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astrology-bf · 9 days

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FFXIV Write 2024 | Day 18 "Hackneyed"

Master Post | My AO3 | Challenge Info

~1.8k words | Teen | M/M | WoL/Thancred | CW: tooth rotting fluff idk

An involuntary sigh left Ifan’s lips, accompanied by a soft rustling of paper as he turned another page in the small book with which he was attempting to distract himself; but the motion of his lips, small as it was, was too large of a reminder of the cause of the faint furrows in his brow - lines which had grown deeper as the day progressed, and Thancred’s absence went on longer.

His finger tapped in a slow rhythm as he read, striking a light drumbeat on the book’s worn, emerald green cover… a color not unlike the springs outside the cabin, and yet another cause for recollection of the kiss.

Kisses, plural, even though it had all blended into one within his memory.

Ifan bit the inside of his lower lip as his toes gave a reflective curl on the soft rug under the small table near the window, where the magician was seated with his book. Every now and then he wet his palate with a sip of the cold tea which he’d let sit out too long (and been too distracted trying to keep himself distracted to reheat with magic), or paused to reach down and adjust where the plain bathrobe was resting over the bandages on his left side.

When the contents of the book became insufficiently exciting, his mind began retracing every minute since they’d climbed out of the springs. But the day hadn’t been much different from those prior, making his absence all the less explicable.

The note he’d left still rested on the dresser where Ifan had found it in the morning, having been awakened by a healer rather than the Scions’ expert in subterfuge. All that it said was that Thancred needed to take care of an important matter and would be back as soon as possible, though whether ‘soon’ was only a few hours or possibly a day or more - or longer - was something that he hadn’t told the healers either, when Ifan had asked after him.

He told himself he didn’t mind it. It was relieving, at least a little bit, that Thancred felt him well enough to leave in unfamiliar company for a short while… and Ifan didn’t want to burden him, or anyone, regardless. But…

There was still Thancred’s warning that they might regret it.

Perhaps he already did.

Ifan cleared his throat and shook his head, then reached for the cold tea and took another sip - wincing at the bitterness without shifting his gaze from the book, then setting the cup down without reheating its contents, or even adding any sugar. The tannins caused his tongue to curl, and he finally closed his eyes as the memory of Thancred’s tongue against his own finally needled him too deeply.

A huff escaped him. Ifan opened his eyes and glanced over at the dresser and the linkpearl resting on it. He pursed his lips, then shook his head and tried returning to the book - though a light knocking at the door soon caught his attention.

“It’s open,” he called. He straightened up a bit, but didn’t attempt to rise just yet.

The door opened, and another involuntary sigh left Ifan’s lips as Thancred stepped into the cabin. He was nearly full-attired, and had a smile upon his face despite looking somewhat out of breath.

“Thancred,” Ifan said, smiling in turn as he let the book come to rest against his lap. “Traders’ blessings.”

“And to you, Ifan. You’ve my apologies for my tardiness.” Thancred greeted in return. He reached behind himself to close the door, then walked directly forward to the magician’s side before extending his left hand.

Ifan didn’t waste a moment in reaching up to gently drape his fingers over the side of Thancred’s hand, giving his fingers and palm a warm squeeze as his smile broadened. “Everything all right, I hope?” he asked.

Thancred’s smile took on a roguish quality as he returned a wordless nod. Then he bent forward at the waist and brought Ifan’s hand up to his lips so he could kiss the bronze-skinned knuckles courteously, gazing down at the seated magician as he did so.

Ifan blinked as his lips parted and his cheeks began to tingle. A tingle which turned into violent burn to match the wound on his left side as Thancred straightened up and - in the same, smooth motion - reached behind himself with his right hand to withdraw what he had tucked into his belt.

The scent of almost-fresh Azeyma roses hit Ifan’s sinuses immediately, as did the vivid color of the bouquet which the rogue was offering. He stared at the red blooms dumbly, his cheeks racing to match the petals’ hue before his eyes flicked up to where Thancred was still smiling at him.

Thancred winked at him, and Ifan felt his lips pinch faintly into a small pout. Then a boyish half-grin started pulling freely at the left side of his face.

“...I don’t know what to say, besides thank you.” An elated huff then left his lips as he averted his eyes, chuckled lightly, then glanced back at Thancred almost shyly. “Are these why you were out all day?”

The rogue’s smile had broadened to its fullest, his brown eyes nearly gleaming as he watched the surging feelings in the magician’s irises. He nodded, and tilted his head as his smile twisted sheepishly.

“They proved unexpectedly difficult,” Thancred said. “Sadly, I don’t know your favorite, but you seem partial enough to these… at least if my nose hasn’t yet failed me.” He squeezed the hand he was still holding, and gestured towards Ifan’s beard with two of the fingers holding the bouquet.

