#clive rosfield x female reader

[drabblesandimagines]

Warm Palms

Clive Rosfield x afab reader Fluffity fluff, slight spoilers, mentions of period

Clive has always been a light sleeper from a young age. From his training as a Shield of Rosaria and later a captured soldier of the Imperial Army he knew sleeping left you vulnerable. Any slight noise was a threat that needed to be assessed, then either dealt with or dismissed.

He would admit, however, that he had been sleeping somewhat easier since you’d started to join him in bed.

Too long had both of you ignored the feelings bubbling under the surface, only coming to a head after a pint too many of Molly’s brown. Molly had headed off to bed when the two of you were her only remaining patrons, and to avoid your voices echoing around the ale hall Clive had invited you up the stairs to his room to finish off your drinks. It was only when the two of you entered, he realized he didn’t have anywhere to sit - the chair at the desk being the only seat in his room. So, the two of you had sat on his bed, knees knocking, until a combination of the sweet smile on your face as you listened to him speak and a surge of confidence had resulted in his lips meeting yours before escalating into a passionate, frantic kiss.

You’d spent your nights in his bed ever since – whether he was there or not, he’d discovered, returning late one night from an excursion and finding you fast asleep in his sheets.

It takes him a minute to realize what’s woken him up. The waters of the blighted lake lapping upon the walls of the hideaway, the soft hoot of the stolas in his chambers, and then a soft grunt of pain coming from your side of the bed.

Your breathing is different, not the steady state of one asleep, but that of someone trying to tolerate discomfort. You shuffle ever so slightly, obviously trying not to disturb him and wince as you do so.

“Darling?” He whispers.

“Sorry,” you mutter back. “Go back to sleep.”

He leans up, slightly – you’re facing away from him. “What troubles you?”

“It’s nothing,” your voice hitches for a second. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, tilting you towards him so he can see your face, catching a wince.

“Love?”

You open your mouth but take a moment to say anything. “It’s my monthlies.”

“Ah.” He nods, as if he knows much of the subject. The truth was, you were the first woman he had been intimate with and though you had been together a fair few months now, he hadn’t heard you mention them previously, assuming they had happened in times of his absence. “Painful, I take?”

“Mm. It’ll pass.” An unconscious grimace crosses your features once more. “Please, go back to sleep. You never get enough – I feel guilty for disturbing it.”

“I can hardly sleep easy knowing my lady is in discomfort.” He sits up then, reaching for his discarded linen shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ll go down to the infirmary, I am sure Tarja will have something…”

Your hand grasps his arm, stopping him before his feet touch the wooden floor. “No, Clive. Please don’t wake half the hideaway on my account. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

He frowns – he doesn’t want to go against your wishes, but he can’t lie back down knowing you’re in any amount of pain. You’re so precious to him, every wince or soft noise of pain is like a dagger to his heart.

“Please.” You reiterate, and he concedes, dropping his shirt back.

“I must do something.”

“Just stay – that’s enough.”

But there must be something more he can do, he thinks, as he leans back against the wall slightly, taking you in his arms and pressing his lips to your forehead in what he hopes to bring momentary comfort.

A conversation overheard dredges up in his mind – a time in the infirmary, after Tarja insisted he sit still for ‘at least ten minutes’ after she had stitched up a gash on his arm and he’d complied to save her the stress. From the other side of the curtain, he heard her speaking to one of the young girls of the hideaway who’d started her monthlies, providing her with information, talk of painkilling draughts and herbs and also a mention of a warm compress upon her stomach to relieve the cramps.

He looks at his palm in the dim light. Since the reawakening of Ifrit all those years ago, he’d tamed the flames that ran underneath his skin more and more, able to change the intensity at will. He concentrates hard, just enough to bring an imperceptible layer of warmth to his palm and touches it experimentally to his face – he’d never wish to burn you. It feels soothing upon his skin.

“Do you trust me?”

“You know I do, love,” you mumble from your place on his chest.

“Roll onto your side a moment.”

You don’t question, doing as you’re told. Maybe if you hadn’t been tired and uncomfortable you would’ve questioned it more. Once you’re on your side, Clive readjusts himself onto his own side, his broad chest pressing onto your back and he slips his hand around your waist, dipping below the slip you wear to bed, up your thigh and eventually landing on your stomach. You’d gone to protest, unsure of what he was thinking, but when his palm pressed upon your skin it was comfortingly warm, soothing the rolling waves of pain in your stomach.

“Does that help?” He asks, tentatively, but he had already felt your tense muscles relax at his touch.

“Very much so.” You sigh into the pillow. “How…?”

“Thank Ifrit.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head, before rubbing soothing circles upon your stomach.

“Thank you.” You reply, softly. “It feels wonderful.”

“Anything for you, my darling.”

Clive continues to rub his palm on your stomach until he hears your breathing slip into the rhythm of sleep he knows so well. He nuzzles his face into your neck, feeling content. His palm remains in place all night, the warmth keeping the pain at bay and granting the two of you a restful sleep.

--

Ghostdog: I'm on my period and I can't find my hot water bottle, so Clive's imaginary palms will have to do.

Thank you so much for all the requests! I am working on a few at the moment <3 Wrote this more for me but I will have some requests up in the next few weeks. There's some other characters I'd be happy to write x reader fics for in FFXVI, so do let me know! x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[xxladyballadxx]

Colliding Memories

Clive Rosfield x *Brainwashed* reader (Angst)

Summary: You were about finish off the vulnerable Clive Rosfield, until your head began to hurt and your memories of him started to appear.

Clive Rosfield gif credits: @obiwaned

(Note: Just a heads up, this has nothing to do with the events from the game.)

“(Y/N)! Snap out of it!” Clive parried your attack, he tried to pin you down to the ground so he could face you properly and talk his way into you. You teleported behind him and blasted him away in the distance using the magic of wind. Clive grunted, his body slammed by the wall. You smirked in return, watching him suffer. “Pathetic…” 

The King of Waloed seemed to enjoy the performance. Until he grew tired of just standing and watching, Barnabas then joins in the fight and gets surprised by Clive’s attack which he manages to evade easily. The two point their swords at each other and sounds of their blade came clashing on like a powerful storm. 

 You heard the dominant of Shiva coming your way and swung your dual blades to Jill’s rapier sword who failed to land a strike on you, “Please, (Y/n), don’t do this!” ignoring her words, you knocked the rapier off her hand and cast wind magic to blow her away. Jill fell unconscious after getting body slammed to the stonewall.  

Joshua sweeps in and fights you after gaining his strength back, “(Y/n), we’re your friends! The only friends you ever had in Rosalith!” he evaded your blows and took a step back, “I have no intention to hurt you but you leave me no choice!” He used the flames of Phoenix, aiming the shots of them towards you. You somersaulted up in the air to avoid the blast. Joshua heads in quickly and thrashes his sword against yours. 

Clive, with all his might, desperately attempted to get to you but Lord Barnabas kept getting in the way, preventing Ifrit’s dominant to save (Y/n) by saying the most utter worthless things to put in your head. 

“Do you think you can save her, Mythos?” says Barnabas, causing Clive’s anger to explode like a ticking bomb, “Your dear, sweet, little dove will never remember you. So amusing watching you say those ridiculous things to dear (Y/n) who no longer have you in her memory.” 

Clive semi-primed into Ifrit and aggressively thrashed his blade towards him. Barnabas dodges and summons his long, dark sword. Pinning the sharp surface against Clive’s Invictus sword. Barnabas plants a smirk across his face, “When this is all over, Mythos, I am going to make (Y/n) (L/n)...” his next words set Clive off, angering him more, “My Queen…the Queen of Waloed…” 

“You…YOU FUCKING DEPRAVING BASTARD!” The anger in Clive rises high, turning more violent and aggressive. Landing his fiery blows on Lord Barnabas as the King dodges them swiftly, “Yes, that’s right, Mythos! Let the rage consume you!” 

“I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU!” All the rage began to take over Clive, making him more vulnerable for Barnabas to land strong attacks on him. 

The King bested Clive, watching him drop weakly to the ground. Barnabas motioned his sword to Clive’s face of defeat, pointing the tip of his blade, “Bow before your king, Clive Rosfield.” 

You grabbed the collar of unconscious Joshua’s red shirt, dragging him along as she marches over to Lord Barnabas. You dropped his unmoving body, standing with the King. “(Y/n), my soon to be queen, would you like to do the honours to finish Clive Rosfield in my stead?” 

“As you wish, Lord Barnabas.” You unsheathed one of your dual swords with Barnabas taking a step back as he watches you finish off Ifrit’s dominant. “(Y/n), please!” shouted Clive, crawling back in his weak state “(Y/n)...my love…come back to me…” 

As you were going to pierce him through the heart with your dual sword, you felt your hand on the sword’s hilt shaking for some reason. Your head began to throb, the pain growing heavier. You screamed in agony causing you to drop your dual sword as you backed away, head down with hands to the sides. “Ah! Ugh…” feeling the pain increasing, you shrieked with your eyes closed looking up to the sky of darkness. It felt more like a cry for help. You drop your head looking to the ground while suffering with headaches. 

“(Y/n)? (Y/n)?!” Clive rises up quickly to come and aid you. You pushed him away and sorrowful tears appeared in your eyes. Memories popped up in your head, there were so many of them. Sad, happy memories. Most of them…had Clive Rosfield in it. Remembering the momentous days you spent time with him. The laughs you share together, the happiness and the joy…

You started to remember something that you lost…

“(Y/n)...” Clive called out your name in a calm tone, walking up to you at a slow pace. You slowly held your head up, your eyes focused on him, “C-Clive…” 

Finally, you came back to him, “(Y/n)...” Clive swept you in his strong arms, holding you tight in an embrace, “My dear (Y/n)...I knew you were still in there.” 

You continued to have your arms wrapped around Clive, remembering the last time you embraced him. “Oh my, this is very touching.” you pulled away from your lover for a moment as Barnabas looked at both of you with a smirk, slipping out his sword, “Never thought this day would come where (Y/n) (L/n) regains her old self. Even her memories.” 

“Stay back, my love. I will deal with him.” Clive urges you to step aside, grasping the hilt of his sword and facing towards Barnabas’s direction. “Clive…” you mumbled , saying his name worryingly. You didn’t want to know what would happen next but you just envisioned it anyway. Things are about to get ugly.

“Tell me, Mythos…you think you can protect your precious dove from me?” Barnabas questioned, semi-priming into the dark eikon Odin. His voice goes demonically deep, “Do you truly believe you have all the strength to protect your precious (Y/n)?” 

Clive, once again, half transformed into his Ifrit form. The roars of the flames floating all over him, standing his ground, “I will never let you take her away from me again, Barnabas.”

“Come then, Mythos…” Barnabas raising his sword, the sharp point focusing on Clive Rosfield, “Let’s see if you have the power to defeat me.” 

And so the two raging dominants clashed on, blades clicking together as they fought like wild beasts in the fight. You just stood there, frozen. Watching them battling against each other. 

You thought Clive would win. Barnabas outsmarted him somehow, sweeping him off the ground. “Ugh!” Clive groaned, blood dripping from his mouth. “Clive!” You pulled out your dual sword and rushed to him as quickly as you could. 

“It’s over, Mythos!” Barnabas laughed devilishly, levelling his sword mid-air. Planning to kill the love of your life. “Fuck! Am I going to make it in time?!” you thought after realizing how far you are in the distance from them. 

As you watched Barnabas in panic who was about to end Clive’s life, you sped up rapidly and made it in time to kill the King. Your dual sword pierced through the chest. Barnabas spat out blood when he was stabbed by you, his hand dropping as his dark sword vanished. Transforming back to his human form. You drew your sword back, stepping away from him. A dying Barnabas twisted in your way, facing you, “Well…I never knew you had it in you…” He crept up to you in his weakened condition. “Get back, you fucking psycho!” you yelled in a threatening tone while walking a few steps back, drawing out your sword at his stone-hardened skin. Clive comes to your side, shielding you from Barnabas. 

“You have outdone yourself…(Y/n) (L/n)...” At long last, the King of Waloed is dead. His body dropped, his entire body turning to stone. You let out a sigh, throwing your sword in sorrow. Remembering the horrible things you’ve done.

“(Y/n)..” Clive comforts you, tucking you into his arms, “It’s over now, my love.” 

“You’re finally free from him, (Y/n).” A conscious Joshua finally awakened, healed enough to walk over with a small smile appearing on his face. Even Jill recovered her strength, “Welcome back to the real world, (Y/n).” happy tears forming into her eyes, she was so glad that you were back to your normal self. 

