itwasalwaysjustred

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #17: Destruct

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 16: CRANE

Gen; no warnings

It wasn’t that Nhagi’li had never met anyone taller than him. Even back home, there were Keepers who grew tall and broad like trees, and as soon as he left home for Limsa, he saw the full breadth and height of the other races. It was just that, even in the city, he didn’t have to crane his neck to talk to every person he met, the variety making it more of an every fourth or fifth person kind of thing.

Ishgard, though, is another matter entirely. The Elezen make up the vast majority of its citizens, and those that aren’t Elezen are some of the tallest Hyur Nhagi’li has ever had the (mis)fortune of seeing. It makes holding everyday conversations impossible, the redhead forced to squint up at people while they loom imposingly over his head, adding to the already present feeling that Ishgardians looked down their nose at him, 

He can’t complain to Alphinaud, so he’s taken to moping in The Forgotten Knight. Sadly, though, that’s starting to also become a No Complaint Zone. Case and point: 

“Gods damned dhamels, the lot of them,” Nhagi’li grumbles into his ale, and beside him Tataru very nearly growls under her breath. Given her stature, the Keeper wisely keeps the rest of his comments to himself.  

But the point still stands.

Gods damned dhanels.

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #16: Crane

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 15: THUNDEROUS

Gen; minor HW spoilers

Hraesvelgr and his siblings all speak with a voice like thunder, their every word resonating deep within Nhagi’li’s very bones, nearly shaking him to the core. It’s not just words that echo in him, but feelings too, old and primal and ferocious in their very nature. Dragons are prideful and powerful; what they feel, they express without hesitation and without a care for how large they are in comparison to every other creature that walks Eorzea. It is like conversing with a mountain — if a mountain could fly, breathe fire, and got its tail in a knot whenever you suggested it might need help with a problem or it was taking things a little too seriously. 

(Okay so maybe not quite like a mountain. The little details of the comparison were unimportant in the long run.) 

Though he had understood them before, it was not until he drank deep from the power of Hraesvelgr’s eye that his own dragon, the dragon of his soul crystal, found a voice of its own. Though he could not quite match the boom of the larger dragons, the resonance was still there whenever Nhagi’li let his voice dip into the draconic, rolling the words off his tongue and letting himself drop into the guttural growl that made even the most mundane of sentences sound threatening. 

It’s a bit of a wasted skill, to be honest, given how few beings actually understand it, but Nhagi’li digs it all the same. For one thing, it really improved the sound of his growl. For another, it meant he didn’t have to think up anything meaningful if he wanted to insult anyone. 

“Your mom” was just way more threatening sounding in draconian than in common, you know? 

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #15: Thunderous

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 14: COMMEND

Gen; Shadowbringers minor spoilers

"I hope you don't expect me to commend you on your persistence, hero."

Nhagi’li ignores the jab as he hauls himself up the last inch onto the branch Emet-Selch has chosen as his “hiding” spot, setting himself comfortably in front of the taller man. The Ascian really shouldn’t have climbed so high if he was going to do such a piss-poor job of concealing himself; then again, maybe he wanted to make it hard to reach him, even if he could be so easily spotted. He’s like a cat in that way, Nhagi’li can’t help but think. He courted attention by pretending to loathe and ignore it. 

“You didn’t let me thank you properly for rescuing Y’shtola,” the Keeper states bluntly, pushing his way into Emet-Selch’s space. Normally, Nhagi’li has some sense of self-preservation. He really should know better than to challenge an Ascian, by himself, alone where nobody can aid him if Emet-Selch decides he’s had enough of his helpful charade. But despite what common sense dictates, the feelings that Nhagi’li gets through the Echo — tantalizing, layered slivers that taste like the first mouthful of expensive wine — encourage him to push his luck. Emet-Selch could probably snap him out of existence if he wanted to, but instead of doing anything of the sort he lets Nhagi’li crowd him up against the trunk of the tree, face a mask of bored displeasure. 

