#ARE YOU READING CLIVE X GAV?

[olessan]

BENJAMIN...

[drabblesandimagines]

Bedrest

Bit of a follow-on from Prescription, from this request Clive Rosfield x female reader, as fluffy as puppy Torgal, but then a lil' spice tease at the end

“You be sure to look after him, Torgal.” You scritch the wolf’s head as he noses into your side, enjoying your attentions. You’re in bed – feeling quite the lady of leisure this long after sunrise. “You might’ve noticed I’ve grown quite fond of your master.” Clive smiles warmly at the scene as he finishes putting on his leathers. He has business to attend to in Dhalmekia – Jill and Torgal attending alongside. It was a matter to which he had already delayed in addressing, wanting to savour a few undisturbed days within your company after your confession in the infirmary.

Tarja had insisted you rest and to keep off your injured leg to allow the muscle a chance to heal. There were no healing magicks to be undertaken in the Hideaway after all, not when you all knew the cost to the Bearer casting it. Patience, rest and herbal medicines were the only things for it.

Clive had thrived in the role as carer, immediately whisking you up in his arms and carrying you off to his chambers for the past few days. You’d tried to dissuade him from delaying his trip – his work was far more important, you’d stressed – but every time you’d protested, he’d rather rudely silenced you with a kiss.

“I wish you’d allow me to leave Torgal here with you.”

“I’ll feel much better knowing he’s with you. After all, if I’m not there, I’ll be reassured you have him and Jill to keep you out of mischief.”

You’d thought you’d return to your own bunk in the lower decks for Clive’s upcoming departure, but he’d insisted you continue convalescing in his chambers. Tarja had been checking in on your wounds daily – reapplying salve and fresh bandages. She’d noted concern about the way the one on your side was healing, noting the stitches had pulled apart a little but it should still heal nicely.

“It’s in an especially awkward place, prone to being tugged in natural movement,” she’d said that with a peculiar look at Clive, the man ducking his head bashfully when, truthfully, he’d been nothing but respectful of the healer’s specifications in regards to your recovery.

The Fire Dominant had even gone as far to count the stairs you’d have to conquer from your bunk to the ale hall – the daily exercise Tarja did allow - and compared it that of the one from his chambers. You wished you’d seen the hideaway’s face as Clive walked slowly down the steps, counting them one by one – he’d always taken steps two at a time with the length of his stride. He concluded it made far more sense for you to continue your recovery there, as to not put the stitches under any further strain with any extra steps.

“You’ll rest, won’t you?”

You force a tired smile. “I will.”

“I know it is difficult but, please, have patience. It’ll be worth it in the end.” He places a hand on your cheek and bends down, kissing you softly on the lips.

He draws back with a boyish grin, before heading towards the chamber doors.

“I miss you already, my darling.”

--

Three days have passed and you’ve stayed true to your word - staying in Clive’s chambers and only leaving to break your fast and partake in supper in the ale hall, someone’s eyes always tending to mind your slow and cautious journey there and back.

You’d tried to pass your days reading – the shelves had an extensive collection and Harpocrates had ferried over a pile of fairytales for your consumption - or making conversation with Otto, or Gav, or Cole as whoever came in to drop off missives, awaiting Clive’s return, and endless attempted naps, though they seemed to achieve little but make you more tired as you’d stare up at the ceiling half the night, feeling wide awake and hoping that Clive was okay.

Tarja would visit in the evening – applying salve and changing the bandages, determined to keep you free of infection.

“Is it healing all right?” You ask, as she finishes tightening the last strip.

“I think we’re nearly…”

“Tarja!” Gav’s voice boomed from the hall below before thunderous footsteps came up the stairs and the chamber door swung open, revealing an out of breath scout. “Bearers just came in – four in total, three in bad shape…”

“Coming!” Tarja gets up and departs swiftly, Gav following at her heels.

You wish you could help.