You hugged Joshua and Jill, crashing them into your arms. Being careful not to squeeze them too tight since they’re still slightly injured. “I’m so sorry…” your voice lowered, tears falling down onto your face. 

“It’s okay, (Y/n).” Joshua reassured you. 

“It wasn’t you, (Y/n). We both know that it wasn’t you.” Jill spoke in a comforting manner. 

You returned to Clive as the two of you nuzzled up to each other, “I miss you, my darling. Thought I would never see you again.” Thinking you were never coming back to him. If you didn’t, he would still be in a very dark place. “I’m here, Clive…Never forget that I will always come back to you..” 

Clive moved in closer to kiss you, your eyes shut tight falling into the moment where you circle your arms around him. Jill smiled warmly, seeing the two lovers reunited at last. Joshua chuckled nervously, knowing this was bound to happen. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention from you and Clive, “We should head back to the hideaway and inform the others about what happened here.” 

Jill added, “And let’s not forget to tell them that we have (Y/n) back with us. Our long lost dear friend of ours.” 

Clive nodded, agreeing with them. He held your hand into his, tightly so he never lets go. His blue eyes shining up on you, “Ready to head home with us, my darling?” 

You chuckled, smiling sweetly at your lover, “Let’s get the hell out of this miserable place.” 

✩࿐⋆*

(A/n) - Truly sorry for not writing him for A VERY LONG TIME! I hope you all enjoy reading it! UNTIL NEXT TIME ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ઇଓ

✩࿐⋆*

[lenatgold]

After Darkness, I Hope for Light.

AN: I am new here, I just finished final fantasy 16 and I have to get all these ideas and feelings out and my AO3 invitation hasn’t been sent out yet so you all get it first <3 I probably haven’t written anything in 8 or 9 years so please forgive! ^-^

"I heard you overdid it again" You leaned against the door frame of the physicas ward as streams of light let in from some slates in the wood. Joshua slowly looked over at you with a wry smile.

You weren't certain why you decided to come to see him. Waiting around for Clive to return from the many duties he was being pulled to and from left for large chunks of downtime through some of the weeks. You had started to grow used to Joshua's visits to the tower. Momentary respites where you both talked about everything and nothing. Always edging closer to topics that would eventually turn cold. His healing touch wasn't limited to just his physical abilities from his Eikon. His words also seem to softly touch old scars and wounds that hadn't completely healed.

"My Lady, it is good to see you" Joshua began to make a move to sit up in his bed but Jote began to place a hand on him to coax him to lay back down. "I am fine, Jote. Thank you"

Jote clenched her jaw and gave a look to you a mixture of annoyance and pleading. With a together look that Joshua should not be disturbed. You just shrugged at her and stepped through the doorway.

"I missed our talks, so I thought I might bring them to you this time. Considering the circumstances." You took several steps closer to him as you spoke.

"I would like nothing more, Jote, do you mind bringing the Lady a seat" She moved deftly as he spoke "Was there something in particular you wished to discuss about?"

You gave Jote a nod as she pulled a chair in the corner up next to the bed. Taking a seat, you looked him over. He looked very pale. He held a rag in his hand, stained brown from old blood. He did such a fine job most times not showing much weakness. It was on full display now. You felt a tug inside you that wasn't wholly unfamiliar. You wanted to protect him but knew you couldn't. Not from this, or many other things in the world.

"No, not really" You answered nonchalantly, you noticed the basin of water on the bedside table with fresh rags. "I was wondering if there was anything that might be on the great phoenixes mind."

Joshua looked downward as if digging into his very soul for a subject he desired to discuss. You knew he had many questions about your past. You answered them whenever he had the courage enough to ask. However, you never knew how deep demons were buried and he knew all too well how quickly they would burn you in their fires.

He was pulled away from his thinking however when he felt a tug at his hand. You had risen and taken the rag out of his hand. You set it aside and replaced it with a fresh one. Turning back, you dipped another in the cool water. You sat back on the edge of your seat and leaned in.

He had been in bed for several days and while Tarja was an excellent physica she was being overrun with patients. Jote spent every spare moment with Joshua but still had her own missions to run and you, if you were honest with yourself, had been too much of a coward to see Joshua for the first few days he was back.

He caught your eye as you leaned forward with the damp rag.

"My Lady, I am fine… You don't have to…" You wiped his brow as he spoke, and he stopped suddenly as soon as the coolness seeped into his skin. Days of restless sleep, sweat, fever, and recovery had built up a layer that he didn't know was there until it was being wiped away.

You wiped his forehead following the natural curve of his temple, his cheek, his jawline, then his neck. He began to feel a mixture of both relief and heat as you did the same on the other side of his face. You seemed to pay attention to every curve. His eyes followed your own trying to see, trying to read, trying to know the thoughts going on behind them.

You never looked at him. Your heart did give a flutter once when you glanced back at him, and his eyes were locked on yours. What were you doing? Why were you doing this? You wanted to pay him kindness. The same kindness he showed everyone, that he often showed you but the way you had to force yourself to take each breath. That was not an intended part of the plan.

Joshuas hand reached for yours as you dragged the rag down the other side of his neck. He continued to look at you until your eyes met his.

You didn't want to meet his gaze however, your heart and mind feared what might happen if you did. If he chipped another fragment of your wall away. He had already weakened it more than you had cared to.

You looked at his hand holding onto yours. The back of it had dried blood, you focused on it until you felt his other hand tip your chin upwards to look at him. His eyes saw into your very soul, and for the first time, you felt incredibly weak in front of the frailty of him.

"Is there something you would like to discuss, …My Lady" He spoke barely in a whisper, as if the very words spoken might bring about the end times spoken about in song.

You took his hand in yours and wiped the blood off the back of it with the rag breaking eye contact with him. You spent a few moments longer than was needed examining his hand and placing it gently back onto his lap.

"No, my Lord, Only that I wish for you a speedy recovery" You don't know why you did it, you had succeeded in breaking whatever enchantment had taken over the two of you in that moment. You shouldn't give him hope, not in this. Yet something inside you moved against your very will. Something stronger than will. The connection you both had with one another took over.

You placed your hand gently against his cheek rubbing your thumb across his cheekbone. His eyes closed against them as he leaned into your hand. You could feel his heart aching for the words that were not said.

"Rest well, Dear Prince" You finally said as his fingertips lightly touched the back of your hand. "I will see you on the morrow"

You got up slowly feeling the warmth of his cheek linger on your hand.

"You will come again, tomorrow that is?" You turned as you heard him speak. Surprised to see his cheerful smile.

"I am a woman of my word" You spoke smiling back.

"I will be waiting"

[horrorlove14]

The Royal and His Street Performer - Final Fantasy XVI

Pairing: Clive Rosfield x Female! Reader

The reader comes from a family of travelling street performers who would sing and dance for money thanks to her angelic singing voice and beauty.

Clive has been infatuated with a certain girl who is found in the village square every year singing and dancing with her family while dressed in beautiful flowing dresses which make her movements look graceful and elegant like a siren.

He was smitten by her performances every single time but never had the guts to go up and talk to her and watched from a distance.

He gets sad whenever she and her family leave to go travelling to other nations for performances and sulks about having to wait another year to see her again.

He did manage to get his chance to speak to her and ended up forming a close friendship where they would exchange letters with each other yearly.

Unfortunately, Clive lost everything he cared for such as his kingdom and family in a brutal war and took a path of revenge against those who took everything from him.

Now as a man in his early thirties, he had battled enemies who had crossed his path on his revenge path.

He often wondered about what had become of the girl he had fallen in love with since childhood and prayed that she is alive and well.

By some miracle, he was finally reunited with the girl who is now a beautiful and mature woman who looks like a goddess or a siren from another world at a town square, performing as she did before but this time, she is alone.

Clive waited patiently for her to finish up her performance and once she does, he went up to her and gives her a tight hug which caught her off guard but she returned the hug.

They caught up with each other about everything that happened during the war over the years since they last saw each other which was over a decade or two ago.

It is now or never for the former royal to confess his feelings towards her when he admits that he's been in love with her ever since he first saw her performing at his former kingdom as a child.

Long story short, they become lovers and Clive has a brand new purpose in life which is to protect his beloved because she is too pure and innocent that shall not be tainted by the horrors and cruelty from his cruel and chaotic world.

----------------------------------------------------

End of story. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Happy Christmas to everyone. 🎄🎄

[kuromikuma]

Rekindle (rewritten)

Joshua Rosfield x female reader | reunited with his betrothed.

TW: none

wc-491

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Still trying to sort out the gyomei fic but I rewrote my first ff16 fic

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"There's someone I think you would like to see." Joshua's brows furrowed in confusion at his brother's words.

  "Someone I'd like to see?" he repeated, a perplexed expression crossing his face. He looked at his brother, his mind racing with the possibilities.

With that, Clive turned and left the room, leaving Joshua alone with his thoughts. He wondered who it could be that his brother thought he would like to see. A friend? A family member? The possibilities swirled through his mind, but he couldn't settle on anything specific. He decided to just wait and see, as his brother had instructed.

A few moments later, the door to the infirmary opened again. Tarja approached Joshua's bedside placing water on the side table with a slight smile on her face.

Joshua's heart skipped a beat. He straightened up in his bed. "Who is it?" he asked, slightly nervous.

He keeps his eyes on the door and a familiar girl walks in. "(Y/n)?" Joshua stands and the girl walks quickly to him and into his arms for a hug. He stands still for a moment in shock before he wraps his arms around her. While traveling with Jote he has thought a lot about what had happened to (y/n), where would she be and now she stands in front of him. Her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders. She was wearing a simple white dress, which you don't see very often now.

She tightens her hold on him. "Joshua."

Joshua couldn't believe his eyes. (Y/n) had been a childhood friend . They had grown up together, played together, and shared countless secrets. They were betrothed to each other as soon as his family found out the neighboring kingdoms queen had a daughter. After they left for phoenix gate he hadn't seen her since.

"How... how did you find her?" he asked, his mind still reeling from the surprise.

"Story for another time," Clive said. "But she's been with us at the hideaway for a while now."

Joshua's eyes filled with tears. He pulled away from the hug and reached took her hand in his. "I'm so glad you're here." he said. (Y/n) smiled and squeezed his hand. The two studied each other. Her face was radiant with beauty. The same honey colored eyes. She pulls one of her hands out of his and plays with the tips of his blond hair. She smiles, "Your hair has gotten longer."

Joshua returns her smile equally as excited about seeing her again after so long, "My hair, look at yours," he runs his fingers through the ends of her hair, "It used to reach your shoulders." Clive and Jill stand at the door watching them interact after so many years with smiles on their faces.

Then, (y/n) leaned forward and gave Joshua a gentle kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you," she said.

"I missed you too, my betrothed." Joshua replied.

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ Ⳋ

Thank you for reading

[misselysia]

Just for you

pairing: clive rosfield x (female) reader word count: 654

Finding yourself in the Valisthean woods, you moved with a purpose – Clive. Your goal: to gather some of the beautiful wyvern tails, the flowers that reminded you of Clive.

The woods were alive with nature's sounds, the birds singing their tune but your mind was fixed on your handsome leader, that you definitely had a crush on, Clive. You pictured his face, stoic most times, maybe softening if he saw the flowers you were collecting. Each wyvern tail you picked felt like a piece of hope and unspoken love. In the midst of the trees, you daydreamed about Clive's sturdy presence. This whole thing felt like a scene from a story, and you were playing the main character.

Lost in your thoughts, time flew away like it always does. The bunch of flowers in your hands meant more than just petals – it was a silent message.

As you clutched the bouquet of wyvern tails, deciding you've had enough collected, you made your way back through the woods from where you came, Obolus already awaited your return at the skiff. You eagerly jumped on board, the ferry man ready to take off. The fading light hinted at the approaching night as you sailed back towards the hideaway.

The blighted sea, a dangerous yet truly beautiful sight, stretched out before you, its eerie waters reflecting the darkening sky. The skiff cut through the tainted waves, and the scent of salt mixed with the ominous air of the Blight. The distant horizon, painted with hues of orange and purple, signaled the approaching end of the day.

As you approached the hideaway, the silhouette of the old ruins of the shipwreck emerged against the dimming sky. Skillfully guiding the skiff, the soft lapping of blighted waves accompanied your journey. You clutched your bouquet, the wyvern tails seeming to glow in the fading light. Little did you know, the night held more than just stars.

