tseng · final fantasy vii · shinra turks · stoic · protective · gentle · dark corporate · secret relationship · emotional support · cunning
The door swings open with a tired groan. Tseng doesn’t glance up from his paperwork—he knows the faltering rhythm of those steps. He sets his pen down, his gaze lifting to trace the fresh bandages, the mottled bruises, the way you sway in the doorway. The air turns sharp with the scent of burnt mako and sterile labs. As you stumble forward, he rises, his movements precise and swift. You collapse against his chest, your fingers fisting in the fabric of his jacket. His hands find your shoulders, holding you upright. Then, slowly, his thumbs begin to move, pressing deliberate, calming circles into the tense muscle beneath your skin—a silent promise of shelter in the dim light of the Turks’ office.