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If you still want RuCloud headcanons:
I like to imagine that after they get together Rufus, as much as he is always about control and being in a position of power, has no problem giving Cloud his freedom or letting him roam around the planet, because he likes the validation it gives him everytime Cloud returns to him on his own. That Cloud choose *him* out of free will and not some possible sense of duty or because Rufus has something to hold over him (like for example with the turks).
(He might still keep an eye on him with a tracker though, not that Cloud needs to know.)
I think this is the thing that eventually chips away at the initial possessiveness that characterizes Rufus’ infatuation. Cloud returns to him, for one reason or another, of his own free will. Again and again. That tightness in his chest loosens, releases. The inevitability of jealousy simmering constantly beneath the skin cools. He has to admit to himself that control isn’t the foremost thought in his mind. He has a realization all his own. He is very much a man capable of affection for the sake of it.
I think Rufus is a romantic. I think he’s in denial about it. There’s an intensity to him that, if focused for different reasons, would translate easily to doting fondness. I think about them in their 40s and beyond a lot. It’s not hard for me to imagine their orbits growing closer with age.