The skiff gently docked at the hideaway and Obolus, experienced in these waters, skillfully secured the vessel. Your heart quickened as you stepped onto the creaky, old docks. Behind you, the Blighted Sea stretched, its murky waters reflecting the dimming twilight. You took a steadying breath, mustering the courage to ascend the worn wooden elevator that led to the upper decks.

Approaching the huge doors of Clive's chambers, you felt the weight of unspoken emotions. With a hesitant breath, you raised your hand to knock.

However, a strange impulse stopped you from doing so. Instead, you peered through the gaps in the wooden door, hoping for a glimpse of Clive. What you saw inside shattered your excitement like glass.

Through the dimly lit room, you saw Clive and Jill, in a moment that, in the shadows, appeared more intimate than it probably was. Your heart dropped, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. Without thinking, you let go of the wyvern tails. The flowers tumbled to the floor, their vibrant petals now scattered like fallen dreams.

Embarrassment and hurt gripped you as you turned away. You ran to the bunks, seeking refuge in the darkness. You wanted nothing more than to get some sleep and forget about everything that had happened.

Meanwhile in Clive's chambers, the air carried the weight of unspoken tension. Jill, after sharing old memories with Clive, sensed the unresolved something hanging between them. With a casual goodbye, she left the room, leaving Clive alone in the dim light. Watching her leave, his eyes fell on the fallen wyvern tails. The vibrant petals glowed in the muted room, and suddenly, it hit him. He recognized those flowers, grasped their meaning, and a hint of regret settled in his chest. With a resigned sigh, Clive knelt down to gather the scattered wyvern tails. Each flower held a silent tale, and he could almost feel the weight of your gesture. Feeling the weight of the misunderstanding, he decided to seek clarity. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cliffhangerrrrr hehe I thought it would be better to do it in 2 parts, so the anticipation is higher. But don't worry, part 2 is on it's way! Good night/morning my lovelies <3

[pinkkittysaw]

MASTERLIST

dividers by @/cafekitsune

all fics are tagged with #angel writes ᯓᡣ𐭩 and all blurbs are tagged as #blurbs

reblogs on my fics are heavily appreciated! :)

FULL FICS

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ CLIVE ROSFIELD

• MULTIPLE CHARACTERS

༻ in the crooks of your body, i find my religion ༺

featuring: cidolfus telamon x priestess reader x clive rosfield

word count: 7,333

summary: long time “companion” cid and his newest recruit clive seek refuge in your church as their search for the second fire eikon continues

tags: (18+), smut, blasphemy, hierophilia, sex in a church, dom/sub dynamics, breast/nipple play, oral (m! receiving) foreskin play, virginity loss (clive), creampie, minor brat taming, degradation, spit, spanking, notes of humiliation kink & exhibitionism, praise, petnames (angel)

✰ミ FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY’S

༻ thanksgiving ༺ | featuring: mike schmidt x gn! reader

word count: 1,864

summary: you save the holiday with some chinese food

tags: fluff, established relationship, reader is celebrating us american thanksgiving

༻ five nights at mike’s ༺

featuring: mike schmidt x plus sized! female reader

word count: 5,735

summary: you spend the night at your boyfriend’s place

tags: (18+), established relationship, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), minor pussyjob, breast/nipple play, protected sex (use of condom), intimacy kink, both reader and mike have pubes

✰ミ CHALLENGERS

༻ everything is romantic ༺

featuring: art donaldson x afab! reader

word count: 1,035

summary: you’re craving mac and cheese

tags: fluff, established relationship, mentions of menstrual period, one suggestive comment, mentions of art’s (and presumed yours) in canon daughter, lily. reader is shorter than art

BLURBS

✰ミ SAW (2004)

༻ i don’t smoke ༺ | adam stanheight x gn! reader

summary: you connect with adam the only way you know how

tags: angst, grief and smoking

✰ミ CHAINSAW MAN

༻ i wish i knew you wanted me ༺ | aki hayakawa x gn! reader

tags: angst, comparing yourself to makima

❀ aki angst

tags: pregnancy mention

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ torgal being protective over you during pregnancy

tags: pregnancy mention

❀ ass play with clive (m & f receiving, 18+)

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XV

❀ pussy inspection with older noctis (18+)

HEADCANONS

✰ミ JUJUTSU KAISEN

❀ satoru gojo

✰ミ FINAL FANTASY XVI

❀ clive rosfield

EVENTS

✰ミ KINKTOBER 2023

[ffxvficrec]

by Chibi_saurr2 /əˈsen.dən.si/ a position of power, strength, or success You can't control the voices. You can't control “their” or “her” voice, And as a “crystal?” nun, and hidden dominant of the Dhalmakian empire, you have noticed your duty is always more important. But now You just want to control him. “They” make you do it. Will you, remain in your search of control while feeling the urge to control Clive? or will you fall in love with him when you are everything he hates? what will he do once he discovers you two are just the same? Words: 5176, Chapters: 3/?, Language: English Fandoms: Final Fantasy XV , Final Fantasy , Final fantasy x reader - Fandom Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Major Character Death Categories: F/M Characters: Reader , Y/n - Character , Clive Rosfield , Joshua Rosfield , Jill Warrick , Cidolfus Telamon , Bahamut (Final Fantasy XV) , Benedikta Harman , Barnabas Tharmr , Torgal , Hugo Kupka , Anabella Rosfield , Gav , Ifrit , Manat , Dominants - Character , Garuda Relationships: Reader x Clive Rosefield Additional Tags: ff16 - Freeform , reader - Freeform , XReader , Clive Rosfield Needs a Hug , Clive Rosfield Lives , Top Clive Rosfield , Joshua Rosfield Lives , Joshua Rosfield Needs A Hug , Minor Clive Rosfield/Jill Warrick , Cidolfus Telamon Lives , Past Benedikta Harman/Cidolfus Telamon , Hugo kupka is really bad , Reader was abused , Dominant , Ifrit - Freeform , Reader is powerful but at what cost? , Death , Fighting , kidnaping , Possesiveness , Reader is like itadori yuuji (jjk) , Introvert x Introvert trope , Friends to Lovers , Reader x clive , Dominant Reader , All Time Favorites , Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) , Final Fantasy - Freeform , Final fantasy 16 boys , Love Triangle , joshua rosfield x reader , Joshua rosfield x reader x Clive rosfield

[drabblesandimagines]

Pining

Clive Rosfield x fem reader, based on this request. Angsty fluff, minor game spoilers.

-

You’d experienced a lot of hurt in your life.

It had hurt when, days after your 14th Name Day, you’d manifested magick without a crystal. Your father had marched you up to the constable’s office with no hesitation, your mother and sister at the door watching, but not protesting as you were dragged away. Your father wouldn’t even look at you as you sobbed, begging him to forgive you, that you didn’t mean it, but he was unmoved. The hurt of being so easily flung aside by people you thought were meant to love you unconditionally.

It had hurt when you’d been Branded a few days afterwards - strapped down to a table as a soldier had a hand grasped around your throat to keep you still, all whilst the Brand Master inked your skin. It was rare to awaken so late and they couldn’t risk losing such a healthy Bearer to the poisoned black carved into your skin, or so you’d overheard, so it was imperative you did not move. If your face wasn’t burning, your throat was from the taunting squeeze of your windpipe to keep you still.

It had hurt when a series of masters had worked you to the bone from the off. When they’d kicked, punched, whipped you for the days they felt you weren’t performing your best, that you were being lazy, not that you were drained of energy from a diet of scraps.

It had hurt knowing your life had a price, a physical amount of gil exchanged between hands, and one which lessened as you aged. It had hurt when your intoxicated master tried to flog you on the street to afford a few more pints of ale, until Cid came to your rescue.

It had hurt the day you’d had your Brand removed, despite the draught Tarja had you drink in preparation. The Brand removal was necessary when you joined the Cursebreakers – an unescorted Branded was too much of a target, after all. Tarja’s touch was gentle, her scalpel hand practiced and cautious, but it was never going to be pain-free.

All that hurt in your life, but this, you think - as you watch Clive and Jill deep in conversation, the way his eyes seem to light up when she places her hand on his arm - is the worst hurt of all.

You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Clive Rosfield. 

There had been many Bearers easy on the eye across the years, but romance was strictly forbidden. Being caught in too close proximity with one another was enough to warrant a beating in many master’s eyes, the guilty parties made example of so much that you didn’t even dare to dream of finding love.

Even after settling down in the Hideaway, you hadn’t thought of it…

Until Clive.

Somehow, over the years, he’d crept his way into your heart, slowly and cautiously, and you don’t know how he did, but he’s there now and it hurts.

You’d met Jill in the infirmary. You weren’t a physicker by any means, but Tarja said your gentle manner was ideal for comforting those who were in pain or sick, so you’d been helping out there when Jill was first brought in, clinging to life.

The two of you had become best friends almost instantly – helping someone in those early days of recovery bonds two like nothing else - and your friendship had only grown stronger over the years. It felt like having your sister back, the jokes and secrets once again shared as she taught you how to braid your hair. You’d sobbed for each other in her room one night - for lost childhoods, lost dreams, lost family.

Before any feelings towards Clive had begun to develop within you, you’d gently teased her about him – asking her if he was her suitor.

“Clive?” She smiled, stifling a laugh. “No, he’s practically my brother. I love him, but not like that.”

Being friends with Jill had led to being friends with Clive, naturally. There had been tears when they’d returned from Drake’s Head sans Cid after Titan’s attack on the Hideaway - tears in relief at each other’s safety and tears for those lost. You’d been one of the lucky ones, escaping with minimal injury and had immediately thrown yourself into helping find and build the new Hideaway on the blighted lake. There was always something to be done – endless carpentry work, covert supply runs, shifts in the infirmary, taking turns making big batches of stews before Molly stepped up to save everyone the stomach ache.

At the turn of the year in the new Hideaway, the ale had been flowing at the Tub & Crown – music playing away on the orchestrator in a rare night of celebration. There was still work to do – the base would require constant maintenance and expansion of course, and not to mention the issue of the Mothercrystals themselves – but the mood was joyful.

Otto had even asked Lady Charon for a dance, much to everyone’s amusement. Everyone had held their breath, bracing themselves for her quick-witted tongue, but Charon had shrugged and accepted his outstretched hand. As they waltzed, others begun to join them, and you watched with an enchanted smile on your face. It felt like almost something out of a fairytale. Gav soon approached your table and extended a hand to Jill in a flourish, she is soon whisked away into the fray, laughing as Gav definitely has two left feet.

An outstretched hand appears to your side.

“May I have this dance, my lady?” You turn to see Clive, not dressed in his full armour, just his white undershirt and leather breeches. He seems softer for it, more relaxed in casual attire for a change.

“I… I don’t know how, I’m afraid.” You shake your head at his offer – you were never a lady of the court after all. Not like Jill.

“I assure you I am very out of practice, so we’ll do fine together. Please?” It must be the ale, you think, as you relent and take his hand.

He pulls you to your feet with ease and escorts you to the middle of the makeshift dance floor, placing his other hand on the small of your back and pulling you close.

“Just follow my lead – like our lessons in the pit.” He smiles, and your heart thuds.

You soon fall into the cautious rhythm – he steps forward, you step back. His eyes flick between yours and behind you, making sure you’re not going to collide into any of the other couples, particularly the enthusiastic Gav. Your face feels hot under Clive’s soft gaze. What is this feeling?

The music comes to an end too soon.

“Thank you, Clive.” You say, softly.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “My lady, the pleasure was mine.”

You stare at one another, perhaps a second too long, when there’s a loud crash – Gav has missed the stool in his eagerness to get back to his pint.

“Who moved my seat?!”

Laughter echo arounds the hall and the moment is lost then, but you remember it with a warm feeling in your stomach, a smile on your face as you drift off to sleep in your bed that day.

And the feeling only grows and grows…

--

A few months have passed since the turn of the year and life at the Hideaway remains busy – the Fallen relic constantly needs restructuring to accommodate new arrivals of freed Bearers after they had been nursed back to health in the infirmary, before you’d begin to assist them in adjusting to their new found freedom – albeit limited to the confines of the Hideaway - but freedom none-the-less.

Things have been somewhat different lately. Jill and Clive are often out on excursions together and when they are both back within the Hideaway, they have started to secrete themselves away on an evening to his chambers. It’s hard not to feel left out. Dominant business, you’d try to reassure yourself. A Bearer like yourself was nothing like the power an Eikon possessed. Jill doesn’t say what she’s been up to and you don’t pry, but she seems happier recently. Whenever you see her, she gets almost giggly, like she has a secret you’re not privy too.

