Tags: pairing: lightning/tifa

  • ryu19

FFXIII/FFVII/FFVIII-Dance of the Sumo and You and Me

Title: Dance of The Sumo
Pairing: Tifa/Lightning
Prompt: Dance
Rating: PG
Words: 480Collapse )

Title: Sputtering Spark
Pairing: Tifa/Rinoa
Prompt: Fluff
Rating: G
Words: 500

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Watchmen | you are life

The Price That Keeps On Paying - Lightning/Tifa (Final Fantasy VII/Final Fantasy XIII)

Title: The Price That Keeps On Paying
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII & Final Fantasy XIII
Characters/Pairing: Lightning/Tifa
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; sex, violence, war
Prompt: Damage (was meant to be chaos; that got scrapped)
Words:  300
Author's Note: Yet another AU.

Theirs is a courtship conducted in violence. Before they know each others’ first names, they know each others’ reflexes, each others’ strength and speed. They don’t even need to think to anticipate the flash of a bullet or the angle of a kick.

They’re assigned to drag an old satellite back to the base for salvage, and on the dilapidated bridge they share their reasons for fighting.

Government destroyed half my world. My family died. Radiation poisoning.

Took my sister for experiments. She died a monster.

They stare at the stars as they explain, wrapping details around the steely facts until they don’t sound used to it anymore.

The first time they hold hands, it’s on a rusty metal catwalk over a rotten, reeking swamp, and Tifa nearly crushes Lightning’s bones as the taller soldier fishes a bullet out of her comrade’s shoulder.

The first time they have sex, it’s in a hastily pitched tent on an ice cap. Neither of them sees anything they haven’t seen before, between showering communal showers and emergency first aid and frantic disguise-changes in the first nook they can find.

What’s new is the hint of gentleness in Lightning’s lips, the faint glimmer of happiness in Tifa’s eyes.

And then the night is over, and they scramble into their clothes and hope the other three didn’t hear them, and there’s no time to think about anything but the trek and the bombs they have to plant.

When the war is over, they’ll work out what this means. Until then, they’ll hold on to each other however they can.

In a smoldering wreck of a ship orbiting a desert moon, they look at each other and realize that their side cannot win this war.

They cling to each other, because they’re going to try anyway.
Watchmen | you are life

About A Girl [Lightning/Tifa, Lightning & Serah Gen]

Title: About A Girl, Or: Serah Wins an Argument
Final Fantasy XIII/Final Fantasy VII
Pairing: Lightning/Tifa
Prompt: Tifa Lockheart (since the conversation is mostly about her, I figured it fit)
Rating: G
Words:  200
Spoilers?:  None.
Author's Note: 1) Surely this counts, right? 2) This is a sequel drabble to “Champagne and Brandy,” and will hopefully be followed by a fill for the romance prompt. 3)Title shamelessly stolen from the Nirvana song. 4) Yay, dialogue-only fic!
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Watchmen | you are life

In the Service of the Goddess [Lightning/Tifa, AU]

Title: In the Service of the Goddess
Fandom: Final Fantasy VII/Final Fantasy XIII (AU)
Pairing: Lightning/Tifa
Prompt: Ice
Rating: K+
Words: 400
Spoilers?: Sort of, but I'm not sure you'd even recognize it as a spoiler unless you already knew. None for FFVII.
Author's Note: Description-heavy Lightning/Tifa AUs might just become a habit. Is that good or bad?

The guardian staggers along the path, grasping at the rope bolted to the ice-covered cliff beside her. Snow whips into her face almost as painfully as shrapnel; the wind is nearly blowing her off the trail; with every step she has to put all her weight on the rope as her fur-lined boots slip out from under her. The only threat out here is the storm, and that’s the only defense the cavern needs, but that doesn’t matter. The guardian has to patrol. She has to watch for threats to the priestess.


Said priestess waits in the inner chamber, in front of the wall of bluish-white that stands where an alter might. She has said all the prayers but the closing petitions, and those require the presence of the guardian. They also require a cool heart, and the priestess is not in any such mood tonight. She is furious.

One of her hands is resting on the glassy sheet of clouded ice, melting it slightly. The frozen surface is mottled, opaque in most places. She can see almost nothing of its inhabitants. A reddish curl of hair, a glimpse of something that might be blue silk or just more ice. And just a glimpse of their hands, fingers entwined and knuckles white.

They were supposed to be the last sacrifices. The elders were told: Offer these two, and no more, and the Lady of Ice will never again demand your children for her halls. And so nobly they offered to become her sacred relics, so that their people would live in the goddess’s favor, and never again need to offer sacrifice.

Except, of course, that there were more sacrifices. And are.  The sanctuary must have a priestess; the priestess must have a guardian. And so more sacrifices are marched up the mountain. Of course.

Tifa is the seventy-eighth priestess to serve in these caves. Lightning is the hundred and fourth guardian to continue these asinine patterns in weather that would make the gods themselves (except for theirs) cower.

Footsteps behind her proclaim that the hundred and fifth will not be needed yet. Tifa does not turn around. Cold fingers, fingers that have clearly been soaked through the gloves, unfold her fist and twine their hands together. For just a moment, the living sacrifices stand and watch the frozen ones, hand in hand, Lightning’s fingers spread beside Tifa’s on the ice.