#ffxvi clive x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

drabblesandimagines · 7 months ago

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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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ruukina · 1 year ago

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WOLFISH

FANDOM: final fantasy xvi PAIRING: clive rosfield x reader ( gender neutral, afab ) RATING: explicit / 18+. minors dni. SUMMARY: After an exhausting week of running around Valisthea, you return home with your heart full and missing a certain outlaw. What you find upon your return is different... but not unwelcomed. WARNINGS: slightly rough sex, dirty talking, breeding kink, implied heat cycle. WORD COUNT: 7.7k

A/N: yeah i'm fairly down bad for this man. i normally don't write reader fics but i'm trying to expand my horizons so. here we are. gotta feed myself in this economy right?? expect more ffxvi stuff, whether its reader insert or other shit because the brainworms are very bad.

read on ao3!

It’s a silent ride back to Hideaway, as it always is on these solo missions of yours.

It’s not a common thing, but every so often you find yourself having to run around all of Valisthea with the job of making payments and collecting orders from the many kind souls that have been helping the cause that even keeps your personal home afloat. In fact, you could even say as Cid’s personal advisor, this was your main job; Otto was busy running the Hideaway and keeping it in check, so the job fell to you when you weren’t tailing after the man you worked under.

You also didn’t mind it, because it meant you had some time to yourself. You had the wind at your back, the smell of sea water to keep you company, and you could be in your thoughts alone.

Usually you didn’t mind it, at the very least.

It’s not a long task to do or even a hard one, in fact you’d argue that most of your time spent there is arguing with the likes of Martha and Isabelle and even L’ubor to accept the gil that Cid himself has offered to give them, but this month’s mission of yours was different. It seemed like a certain boss of yours had racked up a few requests and the people he graciously helped either wanted to give him a reward or send a letter to ask for more help. And since you were unfortunately playing messenger, it meant that you were basically running around and doing his job… in the sense of gathering the requests and gifts, of course.

So, you were being a little delayed in returning. You made sure to send a Stolas, to let everyone know you weren’t dead - just incredibly busy.

But now you finally found yourself on the ferry back home and you were impatient to get back. Excited to get back to everyone, excited to finally be returning after about a week of having to travel by Chocobo to get to everywhere.

Excited to return back to him.

“Hey, Obolus, are we almost there yet?” You peer over to the ferryman, the wind wilding through your hair.

Obolus didn’t even look back at you, as he ‘tsks’ in response. “We’ll get there when we get there. Asking every five seconds won’t make the boat go any faster.”

You scrunch your nose at him, but he did unfortunately have a point. The trip usually never feels so long, but after being away for what seems like months, you were just anxious to get back and rest your feet. The silence of the ride passes, with only the sound of waves pressing against the exterior of the boat.

You lean against the side and take the chance to reflect on all that’s happened. All that you’ve experienced.

All that you’ve done.

You don’t really remember when you became Cid’s advisor. It’s had to have been years at this point, you remember only barely being what one would call an adult. You were a bearer without a brand, hiding your magic behind crystals. It’s what your father had taught you, to protect you from the cruel world you were born in. You were cursed, your mother refused to even acknowledge your existence - even more so after the death of your father. You only lived the way that you did because your mother loved your father more than she loved you, and made your father take care of you.

Your father never gave up on you. An idealist in a world of realists, he really thought you could be the one to change the world.

He set himself up for failure, you bitterly had thought when news of his death arrived at your doorstep. He died for a cause he believed in, sure, but now he expected you to carry on that torch for him. And maybe there was a part of you that wanted to fight for a better world than the one you were handed, for those like you. You weren’t really sure what your true feelings were at that time.

There was one thing you did know, however; you knew you weren’t safe in your mother’s care, so you ran the day after your father’s passing and never looked back. You’re not even sure if your mother is even still alive or if she even misses you. Did she start anew, start all over with someone else and have a child she could be proud of?

As the years went on, you found that you didn’t even care. You can’t remember her face anymore.

You were crafty, a trickster, because that’s what kept you alive. Somehow, your paths with Cidolfus Telamon crossed. Not just once or twice, but five times. Four times, you rejected his appraisal and invitation to join him.

On the fifth path crossed, and the day he saved you from death, you finally joined him. You didn’t really expect to stay long in Hideaway, only thinking you would spend a few weeks or even a month before you jumped ship. You never stayed in one place for long, because it was always too dangerous for you to attach yourself to people. But everyone was so kind, so nice to you, and welcomed you with open arms.

Especially Cidolfus.

You clung to him a lot, maybe because despite only meeting him five times he was the only person you really knew, and somehow you managed to become his advisor with your skills and your ability to pull him back to the ground. Otto was against it at first, not because he didn’t like you, but you were barely an adult. Yet, Cid had smiled and patted you on the shoulder, telling Otto that there was more to you than meets the eye.

It’s much more than what your mother gave you. Worthless, unneeded, dirty, sinful - that’s all that she had called you. Your own father would try and raise your spirits, but her words were sharp as a knife and they cut wounds in your wrists. Weeks turned into months, months turned into years, and you stayed. You stayed with the people who would become your family.

One day, Cid left with Goetz and the wolf he ( or rather, charon ) cared for, because of rumors of Shiva’s Dominant finally rising in a place where he can finally catch her, to give her the freedom she needed. He came back with Goetz carrying a girl on his back, and a branded man with the wolf practically attached to his hip.

Clive Rosfield.

You didn’t realize it at the time, but the man before you would change your life completely.

Cid introduced you to him, asking you to watch over him and help him adjust to the Hideaway. It’s almost funny to think about, because despite Clive’s grumblings about ‘not staying long’ ( words that echoed in your head as familiar, because you had said the same thing ), when you finally got track of him again, he was out helping the people of Hideaway.

You made a joke about that and he quickly looked away, some colour on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. It was a cute sight, unsightly for a rugged man like him. Despite his appearances, he was kind and soft, albeit a bit cynical from the hardships he faced in his life. Then you ended up helping him help people, because there wasn’t much to do at that time and you needed to stretch your legs, and that’s how Cid decided on his great idea to make Clive your personal assistant.

Clive then realized when Cid told him you ran him ragged, he meant it, because once Cid assigned Clive to you, it didn’t take you long to get him working because as long as someone could move, they could work. But of course, you joined Clive on his journey to help him out. Some days you had to stay at Hideaway but for the most part, you were at his side alongside Cid.

You and Clive bonded together. Quick whips with one another, long nights together trying to figure out your next course of action with the Mothercrystals and how to save Valisthea, and slowly he became someone you… well, liked, essentially. You don’t exactly make friends with people, because you’ve never really had the chance to do so, but somehow Clive stabbed his way into your life and heart.

He became softer with you, and you did too. You found it was easy to smile with him, to laugh with him, to love him. It scared you, because Clive was a Dominant - the second, mysterious Eikon of Fire, and yet something so much more than that. It was basically a target on your back, even more so than the relationship you had with Cid.

But you found that you couldn’t stop loving him, that you would endure the burning world for him. Maybe that scared you more.

He held you when you sobbed and broke down over Cid - the first time your mask of being strong ever cracked. You hated it, you hated being weak, because Cid didn’t need weak people helping him. Cid needed someone who could put themselves back together, but this time you couldn’t. The pieces of you were scattered all over the floor like glass and every time you picked one up, you cut your hand and let the blood drip from your wound.

Yet, Clive held you. He held you close, he didn’t judge you, because he was crying alongside you. Cid meant so much to everyone, including him. You sat in his arms, and he didn’t leave until he knew he could leave you alone without worrying over you. His gentleness contrasted his roughened up look, he looked at you so softly and filled with fondness towards you. He was not afraid to help pick up the pieces, even if it meant cutting his hands in the process.

He put you back together, and he didn’t complain about it. Not even once.

Your relationship with him bloomed. Your friendship with him became something new, something else. It was a dangerous love, because of who Clive Rosfield is - what he is. Yet, you never swayed. You never faltered.

No matter what, he’s Clive to you.

But in public, he is Cid and you are Cid’s advisor - like you always were. You two were professional on the outside, only sneaking away to shed those titles when you had enough time to. You didn’t get those chances a lot, but when you did he made sure to treat you like you were a deity. You’ve had lovers in the past, but they never made you feel like Clive made you feel. He made you feel loved, appreciated, cared for. You took care of him, but he always took care of you in return. He never simply just took, he always gave back.

No wonder you were anxious to get back to him; you’ve missed him dearly.

“We’re approaching the Hideaway!”

The ferryman’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. You open your eyes, quickly looking towards the horizons. Even in the blackest of nights, with the moon being your only light, you could see the shape of the broken down airship that you and everyone else called home. You could feel the smile creeping on your face.

“I’m home,” you whisper.

To who exactly? Not yourself, but to the man who was waiting for you.

You thank Obolus for the ride home as you step off of the boat, quickly rushing up the stairs. Most people had turned in for the night so there were only a few souls still haunting the Hideaway, and they offered their greetings to you and a cheery ‘welcome back, advisor!’, to which you returned with a smile.

You feel a little silly rushing through the halls, like an eager child, but you were happy to be home.

You were happy about seeing him again.

You skid to a stop when you reached your destination. The Tub and Crown was a bit of a ghost town around this time, but you knew there were still a few people aside from Maeve haunting the area.

And you weren’t wrong. There sat Gav and Jill, with Torgal laying at Jill’s side. The hound lifts his head up at the sound of your footsteps, and once he lays his eyes on you he quickly stands up and rushes over towards you with a happy sounding bark. Since becoming Clive’s partner, Torgal never really left your side either. If he wasn’t with his owner or Jill, he was shuffling at your hip and following you around.

“Torgal!” You greet happily, kneeling on the ground to pet him and spoil him with some treats you carried on hand once you got close enough to where the two sat.

The two break from their conversation to see what Torgal was barking at, both of them greeting you with a smile on their faces.

“Well, if it ain’t our favorite advisor!” Gav slams his drink down. He looks you over, peering at the basket of gifts and requests at your side - all for a certain someone. “Talk about bein’ fashionably late. You weren’t kiddin’ when you said almost everyone in Valisthea was keepin’ you away.”

Jill nods her head in agreement, cupping her own chin to look over the heavy basket. “It sounds like you’ve had quite the adventure yourself.”

“Oh, it was the same ol’ stuff I deal with everyday. Just this time everyone in Valisthea caught wind that Cid’s advisor was in town and decided to make it their problem.” You rub Torgal’s belly, to which the hound accepts with happy pants.

Speaking of the aforementioned man… You look to the side of Gav. No handsome brooding man there.

You look to the side of Jill. No handsome brooding man there, either.

“Where is Clive?” You stop petting Torgal for a moment. “I figured he would be hanging out with you.”

Gav rolls his eyes a little, both good naturedly but also in some slight annoyance. “Went right to his chambers to work on things when we got back. He’s been in a bloody mood all week.” The scout holds up a finger. “Scowlin’ more than usual, more antsy than usual, tappin’ his foot while he waits at the door.” Every reason is met with a finger going up. “Not like everyone is afraid of him here, but it felt like we had to walk on eggshells around him. Even Charon was tryin’ not to rib him so hard.”

You blink a little, a brow raised. “Has the missions been going poorly or something?”

“Fuck no,” Gav shakes his head in response. “Everything’s been going smoothly. He’s just been actin’ like a shite.”

“He hasn’t been that bad,” counters Jill. Though, there’s a slight pause of hesitation from her. “But Gav isn’t wrong, he has been in a bit of a mood. More than likely, he was just worried about you.”

Worried about you? It’s not like you can’t handle yourself, and you’ve definitely been on missions longer than a week without him. You can’t help but scrunch your nose in thought - as always, when you’re thinking hard. Something was up with him, clearly.