And now, seeing the two of them sat at the table in the far corner, as if not to be disturbed, conferring closely, the physical contact, it becomes all too clear and it hurts.

“Gil for your thoughts, like?”

You jump at the sound of Gav’s voice and realise he’s stood right in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed him climbing the stairs, so fixated on the moment between Clive and Jill. You readjust the pile of books in your arms - Vivian had asked you to fetch a number of them from the shelves as she poured over the latest correspondences and, wanting to keep occupied, you had agreed.

“Oh.” You force a smile, though your heart is beating a mile a minute. “It’s nothing. I’m tired, I think.”

“That’s no surprise – you seem to be helping everyone at the moment.” He gestures to the books.

“I like to keep busy.”

At that moment, Jill lifts her hand from Clive’s arm and subtly gestures to you, but you keep your eyes focused on Gav. There’s a sweet smile on Clive’s face when he locates you with those kind blue eyes. He nods his head in acknowledgment, beckoning you over with his own hand.

It’s easier to pretend you haven’t seen the invite, that your eyes were fixed elsewhere.

There’s no fun in being a third wheel. You want to be happy for them, but there’s a horrible gnawing in your stomach, a constant lump in your throat. You’re jealous – you know it’s childish, pathetic, selfish behaviour and it hurts because you love Jill, you want her to be happy.

It’s easier to try and keep your distance, you conclude, and head out towards the map room, missing Jill’s puzzled expression and Clive’s crestfallen look.

--

The next day, they’d been embracing near the stairs to the side of the lift early afternoon – the very lift you needed to get in. Eyes cast down, task in mind, you tried to walk past unnoticed.

“..I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jill.”

The stabbing pain in your chest intensifies as you overhear so you quicken your pace, thinking you’ll get in and hit the lever without notice, but Jill steps in front of you, a warm smile on her face as always.

“There you are. We’ve been looking for you all over.”

“Can’t stop,” the lie comes easy, a false smile plastered on your face in return. “Tarja needs more herbs for the infirmary, so I’m heading to the mainland.”

“Well, allow me to accompany you.” Clive steps forward.

“No need. Cole’s waiting at the dock already for me.” You reply, stepping around Jill and backwards into the lift, slamming the lever with a little more force than strictly necessary.

--

No-one wants your help today. It’s odd. You’ve been round the Hideaway twice making sure no jobs had popped up since you’d last enquired. Despite everything seeming as busy as usual, everyone reassures you with various iterations of, “All’s in hand, thank you. Why don’t you take the day off?”

Not knowing what to do with yourself, you’d retreated to the solar you shared with Jill. It’s close quarters, true, but enough for two beds and a small dresser, holding a mirror. When Jill hadn’t been away from the Hideaway, you’d taken to getting up early and retiring late, making sure you could only exchange pleasantries about your days – you worried any prolonged interaction would cause your façade to crack. You love her, you should be happy for her, but you’re worried jealousy might poison your words.

You look in the mirror, your eyes immediately drawn to your Brand scar. Jill is a proper lady – elegant, poised, a Dominant, her cheeks smooth and unmarred. They’re perfect together. Why can’t your heart catch up with your head?

The door opens. Jill walks in, pausing as she places her hands on her hips as if she’s caught you in the act of something.

“Come on, out with it.”

“Out with what?” You feign ignorance.

“You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

“No, I haven’t.” You sit down on the bed, picking at a loose thread on the sheet. You should take it to Hortense. “Just busy. You know how it is.”

“You’ve always been a bad liar.” She chides, sitting down on her own bed. “Please. I’m worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” You smile, trying your best to make sure it reaches your eyes under her scrutinizing gaze. “No need to fuss.”

“You rise early, retire late – you’re burning yourself out.”

“It’s not every day. Besides…” jealousy tinges your tone - your will weakened by heartache and tiredness, “..you’ve been away with Clive so much of late, or in his chambers, you wouldn’t know.”

Jill stares at you for a moment, before her eyes widened in realization. “Clive and I-“

You get to your feet, your eyes burning, you can’t hear it out loud. “I’ve got to go.” And you run as if an Eikon was at your heels.

--

You’re sat at the edge of the a partially constructed platform towards the back of the Hideaway that was slowly being expanded. They hadn’t got much further than increasing the floorspace, but you dangled your legs off the side, watching the waters lap below and let the tears flow at last.

A wet nose nuzzles at your arm, a soft whine.

“Hello, Torgal.” Your voice thick with tears, you rub his soft ears. He accepts your attentions for a moment before he softly trots away as quick as he came, cementing your pitiful mood.

A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approach.

“Good boy, Torgal.” Clive praises his faithful wolf and you freeze. You can’t run away this time – the only exit being the waters below.

“Torgal kindly helped me to find your hiding place.”

You rub your face with the heel of your hand but you worry it’s too late, that your voice is going to give you away. “Surely everyone hides in a hideaway.” Your attempt at a light-hearted tone sounds a little too forced through the tightness in your throat.

“True.” Hesitation. “May I?”

“O-of course.” You dig your fingernails into your palm, hoping to gain composure as Clive sits down besides you. There isn’t a lot of space on the ledge you had chosen, his knee knocking into yours as he sits.

“We’ve missed your company of late. I hear you’ve been assisting almost everyone here.”

“Always something to do.” You shrug, keeping your eyes fixed on your boots. “Though no-one seemed to want me today.”

“Ah, that was my doing. I asked them for respite – you’ve been working hard.”

“Oh.” Your heart is hammering at the proximity between the two of you. Can he hear it?

“Have I… offended you in some way?” He sounds nervous.

“Not at all.”

“You seem unable to meet my eyes recently.”

You know you should look at him then, to suggest he’s wrong, but they still sting with tears and you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want his pity. You can’t answer.

Clive continues. “You seem to avoid me at all costs. Jill believes so too. She says you’re early to rise and late to bed, constantly on the move.”

“There’s just a lot to do.”

“You do not have to do it all.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Says you.”

Another pause.

“Please...” His voice cracks ever so slightly with his request. “Look at me.”

You wish on Metia for strength – you feel he’d stay here all night if he must – and turn. The tell-tale tears on your cheeks highlighted in the moon’s glow.

He looks crestfallen, his hand twitches in his lap – he wants to brush away the tears. “I’ve upset you.”

You shake your head, averting your gaze again. “You haven’t.”

“What troubles you, then?”

“I…” You swallow. “I want something.”

“Then you shall have it.” Clive states, confidently. “After all, you do so much for the Hideaway and everyone in it. All you need to do is ask.”

“No. I… I want something I cannot have.”

“I don’t know about that. We destroyed a Mothercrystal.”

“No, it isn't like that. I really cannot have this.”

“Tell me - please. I cannot stand to see you this way a moment longer.” He places his hand on yours as he leans in – it can’t be deliberate. “I will do whatever it takes to see you smile again.”

A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill and you turn your head in towards your shoulder. It is only there for a moment when fingers grasp your chin so gently, tilting it back towards him and forcing you to meet those blue eyes once more.

“Please.”

You can’t refuse him any longer. The vortex of emotions inside is too much. Maybe - maybe - if you let it out, you could try and move on than wallow forever more in this hole of self-pity.

“I want you.”

He blinks, his expression unchanged. Your heart is beating too fast, you feel sick, things will never be the same again-

His lips are on yours. Clive Rosfield is kissing you. You’re too stunned to reciprocate for a second, but then you pull back, looking alarmed.

“But Jill…“

“What about Jill?” His tone is one of confusion.

“You’re with Jill.”

“I am not." He looks almost amused. "I care for her, true, but as a sister.”

“But the two of you… I’ve seen you. Secret conversations at all hours and…”

“We were talking about you.” Clive looks embarrassed. “I… I felt unable to express my intentions. Jill was determined to give me encouragement. I’ve been trying to get a moment with you all week.”

Your heart is skipping in a confusing way. “Your intentions?”

“You consume my thoughts when you are in and out of sight. I don’t know how you did it. You have been a constant by my side these last few years and I feel myself yearn more for you every passing day.” He places a hand on your cheek. “I was becoming insufferable away from the Hideaway with my talk of you, or so Jill claims.”

Your face is burning red at his sweet words, his soft touch upon your face, the admiration in his eyes. He leans forward again, his lips pressed against yours gently at first as you fall into a clumsy rhythm – both shy and a little unsure at first.

His teeth nip your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so your tongues intertwine. You place your hand on his chest – something you’ve only ever dreamed of – and he wraps you up in his arms, pulling you close, kissing you as if he needs it to live.

Clive pulls back, allowing the two of you to catch your breath, before he smiles at you.

“You don’t need to be in want of me, my darling, for I am already yours.”

-

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[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

[drabblesandimagines]

Careless

Clive Rosfield x female reader Minor FF16 spoilers as per, Gav says a swear or two

The boat ride back to the Hideaway is silent – odd considering the cargo onboard is a reason for celebration. Obolus is at the helm as usual and hasn’t dared to grumble once at the additional weight. The rescued Bearers – eight adults, one child – are curled up under blankets and sack cloth, the gentle bob of the water having lulled them to sleep. Gav is sat near them, keeping his eyes cast down in his lap. Torgal is fast asleep at your feet, snoring lightly after the exertion of the day. A number of Cursebreakers had stayed ashore, but there are a few onboard who are either admiring their boots or keeping their gaze on the horizon.

You’ve kept your eyes anywhere else but the two stormy blue ones that have been fixed solely on you since boarding the vessel. Clive is sat opposite, arms crossed, legs spread wide and you swear you can feel his glare burn.

Making any sort of prolonged eye contact with the outlaw before had done little else but cause your cheeks to flush. He was attractive, there was no denying that – even enemies had commented on it in fights, for Founder’s sake. The two of you had always got on well since he joined the Hideaway over five years ago and you’d been a liar if you hadn’t entertained the possibility of something more.

Not now, though.

Not with how furious he is with you.

It wasn’t even meant to have been a mission. Gav had accompanied you to Northreach for a supply run. He hadn’t been out scouting for a few days and had itchy feet, so he’d jumped at the chance to leave the Hideaway for a couple of hours, even if it meant acting as your pack chocobo. There were requests in from the Tub & Crown for spices and always an endless request for more herbs for the infirmary, so you’d headed to Northreach for the market there. The two of you had been walking down a less travelled path towards Clairview when a unique accent had caught your ears, heading your way.

Royalists.

Gav’s eyes widened and the two of you ducked back into the undergrowth, thankfully free of fiends. For a couple of weeks now, there had been unconfirmed intelligence that the Royalists had been abducting Bearers and shipping them out to Ash at an alarming rate. A couple of Cursebreaker groups had been out trying to scout possible docking locations, but nothing had ever been confirmed.

But what else would a small group of Royalists be doing in the Empire? From your hiding place, three soldiers quickly march by, a Branded child of no more than eight in their grip. Tears streaked the young girl’s face and it broke your heart, flinging your mind back to when you’d been young and sold between master and master…

“Do you think…?” Gav doesn’t finish his sentence as they walk out of earshot.

“It must be. Come on, we need to follow them.”

Gav’s hand grabs your arm and holds you in place.

“Look, I admit we’re decent with a blade but we have no idea what we’ll be walking into.”

“This could be our only chance – this is the first concrete evidence we’ve had.”

“I know, but there’s two of us. There might be a whole battalion of soldiers where they’re headed.”

You bite your lip – you agree, but there must be something you can do. The terror in the little girl’s eyes will haunt you the rest of your life if you don’t. Maybe, if one of you could go and get back-up, the other follow the Royalists and leave a trail… Gav. It would have to be Gav.

“Go get back-up, then follow the scent.”

“Wait, you’re not-“

“They want Bearers. I’m a Bearer, aren’t I?” You swiftly take off your leather armour and sword belt, handing them over to scout who is staring at you in disbelief.

“Aye fucking right!”

“Clive had a missive from the Dame early this morning, so he should be in Northreach by now. There’ll be more Cursebreakers there too. Fetch them and then put that scouting nose to good use. I’ll leave an excellent trail for you to follow.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am. Trust me, Gav. I trust you.”

“Oh, pile the pressure on, why don’t you?” Gav sighs.

“You’re the best scout in Valisthea, no such thing as pressure. See you soon.”

You jog off before Gav can get another word in, leaving him in disbelief. It doesn’t take long to catch up with the Royalists ahead on the path and, without much thought of what you were doing, you dash past, stumbling on purpose and crashing to the ground in front of them.

They curse, two drawing their weapons immediately and the third keeping a tight grip on the child already in their custody. You hold your hands up in front of you, looking up at them, and begin to draw aether in deliberately slowly before a blade is pointed towards your chest.

