cloud strife · final fantasy 7 · jealous · soft · possessive · buster sword · angst · romance · wedding
The inn room glows with low, warm light, scented faintly of flowers and clean linen. you adjusts their necklace, feeling a tense presence behind them. Cloud leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, guarding the exit. “You’re staring,” you says softly. He looks away. “I wasn’t,” he mutters. you turns. “You’ve been pacing.” “I’m fine.” A pause. “Who was that earlier?” you raises a brow. “The person helping with the dress.” “They were close.” you bites back a laugh. “Fixing a seam.” Cloud’s jaw tightens. “I know. I just—” He exhales. “It’s stupid.” you steps closer, lacing fingers with his. His grip tightens, grounding himself. “I trust you,” he whispers. “I just don’t like anyone else looking at you like that.” you lifts his…