“Properly?” the Ascian sneers, but he hasn’t pulled away yet. The thigh beneath Nhagi’li’s palm, though, is incredibly tense, betraying his feelings on the matter. Or at least, some of his feelings. Does the proximity make him uncomfortable? Or is it something else? If he keeps this up, will Emet-Selch stare at him like he does when he thinks the redhead isn’t looking? Or will he bring his walls up even higher until even the Keeper’s Echo will shed no light on what goes on behind his eyes. 

“Mhmm.” Nhagi’li hums as he leans in closer still, and this close Emet-Selch’s eyes are a pale, haunting yellow. His instincts bristle a warning, gooseflesh breaking out across the back of his neck, but the Keeper holds his nerve against the intensity of the Ascian’s stare. He licks his lips, perhaps the oldest trick in the books, and Emet-Selch raises both eyebrows at him in a gesture so mundane it makes Nhagi’li snicker. Alright, alright. He won’t push his luck any further. 

"Thank you…"

Wiggling his ears, he leans in to rub his nose against Emet-Selch’s, eyes half-lidded and touch gentle. The Ascian heaves a put-upon sigh, but he doesn’t make any move to stop Nhagi’li, letting him brush their cheeks together, allowing the Keeper to scent the soft skin just beneath his jaw. The vessel itself is near scentless, probably smells like nothing but Garlean metal and the fibres of his clothes. But beneath all that, the scent of something novel lurks like the deepest of shadows, all the more tantalizing because Nhagi’li doesn’t quite know what it is. 

(It smells like something old. Something familiar. Something he should know like he knows the scents of all his friends.) 

He pulls back to find Emet Selch staring at his face, his expression almost vulnerable in its openness. Nhagi’li stays completely still as the Ascian searches for—something, something important he can only assume, gaze trailing over his freckles and his scars and the little curl of his smile. When he doesn't find whatever he's looking for, though, Emet-Selch's lips press together into a thin line of disapproval, and he looks away. The Echo flares briefly with a mixture of emotions so tangled Nhagi’li doesn’t have time to parse them, before the Ascian is waving a gloved hand towards him in a clear shooing motion. 

“Yes, yes, you’re quite welcome. Now do me a favour and leave me in peace.”

Nhagi’li snaps his teeth playfully at the hand just to make Emet-Selch’s frown deepen, but he does as he’s bid, aware of the line he’s walking. 

One day, though. One day Nhagi'li is going to get a proper read on this strange man, and finally figure out why he looks at him like… like…

(Like he loves him so much it hurts and yet would strangle him with his bare hands.)

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #14: Commend

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 13: ONEIROPHRENIA

Gen; HINTS OF SHB SPOILERS INTO 5.4; Ardbert/WoL

“Why do I get the feeling that something isn’t working?” 

Ardbert’s voice is gentle, but chiding, and Nhagi’li feels rough hands reach under his armpits and start to haul him upwards. Decidedly not in the mood to get back up, the Keeper goes completely limp, and he feels more than hears the Hyur huff behind him. 

Though he cannot feel it here, in this liminal space where his fellow Warrior of Light still exists, Nhagi’li knows that his physical body aches, unused to the strain of wielding a giant axe. He’d meant to pick up the weapon so that he could better defend his companions but as usual, things refused to go according to plan. Out in the real world he’s sure he’s unconscious right about now, having taken an unmitigated blow with more confidence than he should have. Y’shtola will have his head when she learns of this particular venture, and perhaps G’raha’s as well for agreeing to let him try. 

(It shouldn’t have been a problem; between G’raha and the twins he had three healers with him! And yet somehow…)  

“Your friends are calling you. You’ll give them a fright if you don’t go back..”

That’s a low blow and Ardbert knows it. Predictably, Nhagi’li falls for it anyways, opening one eye to glare balefully up at him. The Hyur merely smiles innocently and pulls the Keeper to his feet, steadying him when he sways. His hands are big and warm where they hold onto Nhagi’li’s biceps, and despite his concerns, he doesn’t seem in any hurry to let the miqo’te go. His thumbs stroke over the leather of Nhagi’li’s armor, slow and steady as a heartbeat, and Nhagi’li is struck with a familiar-unfamiliar echo of fondness, of longing, of an ache that never truly went away. He swallows around the unexpected lump in his throat, flattening his ears even as he reaches up to put a hand over the one Ardbert has resting on his arm. 