“What’s this – a Bearer without a Brand?” The sword-wielder sneers, leaning down and pulling you up to your feet by your collar. “I’d say what a pity, but you’ve stumbled straight into our lap.”

“No,” another blade is held against your chin, forcing your head to the side. “She’s had it removed.”

“Isn’t that clever?” The first soldier circles you in interest. “Doesn’t matter if you’re Branded or not to us, though, you’ll still do.”

He grabs you by the back of the neck and forces your head down, his other hand twisting your arm around your back and pushes you forward in a march. It’s hard to see where to walk so your footing is clumsy as you try to remain upright. It helps in a way as you’re trampling the plants underfoot  – hopefully enough for Gav to follow easily.

Eventually, you step out into a clearing and although your neck is still held, they allow you to raise your head at last to allow you to see a small carriage and a Chocobo waiting, with more Royalist soldiers mulling around. The carriage itself is tiny – it’s not one for passengers but for a small trader pedaling their goods. The doors are open, revealing a number of Bearers crammed already within its confines.

There’s a soldier with a pile of shackles and metal collars at his feet, waiting to prepare his cargo. You and the child are marched forward before you’re spun round and your hands are shackled tightly behind your back, swiftly followed by a metal collar fastened around your throat. A chain is then linked between the two, taut enough that it’s uncomfortable to find a balance. If you let your hands hang behind you, the chain goes tight and the collar presses tightly against your windpipe. You’re then pulled forward and shoved into the dark carriage, trying to shuffle yourself upright around the other captives.

The little girl is shoved in next and, as the doors close, plunging the carriage into darkness, you consider that this maybe wasn’t the best idea.

--

It’s hot – too many bodies crammed together in this cramped space. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth – what you’d do for a sip of water. It’s hard to try and get comfortable or anything resembling that. If you lean wrong the chain between the collar and the shackles tugs at your throat. The carriage is silent besides grunts of pain, gasps and soft sobs. One of the adult Bearers is doing their best to comfort the little girl, at least.

You want to reassure them, tell them you have a plan, your friends are coming… but you can’t quite find your voice in the moment.

After an unknown period of time, the carriage eventually sets out on its journey, rocking you and your fellow captives from side to side. You can only hope Gav picked up the trail you left, desperate as it was.

No – you know he will. There’s nothing you can do now you’re within the carriage, but you take solace in the fact the Chocobo and carriage wheels will leave trail – the amount of Bearers crammed in the small space will definitely gouge the earth underfoot.

It's hard to tell how long it’s been, but you’re hungry and even more thirsty by the time the carriage comes to an abrupt halt. The door is swiftly unlocked before the arm of a soldier reaches in, grabbing a Bearer at random by their shirt and pulling them out, causing them to wheeze as the collar presses at their throat.

The process is repeated until it’s your turn and you find yourself in a small cove at sunset, where a vessel bobs besides a dock far too small for it. The dock is obviously meant for fishing or rowing boats, but the Waloeders have improvised a narrow gangplank to board.

It’s a small merchant ship, shipping out Bearers right under the Empire’s nose.

You’re penned in by a group of soldiers and pulled forward one at a time to go up the narrow gangplank. Bearers are shaking and sobbing at the sight of the vessel – some know they aren’t going to survive the journey over and those that do will surely face a worse fate the other side.

Your stomach flips – you’re scared. The procession of Bearers continues at a pace. You are only a small group and the Royalists are obviously well-practised – it’s a professional operation. You dread to think of the numbers of Bearers they’ve shipped over so far.

You’re one of the two left on the cove when you’re yanked forward again by your top with such ferocity you nearly fall, being pushed towards the dock. If you get on that ship, it feels like it’s over.

Come on, Gav.

You’re only one step up the gangplank where there’s a yell from further up the cove.

Without warning, a cyclone of fire envelopes a group of soldiers standing guard, filling the air with the smell of scorched flesh and pained screams. As the fiery vortex dwindles, Clive emerges, sword aloft and looking mad as hell.

From behind him, Gav swings his own sword before the other Cursebreakers run into sight, engaging the remaining Waloeder soldiers. The guard escorting you on the ship pushes you forward, shouting something in an Ashen tongue to his brethren on the shore.

Green tendrils of light wrap around your captor and yank him back with the strength of Garuda onto the beach where Clive slices him down. You can see that the Cursebreakers have made quick work of the rest – the sand of the cove now stained a rusty red.

“You found us.” You breathe out in relief, walking back cautiously onto the dock and the sand where Clive stands, panting slightly in exertion. He sheathes his sword quickly and places his hands on your shoulders, his eyes scanning you.

“Are you hurt?”

You go to shake your head but then decide against it, worried about the collar pressing against your windpipe again at the movement.

“I’m fine.” Your voice is a little hoarse from the thirst and constriction. “There’s seven on the ship, including a child – we need to…”

“On it!” Cole calls, darting past onto the ship.

Clive looks relieved for a moment.

“What were you thinking?” He growls, frustration etched all over his face. “No, you can’t have been thinking because if you had been, you would’ve realized this was irrational.”

“It was our only chance.”

“No, it wasn’t. This was reckless, foolish-“

“I, er, found these keys on one of the bastards.” Gav interrupts, holding them out in evidence. “Thought you might want those off, like.”

Clive grunts in appreciation, taking them from Gav’s outstretched hand and stepping around the back of you. He makes quick work of the shackles around your wrists and you immediately bring them round to your front, rubbing the feeling back into them. Despite Clive’s obvious frustration with you, he gently brushes your hair out of the way and places a firm hand on the back of your head as he inserts the key in the collar. The relief at the sound of the lock releasing is indescribable as the metal ring is finally removed from your neck. You imagine it had been to keep the Bearers compliant on the journey across the strait.

“Thank you.”

Clive steps back round to the front of you, mouth open, obviously ready to continue with his lecture but Gav gestures behind. “You should get the others out of those chains, Clive.”

“Right.” He nods at you, though with how high his shoulders are you know it’s not the end of it. He turns and meets the first Bearer cautiously walking back down the gangplank, speaking to them in a gentle tone.

Gav flings his arm around your shoulders. “Come on, let’s get you some water, eh?”

--

“Sit.” Clive points at the bench and you obey without hesitation. You thought you’d be sent off to the infirmary with the other Bearers, but as soon as you were on the loading dock Clive had placed a firm arm around you and escorted you directly to his chambers without a word.

You’re not sure you’ve ever sat on the bench before – any business between the two of you was conducted standing at his desk, hovering over a map or a missive.

He removes his sword from his back, leaning it against the wall before detaching his sheath and cape. He then starts to pace back and forth, obviously wrestling with what to say. You want this over with already – your mind is already thinking of how nice it’ll be to lie down in your bunk - so you decide you’ll break the silence.

“Clive,” you start cautiously, “I understand it wasn’t a well-thought through plan, but it was the only option.”

That makes him stop in his tracks and he meets your eyes, his fists clenching by his sides.

“You could’ve died.”

“Aren’t we fighting for a world where Bearers and Dominants can live and die on their own terms? I knew what I was doing, I knew the risks.”

“That ship was moments from setting sail.”

“I know.”

“What if we hadn’t have found it in time?”

“You did, though.”

“What if we didn’t?” He growls.

“I did what I had to.”

“You did not have to do that.”

“I couldn’t stand by and watch them ship those poor people off, especially that little girl. And I knew Gav would be able to track them-“

“What if he didn’t?”

You sigh, exasperated. You’re going round in circles. “It’s foolish playing these ‘what if’ games! I’ve already admitted that, yes, it wasn’t the most solid of plans, but I did what I had to do. You go out there every day and risk your life, the Cursebreakers do the same.”

“You could’ve been shipped off to Ash.”

“So could’ve all those Bearers.”

“That is not my point.” He growls again in response, turning his back to you and placing his palms flat on his desk.

“Then what is your point, Clive? We do this every day.”

His palms curl up into fists once more.

“My point is that I would’ve never seen you again!”

He slams his fist down on the desk – not in anger, but frustration.

“That you would’ve been stolen away to Ash and Founder knows what would become of you there. That…”

His voice cracks.

“That I would’ve spent the rest of my days chasing what happened to the woman I love!”

There is a long pause as you digest his words. You must’ve misheard.

“Did you… did you say love?”

His shoulders sag in the moment.

“I’m in love with you.” He’s still talking to the desk. “I have been for months, maybe years – I don’t know.” His fists uncurl again.

“But when Gav told me what you’d done, I couldn’t breathe. It took all I had in me not for Ifrit to come out there and then and destroy every being in my path until I saw you safe and unharmed.”

He turns then, strides over to you and drops to his knees, taking your hands in his own and looking up at what you can only imagine is your shell-shocked expression.

“I cannot lose you. Not you.”

“Clive, I…”

“I have tried to contain my feelings.” He continues. “I promise you I have tried, but I cannot do so any longer. Not when you are being so careless with what I hold most dear.” His eyes are watering, unable to hold his emotions within. “I understand that you do not feel the same but, please, do not break my he-“

You lean forward and cut him off, placing your lips on his own in a quick, chaste kiss before pulling back, leaving him speechless.

“You’re wrong.”

Clive does not need another word, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you almost frantically, like it might be his only chance. You run your fingers through his hair as you nip his lip, slipping your tongue in his mouth and matching his relentless pace. He stands, suddenly, bringing you up to stand with him. Barely another moment passes before he slides his hands down to your thighs, hoisting you up in his arms. You wrap your legs around him and he takes a step back…

The doors to Clive’s chambers fly open.

“Whoa!”

You and Clive pull apart, stunned. Gav is stood in the doorway, covering his eyes with his hand at the scene before him. “Sorry, I should’ve knocked. Erm…” He takes a blind step back, trying to find the doorway again to exit. “Tarja wanted to see the two of you for a check-up, like, but I’ll… I’ll tell her you’re taking care of that yourselves.”

“Thank you, Gav.” Clive nods, smirking, as he drops you gently back down to your feet. “I owe you a drink.”

“Many drinks.” The scout turns swiftly, and the door clunks shut behind him.

“Now, my lady,” he grins, placing a hand on your cheek, “where were we?”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[drabblesandimagines]

Jealous

Clive Rosfield x fem reader Early-to-mid FF16 spoilers, based on this request.

Clive is in a foul mood - a scowl firmly in place as he strides around the Hideaway, pretending to have purpose.

He should be elated, overjoyed, ecstatic even - finally reunited with his beloved younger brother after years of chasing his shadows, always a step or two behind his trail.

And he is, in a way, happy to see him…

..but not so much with you.

The Fire Dominant had been looking forward to the two of you meeting – two important people in his life coming face to face. He’d spent the trip back to the hideaway telling Joshua about the characters within, speaking of you more often than the others, regaling his younger brother with stories of your skill, bravery, compassion, wit.

Clive didn’t know what to call the relationship between the two of you, if there was a word even for it. There was always some pressing matter that had stopped you progressing to courtship, something holding the two stagnant. Touches were often, flirtatious sometimes, but never progressing further than firm grips on each other’s shoulders in reassurance, or hands clasped in momentary comfort. There had been an almost kiss, he thought, after a tumble in the Royal Meadows. A misstep had sent you falling and in his panic to try and catch you Clive had ended up falling too, cushioning your fall. You were leant over him, breathing slightly heavy from shock, faces inches apart and he’d thought if he lifted his head, he could kiss your lips…

Until Torgal had come bounding in, giving his master a lick on the face.

Joshua, however, had waltzed in and easily done what Clive had never had the courage to do. Upon introduction, the Phoenix had dropped down to one knee, taken your outstretched hand in way of greeting and pressed a soft kiss against the back of it, all whilst maintaining eye contact.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.”

Clive had never seen you look so flustered, causing his stomach to tighten in knots. Why couldn’t he be the one making your cheeks flush?

Joshua gets back to his feet, his hand holding yours all the while before he lets go – it feels an eternity to Clive. But, then again, why shouldn’t you be charmed by the Phoenix? Everyone else had always been. The golden-haired, blue-eyed boy had been adored by the people of Rosaria, the pride and joy of his mother’s eye. Joshua always had a natural charm about him.

He’s happy Joshua’s alive and here. He reassures himself of the thought over and over, as if the Gods might overhear and punish him somehow. The weighty guilt has alleviated from his shoulders after all those years, but now, too soon, a new worry is ready to take hold.

What if you liked Joshua? What if he liked you?

“It is nice to put a face to a name. My dear brother could hardly speak of none other on our journey.”