On the fourth morning, after another off and on sleep, you are thoroughly fed up of reading and staring at the ceiling and resting and surely, by now, the skin should’ve begun to mend. Afterall, Tarja had said pretty much so last night, hadn’t she? The ale hall had been full of talk of the state of the new Bearers joining the ranks and Tarja would be rightly preoccupied looking after their hurts. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to stretch your legs a little further than the twice daily trip to the ale hall…

--

Late afternoon and you’d perhaps tackled more stairs and walked around the outer decks a little more than planned but having the freedom to do so once more had been wonderful... until your side had started smarting. You’d been up in the atrium and, to avoid any possible run-ins with Tarja by going past the infirmary, you’d gone back down the stairs and planned to return to Clive’s chambers cutting through the forge. Blackthorne is hard at work at the anvil as usual and used to people walking past, so he doesn’t even raise his head as you stride past.

As you enter the main hall and walk clear of Charon’s store, you can see Gav is stood at the ale hall counter, deep in conversation with Clive, who clocks you immediately with an amused look.

Oh.

You walk forward cautiously to meet the two of them at the counter – there’s no point in trying to flee.

“My lady, you do appear to be lost.”

“You’re back,” you try and swerve the conversation. “We weren’t expecting you for another two moons.”

“Yes – it didn’t take as long as I’d planned and I was eager to return to you, but you don’t seem to be resting as instructed.” He takes a step forward then, and you unconsciously take one back.

“No, I have been. I just feel it’s time to…”

Before you can blink, as if he’s used the Phoenix’s blessing to increase his speed, he hooks his arm under your knees and one around your back, scooping you with ease.

“Gav, would you be so kind to accept any missives for me whilst I deal with this?”

“Clive…!“ You start to protest, feeling blood flush your face as you were pressed against his chest. The men quickly enter into conversation once more, ignoring you.

“What’s in it for me?” Gav smirks, folding his arms.

“Molly, open him a tab, please. I’ll settle up in the morning.”

“Howay – that’s what I’m talking about.” The scout grins. “Not a missive will slip through on my watch.”

You keep quiet as Clive carries you through the hall and towards the stairs. Charon takes a deep puff of her cigarette as you catch her eye – her expression gives nothing away.

Once in the chambers, he walks over to the bed, lays you down gently without a word, before heading back over to the chamber door and closing it, sliding the bolt across that he had Blackthorne forge to provide the two of you some privacy at certain hours.

He removes his sword from its sheath, placing it against the wall and then strips his cloak, leathers and belts in moments, leaving him in his undershirt and trousers and returns to the bed, sitting to the side of you – giving you that look.

“I’m fine, honestly.”

“May I?” His hand hovers at the hem of your shirt. You nod, and he pulls it up, his fingers ghosting around the bandages wrapped tightly around your abdomen. “Hm. A few spots of blood – I do hope we stopped you causing further damage, as well as prevented Tarja’s wrath.”

“Really?” You twist your head, trying to see but it’s an awkward position. “But I did rest - I only left the bed to break my fast and take supper the past three days.”

“I know it is frustrating, but you must remain patient. Your excursion today may have even undone all that hard work. Tarja will be able to confirm, though.”

You sigh, flopping your head down on the pillow dramatically as Clive tugs your top back in place.

“It’s a good thing I returned when I did, hm?” He squeezes your hand. “I can clear things for a couple of days again.”

“No, you shouldn’t put things off just because of me.”

“But how else will I get you to behave without my keen eye on you?” He picks your hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of it, before he smirks with a thought.

“Do I need to restrain you?” He quickly takes your other hand and lifts them both above your head, bringing them together before pinning them in place with one large hand. He leans over you, enjoying the tease.

“Perhaps I’ll need to bind your hands to the bed so you actually rest.”

“You wouldn’t.” You scoff, but you don’t sound as confident as you think you should. Your heart is pounding at the idea.

“Do not tempt me.” His voice has a dangerous edge to it now. “I did tell you that you had consumed my thoughts in all ways, did I not? Perhaps that was one of them.”

Clive lowers his face closer to you, biting his lip as he takes in the adorable flush of your cheeks, how your breathing has increased, squirming slightly under his gaze…

“However…” he sits upright then, pulling you up gently with him before he releases his grip upon your wrists and smiles, innocently, “..not whilst you’re injured. Use it as motivation, if you so desire.”

“You’re cruel.” You pout, folding your arms across your chest.

“Patience, my lady.” He gets to his feet and you think he means to leave you alone in your pity, only for him to clamber in behind you in the bed. He coaxes you back to lean against his chest, his legs now spread either side of yours and wraps his arms gently around you – ever mindful of your wound.