“Jasmine,” Ifan replied, grin widening fully as his head tilted, “but I won’t ever say no to flowers from a handsome man. Is there an occasion?” he asked.

Thancred blinked at the compliment, then chuckled in turn as the corners of his eyes began to crinkle teasingly. His tone was earnest when he spoke, however.

“Mayhap it is a touch trite, but as things seem to be becoming a little more serious between us… you merit a proper courtship.” He nodded declaratively as his smile softened, turning from teasing to deeply affectionate. “If you wouldn’t mind it, of course,” he added.

Ifan’s face fell for a moment as he stared up at Thancred incredulously. Then he huffed again as his mouth pulled into an open smile, his eyebrows lowered at the ends as he reached up to accept the offered flowers.

His lips worked over each other as he searched for something to say, but nothing came. So he simply nodded happily.

There was a moment where Thancred’s own expression fell, as well; disbelief, then surprise at his relief, before he smiled a smile that reached his toes in a light rising of his heels by half an ilm. He squeezed Ifan’s hand tightly as he handed the bouquet to him, then let out a fond hum.

Then he paused, blinking again, before he chuckled at himself and reached into the pocket in his tunic..

“To think your other present almost slipped my mind,” he said, as he withdrew a small bag of waxed paper which he set down on the table, given Ifan’s hands were occupied. “You are also partial to lemon drops, yes?” he asked, with a knowing smirk.

Ifan’s smile faded as his brow knitted and a small gasp of surprise escaped him. Then his left eye narrowed as his head tilted suspiciously. “...And how do you know that?”

Thancred’s smirk became slightly more devious, then stretched into a grin as his tongue poked through his teeth for a brief moment in a bashful admission of being caught.

“Why else would you carry them?” he asked.

Ifan’s chin lowered as his lips pursed. “...Mhm.” One eyebrow rose pointedly, and he kept on staring silently until the rogue’s grin shrank back into a warping smirk.

“...Well. You were unconscious at the time, after we met,” Thancred explained, unable to disguise the snicker in his voice. “Better to ask forgiveness than permission, no?”

The magician’s mouth stretched into a flat line, and the furrow on his brow deepened as he stared up at Thancred silently.

The rogue simply kept looking back at him, still holding his hand, and not moving save for a barely perceptible but still definitely smug tilt of his head.

Ifan blinked at him slowly without saying a word. Then he closed his eyes and nodded curtly. He carefully laid the flowers down, closed and set aside the book, then used his grip on Thancred’s hand as leverage to heft himself up to his feet with a loud grunt.

Thancred’s smile faded by half out of concern as the magician rose, though it barely made much of a difference given his lips were soon completely covered, as Ifan kissed him.

A light and thankful hum left the magician’s lips as his palm pivoted against Thancred’s so he could enlace their fingers, his other arm rising to drape around one shoulder and keep the rogue from leaning back - though he didn’t push him forward, instead letting Thancred lean into him.

The faint shock on Thancred’s face faded a fraction of a moment after the other man’s lips grazed over his. He kissed back, once again losing himself to the sweet and seemly chorus of soft noises which his tongue drew out of Ifan’s core, but kept his right hand tucked beneath Ifan’s left armpit to make sure his bandaged injury didn’t rub up against him.

Ifan issued a quiet hum as their kiss broke, their brows still flush and noses grazing until he pulled back by a few ilms. His eyes were lidded, and his lips were arched in a coy smile.

“I don’t mind peppermints, either,” he said.

Thancred blinked slowly, lips still tingling from the kiss. But then his brow began to furrow as what Ifan had said began to sink in.

“...I don’t recall being unconscious in your company,” the rogue said. The mints he always carried as a quick refresher suddenly felt quite heavy in his pocket.

Ifan gazed back at him silently, and his smile slowly became a smirk as he glanced off to the side.

“Never said you were,” he replied. Then he looked back at Thancred as his left arm unthreaded from around his shoulders, and he innocently popped a red-striped sweet into his mouth.

Thancred’s jaw lowered by half an ilm, and he stared at Ifan as he started sucking on the peppermint. The rogue’s cheeks started turning pink as Ifan began smirking smugly at him, and his lips pressed together in a faint point of embarrassed annoyance.

When he next opened his mouth, the comeback he had ready on his tongue wouldn’t find its way past the peppermint pressed into it by the magician’s.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite 2024 #ffxivwrite #ffxiv writing #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv oc #warrior of light #ifan kaleid #thancred waters #thancred x wol #it's yaoi #it's on the tin #you asked for part 2 and by allah you people deserve it

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