“Oh. All good things, I hope.” You smile at Clive, but he doesn’t notice with his stare fixed firmly on Joshua.

“Why, of course, my lady.” Joshua grins, boyishly. “I wouldn’t have permitted otherwise.”

--

Clive doesn’t know how to handle the jealously building within. From that first meeting, it doesn’t seem like a day goes by without him finding the two of you in each other’s company, in various places across the hideaway. He’s come across you in the shelves for hours, visiting the chocobos on the upper deck, admiring the flowers down in the backyard. You’d even been in the infirmary with him on a number of occasions as Tarja insisted on regular check-ups.

Clive knows he’s letting his temper getting the better of him, that it’s dangerous because Ifrit tenses beneath his skin. He’s been storming about the Hideaway all morning, despite having no errands to do. Everyone seems to have picked up on his mood, withholding their requests in fear of being snapped at.

Everyone except you, apparently.

“Clive! There you are.” You appear at his side, your hand grabbing his arm. He hates how you can make him feel like Ramuh’s channeling through his veins with your electric touches.

“Sorry, can’t stop.” He grunts in response, trying to shrug you off. He doesn’t want to lose his temper at you.

“That’s okay,” you say, cheerily. “I can walk and talk.”

He stops then, meeting your gaze. “Why don’t you talk to Joshua?”

“Sorry?” The confusion in your voice is apparent, and he knows that should be his cue to stop, but he can’t.

“You seem to do nothing else but these days…” The words flow out of him like lava, they burn his throat but he can’t stop now the dam has burst. “..to the detriment of your duties.”

“Detriment?” The confusion is gone, defensiveness taking hold in the place of hurt. “Do forgive me, I wasn’t aware the quality of my work was being questioned.”

“Well, it is. Have you forgotten what we’re fighting for? Every day we delay, another Bearer dies whilst you…” He swallows. “Whilst you flirt.”

Jealousy has coated his tongue and poisoned his words.

“Flirt? I…” You swallow your sentence down, not wanting to entertain this further.

“Allow me to rectify my shortcomings posthaste, my lord.” Your voice is tight, hands clenched, heart breaking. You steady your breath and spin on your heels, heading towards the mess.

The jealous monster in Clive’s stomach settles for a moment of clarity, his stomach sinking at the realization of what he’s done, what he’s accused you. He strides after you, reaching out a hand to apologise, your name on the tip of his tongue to be called out to beg forgiveness. But, at that same moment, he sees Joshua interrupting your ascent up the staircase, taking note of your sour expression. The Phoenix places his hand on your shoulder in concern, and the jealous monster rages once more.

--

Later that afternoon, Clive has sequestered himself in his chambers, dealing with a pile of missives that he has allowed to build up over the past few days. The task is doing nothing to alleviate his sour mood after that awful interaction with you earlier. A number of them are thank you notes for the hideaway’s assistance in matters and more than a few mention you specifically by name, all dated on instances you’d stepped in in his absence.

And he’d accused you of neglecting your duties, of all things. He rubs his temples in exasperation. What has he done?

There’s a knock at the door.

“What?” He barks, hoping the tone of voice might deter them.

The door opens. “Brother.”

He looks up to see Joshua shutting the door behind him as he enters, a charming smile on his face as usual.

“You should be resting.” Clive chides, looking back down at the missives.

“I am fine.” Joshua folds his arms. “I am, however, concerned about you.”

“Don’t be.”

Joshua hums in interest. “You seem almost irritated by my presence of late.”

“You’re mistaken.”

“I do not believe I am.” A pause. “And I speculate it is to do with my interactions with a certain maiden.”

“No.” He jabs the quill into the ink bottle with a little too much gusto. “I’m happy for the two of you.”

“Happy?” Joshua sounds confused.

“The two of you have grown very close. You’ve been spending a lot of time together - I’d be blind not to notice.”

Joshua laughs – a chuckle from deep within his chest - and Clive’s grip tightens on the quill. “Forgive me, brother. Do you think I am pursuing a courtship?”

“What you are pursuing is none of my concern.”

“I believe there has been a misunderstanding. Yes, we have been spending a fair amount of time together, but not for the reason you seem to so firmly believe. You see..” he uncrosses his arms and places his palms flat on the desk, leaning forward. “..I wanted to find out more about the woman who had so clearly stolen my dear brother’s heart.”

“What?” He looks up and Joshua has the audacity to look amused.

“We were talking about you. I had the impression you sought my approval with your tales of her. I must’ve misunderstood your intentions.”

“I… have been a fool.”

“Mayhaps.” Joshua steps back, folding his arms once more. “But she finds you endearing, or so I’ve gathered.”

“My apologies, Joshua. I don’t know what drove me to this madness.”

“I do.” He smiles. “You’re in love with her, brother. You were jealous.”

“I must apologise…” He gets to his feet with such force the chair almost goes toppling to the ground.

“Ah, she’s not here. A stolas arrived from Martha, I believe. Trouble with bandits – she took the skiff out shortly after.”

“Alone?”

“Otto suggested she wait, but she seemed determined to handle it.”

“I must go.” He makes to move past Joshua before he pauses, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Forgive me, brother.”

“Forgiven.” Joshua nods. “Go.”

--

Clive heart pounds as he ascends the steps to Sleeping Chocobo, pushing the double doors open. It is busy this evening, the townsfolk preferring the warm atmosphere of the inn than their homes. He’ll speak to Martha, he thinks, see where you went, beg forgiveness so that maybe he can meet his eyes again without feeling awful.

“That was quick,” Martha greets to Clive’s confusion as he approaches the bar. “I barely sent that stolas.”

“Sorry, what stolas?”

His heart stops as he hears the combination of your name and injured in the same sentence.

“Now before you panic, she’s all right. The Bloodaxe miscounted – said it was only three bandits but it turned out to be five, otherwise I would’ve never sent her out on her own. We’ve patched her up and fed her, but she seemed upset about something. I didn’t feel right letting her traipse off in the night like that, so I sent a stolas asking if someone could accompany her back. She’s upstairs at the moment - room two.”

“Thank you, Martha.” He turns to head towards the stairs when the sliding of a key across the bar stops him.

“I might’ve locked her in. I thought it might be morning before someone could reach here and she was so determined to leave.”

“Ah.” Clive nods, taking the key. “I understand. Thank you.”

He walks past the patrons and climbs the stairs towards the rooms. His heart is pounding, what does one even say in this situation? He finds room two and slides the key into the lock, twisting it and opening the door.

“Finally! Martha, you must agree this is ridiculous…” You stop as you see Clive enter the room, looking apologetically awkward. He shuts the door behind him, blocking it with his frame. You’re not sure if it’s deliberate.

“I’m not neglecting my duties.” You protest, standing up from the bed in defiance. “Martha locked me in. I could’ve kicked the door in, but I thought Otto would’ve given me an earful if he saw it on the expenses.”

He hasn’t taken in anything you’ve said, too concerned by your appearance.

“You’re hurt.” There’s a bruise blooming on your cheek, a bandage wrapped around your forearm - the guilt in his stomach is as if he had inflicted the wounds upon you himself.

“I’m fine. They told me it was three bandits – I clocked the fourth but the fifth snuck up on me.”

“Where are they now?” His fist clenches – the idea of anyone laying their hands upon you with malicious intent…

“Dead. I had no choice.” You cross your arms in defence. “Why are you here - come to check on my conduct?”

To your surprise, he drops down to his knee, bowing his head, as a knight does when they swear fealty. “I came here to apologise. What I said was not only untrue but entirely uncalled for. I can only beg for your forgiveness.”

“There’s no need for that, I’m not your Lord Commander.”

“You should be.” Clive looks up. “The missives recently speak of the exemplary nature of your work and conduct.”

“Tell me - what is this truly about, Clive?”

“It’s immature.” He doesn’t want to say it, but he knows he must be truthful now. “You and Joshua always seemed to be in one another’s company of late.”

“That’s true – I’m afraid I’ve been rather taken with his stories of your younger years together, but I don’t understand the connection.”

“I… I was jealous. You seemed rather taken by his greeting.”

“Greeting?” You look puzzled for a moment, before it clicks. “It… That had just never happened to me before. No-one ever greets a Bearer in such a way.”

“Allow me to rectify.” He takes your hand without thought, bringing his lips to the back of it in a kiss, staring at you with those deep blue eyes. Your face burns. “Can you ever forgive me, my lady?”

“You said you were jealous.”

“I did.”

“Jealous that perhaps me and Joshua were… something more?” He’s still holding your hand.

He takes a breath to steady his nerves. “Yes.”

“All right. I’ll forgive you - on one condition.”

“Name it and it is yours.”

You pull him up back to his feet. “Kiss me.”

Clive does not need told twice. It’s a fierce kiss – his arms wrap around your waist as he lifts you up slightly to meet his lips in a crushing embrace, you tangle your hands in his scruffy hair, trying to pull him closer. It’s clumsy and frantic, allowing your emotions to be carried away at long last.

Clive steps back, his calves colliding into the edge of the bed and he pulls you down, you straddling him between your thighs as you break the kiss on the impact.

You look down at him, catching your breath as he looks up at you with a handsome grin.

“I believe Martha’s intention was for me to have this room for the night, my lord.”

“Then, my lady,” he laces his fingers inbetween yours, bringing it up to his mouth and placing another soft kiss across your knuckles, “let us take advantage.”

-

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[drabblesandimagines]

Breathless

Clive Rosfield x female reader Angsty, one swear word, description of panic attack, minor game spoilers?

Inspired by this request.

It has been a trying, upsetting week. Not once, but twice had your unit of Cursebreakers arrived too late in order to free some overworked Bearers. Masters have been working them harder since the crystal magicks have started to falter, depending on their source. You knew you were spread too thin – it was always going to be by a couerl’s whisker if you made it there in time. It still hurts, though, to find the petrified bodies, gathering up their remains to perform another solemn casting in the hope that at last they will have found peace.

You’re exhausted, overworked – by your own hand, you know – and to come back without anything to show for it is so discouraging.

You know you should think of all the successful missions, the ones where the boat had come back filled with Bearers who would be safe for the first time in their lives at the Hideaway, but the failure weighs heavily on your mind. Reporting back to Dorys that, no, you weren’t fast enough, you weren’t good enough…

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the negative thoughts from your mind. You need a hot meal and a decent sleep – one that wasn’t a short nap on the ground, never allowing yourself to sleep too deeply as you needed to be ready to move at a moment – and to be embraced in a certain Fire Dominant’s arms.

As the Cid of the new Hideaway, Clive is a very busy man. He’s often being pulled in multiple directions with various requests. You both had your own missions too and rarely did the two coincide in nature, but that’s the way your relationship had always been. There’s always been something between the two of you, the spark kindled into a steady flame throughout the past few years, culminating in a passionate liaison under a moonlit sky. The time apart always made the moments you had together all the more special, like no time had passed at all as he held you tight in his arms in his bed at night, when you kissed him as if you needed him to breathe, nipping your teeth lightly on his neck to coax a moan from Lord Rosfield’s lips.

Or other nights when you’d sobbed in his arms – for those you’d lost, the injustices you’d witnessed and he’d whisper soft reassurances in your ear, promising the dawn would come.

The world is wearing you down and he is like a tincture for your soul.

Dorys must’ve been keeping an eye out for the skiff because she is waiting for you as the lift opens up on the boarding deck. She casts a questioning eye over the group who stands behind you, obviously looking for Bearers.

You shake your head, sadly, before she can question aloud.

“You did your best, all of you. Any injuries?” A couple in the group nod and are promptly sent off to the infirmary. Dorys gives you a hard stare as you stay put.

“I’m fine, honestly. Nothing to trouble Tarja with.”

“Then get some food and sleep – we’ll debrief in the morning.”

“Thanks, Dorys.” You cast a glance up at the balcony outside Clive’s chambers but your captain easily catches it.

“You’ll be pleased to know he’s home, I’m sure,” Dorys teases.

--

The ale hall is deserted due to the late hour but as you climb the stairs up to Clive’s chambers, there are noises from within. A light feminine laugh, accompanied by Clive’s deep chuckle and it makes you stop right outside the door. It seems impossible for anything to be funny at the moment, but another intrusive thought comes to mind - when was the last time you’d even heard Clive laugh in your presence?

There’s a bit of warped wood that needs tending to, but no-where near on the list of priorities. If you angle yourself just so, you can see through the crack. Jill and Clive are sat on the bench he keeps in his chambers, wine goblets in front of them, candles flickering throughout the room. It looks romantic. He has his body turned to the door, but you can see Jill is leaning towards him, her hand on his thigh.