“Allow me to rest with you. Share the burden, so to speak.” He rests his head upon your shoulder, his voice vibrating through your cheek.

“I’m not tired,” but still you sink in deeper until his embrace, closing your eyes.

“I am,” he admits. “You said you haven’t been to Dhalmekia?”

“I haven’t.”

“It’s hot. Sandy – every breath I took I felt as if I was breathing it all in, and I fear I’ll be encountering sand in my boots too for moons to come.” He murmurs in your ear. “On the journey back, every time Torgal shook it was as if we’d walked into another sandstorm. We may have to bathe him to be rid of it…”

You smile at the idea of the sodden wolf in the hideaway’s bathing chambers.

“Which reminds me – they have hot springs in Dalimil. I don’t believe I’ve seen water so blue before. There’s a bath-house in the city too. The owner, in fact, owes me a favour. Perhaps when you’re recovered we can go. I hear it’s meant to be most relaxing.”

“Mm,” you agree, softly.

“The market is bustling - I think you’d like looking around at all the different wares, especially the offerings at their bakers. I’ve never seen so many types of bread, and some quite unique. There was a cob shaped like the former Drake’s Fang, even…”

Clive trails off, noting the change in your breathing. For someone claiming not to be tired, you’d soon fallen fast asleep to the dulcet tones of his voice. He suspects it’s from the overexertion from the day, but he also hopes it’s from the comfort you’ve found wrapped in his arms.

Clive presses a kiss to your crown before he lays his head back on the pillow, allowing himself to close his eyes.

“Rest well, my darling.” -- Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[flowersbane]

The Series Of Unfortunate Events That Lead To Putting Carrots In A Cake

Joshua Rosfield X Reader

This is the second version of this request. It's a bit similar in some parts, but I like having fic variants. ( ^_^ ) b

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1.3k

Tags: Baker!Reader, Finally Getting Joshua To Eat Some Gosh Darn Vegetables, Fluff, Teasing, Unedited, Fun, Cutesy.

It was truly a wonder how this recipe book had fallen into your hands.

A trader from the Crystalline Dominion had been making his way to Rosaria when a flock of chocobos had attacked his wagon. Clive had happened to cross the man’s path and while most of the man’s merchandise had been destroyed, he was still able to repay Clive’s kindness with a tattered recipe book. And yet, as Clive was returning from Rosaria, the book toppled over a cliff, never to be found again. However, as luck would have it, a group of bandits happened across the book. They tossed it in with their collection and forgot about it. Months later, the bandits stole from a supply caravan that was carrying goods meant for the Hideaway. Otto had intended for the Cursebreakers to retrieve their stolen goods, but Joshua offered to go instead. After some convincing, Otto agreed. Joshua, Jote, and Torgal confronted the bandits. Joshua had intended to only take what the Hideaway needed, but one of the bandits called Torgal a mangy mutt, causing his mercy to dissipate. After a short battle, Joshua and Jote hitched the wagons to some chocobos and made for the Hideaway. During their travels, Joshua rummaged through their loot until he found something suitable for you. A baker’s book. Perfect. He grinned, ignorant of the way the stars aligned for this one moment.

Now, you leaned against the counter of the Ale Hall, leisurely flipping through the pages of recipes. A recipe rut had been plaguing you for the past week and you were hoping that this new book might put an end to it. You had just turned to the next page when commotion on the Main Deck caught your attention. You turned your head a little to see Gav rising from placing down a heavy-looking, wooden crate. One of many, from what you can see.

“Founder,” Gav muttered, “what a mess this is.”

“It could be worse,” Cole commented, having dropped off a box of his own. “They could be turnips.”

“Eugh, turnips.”

Gav crossed the Main Deck and ordered a mug of ale. You leaned closer to him. “What’s with all the boxes?” you ask.

“Carrots. Blasted things. You know, it really is quite the story, how they got here.” You wordlessly motioned for him to continue. After a swig of ale, he did. “One of our suppliers, ah, one that has a deal with Clive’s uncle, was meant to be sending us a shipment of vegetables. Well, at the docks, his son made a mistake. Put all the carrots on one boat, all the turnips on another, and all the potatoes on another. Ordinarly, something like that doesn’t just slip by unnoticed, but the man in charge of inspections had eaten a bad breakfast, didn’t agree with his stomach, so he just stamped the papers before running off to deal with his, uh, returning breakfast.” You wrinkled your nose at that. “So the ships set sail, all with the wrong contents. Now, we’re stuck with a dozen crates of carrots and no potatoes.”