“You do it.” 

Ardbert blinks at him. “Beg pardon?”

Nhagi’li presses on, undeterred. “You do it. You’re a warrior, you know your way around an axe I’d say. Use it. Use me.” He curls his fingers in the lapel of Ardbert’s armor and urges him down, until he can feel the man’s breath on his face as he whispers the final words mere inches from Ardbert’s lips. The Hyur’s eyes are dark as he stares into Nhagi’li’s face, gaze searching and hungry. Nhagi’li finds himself wishing fervently that they’d been able to do this sooner, that they hadn’t both sacrificed so much, that this is the only piece of the man that he still has left. 

“Use me,” he repeats, and Ardbert surges forward to kiss him, his consciousness lapping against Nhagi’li’s like warm ocean waves, powerful but soothing, and the Keeper lets himself sink into it. It’s not a true possession, but it will grant him the respite he craves, and ensure that his companions make it out in one piece. He’ll have to thank Ardbert later, maybe finish what the Hyur started. 

The thought makes them both smile near identical smiles, and Nhagi’li closes his eyes for a moment of peace.

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #13: Oneirophrenia

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #12: (you pick!)

Today is an Extra Credit/Make-up Day!

Technically, there is no prompt today. Instead, you can go back and write something for an older prompt that you weren’t able to get to. If you’re already all caught up, or if you feel like writing two things today (an old make-up prompt + this prompt), you can choose your own word to write to today for extra credit!

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 11 - PREACHING TO THE CHOIR

Teen; WoL+WoL modern AU shenanigans

Regret is not a new feeling for Nhagi'li; this level of regret, though, is one that doesn't visit him very often.

The diner table is lukewarm beneath his cheek, the flickering lights and slowly turning creak of the fan doing nothing to ease his pounding headache and the roiling of his stomach. Apparently he and Reikh'a had gone a little too hard last night, both the open bar and the guest list at the wedding of one of his distant family members providing more than enough incentive for them to drink more than they should have. Now they're both paying for it, lounging against each other in a crappy diner, mostly dressed and feeling absolutely miserable. Normally, Nhagi'li would be complaining, but Reikh'a's eyes haven't moved for ten minutes from the same spot on the menu, so Nhagi'li feels like he'd be preaching to the choir.

Still, though, they can't linger here forever. They have a long drive home back to Reikh'a's tiny apartment, on a motorcycle no less, and Nhagi'li knows they need to absorb as much of the lingering alcohol in their system with some greasy food. That, and their waitress keeps giving them the Eye, and Nhagi'li doesn't want to be kicked out.

With a colossal sigh, he heaves himself up off the table and drapes himself against his friend, throwing his leg over one of Reikha's thick thighs and snuggling against his side. Reikh'a obligingly turns the menu so he can read it, and Nhagi'li peruses it with half-hearted interest. That is, of course, until his gaze falls on a single line of text.

Jackpot.

Nhagi'li warbles Reikha's name, the cat one that's short and easy on his compromised tongue. He gets an answering chirp for his troubles, but he knows he has his friend's attention. Good, this is the perfect set up, and Reikh'a is too hungover to see it coming. He wiggles in closer, waits until Reikh'a has sleepily swallowed another mouthful of awful coffee, before he croons, 

"Does Daddy want the big breakfast?"

Reikh'a still chokes, and the wheezing sound he makes sets Nhagi'li off, the redhead breaking down in near hysterical giggles. Maybe he's still drunk, but maybe Reikh'a is a little bit too, because he bursts out laughing as well, buring his face in Nhagi'li's hair as he tries to contain himself. 

Beside their table, their waitress clears her throat politely. 