You can’t hear what they’re saying – their voices too low for that – but Jill leans forward then and you step back, not wanting to see what happens next. Your heart pounds – you’re tired, you know you’re so tired and upset and a failure and your mind spirals.

Clive is a lord and Jill is a lady – a proper lady – raised in the courts and beautiful and charming and sweet. You don’t dress as fine as she, your hair never sits as pretty, you’re incapable of holding yourself with the same grace she does. You’re coarse, you only learned your letters in the last few years of Hideaway living, struggling somewhat as you don’t practice as much as you should. There had been a handful of nights where Clive would lie besides you patiently as you tried to read aloud a couples of passages from a children’s storybook, for Founder’s sake. Jill could write and read fluently, a dab hand at needlework too…

Of course they belong with each other. They will always have a connection that you won’t, of a shared childhood. They’re Dominants and they spend so much time together, they’re a perfect couple and you’ve been deluding yourself that you could’ve ever had kept hold of his heart in the way you did.

Your chest feels tight. You need to get out of here.

There’s movement from behind the door then and you hurry down the stairs, pressing yourself into the corner, being obscured by the shadows. The door to the chambers open and Jill departs.

“Thank you, Jill, for everything.”

She presses a kiss to his cheek and bids him goodnight, walking down the stairs and heading out via the boarding deck to head down to her room. The door to the chambers closes and you sink down against the wall, cuddling your knees.

Why does your chest hurt so?

You don’t know how long you sit there, eventually clambering back up to your own feet, leaning heavily on the wall, and taking the long way back to your bunk through the forge and up via the atrium and across the bridge, thankfully not meeting anyone on your journey as you crawl into bed.

--

You don’t sleep well, if at all. Your mind whirling with thoughts of Clive and Jill – what had he meant when he had thanked her? Clive is the sweetest man. He’d never want to hurt you, even at the cost of his own heart, but loving someone is letting them go, isn’t it?

You give up on sleep just before dawn, heading up to the mess where you find Dorys, mulling over reports at one of the tables. She smiles, sadly, at the sorry sight of you.

“I did not mean for you to be up with the sun to hand in your report.”

“I just want it over with. There’s not much to report. We failed, we were hours too late to both groups of Bearers. I need,” you swallow, before correcting yourself, “We need to get back out there today to try and get a head start on the next. I’m sure there’s a pattern, or we can stage something or-”

“Absolutely not.”

“Dorys.”

“No. You look awful. Did you even sleep?”

“I’m fine.” You reply, tersely.

“I disagree. I’m not letting you take out a group like this, let alone go out yourself. You will report to the infirmary and you will rest.”

“Really?” You can’t mask the incredulous tone of your voice.

“I’m surprised Clive didn’t say this to you already.”

Your heart skips at the sound of his name, but then Dorys frowns in realization.

“Wait, you came down from the bunks. Did you not see him last night?”

“It doesn’t matter where I slept!” You hiss, remembering to watch your volume at this early hour.

She gives you a hard stare. “If you won’t listen to me, I know you will listen to him. Go and see Clive before I drag you to him.”

You clench your fists in frustration, trying to steady your breath.

“Yes, Captain. I apologise. It was late, I did not wish to disturb him. I will go and report in now.” You spin on your heel and jog down the stairs to the boarding deck and towards the ale hall. The problem is, your frustration drives you until you reach the top of the stairs once more, the handle in your grip but then all you can remember is the scene of last night – how perfect the two had looked together…

It suddenly feels hard to breathe, a tightness constricting your chest, as if you can’t get your lungs to expand fully enough.

You need to get out of here, back into the fresh air.

You turn and stumble on the stairs, catching yourself on the banister.

“Hey, you all right there?” Gav’s concerned voice comes from below – he’d emerged through Blackthorne’s forge. He must be setting out on a scouting mission to be awake this early.

You look at him, trying to get a hold of yourself, force a smile and a word of reassurance, but you can’t.

Your legs give out under you and you sit down heavily on the stairs, still clutching on the banister. Your grip is weakening, the edges of your vision tinged with black. Why can’t you breathe? Are you so useless now you can’t even do that?

“Shit.” Gav races up the stairs, crouching down in front of you, eyes scanning to see where the injury is, because there must be one for you to be in such a state. “Clive.” He bellows in the direction of the chambers. “Clive!”

Heavy footsteps come from the chambers behind and you hear the door open behind you, that familiar gravelly, albeit sleep-tinged voice calling your name out with affection at first, but then again with alarm when he sees Gav’s face.

Gav stands up and back to allow Clive to take his place, before darting down the stairs, yelling something about how he’ll go fetch Tarja.

Clive cradles your face, asking you what’s wrong. He looks frightened, but that can’t be right. Why can’t you breathe?

He says something again to you, but the words don’t go in. All you can hear is how shallow your breathing has become. Tears line those stormy blue eyes you adore so much, the ones you could’ve spent staring into for hours. His mouth continues to move but it’s almost as if you were underwater, a ringing sound in your head, the black continuing to creep over your vision until the world disappears entirely.

--

The next conscious thought is that someone is holding your hand, rubbing their thumb back and forth over your knuckles in a comforting rhythm. Your chest still feels tight, but not as much as it did. You open your eyes and blink at the somewhat familiar ceiling of the infirmary.

“Thank the Founder you’re awake.” Clive says quietly, squeezing your hand.

You try to bolt up at his voice, but he places his hands on your shoulders and keeps you still.

“Easy, darling. You need to rest - please.” You’ve always found it hard to refuse him.

You nod and he smiles, letting go of your shoulders and readjusting the pillows to allow you to rest against a little more upright. “Here, drink.” He passes you a goblet of water from the bedside.  “I will fetch Tarja.”

You nod, taking it in trembling hands and sip the lukewarm water as he gets to his feet and heads around the curtain, soon returning with the red-headed physicker as you place the goblet back down.

“Good afternoon. You gave everyone quite a fright this morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

Tarja gives you a kind smile and takes a seat on the vacant bed. “Can you tell me what happened? Gav, Clive and Dorys have given me their side of the story.”

“I don’t know what it was. I just… I suddenly couldn’t breathe. It was like something was constricting my chest and I couldn’t get the air in.”

Tarja nods. “How had you been feeling before this occurred?”

“Fine.”

Clive and Tarja give you a disparaging look.

“A little tired, then.”

“Dorys told us you’ve been working exceptionally hard, and it has been a trying week.”

“Please, can we not speak of my failures?” Your breath hitches in your throat, your heart begins to pound again. “I’ll do better, I will…”

“Easy.” Tarja chides, leaning forward. “Take a deep breath, hold it, then release. Copy me.”

You do so for a couple of moments, feeling silly, but your chest loosens, your heart settling into a more comfortable rhythm.

“Better?”

“Mm. What’s the matter with me?”

“You’re exhausted, for one. You need to rest and properly look after yourself. You’re taking too much on your shoulders and this is your body’s way of repaying you. Your mind is overwhelmed." She paused for a moment, and nods to herself. "You’re relieved from the Cursebreakers.”

“But-"

“Listen to Tarja.” Clive pleads. “They will cope without you and when you are better, I promise you can resume your duties.”

You know you can’t get out of this, not with Tarja, Clive and Dorys all laying down the law.

You nod.

“Good.” Tarja smiles. “I’m going to brew you some tea and get you a hot meal. I will discharge you later on, all being well.”

“Thank you, Tarja.” Clive nods as the physicker gets to her feet.

“Thank you.” You repeat, softly.

Tarja retreats back around the other side of the screen and Clive takes hold of your hand once more, his brow still furrowed in concern.

“Dorys said you returned last night. Why didn’t you come to my chambers? I’ve missed you so.”

You look down at your lap. It would better to get this nightmare over with.

“I heard you and Jill.”

“Heard what?” He sounds truly puzzled.

“I came up to the chambers and the two of you were laughing. You sounded happy. And all I could think was when was the last time I’d heard you laugh like that? We hardly see each other. I’m always out with the Cursebreakers, and you’re always away with Jill.” He starts to protest, but you hold up your hand. “Please, Clive, it’s okay. I understand. Don’t… Don’t let me stand in the way anymore.”

“Stand in the way - what do you mean?”

“You and Jill are perfect for one another. I understand that you want to end whatever we’ve been calling this…“ You continue talking into your lap, afraid that if you look up you'll see relief in his eyes.

“Now, I admit I’ve been somewhat neglectful of you-”

“No, that’s not what-“

“Please, allow me to finish. I have, and that’s not fair. I desire nothing more than to spend the rest of my days with you, but I have allowed myself to be consumed with the Mothercrystals and the nature of that does mean that Jill has been in my company as late. I can’t take you into an aetherflood, I won’t risk it.”

“Destroying the Mothercrystals is important.”

“It is, and though we are fighting so Bearers and Dominants and everyone can live on their own terms, we still must remember to live in the moments we have.” Clive presses his hand to the side of your face, placing his thumb under your chin and tilts your gaze gently towards him.

“I love you.”

“Clive…” Your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“You, and only you, are the flame that burns within my heart. Earlier, when you spoke of your failures – what failures? You strive to be the best you can every day, darling. I see it, Dorys sees it, Jill, Gav, Otto, Charon – the whole Hideaway. You are passionate, hardworking, kind, considerate… You will have to forgive me as I am no scribe, but I could continue to wax on somewhat lyrically of everything I adore about you.” His face flushes red as he continues to hold your gaze.

“I love you – I do not tell you enough, I know I don’t – and I vow, from this moment onwards, I will make sure you know this every day.”

Your breath catches again, but not in the same way it had previously. You lean forward, allowing yourself to be fully enveloped in his arms and you sob into his neck – releasing the tension that has been building up within you for days.

He holds you close, rubbing his large palm on your back in comforting circles, allowing your anxieties to retreat under the surface. You know they will re-emerge at some point – it would be foolish to think they would not – but for now they settle.

“I love you too,” you mumble, gaining some composure after a period and pull back, wiping the tears from your face before kissing him, delicately. It is a gentle, reassuring kiss – perfect for the moment. Soft pecks against each other’s lips, before you nip his with your teeth ever so slightly.

He pulls back, pressing his forehead against yours. “Careful, my love, or you’ll make me lose my breath.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

[drabblesandimagines]

I have been on a binge reading your imagines for FF on my other account and had to send a request in! Your writing for fluff always makes me feel so warm in the inside.

If I could request f!reader x Clive (FFXVI) -> meeting underneath the moon sharing secrets and dreams. ღゝ◡╹)ノ♡

I will say... I have not finished the game yet so pls no massive spoilers...I know Im sorry pls forgive me. (^◇^；)

Ahh, thank you so much and thank you for your request! <3 I loved writing this one, it's pure tooth-rotting fluff for us all and I hope it hits the spot!

Dreams.

Please do let me know what you think! x

[drabblesandimagines]

Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

--

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

--

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

--

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

He turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

--

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

--

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so very welcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I sit, I have some gifts.”           

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

--

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[drabblesandimagines]

Sulk

Clive Rosfield x female reader, commissioned piece

For the lovely @kianaflame23. Thank you for commissioning me again and letting me share it here with everyone too!❤️ -

“I swear I feel better today, Tarja.” You stress, desperate to be reprieved of bedrest at last. You’ve been in the infirmary three days now, watching enviously as others come and go after being treated for their ailments. “And I promise I won’t do anything considered even remotely taxing for days to come.”

There is more to your request than just boredom, though, not that you would dare admit it aloud. Clive is meant to be returning soon and you wanted to gather some flowers from the Backyard to leave in his chambers – plucking flowers could hardly count laborious – a tradition you’d started after admiring his wall of memories, wanting to contribute. It’s the least you can do after giving him an awful fright the night before his unexpected departure.

You thought it was just fatigue from the last few days of toiling in the Backyard - trying to get another batch of crops planted in as the numbers of the Hideaway continued to grow – was the reason why you felt out of breath as you climbed to the upper deck. You often retreated there in the evenings, finding it a peaceful place to count your blessings and collect your thoughts. It had turned out Clive was fond of the same thing and so finding him leaning over the railings that night, the breeze off the lake ruffling his hair had been quite the welcome sight.

He'd turned to face you when he heard your approaching footsteps and smiled softly as when your eyes met at the top of the stairs. “Ah, just the face I was hoping to see.”

You felt heat prickle across your cheeks at his comment and took a step forward.

Only to faint.

You’d hazily came to in his arms, somewhere in between asleep and awake, face pressed up against his chest as he hurried you to the infirmary, calling out Tarja’s name in fear.