“And no turnips,” you pointed out.

This time, it was Gav’s turn to wrinkle his nose. However, his attention was quickly caught by the book laying out in front of you. He motioned to it as he lifted his mug for another drink. “What’s that?”

You glanced down at the book. “Oh, this? It’s just something Joshua brought me after…” You did a double take, something on the age having caught your eye. You trailed off as you began to read.

“Hm?”

“Ah, right, sorry, it’s just…”

The book spread out the solution to your problems in one simple, sweet, perfect recipe. You grin widely. “I know what to do with the carrots.”

“All of them?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, not all of them, but some of them.”

Without bothering to explain further, you leapt from your seat and began dashing around to get to work. Otto gave you a skeptical look when you asked to take from the supply of carrots, but agreed without need for any further convincing. The recipe was completely new to you and, as strange as it sounded, you knew you had to give it a try. Perhaps it was even because it sounded strange that you knew you couldn’t just let it pass you by. The opportunity was perfect. And your curiosity was insatiable.

In a matter of hours, you had baked enough cake for the entire Hideaway. Just in time, too, as supper was coming to an end.

“There’s a sweetness in the air that completely distracted me from my supper,” Joshua teased as he approached the bakery’s counter. He had an easy smile on his face as he leaned against the wooden edge. “Must you tease me so?”

“A bit of anticipation can be a good thing,” you countered. “But, worry not, your wait can finally be over. They’re ready.” He took a seat on one of the stools, eyes wide and expectant. You stifle a giggle. “So eager.”

“You haven’t seen the half of it. He was glancing in the direction of the bakery for the entire duration of our meal,” said Clive as he and Jill approached. “I thought he might get up and run off if I so much as glanced away from him.”

“Clive…” Joshua casted his brother a look that only made him chuckle.

You laugh behind closed lips. “Alright, alright. Here, Joshua, you can have one of the first slices.”

His expression immediately brightened. He accepted the small plate with a grin, one that he quickly flashed at Clive in an almost boastful manner. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you continued passing out slices of cake.

Joshua made an approving sound at his first bite. “This is quite delicious. Well, that much should be expected. It is your baking we’re speaking of.”

A blush dusted your cheeks. Jill nodded her agreement as she had her first taste of the treat. “Truly remarkable.”

“You’ve outdone yourself. This is… different, somehow, from what you’ve made in the past.” Joshua looked up from his plate. “What is it?”

“Carrot cake,” you declared.

He froze. Jill’s chewing slowed. The corners of Clive’s lips twitched upwards as his gaze glided towards his little brother.

Your brows knit together with concern. “Joshua?”

Complicated emotions pass over his face. Confusion and horror, as well as a handful of other things you couldn’t quite place. It seemed that Clive was unable to hold back his amusement any longer. A sharp laugh escaped from his chest. Joshua glared at him, but the expression lacked any true anger. Clive’s laughter only grew louder, encouraging giggles from Jill as well.

“Not you too,” Joshua muttered.

“I’m sorry, it’s just–” She couldn’t even finish her sentence for the mirth that stole the words from her mouth.

Joshua sighed and shook his head. “What sort of unfortunate series of events leads to putting carrots in a cake?”

“You don’t like carrots?” You frowned. “I’m sorry, truly. I–I didn’t know–”

He soothed your worries with another shake of his head. “No, no, you have nothing to apologize for.” He looked back down at the cake. “I suppose I shouldn’t complain. If I couldn’t tell in the first place…”

“It seems we have found the only way Joshua will eat his vegetables.” Clive snickered. “Baked into a cake.”

“All they have to be is coated in sugar and cream,” Jill added.

Joshua gave them both a tired look. It only made them laugh more.

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “But, you liked it, right?”

He seemed to have sensed that you were in need of more reassurance, for he forsook his brother’s teasing and focused his attention on you. His closed his other hand over yours. “Of course, my dear.” He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on your knuckles. “I would love anything these hands crafted.”

The blush returns to your cheeks, accompanied by a bashful smile. “Then, you’ll keep eating, right?”

A flicker of wariness flashed across his face, but it was gone as soon as his eyes met yours. “Gladly.”