"Two big breakfasts!" Nhagi'li calls to her, before Reikh'a can suggest something more reasonable, and collapses back into the booth clutching his sides. Reikh'a s complaint is lost between giggles as he succumbs to his fate.

What's one more regret for the day, after all? 

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #11: Preaching to the Choir

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 10: HEADY

Teen; Aymeric/WoL with implied Aymeric/Estinien

His visit was unexpected.

Nhagi’li knows that he ought to have sent a letter ahead, but that wouldn’t have been any guarantee that Aymeric would have been there to receive him, no matter how readily the man would have postponed all his duties to see the famous Warrior of Light. He’d at least done the courtesy of checking in with Lucia to make sure that Aymeric’s schedule was free, ignoring the comment about how she would ensure they would not be bothered early the next morning, before sprinting off to the De Borel manor. There will inevitably be gossip, because no matter how stealthy the Keeper is, he simply stands out like a sore thumb in Ishgard, but he can’t quite bring himself to care. This place is one of his many homes, a place he helped reforge into something beautiful, and if he wants to enjoy a little one-on-one time with a fellow world-shaper, well.

Let them talk. 

He knows Aymeric keeps the window unlatched too, for their mutual friend of course, and he startles the Elezen in the middle of preparing for bed. Nhagi’li feels a small flicker of guilt at catching him in such a private moment — not because of his partial nudity, but because Aymeric only ever let his burdens show when he was truly alone. The droop of his shoulders, the bags under his eyes, and the way in which he lingered taking off each piece of his armour like it requires great effort all spoke volumes about his mood. Though Nhagi’li may be a slayer of monsters, there’s not much he can do about the kinds of monsters Aymeric faces. He does know a few ways to help the man relax, though, and he focuses on that as he hops into the room and shuts the window behind him. 

“Don’t stop on my account, I’ll make myself comfortable!” Nhagi’li crooned, eyes already fixed on Aymeric’s Very Warm and Comfortable bed. His layers are easy to shed, piling messily on the floor as he buries himself beneath the covers, inhaling deeply as he does so.

“Pray—my friend, if you would, I shall have—Nhagi’li.”

Outside his new nest, he can already hear Aymeric fretting, but he chooses to ignore him, burrowing deeper into the warmth and reacquainting himself with the familiar smells he’s come to associate with Ishgard and, more specifically, Aymeric. He knows why Aymeric protested; though these sheets hardly need to be changed to accommodate Elezen sensitivities, to a miqo’te they are a veritable treasure trove of information. Aymeric has been stressed lately, worried perhaps a little more than usual, but he’s also been equal parts proud and frustrated. Underneath it all is the heady smell of their mutual friend, and the Keeper doesn’t need to be a miqo’te to know what they’ve been up to. Nhagi’li drinks it all in, rubbing his own scent into the mix as he tamps down on the urge to start purring. 

He’s missed this home of his. Next time he won’t stay away so long if he can help it. 

Aymeric clearly tired of his antics and joins him underneath the covers, dressed properly for bed now and wearing a look of fond exasperation. He opens his mouth, presumably to scold Nhagi’li, but the Keeper beats him to it, wiggling towards him so he can cuddle up against the Elezen. 

“I see Estinien has been by. Did you help him work out his frustrations or yours?” 

Predictably, Aymeric flushes, but he pulls Nhagi’li to him anyways, his touch equal parts gentle and reverent as he strokes the Keeper’s cheeks. The gesture makes Nhagi’li’s ears wiggle in pleasure as he rubs his face into the touch, tilting his head to beg for a kiss. Aymeric always makes him feel cherished, especially when they’re alone like this, hidden from prying eyes and wagging tongues. Nhagi’li hopes that he’s able to return even a fraction of that same affection, to give Aymeric the strength he needs to keep doing what must be done. Despite what the Elezen proclaims to anyone who will listen, the Keeper knows it is Aymeric who fights the harder battles and will continue to do so long after Nhagi’li has run out of monsters to slay. He will need the Scions’ continued support; Nhagi’li just needs a cuddle every now and again. 