“Put her down here and tell me exactly what happened.”

“I… I don’t know,” Clive’s voice rumbled against your cheek before he placed you down in the all too familiar infirmary bed. “We were on the upper deck – she barely took a step towards me when she collapsed.”

“Did she hit her head?”

“No. No, I… I used the Blessing of the Phoenix to quicken my movements so I caught her before she could do herself injury.”

“Good.” Tarja presses her hand against your forehead and curses, pulling it back as quickly as she had placed it there. “She’s burning up. I’ve told her time and time again she needs to be careful not to overexert herself. Keep an eye on her whilst I prepare a tonic.”

Tarja had rushed over to her desk as Clive crouched down besides you, taking your hand in his in a moment of weakness, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Please be all right, my darling one.” He’d whispered.

You desperately wanted to open your eyes, question his affectionate term, assure him that you were fine – no matter how much of a lie it may have been – but it was too difficult.

The rest of the night had passed in a feverish blur, a vague memory of a firm arm around your waist at some point pulling you upright, back pressed up against a chest that smelt of smoke and sandalwood, as Tarja forced a tonic in your mouth. You’d woken properly late morning, dismayed to find Clive had gone ashore on an urgent matter and had left word that he wished you a swift recovery.

“Hmm,” Tarja mulls, bringing you back to the present, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead for a few moments before making a decision. “No, not yet. You are still a little feverish for my liking. Besides, I know you’ll be straight back down to the Backyard as soon as I discharge you.” She knows you far too well.

You pout. “But I don’t even feel hot anymore.”

Tarja purses her lips together in thought, seemingly running through scenarios and treatments in her head. “No, I think best keep you here until the fever has definitely and completely cleared. I’ll prepare another tonic.”

You grimace at the idea of it – if it’s the one you’re thinking of it has a foul taste that lingers on your tongue for hours.

The door to the infirmary opens and over Tarja’s shoulder you see a familiar blonde being coaxed in by Jote, catching the tail-end of the conversation and wishing to take advantage. Your paths had crossed many times within the walls of the infirmary since Joshua had joined the Hideaway, resulting in the two of you becoming fast friends and making fine company for one another.

“Jote, it seems Lady Tarja is already quite preoccupied, mayhaps we should return later and-”

“I am quite capable of handling more than one patient at a time, Joshua.” Tarja’s tone is biting as she walks over to her desk, searching her notes to check on the last tonic you were given. “Do make yourself comfortable and I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Joshua sighs as Jote leads him to the bed besides your own, watching him like a hawk as he sits down heavily upon it, accepting his fate. He gives you a warm smile as he settles back against the pillows.

“And how do you fare this morning, my lady?”

“Good! Though still feverish, apparently.” You smile, wearily. “How are you?” “Oh, I’m fine, really.” He shrugs, though you can tell Jote is biting her tongue. “I apologise I have not been to visit since before now - I’m afraid I got caught up in research.” “Your Grace, this is hardly a visit. His cough has worsened again over night.” Jote corrects.

Joshua rolls his eyes, causing you to giggle before your head swims with a dizzy spell and you squeeze your eyes closed, trying to dissuade the feeling.

“What is it?” Joshua’s voice is laced with concern and you feel his hand take yours, squeezing it.

“Dizzy.” You sigh. “It’ll pass.”

Joshua doesn’t believe so, calling out for the healer. “Lady Tarja-“

“Lie down, deep breaths.” You hear Tarja call, still at her desk. You shuffle down on the bed until you’re lying flat. “Don’t excite her, Joshua. You should know that by now.”

“My apologies.”

“No, it’s my fault.” You squeeze his hand back, turning your head to offer a weak smile. “I am glad to have your company though, Joshua, selfish as it might be.”

--

Clive hovers at the infirmary door, a bouquet of flower stems tight in his grip. He’d returned only moments ago – Obolus had set sail at dawn to pick him up from the abandoned docks at Audyll. As he’d waited for the skiff to appear on the horizon, he’d picked a selection of wildflowers from the cliffs as a gift, ones he hadn’t seen in the Backyard, and had set off to the infirmary immediately after hearing word that you were still there.

There and… holding Joshua’s hand?

Well, then.

Joshua had always been charming – blue-eyed, blonde hair, a boyish grin. He’s tried his best to not be jealous ever since the day the Phoenix had instead chosen the younger Rosfield. It wasn’t Joshua’s fault after all. He hadn’t had a say in the matter, just an unbelievably heavy burden thrust upon his shoulders. Instead of being envious, Clive had vowed to support him, to do everything he could to help his beloved brother carry the responsibility. But seeing the two of you together, especially so suddenly, has broken through the barriers. Clive’s feelings had grown steadily for you over the years since you’d came to the Hideaway. You were sweet, kind-natured to everyone around you, trying to do your best to help no matter the task. It was infectious the way even the slightest smile from you left him with one upon his face for days after, no matter what other trials he came up against.

He had been loathed to leave your side in the infirmary after you’d fainted, staying there the whole night. It had smarted even more so to leave the Hideaway altogether before you had woken. Unfortunately, he was the only man for the job and had left on Obolus’s skiff the next morning – promising himself he wouldn’t let the moment slip him by again, that he’d confess upon his return, bouquet of wildflowers in hand.

All for naught, as he sees the Phoenix brush your hair out of your face, a caress of your cheek.

His vision seethes with red, the smell of smoke fills the air, before he strides off towards his chambers with false purpose, letting his gift fall to the ground.

Jill frowns when she finds the wildflowers scattered on the wooden boards a few moments later, the stems singed black. She only has to look through the gap in the doorway to see Joshua at your bedside and put the pieces together.

“Oh, Clive…”

--

Two more days pass confined to the infirmary bed before you saw Clive, despite hearing that he’d returned. At least you had Joshua for company - his cough had grown more harsh and painful at first, despite his protests otherwise, and Tarja and Jote had him drinking a concoction of suppressants and tonics every few hours to try and soothe his ailments to some degree of success.

Not the same could be said for the poor Bearers who had been brought in by Cursebreakers on the skiff that morning. Two of them already suffering from the curse, stone-mottled limbs, groaning in their cots the other side of the curtain.

“Is there truly nothing to be done?” Clive asked Tarja in a hushed tone. He hadn’t said hello to you when he entered earlier, nor to Joshua. It had smarted a little, you’ll admit, but you’d brushed it off as him having much more urgent matters at hand.

“I’m all out of the main ingredient for the most effective pain relief, unfortunately. I’ve had the Cursebreakers keeping an eye out for it, but it might have become a victim to the blight.”

“What’s the main ingredient?”

“Begonias – red ones. There used to be an ample supply in the Royal Meadows, but they haven’t sprouted this year.”

“I can’t remember seeing them on my travels either.”

“I…” You speak up, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. “I think I know where some might still flourish.”

Tarja and Clive’s heads snap round look at you. “Really?” Tarja takes a step forward. “Could you mark it on a map?”

You shake your head. “It’s not on any sort of track you can follow, but that’s pretty much all of the Great Wood. You need to know exactly where to look. I fear I would not be able to describe it…” You bite your lip in hesitation before continuing. “But I am positive I could find them if I went myself.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Clive folds his arms, looking over to Tarja for her support. Surely with your fragile health she’d agree. “I forbid it.”

Tarja pinches the bridge of her nose before she speaks, weighing up the options in her head. “I would normally say the same, Clive, but if we were able to get hold of some of these blooms, not only could we provide some much sought after relief, perhaps then we’d also be able to grow some of our own in the Backyard for future use.”

“You cannot be serious. It’s not safe for her to go there alone.”

“She won’t be alone, I’ll ask Otto to spare some Cursebreakers.”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Anything could happen. Besides, you’ve had her on bedrest for near a tenday, she is not ready to go gallivanting about the Great Wood - the place will be rife with fiends!”

“Then why don’t you accompany her, brother?” Joshua speaks up with a grin.

“Me?” Clive turns to Joshua, eyes wide, as if he had forgotten his brother was here at all.

“Yes, you.” Tarja places her hands on her hips in agreement. “The First Shield to the Phoenix, are you not?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then you will prove a most suitable escort.”

“Tarja, I really-”

Joshua grins. “The finest.”

“Joshua-“

Another heart-wrenching groan comes from the other side of the curtain.

“Please, Clive.” You grip the blanket between your fingers, tightly. “You have to let me try.”

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it would be worth it.” Tarja adds in support.

Clive clenches his fists, mulling it over in his mind. He’d rather scour the entire Great Wood on his own than risk your wellbeing, but Founder knows how long that would take. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“And you will tell me the moment if you start to feel unwell?”

You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I promise.”

Clive sighs, still not exactly pleased with the arrangement, but admitting defeat. “Fine. We’ll leave in the morning. But be sure to rest until then, my lady. Please.”

“Of course she will,” Tarja interrupts before you can agree. “She’ll stay in the infirmary again tonight to be certain of it.”

--

The next morning, you make your way down to the dock, accompanied by Joshua who insisted he be allowed to at least stretch his legs after going the whole night without a cough.

“Now, then,” he murmurs as he walks alongside you. “The Great Wood will be as good a place as any, and if you do not tell him, then I will be forced to.”

“Joshua-”

“And I won’t hear otherwise.”

As you reach the end of the dock, Clive is stood waiting, arms crossed and looking entirely unamused.

“Be safe, you two.” Joshua takes your hand and kisses it, before throwing you a wink that makes you bite back a laugh.

Ahead of you, Clive storms onto the boat.

The idea of a trip to the mainland was exciting – it had been years now since you’d been. It was too risky to go with the Brand on your cheek when the Cursebreakers could move around freely.

You would’ve been excited if the boat ride across hadn’t been so awkward. Clive had sat the entire time with his arms crossed, legs spread, and looking in any direction possible but yours. He still wasn’t happy with you joining him and you felt awful - you’d never wanted to be a burden on anyone.

“Stay by my side at all times.” He commands as you finally enter the Great Wood. It’s a little more overgrown than you remembered, but you do recognize certain trees from your wanderings.

“Of course.” You nod. He can’t help but soften his tone as he sees the delight in your eyes at being back within the Great Wood – it must’ve been years. “Do you recall which way to go?” “Mm.” You point to south, through a thicket. “That way, I’m sure of it.”

The walk there is quiet, besides Clive hacking a path clear with his sword as you remember the way. It isn’t long before you finally emerge through another thicket and find a grove below filled with red begonias, nearly as far as the eye can see.

You smile at the sight, looking back over your shoulder. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Mm. Very.”   You fail to notice he wasn’t looking at the blooms.

You turn your attention back to the ground and the drop before you, not feeling confident at all with idea of jumping down. “There used to be an incline, but maybe it’s washed away with the rains. Maybe if we walk round we’ll find another route down?”

“I have an idea.” Clive hops down with ease, being sure to land in a patch that is clear of flowers. “I can lift you down, if you’d permit me.”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy. “How do I…?”

“Place your hands on my shoulders and I’ll…” He trails off as you follow his instructions, wrapping his arms around your hips to lift you down. He doesn’t know why he does it - there was certainly no need to - but he takes an unsteady step back, losing his footing and the two of you crash down to the ground with a thud.

“By the Founder…! Did I hurt you?” Clive asks, his brow furrowed in concern despite the fact you are still firmly wrapped in his arms, his body having cushioned the fall entirely.

“I’m fine, Clive,” you reply, tantalizingly close to his lips. You could just…

“Are you sure?”

And all the sudden you’re kissing him.

For a moment he kisses back – it’s soft, sweet and chaste, as Clive always is - before he pulls back and sits up in a hurry, looking as red as the blooms that surround you. “No, I’m sorry. We can’t, I can’t. Not to Joshua.”

“Joshua?” You look puzzled.

“I saw you two – the morning I came back. You were holding his hand in the infirmary.”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head furiously at the accusation. “Holding his…? No, not like that. Of course I care for Joshua, but no more than I do a good friend.”

“But on the dock, he…”, Clive swallows, feeling childish. “He winked at you.”

“An inside joke.” You protest. “He… Well, he hoped that I might find the courage to confess to you, whilst we were away from the eyes of the Hideaway.”

“Confess?”

“My…” You try and shy away then, head down, but his arms are still wrapped firmly around your waist and keeping you in place, “..feelings for you.”

One arm loosens, a gloved hand cupping your chin to tilt your face back up to him.

“I cannot tell you how long I have hoped to hear those words from your lips, my darling.”

You feel dizzy as you press your lips back against his, but in an entirely good way.

--- Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi