↳ ffvii (final fantasy seven) one shots || vol. 1

hello || scenario - biggs

anonymous asked: Is it possible for you to write a second part for the angst biggs and reader? Maybe reader finding him at the Leaf House? ^ - ^

☼

a/n: first part is called goodbye :)

☼

The relief you feel is inexplicable. Tears pour down your face as you slump down beside his bed, cupping his hand in your own, broken sobs leaving your lips. You barely feel Barret's heavy hand coming down on your shoulder in reassurance, and the only thing that makes the moment feel real is when you press your forehead against his hand and it feels so real. The memory of him saying goodbye to you on the pillar is so raw, and you truly thought he had lost his life in that moment. But things were hazy after that final goodbye, and you were told by Barret that some rubble had struck your head, and he had found you in a temporary hospital hours after the plate fell. Biggs, Jessie and Wedge were all missing, but Wedge was soon found, and now Biggs too, but the future doesn't look as bright for Jessie.

"He's alright." Barret's words do little by the way of comfort, and perhaps they're meant more for him than they are for you, and you can tell his squeeze of your shoulder is just a way for him to stop bursting into tears himself.

The housemaster is talking, reiterating the doctor's words to you, but it all falls on deaf ears as you lift your head to look at Biggs again. It seems so unreal, and you can't resist reaching out to touch his face. His skin is soft, like it always is, not a single blemish in sight. He's real, he's alive, and he's right beside you.

Soon, it's just the two of you. Barret had coaxed you into a chair beside Biggs's bed, and you hadn't let go of his hand at any point. Fatigue was getting to you, the adrenaline of god knows how many hours finally running thin, and your head was pounding from the amount of times you've cried.

You feel the bed shift, and fingers run through your hair, and for a moment you think it's Tifa or Barret, but they're too small to be Barret's fingers, but not small enough to be Tifa's, and the way they gently scratch at your head is familiar. Your head shoots up so fast your neck cricks, but you ignore the pain and fling yourself into Biggs's arms, and he grunts as you land on top of him, sobs shaking your body again as you cling onto him. He winds his arms around you, his grip as tight as it can be in his weakened state, and he rubs a soothing hand up and down your back.

When you're calm, he tilts your head up so you can look at him, and after a pregnant pause, he leans forwards as best he can to press his lips to yours. You press forwards into the kiss, and he hums happily when you do, one hand tracing up your side to cup your cheek.

Nothing can ruin this moment, Biggs thinks as he pulls you impossibly closer, relishing at the feeling of your hand splaying across his chest. He's alive, you're alive, and the both of you are in love, and nothing or no one can take you away from each other.