Aymeric, unsurprisingly, obliges his request, but not before he pinches one of Nhagi’li’s cheeks, laughing into the kiss as Nhagi’li’s tail thumps loudly against the mattress in irritation. 

“He says I spoil you,” the Elezen murmurs softly, his voice coloured with humour when he breaks the kiss. His thumbs continue to caress the Keeper’s cheeks despite his words, and the accusation makes Nhagi’li laugh. He rolls them over so he can sit astride Aymeric’s lap, the sheets falling off his head and pooling around his waist as he stares down at the man, basking in the warmth of his open and honest affection. Aymeric truly is too beautiful a man to belong to Nhagi’li, but who is the Keeper to refuse such a gift? 

Putting his hands flat on Aymeric’s chest, Nhagi’li leans down so he can rub their noses together, not quite able to keep a straight face as he asks, “Does he now? Mayhaps you do. Shall I spoil you instead tonight?” 

Aymeric’s breath hitches and Nhagi’li decides that he’s had more than enough talking for the night. 

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #10: Heady

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 9: FRIABLE

No spoilers; gen

As his self-appointed language tutor, Alphinaud had taken his education Very Seriously, most notably after it became clear in Ishgard just how far behind the Scions Nhagi’li really was. Back then, when they both had been eager to fill their days with activities to avoid sinking too deeply into negative thoughts, Nhagi’li had spent hours with the Elezen learning how to enunciate better, improving his vocabulary, and helping him shake the years spent under Jacke’s tutelage from the way he spoke. 

These days, he doesn’t need much more of those types of lessons, but he humours Alphinaud all the same, enjoying the time spent even if he can’t always remember everything he’s meant to. In that respect, the Elezen is a very patient teacher, and always happy to review material for him, which Nhagi’li appreciates, even if he doesn’t show it. 

(They all know he has a very large soft spot for the twins, even if no one ever says such things aloud.) 

Today they are joined by Alisaie, who Nhagi’li suspects is here to harass her brother more than she’s here to help him learn. Nevertheless, she makes an excellent backrest, warm against Nhagi’li’s cheek where he leans against her while she pretends to do some reading of her own. The Keeper alternates between sitting up a little higher so he can read over her shoulder and slouching back down whenever Alphinaud looks his way in order to pretend like he’s giving the young scholar his full attention. Alphinaud doesn’t chastise him for his behaviour, but he does seem to take a small amount of pleasure in sliding Nhagi’li  the book he’s been reading and asking him to define a word. 

When said book arrives under Nhagi’li’s nose, the Keeper blinks owlishly at it, before squinting up at Alphinaud. The Elezen doesn’t quite frown at him, but Nhagi’li gets the impression that his friend knows he hasn’t been paying as close attention as he should. 

“Right here, if you please.” 

He taps the page where he had, presumably, been reading. Never one to back down from a challenge issued by his young friend, the Keeper reaches out and takes the book. 

“Ah yes,” Nhagi’li says with an air of self-importance, bringing the book close to scrutinize the word and then tossing it dramatically back in Alphinaud’s direction. “Friable. F-R-I-A-B-L-E. Made to be fried into deliciousness. Examples include, but are not limited to, fish and sweet rolls.” 

Against his shoulder, Nhagi’li can feel Alisaie absolutely shaking with barely concealed mirth, and it makes him grin, even as Alphinaud fixes him with a look of utter despair. 

“No,” he says, at the same time his sister cackles, “Yes, I like his definition better brother!” 

Predictably, the bickering starts immediately, and with a sigh of a man used to such things, Nhagi’li sprawl on the ground, tucks his hands behind his head, and closes his eyes. 

After all that hard work, he deserved a little nap.

[itwasalwaysjustred]

Prompt #9: Friable

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#FFxivWrite2021 is underway – a daily writing challenge presented to the Final Fantasy XIV writing community for the month of September. You can join any time throughout the challenge with any prompt number!

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[itwasalwaysjustred]

PROMPT 8: ADROIT

Rated T; WoL/Thancred; implied Thancred/Urianger; spoilers up to most recent patch 

It hadn’t been easy on any of them, readjusting after their return to the Source, but Nhagi’li suspects that Thancred is having the most difficult time, try as he might to hide it from them all. 

(The man had been without a proper body for five years and the Scions absolutely are cutting him some slack, but it seems as though Thancred isn’t inclined to do the same for himself.) 

He seems to be feeling it the most in his hands, the normally quite adroit “bard” suffering through bouts of weakness and trembling that make every day tasks that much more of a challenge. Naturally, he hasn’t said as much to any of them; not even Urianger who, as far as Nhagi’li is aware, Thancred had gotten quite close to during their time on the First. In truth, Nhagi’li himself might not have noticed so quickly had he not been watching all of the Scions like a hawk, caring for them as much as they would allow it. 

(It helps him remember that they are here, and whole, and he succeeded, despite the odds, despite the cost.) 

While he lets Thancred muddle his way through most of his tasks, knowing the practice will help him and also knowing he won’t want his weakness exposed, Nhagi’li ultimately draws the line at letting his friend shave with shaky hands. He plucks the razor from Thancred’s mostly unresisting fingers with more ease than normal, seating himself neatly on the man’s lap before he can so much as utter a protest. Thancred’s done most of the dirty work already, lathering his cheeks and preparing his skin, which means all Nhagi’li has to do is figure out where he wants to start, one thumb idly stroking the edge of his friend’s jaw while he surveys the scene. 

“I can do this myself, you know,” Thancred protests, but it’s a weak one, and he still obediently tilts his head when Nhagi’li adjusts the angle so the light is better. The Keeper humours him with an obliging hum, before getting to work, cleaning up Thancred’s growing scruff with precise, efficient strokes. He tries not to linger, no matter how much he wants to. There will be other times when he can make this process more sensual, when he can use the threat of a blade and the pressure at Thancred’s throat to make the Hyur ache for something more. 

Another time, he reminds himself firmly, even as his eyes are drawn to the bob of Thancred’s Adam’s apple when he swallows.  

It doesn’t take long — Thancred was never the overly hairy sort — and he covers the gentleness of his touch by slapping the damp cloth over Thancred’s whole face and then rubbing him clean like a mother cat grooming a wayward kitten. It’s enough to make Thancred balk, his hands flailing unhelpfully in Nhagi’li’s direction until the Keeper finally lets up, though not before the Hyur has taken them both down onto the bed in an undignified sprawl. Never one to say no to cuddles, Nhagi’li lets himself be pinned half-heartedly to the sheets, grasping Thancred’s other hand in his own, It trembles just a little, and the Hyur’s expression shifts so something self-deprecating even though his lips quirk upwards into a smile. 

Well, as Alphinaud would say, that won’t do at all. 

Nhagi’li tangles their legs together as he brings Thancred’s hand up towards his face, letting his eyes fall shut. He smells like himself again — or at least, enough like himself that when Nhagi’li presses his nose to the meat of Thancred’s palm and breathes deeply, he can smell the underlying masculine scent, tinged with lingering hints of shaving cream and the roll he’d had for breakfast. It makes him smile, nosing at the warm skin for a few moments longer before he licks it, chasing the barely-there sweetness up Thancred’s palm and fingers until he takes the first one into his mouth. Only then does Nhagi’li open his eyes, his tail twitching against the sheets as he looks up at his friend, purposefully letting his fangs drag along soft flesh. 

“Careful,” Thancred warns, but his eyes are dark and his gaze sharp, half-leaning towards the Keeper despite his words. 

Nhagi’li knows the worry and the self-doubt will return, when Thancred is alone with his thoughts, but for now he intends to keep those feelings at bay. Reluctantly, he releases the Hyur’s finger, only to murmur his suggestion against the man’s hand, never once breaking eye contact. 

“I can think of a few ways to get yer hands back on track.” 

The way Thancred’s eyes follow the movement of his lips is all the answer Nhagi’li needs.