Jill reads you like a book, with a smile on her face. “He’s still up, last time I checked. He’s burying his nose in reports as to distract himself. I’m sure he’ll appreciate the visit from you.” She stands up from her seat, as Torgal also rolls over and trots back to her side. “I’ve got some work to do with Tarja, but it was nice seeing you tonight.”

You nod your head, standing up and dusting yourself off. “Tarja, huh? Try not to stay up too late with her, alright?” You laugh a little when Shiva’s dominant huffs softly at your teasing, giving you just a gentle nudge in return. The two of you have gotten quite close over the years, and she was supportive of you and Clive. You felt like you could sigh in relief at that, that you didn’t have to worry about Clive’s childhood friend coming after you.

Gav finishes his drink, standing up as well. “I’m turnin’ in for the night.” He pats your shoulder with a grin on his face. “Make sure you give our leader a nice, warm welcome!”

He only grins harder seeing your cheeks turn red like a tomato at the implication of his words, and Jill’s soft laughter only makes you turn ever redder. Ah, there was your punishment for teasing Jill. The three of them make their way out of the alehouse, your eyes following them as you think about your conversation.

He’s in a mood.

What could he be in a mood about? You’ll have to do some digging, which isn’t hard - if there’s one thing Clive is with you that not even a sour mood could change, it’s that he was honest with you. It’s one of his best traits, really, that he’s open with his feelings and doesn’t usually shy away from speaking his mind about certain things. It’s not always easy, because there are some things he keeps to his chest, but for the most part communication is always important between you two. You pick up the basket of gifts and quickly make it to the end of the hall, where Clive’s chambers were.

And well, they were technically your chambers too, you think with the heat growing at your cheeks once more.

Shifting the basket a little, you use your free hand to knock on his chamber doors - once, twice and thrice.

“The door’s unlocked.” Clive’s low voice fills your ears. He already has you sighing and letting out a quivering breath. Founder, you’ve missed him.

You open the door with a smile on your face. You take in the sights before you - his room is as you left it, with the man himself seated at the desk. He seems to be burying himself in his usual reports and paperwork, just as Jill said. He didn’t even lift his head upon you entering.

“Guess who.” You smile, as you close the door behind you.

The sound of your voice has Clive immediately lift his head from his work. Cerulean eyes widened, the quill he was using drops from between his fingers and clattering on the desk.

“You’re back.” He sounds almost breathless. His chest raises a little as he breathes in and out, those cerulean eyes of him looking a lot more puppy-dog than usual.

This was different, indeed.

You walk towards him, placing the basket on the edge of the desk not covered in scattered papers. “Just got back. Gifts for you by the way, I was hunted down by weary souls who wanted to give their thanks to the so-called Cid the Outlaw.” You peer at him with a gentle, loving smile on your face.

He laughs a little in response, a rare smile forming on his own features. “No wonder you’re late. Sorry about that. I’ll be sure to pen my thanks to them soon.”

You shake your head at him. “Oh, don’t even start with the apologies. It’s my job to aid you, it’s kind of in the title.” A pause, shifting your feet a little as you hold your hands behind your back, shyly. “And… you know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

The words you whisper made him smile a little more. “You have perfect timing. I’m actually finishing up and I could use your advice.” He nudges his chair back a little, gently patting his thigh.

For a moment, you stare with a tilted head, until you realize the implications. Your cheeks turn red.

Oh, he’s inviting you to sit there.

Oh, this was different, indeed.

But you don’t hesitate or falter at all. You take a seat on his thigh, leaning against him. One of his strong arms wraps themselves around your waist, pulling your body flushed against his. The position is a little embarrassing, you have to admit to yourself, but it feels warm, comforting - loving. It doesn’t take long for you to fall back into place, flipping through the letters and offering your advice and help to him.

It also doesn’t take long for Clive to stop paying attention. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. His hot breath tickles your skin, a shiver running down your spine, as his fingers draw circles in your hip. His lips ghosts around your skin, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your neck as though he was whispering forbidden words in your skin. The quill from his fingers once again falls onto the desk, the reports forgotten about as his attention shifts to you. It’s hard to focus when he’s like this, so you decide to also forget about the many papers that littered his desktop.

“Jill and Gav told me you were in a mood.” You finally shift the conversation to what was really on your mind.

Clive only offers a grunt at first. “I’m not really in a mood.”

“Are you? You’re acting a little differently tonight.” Your fingers run through his hair, out of his eyes. “What’s on your mind, Clive? You know you can tell me.”

For a moment, he hesitates, but he knows he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. You know he doesn’t like keeping secrets from you. He pulls you close to him, finally lifting his head to look you in the eye.

“I was fine when you left, but after a day, it felt like there was a pit in my stomach.” Clive runs his fingers up and down your hip. “Hunger, I suppose, is the best way to describe it.”

“Hunger?”

“I felt like I couldn’t focus with you gone. It was worse when I was here alone. Your scent was so much stronger than it usually was…” Clive recounts, averting his gaze for a moment from slight embarrassment, but he quickly focuses back on you. “The more days you were away, the more the hunger grew.”

“And the grouchier you got?” You tease him, though your tease was cut short and replaced with a slight yelp when he pinches your thigh with a huff.

“I wasn’t grouchy.” He counters, but his tone of voice sounds like he’s not exactly fighting the accusation.

You think about what he’s said, though. A hunger he felt for you. It started happening when you first left. He found that your scent was stronger than normal, even when you weren’t there. The symptoms sounded fairly familiar to you, and you hummed a little in thought as you ran your fingers through his hair. He groaned in delight at that, leaning into your touch and burying his face in the crook of your neck once more.

“Maybe you’re going through a rut?”

Clive lifts his head up. “A rut? I’m not a dog, love.”

“I mean, you travel with a dog, you constantly have a permanent puppy-dog eyes look on you and you turn into a dog-lizard thing. You’re kind of dog-adjacent.” You shrug cheekily, with an equally cheeky smile on your face. “But I’m serious about the last thing. We don’t know a whole lot about Ifrit. Maybe it’s going through some kind of rut or something and it’s affecting you. It is springtime, you know. Maybe nature is just setting course for Ifrit, too.”

It’s a pretty plausible theory. Clive stops to think about it for a brief moment, his breath tickling your neck once more as you sigh. Still, he says nothing at first and pauses his movements, until he looks right back up at you, his gaze meeting yours.

“You do realize the implications of your theory, right?” His pupils are blown out, more than usual. His strong, calloused hands grip your hips, shifting you a little so your lower half is flushed right against his.

Oh, there’s something pressing against you. Your body warms up, a heat and ache pooling right in your core.

You didn’t realize how much you miss his body pressing against yours in such a sinful manner, until he rolls his hips against yours in want and need.

“I meant what I said,” you begin to say, your hands gripping to his shoulders as you slowly grind against the bulge in his pants, meeting his hips’ movements. You couldn’t help but grin a little when he moaned lowly, a sound just for you. “You know I’ll do anything for you, Clive.”

That’s all you’re able to get out at that point, because once you give him permission to do what he needs to do, Clive’s lips press against yours. It was only a sweet, soft kiss for a for seconds at best, because it quickly turned into something fierce, hungry. His tongue prods against your lips, wanting access into your warm mouth, and you gladly part your lips for him, because you need him as much as he needs you. Your tongue presses and swirls against his - it’s a small battle for dominance you never win, but you know he likes a small challenge. His own tongue presses and pins yours, until you ease away to let him completely take the reins.

The kiss is hot, wet, truly sinful. His hands grope everywhere he could, mostly squeezing at your thighs and hips with his fingers digging into your soft, plump flesh until they found their way to your rear. Squeezing and grabbing, groping in such a way that would make you flustered had you not been needy with your own arousal, he lifts you up as though you’re made of nothing but feathers, and truly you’re a little limp in his grasp. Clive’s strength always managed to make you feel dizzy, in a good way, and that doesn’t change here. He pushes his chair back, leaving the desk and the many reports he still has to do in the dust and makes his way towards his bed - your shared bed.

He only breaks the kiss to place you down on the mattress, gentle pants leaving both of your lips as a string of saliva connects the two of you. It breaks as he pulls away a little more, only to dive back in and press fluttering, wet kisses to your neck. Just like the kiss from before, it turns into something a little more hot and brutal; his lips suck at your skin to give it a bruising mark, teeth sinking into your flesh to draw just a little bit of blood from you. You groan hotly, your fingers gripping at his dark locks as your hips jolt upwards. Clive licks and kisses at the bruise and bite mark he left, panting gently against your flesh.

“You still taste so, so good.” Clive whispers into your skin, as his hands tug right at your shirt. He tries his best not to rip it, but unbuttoning your shirt during these kinds of acts was never exactly a cleanful tact, because you can already see a few buttons pop off just from him ripping it open. You chuckle a little; some things really don’t change.

Your chest is bared to him, and Clive wastes no time in pressing gentle kisses on naked skin. Trailing down, he kisses, licks and sucks on any skin he could latch himself onto and sinks teeth into your sink that leaves behind a delicious sting of pain, until finally reaching your left breast. Your breath hitches a little as his tongue swirls around the nub of your nipple, the hitched breath morphing into a needy moan once his lips latch around it to give it a gentle suck. His fingers tease and play with the unattended one, his attacks on you relentless and cruel - cruel in the sense he never slowed down.

“Clive.” you whine with a high-pitched voice, trying your best to roll your hips against his. But he doesn’t let you, pinning you down with just his pelvis. He lifts his head up, a smirk on his face.

“Just lay there and let me make you feel good,” whispers Clive. The way his low voice sounded so commanding, you can’t help but obey him. He was always like this, though; he was always chasing for your pleasure and never his own. He loved you, he wanted to make you feel good. It was never really fair! But at the same time, it truly was nice. He was so different from lovers you had in the past, who only cared about their own needs.

He attends to your other breast, giving it the same treatment - a lick here, a suck there, leaving a trail of bruises and bite marks in his wake. Once he’s satisfied, his lips start to trail downwards. He worships you like this, with his lips and his tongue, making sure there’s a patch of skin with his mark on it. His hands make work of your bottoms, pulling off the offending fabric until you were just left in your undergarments. You expect to feel his fingers on your skin so he can pull them down, but instead when you look down, you see Clive is using his teeth to pull them down.

Oh, this is different. Normally he takes his time with you; press himself against you, kiss you all over. Even as someone who prefers to please his partners more than please himself, it seems like tonight he’s impatient.

“Seems like someone’s been wanting this,” chuckles Clive as he spreads your lower lips a little to inspect you. “You’re already so soaked. All I did was tease you a little. Founder, you’re as depraved as I am.” His hot breath hits your wetness as he speaks, never once pressing his lips against you. You jolt a little at the feeling, a soft huff escaping your lips.

“You started this mess,” You tell him, your fingers already gripping in his hair. “You finish it.”

Another chuckle leaves his lips. Clive is impatient, though, and he wastes no time in pressing his lips right against your dripping entrance. His tongue is relentless here just as it was on your skin; it wastes no time in slipping inside of you, as he starts to drink your essence and fuck you with his tongue alone. It’s almost unbearable to you, in a good way - he drinks like a man starved.

Clive is so good to you, but he knows how to be so cruel, because he knows you enjoy it. He knows how easily you melt on his tongue, and he enjoys every single moment of it.

His fingers slip in as well, two of them pumping in and out as he moves upwards a little, finding your clit. The tip of his tongue flicks at it and you feel the smirk against your entrance as soon as you squeak and moan from his actions. He licks, sucks, his movements becoming faster with each second that passes. You’re trying so hard to swallow back your moans, but the moment his lips wrap around your clit and give it a hard suck, you can’t control your volume anymore. It echoes off of the walls, embarrassingly so, but your mind is so fogged that you don’t seem to care like you usually would.

The knot in your lower stomach painfully tightens, you can feel yourself reaching your peak as Clive continues to tease your clit and thrust his fingers in and out of you. Just as you’re about to find your release, though, he abruptly stops. He pulls himself off of you, his fingers are coated with your essence.

“Clive–” You begin to whine, almost in pain. You stop yourself short when you watch him lick his fingers clean - slowly, like he’s putting on a show for you. Once they’re clean, he looks at you as though he’s a predator who has caught prey in his trap. The slight darkness of the room makes his cerulean eyes have a glow to them. The knot in your stomach returns.

He intends to devour you, his way. He’s going to drag this out, until you’re begging and crying for release.

Clive crawls back onto the bed, his hands moving to undo all of the leathers and fabric of his clothing, until he’s as bare as you are. His cloak and shirt go first, dropping onto the ground until his chest is revealed to you. Greagor, you could probably write several missives about Clive’s chest and muscles, but despite what your lover may say, you’re not that depraved. You keep all of those thoughts to yourself, like a good advisor should. Your eyes drift down with his hands, watching as they fumble a little with his belt, stifling a laugh from how needy and excited he is.

You stop laughing once he finally does undo his belt and pull his pants down, revealing his hard cock to you. You’ve seen it before, it’s been inside of you multiple times now, but you still hitch your breath when you see it. The gods certainly graced Clive with something to brag about, for certain.

If you ever do meet Ultima maybe you should thank him for giving his vessel something that would make you cross your eyes and forget your own name, but something tells you a narcissistic god obsessed with the purity of his vessel may not appreciate the sonnets a mere mortal would write about said vessel’s cock.

Pre-cum dribbles at the tip, his fingers coated in a mix of his saliva and your juices as he uses it to his advantage to stroke himself a little, to really give you a show now. You hear yourself panting, your chest heaving up and down as you watch the sinful sight before you.

“Enjoying yourself?” Clive smirks, smugness in his voice.

You huff a little in response. “I’ll only enjoy myself when you actually fuck me instead of showing off, Rosfield.”

He laughs a little, leaning down to kiss your forehead sweetly. “As my faithful advisor commands.”

You have no time to respond, as he quickly flips you so you’re on your stomach, face slightly pressed against the pillow beneath you. He presses his front against your back, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds teasingly. Your needy whine and rear thrusting back to try and get him inside of you earns a laugh from him, but thankfully he’s not intensely cruel tonight. He presses inside of you, though it’s not as slow as he normally is. Normally he takes his time with you, but in just seconds he’s got his entire length inside of you. You feel the way his body shudders against your back, your soaked walls clenching around him. A sigh passes your lips, morphing into a moan.

You’ve missed this. You’ve missed him.

His thrusts are slow at first, but it doesn’t take him long for him to pick up his speed. His hips meet your backside, a wonderful symphony of skin slapping against each other fills the room, loud enough to make your ears burn with embarrassment. You bury your face in the pillow to muffle your moans. A hand wraps itself around the back of your neck, though, to pull you up towards its owner. Clive’s heavy breath is in your ear now, worsening your arousal.

“Don’t hide your voice from me,” pants Clive, sharp teeth nibbling at your earlobe. “I want to hear you.”

And you find that you can’t deny him. Your moans are loud, needy, your knuckles turning white from how roughly you’re gripping the sheets to the point where they might tear. His other hand snakes down your stomach, reaching your lower half, and his fingers make work on your clit. It’s a slow rub, his thrusts contrasting the gentleness of his fingers. You can feel yourself reaching your peak, you can feel the knot in your stomach tightening and tightening until–

Until he pulls right out of you.

You whine, loudly, at the loss. Your walls clench at nothing, and you try to thrust yourself back towards him, but Clive doesn’t let you do that. Instead, he flips you both again - him on his back and you sitting on his lap. He looks up at you with a smile, his hand running up and down your stomach once more.

“I know exactly what you like.” The outlaw says, pulling you forward so his cock rests right against your stomach. You feel how hot it is, how hard it is, and how it throbs and pulsates against your skin. “Show me how much you want to cum.”

Oh, he’s definitely dragging this out as long as he can. You can’t exactly blame him, you don’t want this to end either.

But you also really need to reach your peak, otherwise you may burn the whole Hideaway down.

Your wobbly legs manage to hold yourself up, slowly moving down on him. Your whole body shudders as his cock fills you up again, the tip pressing against the deepest parts of your inside. You move up and down on his length, moans and pants spilling from your lips as you decide to not hide your voice any longer - because he wants to hear you. And you can’t deny him, because you don’t want to deny him.

“Founder, your voice alone drives me mad.” Clive growls, his hand squeezing your thigh as he thrusts upwards to meet your own movements. “Tried to focus on my work, tried to put you out of my head for days, but I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I needed you blissed out on my cock–”

He’s rambling, his voice low and rough, and you love every second of it. Clive’s not much of a talker, but when he is, he makes you feel so depraved for him. Your legs were starting to shake and feel weak already, but you push yourself - you push yourself because you want this. Because you need this from him, just as much as he needed this from you.

“Clive,” you chant his name like a prayer, over and over again. You must sound delirious.

But Clive clearly doesn’t seem to mind, the way his back arches a little just from the sound of your sweet voice. It’s a powerful feeling, you realize, having such a powerful man like him weak at you - a mere mortal, a bearer but not a Dominant. Yet, it’s a good reminder that beneath everything, Clive is a mortal man as well.

“Can you feel me, sweetheart?” He places his hand on your lower stomach, feeling the way it bulges a little from the sheer size of him. You look down, shuddering at the sight as he continues to thrust upwards, your eyes following how the bulge disappears then reappears. “You take me so fucking well. It’s like you were made for me, the way you shake your hips like a woman at the Veil.”

You can’t respond, any time you try to all that fumbles from your lips are moans and whines of pure pleasure.

“I can get so deep into you like this,” groans Clive, his other hand grasping at your hip. “All the way into you. Fuck, I could breed you right here. I could make you swell with my child.”

Oh, that’s different.

And it’s clearly a good different, the way your body responds. Your walls clench around him, as if your body had a mind of its own, as if your body was begging for the man to breed you. He notices too, and he licks his lips and smirks once he realizes you may enjoy the idea as he did.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” Another thrust upwards. His thrusts are getting sloppier and rougher, but Greagor does it feel so good. “I wouldn’t be able to control myself, seeing you like that. I’d fuck you every single day–”

You moan, so lecherously. “Clive, fuck, I’m going to cum!”

Both hands grab at your hips, fingers digging and sinking into your skin so hard you know there’s going to be some bruising there in the morning. But you don’t care. All you care about is the man underneath you, and chasing after your own release. Clive makes you move faster onto him, a growl rumbling from his throat.

“Go on, let yourself go.”

You were already so overstimulated from the foreplay from before, and the way his cock brushes against your sweet spots and bashes against the entrance to your womb, you can’t help it. Your walls tighten around him, and you let yourself go.

Another growl rumbles from his throat, this time he pulls you right down onto him, hard. It doesn’t take him long to follow you into a blissful climax, his hot seed pouring into you and flooding your insides. It’s a lot, more than usual, to the point where it floods out from your entrance and onto him.

You collapse onto him, and he instantly takes you in his arms. Slowly, he flips your positions again, just so he can press himself deeper into you. Thank the Founder, because your legs were about to give out.

A moment passes, until he finally pulls himself out from you. His blown out pupils watch as his seed overflows from you, dripping onto the sheets beneath you. He shudders at the sight, and you can’t help but shudder as well.

You’re fading in and out of existence, but when you mostly come to, Clive has wiped you and him down, cleaning you up and gently pressing kisses against any marks he’s left on you. The sheets will unfortunately have to wait until tomorrow. Frankly, you could give less of a shit about that.

The outlaw slumps himself against you, pulling you into his arms. You both lay there in a comfortable silence, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you.” His voice trembles, a little embarrassed - that’s the Clive you know. “I’ll, uh, make sure Tarja prepares a herbal tea for you tomorrow, so that you don’t…” He trails off, hiding his face against your neck even more now.

You chuckle, feeling the hotness of his cheeks against your skin. “Feeling better?”

“Yes,” answers the male as he lifts his head up with a smile. “Much better. You always seem to know how to cure my worries and needs.”

“What can I say? I know my boss pretty well.”

He laughs, and your heart feels so warm, so in love with the man before you. Clive leans in, pressing his lips against yours to share a sweet, innocent kiss that contrasts the sinful act you both just partook in. And you kiss him back, wrapping your arms around him. You only stop when you feel something hard rub against your thigh, pulling back to see he was still pretty aroused. He’s a little sheepish at that, but he looks at you in want, in need - and love, as always.

“I don’t think one time is going to be enough for you, big guy.”

A sheepish laugh falls from his lips. “I don’t think so either. I might need a few more rounds. That is, if my faithful advisor is up to it.”

He’s challenging you, clearly. The smirk on his face tells you all you need to know. You smirk back, bucking your hips against his to accept.

“Only if you do most of the work.” You tell him, a leg going in to wrap itself around his waist. “You made me weak in my knees, Lord Rosfield. A gentleman should take some responsibility for his actions.”

His low chuckle reaches your ears, as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. It’s a tender action, one that definitely makes you feel weak in the knees - if you hadn’t already. It doesn’t take him long to reenter you, and you can’t hide the shudder of your slightly overstimulated body.

But you want everything he has to offer, the good and the bad of Clive Rosfield, and he’ll give it to you.

Because he wants everything you have to offer, the good and the bad of his faithful advisor, in return.

“As you wish, my love.”

He claims your lips. The night goes on.

“Somethin’ seems to be on your mind.”

Jill looks towards the source of the voice. Gav stands next to her, arms crossed as he meets her gaze with a raised brow. The Dominant says nothing to him, only slowly returning her gaze to where she once was looking. Gav’s line of sight follows hers, landing right on the scene that was unfolding before them.

“Clive, I’m trying to do work!”

Hideaway’s poor advisor was currently trying to shake an overgrown Cid the Outlaw off of them, who has currently draped himself over you. It had been a single day since you had returned from your trip and needless to say, Clive was acting as though you had been gone for years. Arms wrapped around your waist, pulling your body flush against yours.

“Nothing is stopping you from doing your work,” is all Clive remarks with, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Except for a fucking overgrown dog!”

Gav whistles at the sight before him. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”

“Indeed,” nods Jill, her gaze never leaving the both of you. Right now you were trying to walk away, which resulted in you basically having to drag the second Eikon of fire around because he refused to let himself off of you. “But, I can’t help but wonder if this is worse than the mood he was in before.”

The scout shrugs his shoulders. “Our advisor has dealt with worse from him. And we don’t have to deal with him slobberin’ all over us, so I’d say a good mood is better than nothin’.”

The woman says nothing. She knows it’s going to be a few days before Clive will return to his normal self, if your theory about why he’s been moody all week rings true. Such things don’t end with a simple, pleasurable night. You’ll be fine, she knows that, so she’s not too worried that you won’t be able to handle Clive Rosfield.

It’s in your job description, after all.

( she’ll still pray to metia for you, at the very least, and hope you come out unscathed. )

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #clive rosfield x reader #clive x reader #clive rosfield #🌙.txt #🌙 seren's writings

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freyito · 2 months ago

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my fellow americans. or literally anyone. if kamala wins i will write some down HORRENDOUS nasty 10k words smut of ONE (1 ((ONE)) character.

#freyposting #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #gallagher x reader #gallagher hsr x reader #boothill x reader #blade x reader #blade hsr x reader #ffxvi x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #clive rosfield x reader #ff16 x reader #cidolfus telamon x reader #cid x reader #messmer x reader #messmer the impaler x reader #elden ring x reader

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cryptictongues · 1 year ago

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184 Days

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Flower!Reader Series rating: Mature (angst; tw listed below) word count: 13.6K summary: You have a hard time grieving after Clive's passing, even when you didn't need to grieve at all.

warnings: reader-insert (sorry lol), angst, hurt/comfort, reunions, grief/mourning, slight suicidal ideation, slight self-harm, depression, panic attacks, happy ending (yay!) - this is part of the Flower!Reader series! You don't need to have read the other two but there are references to them if that interests you.

Spoilers: This is post-game stuff. If you haven't played the game, beware.

TW's: This fic contains major themes of grief, so it is heavy. There is minor suicidal ideation and self-harm, not graphic in nature, but it is there. Depression and panic attacks are more common in this fic. If these topics don't sit right with you, please be cautious when reading. You may also reach out if you want to know specifics if you are worried!

Songs: I just want to share that I was constantly listening to When the Sun Hits by Slowdive, Thick Skull by Paramore, and Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

LASTLY, I am sharing this on my birthday! My birthday gift to you all <3

[AO3 link]

Day 1

The Hideaway is full of people. People from all over Valisthea arrive in droves, coming to grant supplies, donate gil, and help around the Hideaway because today is the day; the day everyone here sends off Dion, Joshua, and Clive for their leave to Origin.

You are working overtime, helping with the final preparations before they take off. The biggest reason, however, for the hard work is the ever creeping anxiety filling your body as the time ticks closer to Clive’s departure; from his friends and family, and from you. This day has been a long time coming, yet now that it’s here you can barely stomach the thought of him leaving. With that thought lingering, every moment together has been even more precious than the next.

Every moment of free time has been spent together. With today being the day of departure, your last moments together were last night. You both made love all night, and in between sessions would talk about what you two will do once he comes back; creating the life of your dreams together. Yet, in the back of your mind, all you could think was those thoughts were just that: dreams. You don’t know what will happen during Clive’s mission. But it’s fun to play pretend, and to envision what life could have in store for the two of you.

The sun was in its golden state before its colors showed, telling you it’s almost time. You see everyone gathering on the main deck, Clive and co included, talking with one another as they say their farewells and safe travels. You start your way there, walking slowly as if it would prevent the inevitable. You know the moment you reach Clive, it would only be a matter of minutes before he is no longer within your grasp.

You see Clive talking to Jill, bringing her in for a tight hug as he continues. You see a shake in her shoulders, telling you she feels the same way you do. Just as hard as it is to wish your lover away, it must be just as hard to watch the man who has become a brother figure leave. They grew up together, after all.

You give a farewell to Prince Dion and Joshua once on the deck, giving Dion a firm handshake and a bow, while Joshua brings you in for a hug. You didn’t know Dion for long, but Joshua is a different story. Getting to know your lover’s brother has brought you closer to the both of them. Seeing how happy Clive was with Joshua around made your heart swell. You wonder if Joshua ever felt the same about you two.

Joshua let’s go of you, a melancholy smile drawn on his face. “Thank you, _____. Thank you for taking care of my brother.”

You shake your head. “No, thank you for finding each other again. I will be praying for the three of you to safely return to us.”

“I appreciate that, my lady.” Joshua thanks, yet his eyes shift, and he nods. “Here he comes.”

You turn to see Clive approaching you, and you already feel your chest growing tight and eyes water. He is standing before you, looking as beautiful as he always has, but with a sorrowful look that says everything you feel. It’s unfair, really. It devastates you that he is the one to stop all the madness, when in a perfect world he would stay. You keep telling yourself this isn’t the end, yet your gut keeps telling you otherwise.

“____.”

“Would it be selfish of me to ask you to stay? To ask to let the world go to hell?”

Clive smiles, solemnly chuckling at your suggestions. “Never.”

You reach for his left hand with both hands, holding it as you rub your thumbs into his palm. “I know it would be futile, all the same.” You utter. “There would be no life worth living for anyone. I just wish things could be different.”

“I am doing this for a better future for everyone. It is what the world deserves.” Clive’s other hand covers your hands in full. “I must do this, so you and I can live the future we’ve always talked about.”

“I wish I could take your place, so I could guarantee your safety.” You choke out, the waterworks starting.

Clive is quick to react, pulling you into him as you sob softly into his chest. “Knowing you will be safe here will be reason enough for me to make it back to you.” Your hands squeeze his sides, his statement making you want to sob harder. Clive pulls back, taking one hand to lift your head to get a good look at you. “I promise I will be back. Wait for me.”

You nod frantically, sniffling as you take deep breaths to calm down. Clive’s forehead leans against yours, his thumb brushing continuous strokes on your cheek, before pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. You accept his kiss, giving it your all knowing the outcome is unknown. Both of your lips linger, not wanting to pull away because once one of you does, he will be on his way.

Clive pulls away slightly, his lips still lingering near your own. “I love you, ____.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, placing one more kiss to his lips before pulling away. “I have something for you.”

You reach into the pouch you keep attached to your corset belt and pull out a lily. You thread the stem in between the crease of his corset and tunic, the tightness of his uniform keeping the flower in place. You brush his chest, stalling him a little longer before you accept it is time. “Lily represents reunion. With this flower, you shall come back to me.”

Clive sucks in a breath, releasing with a shutter as if he was on the verge of tears. “I will, no matter what.”

You feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see Jill still sniffling with watery eyes. She smiles at you before looking at Clive. “We will take care of each other.”

You feel something rub against your thigh and look to see Torgal rubbing his head on you. You smile, rubbing behind his ears. “Torgal will look out for us too.”

Clive hums, appreciating the sight before him. “This is farewell for now. Till then, we have a god to kill.”

Everyone has now formed a semi-circle around the three dominants about to depart, watching as they walk towards the end of the deck. They pick up their pace, all of them running until they are no longer in sight. A bright light goes off and the next thing everyone sees is Bahamut carrying Clive and Joshua towards an event that will shape the world.

You are sitting on the main deck, legs dangling off the side as you continue to stare off into the horizon. You haven’t left since Clive left, the golden hour long gone and twilight having come and gone, dusk now settling in the sky. It feels like it has been hours since his departure, when in reality it has only been a few. You wonder if they have made it to Origin yet, if the battle has started, if Ultima has been defeated… if they have met their maker for good. That thought makes you shiver.

You hear footsteps coming from behind you before a presence sits right beside you. You don’t look, but the aura alone tells you it’s Jill and you smile slightly. She puts an arm around you, pulling you into her as you both continue to look into the distance, like they would be back any second. She twists your hair, which comforts you in a way, and you hum. It is silent for a while, watching the sky continue to grow darker and darker until the sky is black with its pearls.

“Have you prayed to Metia today?” You break the silence with a question. Jill’s fixation that Metia answers prayers is comforting in these moments, especially when every prayer she has spoken through her heart has come true.

She shakes her head. “I haven’t, but only because I wanted you to join me. Our hearts combined will help, no doubt.”

You nod your head, and you both move into a position that faces Metia herself, kneeling before her with hands clasped together. You bow your head, and say your prayer in your head, letting your heart translate it in a way that only Metia understands. You pray for everyone’s safe return with little to no injury. You pray they come back healthy and happy. You pray for the dawn of a new age where you and Clive help build a world you two can grow old in. You pray for everything to be okay. You raise your head as you finish, and you admit that some weight has been lifted off your chest, but an uneasiness still sticks. You turn your head to see Jill finishing her own prayer, and she looks towards you with her hand reaching for yours. You give her your right hand and she grips it with a smile. “Metia has listened to our prayers. Now, we wait.”

“Jill, your faith that everything will be okay is admirable. I wish I had your confidence.” You confess, the sour feeling remaining deep in your body.

“For the longest time, I thought Clive was long dead. I believed that Metia hadn’t listened. And next thing I know, there he is. Granted, it was years later.” She squeezes your hand, and turns so your knees are touching hers. “That’s why I have faith that they will return to us.”

“Maybe your faith will rub off on me, and not the other way around with my worries.” You chuckle, trying to make light of the night.

“No matter what happens,” Jill reassures, “I will be here for you. We will be here for each other.”

You nod, and bring her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly which she returns. “Thank you, Jill. For everything.”

You both stay there for a minute, until next thing you know you hear running on the deck. You pull away to see Gav running towards you two, panic clear on his face. “Ah fuck,” he breathes in and out as he approaches. “Edda is in labor. All hands on deck.”

You and Jill gasp in unison, both jumping up to run to the infirmary to help bring new life into this world. And hopefully, a new one.

Day 2

“Alright, one more push, Edda.”

You are sitting behind Edda, letting her use your hands for her death grip as she continuously pushes and wails out in pain. You, Jill, and Mid are giving her words of encouragement as she continues her labor, and after one final push Tarja fully delivers the baby. A cry echoes throughout the room and the atmosphere is full of happiness and relief.

“Can I come in yet?” You hear Gav yell from the other side of the door.

“She just gave birth, Gav. Give us a minute.” Tarja yells, eyes rolling hard at Gav’s common sense.

“He’s just excited,” Jill chimes in. “As we all are.”

“Congratulations, Edda! It’s a boy!” Tarja finishes cleaning off the baby, kneeling beside Edda as she passes him off to her. You watch Edda admire her baby boy for the first time, her smile brightening up the room as she talks to him.

Seeing them interact stirs you with an emotion you wish to experience directly. You and Clive have talked about having children, making it clear you two wouldn’t have any until the world has been set straight. But you two would talk about what it would be like to have a little you or a little him running around or both. You imagine cradling a little boy in your arms, giggling as you shower him with kisses. You imagine Clive holding a little girl, swaying her around while singing a melody. Two giggly children to call your own with the man you have fallen madly in love with. You feel as if your heart could burst from the thought.

“_____, can you go up to the rear stacks to grab more towels off the lines?” Mid asks, taking you out of your sappy daydreams. You snap out of it, humming in the affirmative before moving away from Edda and heading to the door. You could barely get out the door before almost being trampled by Gav, running in like a mad man. “Let me see! Let me see!”

You chuckle to yourself, exiting the room and heading to the linen lines. Even when things seem dark, you can’t help but keep smiling at everyone’s high spirits tonight. You suppose new life being brought into the world will do that to people because it sure as hell is doing that for you. It’s a good distraction, and you accept it with open arms.

You grab some towels from the line, cradling them in your arms securely as you make your descent to the main deck and up the stairs to the infirmary. You reach the infirmary doors when you are once again almost hit by a body, except this time it was Jill. One quick look at her made it apparent she was crying. She doesn’t spare you a glance as she runs down the stairs, sobs fading as she goes further down. You turn to the open door, shock clear on your face. “What happened?”

Gav and Mid look at you like they don’t know what to say. You look at Gav, tears streaming down his face, and it’s like everything hits you all at once. Towels drop from your arms, your arms no longer working as your body starts to erupt. “No,” you shudder. “No.” You kept repeating yourself, not quite believing what’s happening. No words spoken, and yet everyone is saying your worst nightmare out loud.

You could see Gav wanted to say something, but before a word could break the glass box you were building around yourself, you ran. You ran right out the door, and ran as fast as you could to Clive’s chambers. You slam the door shut, starting to pace back and forth with your fists yanking your hair. You turn to the balcony doors, and run to them, slamming them wide open before looking out into the distance. You see the moon, as bright and big as ever, yet Metia no longer shines in its vibrancy. You hear a howl and see Torgal and Jill, Jill’s head tilted down as her body continues to shake. Jill’s connection with Metia was enough to tell you that something terrible has happened: Clive is dead.

You back away from the door, utter disbelief and pain seeping into your lungs. He promised. He promised he would return to me. Your mind keeps reeling, and next thing you know you find yourself in Clive’s bed, wrapping yourself in his covers tightly to encapsulate his lingering scent. Sobs devastate your body, almost to the point of not being able to breathe. But you embraced it, for you wish you could stop breathing all together in this moment.

You fall asleep with choked up airways and puffy eyes, dreams full of a future that’s no longer possible. You dream of him and him alone. You fall asleep in the dead of night, missing the sun greet Valisthea into a new era.

Day 5

Clive would’ve thought he was dead if it weren’t for the loud thumping in his head. He slowly comes to, the first thing he sees being light. It takes him a few seconds to adjust, his eyes working overtime against the strain. He feels sand, and hears the sound of waves. He goes to move his fingers when he notices he can’t move the ones on his left hand. He brings his left arm to his view and sees his hand is completely petrified. He couldn’t see the rest of his arm, but could feel the lack of blood and flesh ending right above his elbow. He pushes himself up with his good arm, hunching over in his spot as he breathes the salty air deeply.

Origin. He had defeated Ultima. The crystal in the sky was destroyed and now he finds himself here on this beach. Based on his surroundings, he concludes he is on the coast of Storm, even though the dark coast was no longer dark, but bright. It could have easily been mistaken for a coastline off of Valisthea, but behind him were still the dead brush of the continent.

He wonders how long he’s been out for. He vaguely remembers waking up, but not long enough to recollect anything. He reaches up to his face to touch his facial hair, feeling the scruff that has grown out slightly. A few days, he thinks. It was a mere few days ago when he left the Hideaway with Dion and his brother, and now he is the only one left. It burns him up inside knowing he couldn’t save them, and the fact he watched his brother die not once, but twice weighs heavy on his heart. Especially because if Ultima hadn’t chosen him as his vessel, he most likely would have become the Phoenix and Joshua would be alive and safe. He couldn’t be sure, of course, but alas.

Clive knows it does no good to think this way. Just like he would have done anything to save Joshua, he knows just as well Joshua would’ve done everything to save him. He knew Joshua would want him to help bring Valisthea and Storm into a new age. And most importantly, he knew Joshua wanted him to be happy, and deserved as much. I cannot delve into what was, but what can. And what he can focus on is the future, especially one with you.

Clive suddenly remembers the lily you had given him, and scrambles to retrieve it from his pant pouch with some difficulty due to one available hand. He felt its petals, still smooth and soft, and pulled it out to see it still looked brand new. He lets out a stuttered breath, eyes watering slightly. He almost couldn’t believe that after everything it had managed to stay in one piece, but he knew it was because you had blessed him with it. You had grown it, cared for it, and plucked it for him, and it was his turn to care for it. Just as well, it was time to keep his promise: to come back to you. He has been away for too long, and he must make haste now.

Clive sighs and slowly starts to stand up, gathering his bearings so as to not get too dizzy. He stands still for a moment, breathing in deeply once more to ensure he won’t collapse before assessing his situation. He will need a boat. He thinks he could find a port somewhere, and worse comes to worse he travels to Waloed to get one there. He will need to eat something to gain some semblance of energy to do said travel. The biggest obstacle for him will be his arm, a heavy weight on his body that doesn’t help his fatigue. He will have to find something to make it more manageable until he can get back to the Hideaway.

He starts to walk up the beach towards the woods; body heavy from his wet clothes, stone arm, and tired eyes. But he will move forward, for you are waiting back home for him and his safe return. No matter the cost, he will make it home to you.

“Darling, wait for me. I’m coming home.”

Day 14

It has been two weeks since the end of Origin, and to say you haven’t been grieving well is an understatement. You have a hard time getting out of bed these days, and your motivation to do anything is abysmal. You know your numbness is unsettling to other Hideaway members, many not knowing what to say when they see you. It’s like they saw you change overnight; your happy, go lucky self now tainted with expressionless reactions.

Gav has officially transitioned as the new Cid, but has yet to move into what will be his new room. He only comes in to do some paperwork, and read his latest messages. Oftentimes he will come to you, asking if he can get you anything, and he gets the same response from you every time: a subtle shake of your head. You are grateful that he lets you stay here as the smell of Clive’s sheets is the only thing keeping you from breaking all together.

You had forced yourself out of bed today to go to the Backyard. You sat beside the flower bed, staring at the flowers hoping for something to happen. Flowers were your comfort for a long time, and now it is like they have no effect at all. You look at the lilies that are off to the side, and all you can do is scoff. Reunion my foot.

You hear footsteps and paws coming down the stairs. You know it is Torgal and Jill, especially when Torgal has been stuck to Jill’s side for the last two weeks. You can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be around you either.

“You came to pay the flowers a visit. They’ve missed you.”

“They aren’t very good at showing it.” You shrug. You have been here for a few hours, and your mood hasn’t changed. You feel empty.

“Hortense is holding a sewing class for some new arrivals. You should come and say hi.” Jill says gently, not wanting to make your mood shift further south.

Deep down, you know you’ve let Jill down. You had promised to be there for her like she had with you, yet your own self pity refuses to acknowledge your lack of empathy. The demon residing in your brain just tells you that no one understands. It doesn’t matter if everyone is grieving about the three’s passing; your happy ending relied on your lover coming back to you. Everyone else can move on, keeping him in their memory. You can’t because a part of you is now dead with him.

You move to stand up, not wanting to bring her down with you. “They won’t want to see me. I’ll just make a fool out of myself.”

You move to head upstairs when Torgal blocks your walking route, and Jill gets in front of you. She grabs your shoulders, looking at you intently. You can see she is trying hard not to break in front of you, making that deep part of you scream to get over yourself. “Please, _____. You are an important asset to the Hideaway; the Jack of all Trades. I know they would love to meet you. The more kind people like you they meet, the more comfortable they will be here.”

Even since the end of Origin, new arrivals have continued to come in, many wanting to help with the cause. Even though bearers no longer have the power of magicks, it has led to more violence against those with the mark. This has led to everyone working more tirelessly to make strides for a future with new hope reinstated. You have yet to meet many of them, the motivation to do so never in your favor.

“Clive would want you to continue his legacy.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to scream how his legacy has taken him away from you. You know your way of thinking is irrational, but the rational part of you is a mountain ready to avalanche. With the last bit you have, you take a deep breath, knowing she is right. He would want you to continue living, even without him.

“Okay,” you nod. “I’ll meet them. I can’t promise I’ll come off as kind. Even if I wanted to, I don’t have the strength.”

Jill smiles, brushing hair from your face. “All I ask is that you try. We miss you.”

You three ascend the stairs, Jill locking arms with you as if you’d run away. You make it to the main deck, seeing Hortense and a few new faces sitting in a circle. Hortense waves, signaling you three to join in. “_____, it is so good for you to join us!”

“It’s, um, great to be here.” You say, trying to come off as happy.

You, Jill, and Torgal join the circle, quick introductions being passed around before Hortense starts her lesson. She is doing a lesson on basic sewing techniques using cross-stitching circles, showing everyone different patterns, styles, and methods for different types of fabrics. One of the new arrivals, Greta you remember her name being, was looking at your stitching constantly. You turn to look at her, and she quickly turns away. You look at her work, and you can tell she is struggling a little bit.

“Hey,” you say slightly above a whisper. “Try this.”

You show her a trick when it comes to tightening the thread, making it so it won’t want to fall apart. “Okay, now you try.”

Greta follows your method to a T, going slowly as she does it from memory. She smiles, seeing how well it worked. “That’s genius! Thank you so much!”

You nod, going back to your own work with a subtle smile on your face. You remember when you first learned how to sew, and how difficult it was for you. You remember when you had to learn on your own, Hortense having too much on her plate. You forgot how good it was to help others, and even if this feeling is for a moment, you feel lighter. You face Jill to see her glancing at you, a grin on her face as she continues messing with her circle of fabric. You know she is punching the air in success in her mind right now.

The session lasts for roughly an hour, and Hortense puts it to a close. “I’ll hold another class next week. Feel free to practice in the meantime.”

‘Yes ma'am’ is said in unison, and everyone departs to get ready for supper. You and Jill stay behind, helping Hortense put stuff away and create small chatter. As you all finish up, you pull Jill aside, feeling the need to say something. “Jill, I want to thank you. But most importantly, I want to apologize for not being there for you as well. I promise to do better by you.”

“Oh, _____,” Jill coos, bringing you in for a hug. “It’s okay. I understand your pain. We will get through this.”

You two continue like this, and all you can think is maybe this is a new start. Maybe you can start grieving in a better way than you have been. You know it won’t happen overnight, but after days of feeling like you’ve been dragged into a hole, you sense you can see the light.

Someone is yelling from afar, and you pull back to see a woman walking quickly to Hortense, a basket of what looks to be freshly clean linens in her hands. You and Jill walk over to see the commotion, only to see another new face. Hortense motions you two over, grinning from ear to ear with the woman beside her. “Ah, _____! I don’t think the two of you have met. This is Willow. She’s been helping me a lot with many of the laundry duties.”

“Oh Lady _____, it is so lovely to meet you.” Willow says, bowing her head slightly. “Also, lovely to see you again Lady Jill.”

You bow slightly, not used to such formalities towards yourself. Jill chimes in, glee in her tone. “You as well. Thank you for helping Hortense during this time. I know she surely appreciates it.”

“Of course!” Willow chirps. “I was coming over here to tell her the linens for the beds are done. Lady ____, I was able to clean your sheets as well so you will have a freshly made bed for tonight.”

You stop breathing, your ears deceiving you. “W-what?”

Willow was still smiling, not catching on to the atmospheric shift. “Your sheets! Hortense got me to get all the bed linens for a wash, but I went ahead and had your bed made as a good gesture.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest, and your vision is starting to blur. She cleaned the sheets. She cleaned Clives sheets. Not yours, but Clives. The one thing you had left of him, the one thing that still smelled like him, the one thing that made it feel like he wasn’t completely gone from the world, vanishing right before your eyes. You are starting to breathe hard, everything around you is no longer real. It is just you being thrown back into your suffocating glass box, and being thrown back into that dreaded hole. You can hear voices, but can’t distinguish what is being said. It’s when you feel a hand on your shoulder that the glass shatters, leaving you bloody in the dark, dank hole.

You collapse, the flood gates opening with shrieks and agonizing sobs. You are hitting the wood, small splinters digging into your fist as you continue. You didn’t care because no pain was more painful than what you are feeling right now. You hear running, and more commotion in the background.

“There is nothing to see here, take your leave.” It’s Gav. It fucking Gav.

“_____, please get up. What happened?”

“This is my fault.” Hortense says mortified. “I didn’t tell Willow that room was off limits.”

Your breathing is now rapid, sucking air and pushing it out because it isn’t enough. Arms wrap around you and you thrash around, yelling and screaming to let you go. “Get the fuck off of me!”

Gav has you upright and the rage you are now feeling bubbles out, turning into hitting his chest. “You are the only other person that goes in there, and you didn’t notice the fucking sheets were gone?! How could you let this happen?!”

“Please, _____. I just got back from Lostwing. I haven’t been there since early this morning.” Gav reasons, getting a grip on you with your arms secure so you wouldn’t do something you regret.

“That was all I had left of him.” You wail. “All I had was his scent and now it’s gone! It’s all fucking gone! He’s gone!”

“I got her from here. You three go have dinner.” Gav picks you up bridal style, walking up the main deck stairs. You are still crying, and your vision is blurry but you can still make out what is behind you. Willow is hugging Hortense, both visibly upset. But then you see Jill, who is standing there looking at the ground, none moving. Torgal is nudging her, but she won’t budge.

I’m sorry, Jill. I broke my promise.

Day 31

One month. It has been one month since Clive’s death, and you are no longer alive; a living corpse that lays in bed for days and days on end. You only get up to use the privy chambers, but other than that you lay there. Nothing is enjoyable anymore. The idea of going to the Backyard, to the Shelves, or even the Ale House is unappealing. Gav usually brings you food, sometimes Jill, but you barely touch it. You eat a little, but your appetite is non-existent; you eat only when your stomach tells you to.

People don’t visit you like they did. Sometimes Jill, Tarja, and even Jote would come in for a short time. They would try talking to you, they would rub your side to bring comfort, they would brush your hair, yet you wouldn’t react. Those visits have slowly dissipated, and you can’t blame them.

You hate what Clive’s passing has turned you into. You never thought grief would transform you so poorly. Grief isn’t new to you, just as it isn’t new for most people in the realm. You grieved when your parents passed, you grieved when Hideaway members didn’t return from missions, you grieved when Titan and his Dhalmekian goons killed so many innocent people in the Old Hideaway. But Clive is your one true love; the one man that was able to intertwine his soul with yours. They say once the soul has been torn into two, it never fully recovers.

You get up from the bed with all the strength you can muster. As you stand, you face the mirror from across the room, and what you see makes you shutter. You walk over slowly, not quite believing that it is you in the reflection. Your fingertips drag along the cool surface, slightly dissociating in the process. What was once full and bright features were now hollowed from lack of sleep, crying, lack of appetite, and the grief that’s swallowing you.

“By the Founder, I look dreadful.”

You want to heal. You want to get better. Your soul is waiting for your shell of a body to hatch, so it may continue to live. But how can you do that in a place where everywhere you look, you see him? Every corner of the Hideaway is covered with Clive’s aspirations, dreams, and ideas. If you want to move on, to grieve healthily, you can’t stay here. You need to be somewhere that takes you back to a time before Clive.

The moon shines brightly in the room, giving you enough light to maneuver around. You pack a small bag of your belongings, only with things that would benefit your travels, and dress yourself in clothes to protect you from the elements. Once situated, you walk over to what was once Clive’s desk and sit down. You grab the quill and a scroll, and look at the blank paper. Your eyes start to water, knowing this decision will ruffle some feathers, and will create a form of worry you won’t be here to satiate. You think about getting back into bed and forgetting about what you are about to do, but you know this is a must. You are holding everyone in the Hideaway back, and you can’t support the cause if you aren’t getting better.

You must do this, so therefore you write.

“What do you mean she left?” Jill raises her voice, the shock clear in her tone.

Gav had come into Clive’s old chambers to send some letters out to town leaders when he saw the bed was empty and made, with a scroll lying on top of the pillow. When Gav opened it, and read the words on the page, he immediately called for an urgent meeting with the main Hideaway members.

“She left this on the bed.” Gav states solemnly, passing it to Otto who is on his right. “Long story short, she doesn’t want to be found. She didn’t give a direct location to where she was heading. All she said is she will send word when she is ready to communicate.”

“She isn’t in the right state of mind to go out by herself!” Tarja says with irritation. “What is she thinking?!”

“How would she have even left? We only have one boat, no?” Tomes questions.

“We have a second boat in case the one Obolus uses is in need of repair.” Otto mutters, looking at the scroll a tad longer before passing it off to the next person.

Jill stands up from her seat, huffing as she turns to take her leave. Gav stands with her, already reading her mind. “Where the bloody fuck you think you’re going?!

“Rather than us wasting our breath, I’m going to go find her!” Jill shouts, frustration built into her face.

Tarja stands up quickly to grab Jill’s arm. “Now wait a damn second. We need a plan before we start going out willy nilly.”

“As you said, she isn’t in the right mindset to be out by herself. She could be dead in a ditch for all we know.” Jill seethes, pissed that nobody seems to be as fearful for her friend as she is.

“She is strong, Jill.”

Everyone turns to Jote, who is never one to chime in unless need be. She is holding the scroll, looking at it as she speaks. “I don’t know her as well as you all may, but from what I do know she is very resilient. She wouldn’t leave unless necessary, and this letter proves as much.”

Everyone is quiet, thinking caps on as they process Jote’s words. The first words spoken after the pregnant silence is Otto, turning to Gav seriously. “Gav, you are the leader of the Hideaway now. It is your call.”

Gav ponders for a moment, a bit torn of what action is best to take. You are family and he wants to know you are safe. He also doesn’t want to get in the way of what you need to do to get better. He fears sending Hideaway members out to find you will make things worse.

“I think,” Gav pauses, sighing in the process. “I will alert town leaders around Valisthea to keep their eyes peeled for her. If she doesn’t want to be bothered, we shouldn’t intrude. Getting a location on her though would be beneficial for us to ensure she is at least safe.”

“Gav is right,” Otto agrees. “She will need to go into towns for essentials and will probably pass through a few.”

“If we don’t hear anything within a month's time, we will start sending out some search parties, but as I said we cannot bother her if we find her. We have to hope she will reach out to us when she is ready.” Gav continues, giving everyone a once over to see if his words are reciprocated.

Agreements are shared, some more hesitant than others, before Gav dismisses everyone to their daily duties. When the last person leaves, Gav collapses into his seat, taking deep breaths as he runs his hands over his face.

“May Greagor be with you, _____.” Gav whispers to himself.

Day 40

You can’t sleep, constantly shifting under the covers with no sense of relief. You feel hot, which is abnormal for this cool night. You start to burn up, skin flaring until it starts to burn. You sit up, panicking as you throw the covers off of you before you freeze, breath caught in your throat. In the moonlight, there is a figure sitting across the room from you, head bowed down with arms in their lap. You panic in silence, not knowing whether to fight or flight.

“You’re awake.” That voice. You know that voice all too well.

“C-Clive?” You stutter, not trusting your voice to break the quiet.

Silence suffocates the room. You wait for a response, but he just sits there. You move off the bed and walk towards him slowly, feeling off about what you are experiencing. He’s dead. Metia’s star went out. This can’t be real.

You are standing in front of him now, your bare toes touching his boots. He still doesn’t move, so you move your hands to his head, messing with the strands of hair from his head. “Clive, is it really you?”

“You left.” You pause, his tone off. Is he not happy to see me?

“Clive, I thought you were dead. We all did.”

“And yet, you still left.” He growls, finally moving his hands to grip your waist tightly, on the verge of pain. “You promised to wait for me. You broke that promise.”

“Clive,” you choke. “I’m sorry I-”

“You broke your promise to Jill.”

“I didn’t mean to!”

“You abandoned the Hideaway, my legacy, like it was nothing!”

“Clive, you’re hurting me.” You are crying now. His fingers are digging into your side hard, and you look to see he is shaking with anger.

“This is nothing in comparison to how you have hurt me!” He yells, and he lifts his head, causing you to gasp. His eyes are orange, glowing bolder and bolder the more worked up he got. You try to pry his grip off of you, but to no avail.

“Please, Clive!” You cry harder. “I love you, I'm sorry for leaving! I should have stayed!”

“You are too late, _____.” He seethes.

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

You shoot up from your bed, screaming in a cold sweat. You look around the room like a mad woman, trying to gauge your surroundings. A wave of nausea overcomes you and you fall to the floor, vomiting from the absolute madness that occurred in your head. You dry heave on the floor, waiting for the next course of nausea to arrive but it never came. You sat up so your back was against the bed, relieved you weren’t going to be sick again, yet frustrated all the same.

You arrived in Dhalmekia four days ago. Originally, you set out to find your childhood home where you grew up with your parents, but when you arrived at the village off to the left of the Northern Velkroy, it had all but been abandoned. Your home, that was left with memories of your old life, ravaged from what you could assume to be bandits. So you kept going, hitchhiking a few rides before traveling on foot. That is when you found a small, two room cottage down in the Fields of Corava, a place you weren’t aware of, having never been south of Dalimil. There was minimal damage; a broken window and some chipped flooring. It was a better place to stay for the time being.

Ever since arriving, however, your mind has conjured terrible dreams with it being the same every time. It was always you and Clive in this room with him degrading your worth. The first night didn’t feel real, knowing that Clive would never act as such with you. But tonight, after having it for the fourth time in a row, your heart is waning.

You stare at the chair you saw Clive in, an increasing amount of anguish washing over you as you look. He’s gone. Your fingers dig into your thighs, trying to ground yourself. He’s gone. You start to choke on air, not wanting the cries of grief released from your lungs. He’s gone.

He’s gone.

He’s fucking gone!

The shell cracks, the quiet night becomes piercing as you scream. You shoot up to the chair, taking it and bashing it into the floor. You keep screaming, the splinters from the chair and the floor growing with each smack. No matter the ache your body is having, the adrenaline rushing through your it has given your grief new purpose; a cathartic event that is shaping your mentality.

The chair is nothing but wood; the bare bones of it. You get up to open the door, chucking the wood outside the door with rage. The splintered wood digs into your hands, your emotional distress covering any semblance of physical pain. Your screams have turned into wails, angry tears dripping from your face to the floor.

This rage inside of you stirred by grief makes you feel like you're dying. If anyone told you that Clive’s death would make you transform into the living dead, you’d laugh. How could anyone make you feel dead when you were the cheerful jack of the Hideaway?

The wood is now dispersed all across the field before you, bathing in the pure light of the moon. You sink into the cottage where the dark swallows you, slamming the door shut and sliding down it as your body continues its assault. Your bloody hands grip at your hair as you rock back and forth, chanting the same two words over and over.

He’s gone.

Day 70

The atmosphere at the Hideaway was the same like any other day. People were up doing their tasks or simply enjoying the day; it has been the same old, same old.

That is, until the bell on the pier sounded off.

“What is going on?!” Jill yells, everyone looking over the main deck to see the commotion. The bell is only used for emergencies, like if an enemy were to approach the Hideaway. However, Jill sees that people weren’t panicking, but rejoicing.

Gav runs up to Jill alarmed, trying to get a sense of what’s happening. “Oh fuck me! What’s going on?!”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Jill says, her and Gav picking up the pace as they walk to see the situation at hand; both ready to take action. The two of them push through the crowd, finally reaching the railing that sees over the pier. The first instant Jill looks down, a gasp is let out with her hand covering her mouth and eyes bulging.

“No fucking way,” Gav whispers, not quite believing what he is seeing.

But their eyes do not betray them, for the bell has rang not for an emergency situation, but a message that he is alive. Clive is alive.

“He made it… Great Greagor he fucking made it!” Gav cheers.

“Clive!” Jill yells.

Clive looks up to the main deck to see two of his cherished friends, and right as he makes eye contact with them, he makes a run for the lift. Gav and Jill follow his lead, running in the direction he is to come to officially greet him. The minute Clive steps out from the lift, Gav and Jill are on him, hugging him tightly to make sure he isn’t here to haunt the place.

“You’re alive!” Jill elates.

“I apologize for my late return. I didn’t realize I’d be sorely missed.” Clive jokes, watching as more people gather around them.

“Are you kidding? This place has been falling apart without you!” Gav exaggerates.

It makes Clive chuckle, placing his hand on Gav’s shoulder as he pulls back. “Seeing all the new faces, I doubt that. And that is thanks to you. Thank you for keeping the Hideaway safe.”

Clive feels something rub his leg, and looks to see Torgal rubbing his head against him. He bends down, using his good arm to rub behind Torgal’s ears. “Torgal, have you been a good boy since I’ve been away?”

“Clive,” Jill gasps. “You’re arm.”

During Clive’s travels back home, his arm had become more of a nuisance if anything. He is a strong man; he can wield swords made of the heaviest metals, no problem. But to have an appendage weigh more than the other, well, that is a whole different situation. He had ripped part of his cape and created a sling to keep his arm in place, making travel more bearable.

Clive stands up straight, rubbing his stoned arm. “Yeah… I didn’t get away completely unscathed.” Clive draws out. “But nevertheless, we won.”

“What of Joshua and Dion?” Jill asks, even though the look in her eyes tells him she already knows. All he could do was shake his head.

“I suppose I have a lot of explaining to do.” Clive says, having much to tell.

“You will, but not before we get your arm sorted out.”

“Of course,” Clive chuckles, and turns to see Tarja with her arms crossed and hip out. He is so happy to be back amongst friends and family, ready to truly cherish his time after a battle where he could have easily perished. But most importantly, he is ready to see you.

Truth be told, Clive’s travels back to Valisthea were consumed mostly by you. All he could think about was how he craves for you to be in his warm embrace, giving him kisses and caresses that would heal him for a lifetime. To be away from you for so long is agony, and what has kept him going was knowing the future is now his and yours; one where you both can live lives worth living.

He looks around and sees a bunch of familiar faces approach, his original crew gathering around him as they welcome his return. He scans the crowd, nodding to everyone and granting a smile. However, he doesn’t see you within the sets of familiar faces.

“Where’s _____?” Clive asks, scanning the crowd once more for your face.

Everyone goes silent, glancing at one another trying to communicate. An uneasy feeling settles in Clive’s pit, not liking the reaction he got with his simple question.

Tarja is the first to speak up, diverting the question quickly with urgency. “We can talk about her later, but first we need to do something about your arm straight away. Jill. Gav. Take him to the infirmary. I’ll be up there shortly.” There was a look in Tarja’s eyes that told Clive she wouldn’t be there for a while, which made that uneasy feeling grow bolder.

Gav and Jill suddenly hook arms with Clive on either side, walking fast so he had no choice but to follow. Clive could feel himself getting frustrated, having wanted to see you for days upon days and not being granted that wish immediately upon his return.

He leans down to Jill’s ear, needing an explanation immediately. “Where is she?”

“It is better we explain once we are upstairs.” Jill reasons, although there is a shake in her voice.

The four of them get into the infirmary, Jill and Gav situating Clive on a cot. Gav whispers to Jill, her nodding in response as he jogs out of the room. Clive looks at her, a million thoughts running through his head at their peculiarness.

“Jill, what is happening?”

Jill twiddles her thumbs, taking deep breaths as she prepares herself. She looks down at the floorboards, and Clive can feel the tension in the room. “Some things happened while you were away, Clive.” Her breath trembles. “You aren’t going to be happy with what I’m about to say.”

“You are worrying me, Jill.” Clive says, trying to stay calm. “Please tell me what’s happened.”

Jill looks up, eyes starting to gloss over. She places her hands over Clive’s right hand, squeezing it gently. “The night of Origin. Metia’s star went out, and I couldn’t feel you anymore after that. I thought you were dead.

“Jill,” Clive says in a low tone. “I apologize for causing so much grief.”

“We all thought you died.” Jill laughs solemnly. “Seeing you right now doesn’t feel real.”

Clive squeezes Jill’s hands as a means to comfort her, as well as to urge her to continue. She shakes her head, tears as icy Shiva’s magick slipping down her face. “We all took it very hard. Some held hope, but after weeks of no signs of your return, everyone had accepted it.”

Jill’s breath stutters. “But Greagor, Clive. _____ took it so hard.” The tears started to fall, Jill shaking as she continued. “She wouldn’t get out of bed, wouldn’t eat… oh Greagor she wouldn’t talk to anyone. She would just lay there no matter what we tried to do.”

Clive thinks his heart just tore. The thought of you like that made him ill. And the past tense of Jill’s words make the air all the more suffocating.

“Where is she, Jill? Let me see her, please.” He pleads, needing to show you that he lives and has come back to her.

“I’m sorry,” Jill cries, her head bowing onto their intertwined hands. “I’m so sorry, Clive.”

“Jill talk to me, please!” He begs before hearing the door to the infirmary open, only to see Gav with a small scroll in his hand.

“Gav, you need to tell me what has happened.” Clive says sternly, knowing another second longer with no answer will send him into a frenzy.

Gav shows him the scroll, making Clive gently let go of Jill’s hands to reach for it but before he could grab it Gav backed away. “When you read this, know that we have plans enacted.”

Gav hands it to him, taking another step back to give Clive more space. Clive unravels the scroll quickly, the need for answers strong. And he gets his answer, but that answer makes his skin run cold and go hot at the same time.

Gav,

I apologize for putting this on you. I know your transition as the new Cid has been a lot, and I am sorry for making it much harder for you. This space is yours now. Not Clive’s, nor mine.

You know as well as the others I am not well. A part of me died the day Clive passed, and being here has made any progress of healing not happen. Truth is, I see him everywhere. Everything here reminds me of him, and it’s killing me because one moment I see him and the next I don’t. The grief that has consumed me has become everlasting.

By the time you read this, I will be far gone. Please, I beg of you, do not come find me. Do not send anyone to come find me. I will not come back, at least for now. Any chance of me getting better is for me to go out there, not stay here. I know this will cause worry, and I apologize for being a nuisance, but I have no choice. It’s either I die out there trying or I stay here rotting.

Tell the others I’m sorry, especially Jill, and take care of her. Once I’m ready, I’ll send word of my whereabouts. Until then, please let me grieve in peace.

Much obliged,

_____

Clive is seeing red. His fist starts to squeeze the paper, crackles and the sound of a tear coming from it. “When did she leave?”

“It’s been about a month.” Gav mutters, and everything that happens next is a blur. Clive shoots up from the bed, charging towards Gav before slamming him into the door.

“Clive, please don’t!” Jill cries.

“She’s been gone for a month?! And you have yet to find her?!” Clive yells, his fist gripping tightly onto Gav’s leathers.

“We have notified people on the outside to keep us posted.” Gav tries to reassure. “That is what the Hideaway members have agreed on.” His words do nothing to soothe him. If he still had his magick, he is sure hellfire would rain on the Hideaway.

“She needed time, Clive.” Jill rests her hand on his shoulder. “We chose to respect her wishes.”

He scoffs, backing away from the both of them, disbelief clear on his features. “You agreed to this too?”

“You were not here to witness what we did!” Jill yells agitated. “Clive, I understand your frustration, but if you saw how she was you wouldn’t think twice.”

He wants to stay angry, put the blame on someone selfishly. You’ve done so much for the Hideaway, the cause, everyone involved. How could they let you leave? But all he feels is defeat. He came too late, and now he needs to make up for lost time.

“Excuse me,” Clive mutters, walking towards the door Gav is still leaning against.

Jill shoots herself to grab the upper half of his petrified arm, a grunt forced out at the pulling tension. “Clive, you need to stay right here so Tarja can do something about your arm.”

“No, I am going to go out and look for her! She needs to know I’m alive!” He tries shaking her grip off his arm, but to no avail as she holds on tighter. Panic is starting to set in, not knowing where you are and if you are safe freaking him out. It is almost as if he is experiencing firsthand what you went through.

Gav steps forward, putting his hands on Clive’s shoulders shaking him slightly. “We have cursebreakers looking for her daily now that the month of her leave has passed. We will find her. And now that you are back, we will bring her home.”

“Once you are better, we will go with you to search for her. But for right now, you need to rest. Let the cursebreakers do what they’ve been assigned to do.” Jill reassures. “Let’s get you ready for Tarja. The sooner she can fix you up, the faster you can go out.”

Clive takes a deep breath before nodding, and lets Jill and Gav guide him back to the cot. He sits back down, and all he can do is look down at the floorboards. Anger and defeat have turned into a sadness he cannot fully comprehend; a feeling he hasn’t quite felt before. “Do you two mind giving me some time alone? Please.”

“Of course, Clive. We will be outside if you need anything.” Jill says, before the sound of four feet patter across the floor and the creak of the door opens and closes, leaving Clive completely alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stays like that; unmoving, eyes glued to the floor. All he thinks is he should have found a way to send a message to you so you knew he had survived. Deep down, he knows there was nothing he could have done given his circumstances, but that doesn’t stop the blame game he is putting upon himself. So he sits there, wallowing in his heartache as his shoulders shake and throat lets out faint sobs.

The letter is still held tightly in his grasp.

Day 71

Waking up early in the morning before the sun makes its greeting isn’t abnormal for you, not when you dream constantly. Sometimes your dreams would startle you. Sometimes they would make you wake up crying. Sometimes they would wake you up with a smile on your face. But the time is always the same; the moon is always there to tell you the time of the morning and you fall back into a deep sleep before the sun shows itself. However, this time is different.

In recent days, you’ve had nothing but wonderful dreams. Not ones like when you first came here, or ones about a future no longer possible. They were dreams of the past, deja vu in nature. Fond memories of you and Clive ranging from the first time you laid eyes on him to the last. What’s different about your calling back to the real world is your eyes open to hues of yellow and orange shining through the window. It is not the moon’s beams that greet you, but the sun’s rays.

You get out of bed and go to the door, opening it to step out onto the field. The early morning air hits your skin, the grass licking at your feet as you continue forward. You trek to the spot between the elevated land, a v-shape displaying the rising sun as it continues its ascent. Your hand goes out in front of you, watching your skin transform as the sun’s colors grow brighter. You can’t help but smile at the sight before you because all you feel is peace. For once since Valisthea changed forever, you felt like everything will be okay.

You think about the first time you and Clive watched the sunrise together, holding each other tightly as you both talk about how it is a new day full of hopes and dreams. You remember him telling you how he has never felt more alive than he did in that moment, and you can understand why; you understand because you feel the same.

You know Clive would want you to live to the fullest, for that was what he wanted all along. Even if things didn’t turn out the way they should have, he would have wanted you to live for him, but most importantly for yourself. He would want you to remember your time together fondly, and that it wasn’t for nothing. It was everything.

You inhale deeply, the scents of the morning filling your airways before you exhale. You continue to look out on the horizon, mesmerized by the beauty of a new day; a new start .

“I deserve to be happy, right Clive?” You whisper to yourself. “I will continue to live for you and for me. Starting now.”

This is the start of your new life.

Day 172

“These are absolutely beautiful, my lady. These are so hard to find in Dhalmekia.”

You smile brightly, watching the woman before you admire your handy work. “I’m pleased that you love them. Morgenbeards are native to the swampy waters in Rosaria, but I was able to get my hands on some seeds.”

“You must know your stuff to get them to grow here.” The lady continues.

You shake your head, grinning at her. “I have my ways.”

To say things have gotten better would be the greatest understatement in history because you are thriving. It is as if everything has fallen into place. You fixed up the small cottage you are residing in so it felt more like a home rather than a temporary visit. You did a lot of prep work to ensure you’d live comfortably. The greatest thing, however, is you found a way to make a living for yourself, the one thing you do best: grow flowers.

You noticed how flowers grew in the fields, yet you could tell they needed help; the Dhalmeky dirt too dry to keep them alive for long. You were able to get some books on flower gardening, along with different kinds of seeds, all imported from merchants who graciously accepted the little gil you had. It took some time, but those things helped you open a flower shop out of your home. And thus far, it has been a wonderful success.

You had taken a flower cart to Dalimil to get your name out there, and to let people know where to find your business. You eventually want to move your business within the inn’s market, but when you had come to propose the idea, you found out Lubor had been gone on an expedition. The cart will have to do, you recalled thinking. The people there have been nothing but supportive, offering their business in exchange for theirs: vases, business signs, gardening supplies, etcetera. It was a good system that benefitted you and them. You were grateful.

You are sitting at the kitchen table, having closed shop for the day, sipping on some hot tea as you write down your daily earnings. A hard day’s work is rewarding, and knowing your flowers have made your customers happy makes you happy. To be doing things that feel worthwhile feels good, and the last time you felt this way was when you lived at the Hideaway.

The Hideaway. You stop writing as you reminisce about those times. It really wasn’t that long ago, yet it feels like a lifetime. Have I changed that much?

You miss everyone dearly. You miss Tarja’s tough love. You miss Mid’s inventiveness. You miss Otto’s gruffness. You miss Tome’s stories of his travels. You miss Jote’s coolness. You miss Gav’s banter. You miss Torgal’s way of comforting you. You miss Jill’s faith. You miss everyone. You often wonder if they miss you too.

You are surprised no one has come looking for you, or have found you if they were. You think about what they must have thought when you left that letter. Were they angry? Sad? Worried? All three? Did they listen to you when you said you didn’t want to be found or did they nonstop look day and night for you? You couldn’t tell. Not unless you find out for yourself.

You set the daily earnings paper aside, and lay out a fresh one, your quill hovering over the paper as you think of what to say. There are so many words to say, yet you don’t know where to start. Do you share everything? Do you just tell them you are okay? Do you tell them where you are? So many questions to answer with little paper to write it all out. So you write something simple, hoping it gets the message across.

I hope this finds you well. Come see me if you wish. You all know where to find me.

Day 179

Clive’s search for you has been non-stop, days and nights spent looking for trails only to find dead ends. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get how you could have disappeared without a trace. But that will not deter him. He will not stop looking until he finds you.

Every place that Clive could think of they checked. Areas in Dhalmekia were the first places they looked, knowing you knew the area better than others. The very first place they checked was your childhood home near the Northern Velkroy, but it didn’t look like there were any signs of life there. Different towns within the area were checked but no one had heard or seen you. Hell, they were more surprised to see him alive and well to focus on the whereabouts of a lost woman. He understood, but it grated his nerves.

Every other place in Valisthea had been scouted and marked as they went, but every location and mark was the same. So here he was, writing letters to town leaders of the cause again to be his eyes. You have to show up somewhere eventually, if you haven’t already.

As every day passes, his heart wanes further. It yearns for you, calling out its other half to be complete again. When he does rest, granted not for long periods of time, he imagines you are lying with him. He holds a pillow close in his arms, picturing it to be you to subdue his crazed heart and mind. It was nice to pretend, but then he wakes up and is sorely disappointed to see what lies in his arms is just that: a pillow. It’s a cycle because the same thought crosses his mind each and every time: the day you are back in his arms will be a momentous day. That day has yet to come.

He keeps writing the same words over and over on different sheets of paper when he hears commotion from beyond his doors. The fighting instinct in him shoots up, running to the door to see what was happening when he sees Otto, Jill, and Gav running towards him.

“Has something happened?” Clive asks, alarmed.

Otto reaches Clive first, shoving a piece of paper into his hand. “She has communicated with us.”

Clive couldn’t read the paper fast enough, not quite believing this day had come. He rings out the paper to straighten it before reading her handwriting. “She is staying in a cottage in the Fields of Corava.”

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go get the lass back!” Gav expresses with full excitement, springs basically on the bottom of his feet with how bouncy he is.

Jill pats Gav on the back. “Gav, let’s let Clive go alone.” She then turns to face Clive, an understanding smile greeting him. “They will need some time together.”

“Thank you, Jill.” Clive says softly. “I thank all of you.”

“Well, if that’s the case…” Gav draws out, approaching Clive before slamming his hand on his shoulder, “you better get cleaned up! You have a lady to see.”

Clive laughs at Gav’s antics, and turns to ready himself; ready himself to return to you once and for all.

Day 184

It’s late in the morning as you gather flowers into your basket, trimming and cutting the ones that have bloomed beautifully. The flower gardens in the field were flourishing more and more every day. The more you work in the gardens, the more fulfillment you feel. You felt this when you helped out in the Backyard, but what you built here is from your own doing. You believe it to be a testament to your growth, showing that you made the right decision all those months ago. You’ve created your own little utopia, and to share it with others is a beautiful thing.

As you cut fresh flowers, you start to wonder if people at the Hideaway got your letter. You would love for them to come visit, and see what you have done with the place. You wonder if they will ever come to see you or if they will send a letter back. It could be any day now, and you will be ready.

You have a full basket of flowers ready to be put in vases, and before you can get up to head inside you see a shadow lingering above your form. “I’m sorry, but I won't be open for another couple of hours.”

There is no reply, and the shadow remains as still as a statue. You sigh, standing up to turn and be more clear with your words. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but I still need to se-”

The flower basket falls from your grasp, tumbling out and falling into a heap by your feet. Time has frozen, not feeling real as you look at the person you have longed to see for months. You question if you are hallucinating, having had moments where you would see Clive one second and the next he was gone. This, however, was different.

The man before you was not in uniform; just a simple white tunic that displayed a few of his chest curls at the v-cut and regular black trousers with his leather boots. His face was clean-shaven, the facial hair he had kept for so long absent from his face making him look younger. The biggest difference, however, was his left arm; from his elbow down was gone. How could this be hallucination?

“Am I dreaming or is this real?” You breathe, blinking a few times to see if he’d disappear. He didn’t.

He takes a step forward, grabbing one of your hands to place it over his heart. He is warm, his heart fluttering quickly. He is looking down into your eyes, where you see his baby blues grow glossy. “This is real.” He murmurs. “I’m home, sweetheart.”

Something about his words break you, your hands latching onto his shirt to hold yourself to reality. He’s home. My Clive is home.

You can’t help the sobs that leave your mouth as you bury your face into his chest, making him wrap his arm around you as you both collapse down into the flower beds. You are feeling every emotion under the sun, and you can tell Clive does too as he holds you in his lap. He cries with you, sharing a reunion so pure that it is overwhelming. You lift your head and bring his face to yours, kissing him so deeply that your lungs shake. Exchanges of small words come out between the two of you as you give each other kisses that have been longed for.

“I never thought I’d see this day.” You say with a wobble in your tone, kissing him again and again. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Clive croaks, and goes back in for your lips.

There you both make up for lost time; holding onto each other in a field of flowers where kisses and touches are continuously exchanged.

You and Clive eventually went inside. You turn the sign on your door to ‘close’, so no one can bother you two. You watch Clive look around the place, taking in your little set up of flowers on the kitchen table.

“I apologize for the mess. I’ve had a lot of requests over the last few days believe it or not.”

Clive looks at you, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. “That doesn’t surprise me in the least. You’ve always had a way with flowers. Speaking of which…”

He reaches into his pocket, only to pull out the lily you had given him all that time ago. You gasp, surprised he has kept hold of it. “You still have it? But how?”

“I protected it with my life.” Clive sets it onto the table. “You gave it to me with the wish that I’d return to you. I wasn’t going to lose it easily.”

“You are so endearing.” You say, but you have so many things you want to know and that alone puts a small frown on your face.

Clives sees the shift immediately, grabbing your hand to console you. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“What happened at Origin, Clive?” You ask, needing to know what he went through for the time he was gone.

Clive exhales, seemingly knowing that question was coming. He pulls your hand towards him as he walks to your bed. “We should sit down. It is a long story.”

The two of you sit down and Clive still has a tight hold on one of your hands. “Forgive me, for this may take me a second. Thinking about certain events there still hurts.”

You bring your free hand to his face, which feels smooth under your touch. His head leans into your palm, turning slightly to kiss the delicate skin. “Take all the time you need. I am here.” You murmur.

And so, he tells the tale of Origin. He tells you about Dion’s sacrifice. He tells you about what he found out about Ultima’s plans. He tells you about Joshua’s passing, something he had a hard time conveying without his voice breaking, but he pushed on. He tells you about Ultima’s demise. He tells you about how he woke up somewhere off the Shadow Coast of Storm. And he tells you how throughout his journey back to Valisthea, all he could think about was how he couldn’t wait to come home to you. All of it was hard to listen to, hearing what he went through from Origin till now.

“So, Metia going out was a sign that magick has been lost…”

“Mmm,” he hums, the both of you lying down now.

“So that’s why you didn’t become wholly petrified? You stopped it in time.”

“Tarja did a great job removing it and ensuring my stub was healed properly, despite my stubbornness.” He jokes, but you don’t laugh. All you can think about is the past.

“If only I waited a little longer,” you start. “I would have saved us so much grief.”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself.” Clive shushes, kissing the top of your head and pulling you closer into his body. “Jill told me you had a very hard time grieving. I will not shame you for doing something you felt was right.

You bury your head into Clive’s neck, breathing in something that is so undeniably him. “You know, when I first got here, I would have these dreams. Nightmares really.”

Clive stays silent, letting you continue. “It would always start and end the same. I would wake up with you in the room, and the next thing I knew you were telling me I had betrayed you… and that you no longer loved me.” You start to sniff, not liking to recall those dreams. “For such a long time, I felt I didn’t deserve to be happy because I had left part of your legacy behind. It felt like your ghost was haunting me day and night.”

“Oh, darling,” Clive pulls you into him so you are on top of him with legs on either side of him. Clive brings your forehead to his, his thumb coming up to swipe the tears building up in your eyes. “I could never not love you.” He looks deeply into you, burning the truth of his heart into you. “I am yours even beyond death.”

His words overwhelm you, and you lean down to kiss him with every passionate fiber in your being. Your hands go to his torso, running your fingers up and down the sides as you continue to show him how much you love him. He grunts into your lips, his arm holding you down to him. Your hands start to slide slowly under his tunic, your fingers slowly ascending until they reach his chest only to go down again. The delicate touch of your fingers makes his hips buck right against your heat, a grunt and a moan echoing together simultaneously. Your hands go back up again, only this time you bring the tunic with you.

“We have a lot of lost time to make up for.” You say against his lips.

Clive smirks at your boldness, only to flip you over on your back so he is hovering over you. “That we do, darling. Forgive me, though. Having one arm gives me less leverage.”

You hum, bringing him back down to you by his hair. “I’m sure we can manage.”

You two make love into the night and into the morning, not getting enough of one another; making up for lost time.

Day 200

Since you and Clive’s reunion, he had decided to stay for a while. He had sent a letter to the Hideaway to let them know you were well and that he would be staying for the time being, making Gav in charge.

“He’ll love that.” You had joked.

“He’s his own man. I have all the faith in him.”

These last few weeks have been sublime. When you wake up, you see Clive snoozing away beside you on your right; always the right so he can wrap his arm around you in his sleep. He has also helped you with the flower shop. You two would go out in the morning before the heat set in to work the ground and water the flowers. You don’t know if the yearning in your body has yet to be satiated, but there have been times when you would come outside to gather more flowers to see Clive with his shirt off, sweat glistening on his burly chest as he works. It takes every bone in your body not to jump his own. Most times, you are unsuccessful.

You also found out Clive is quite the salesman. When you two would go out to Dalimil to sell from your cart, the way he is able to convince people to make a purchase is astounding. Is it the charm? The looks? A combination of both? You could guess, but it didn’t matter. Every time you made a sale, he would turn to give you a quick peck.

“I would kiss you for every individual flower we sell, but we don’t want to scare them away now, do we?”

After a long day out in Dalimil, you two are now inside the cottage finishing up dinner. You are cleaning the dishes when you feel him behind you, wrapping his arm around you pulling your hips to his. You hum in a laughing manner, his friskiness showing as he places kisses on the side of your face. “Clive, let me finish these.”

“They aren’t going anywhere.” He hums, his kisses lingering below your ear.

You sigh but continue cleaning. Clive, on the other hand, was not having it. He pulls you away, soap and water sloshing from your hands as he pulls you to him. He plops down onto the kitchen chair, bringing you into his lap. “Hmmm, I got you.”

“You are such a horn dog. Are you sure Ifrit still doesn’t linger within you?” You laugh, then squeak when he pinches your side.

“In all seriousness,” he murmurs in your ear. “I want to talk about something.”

“About?” You hum.

“About our future.”

“Go on,” you urge. “What about our future?”

“Well,” Clive starts, “living the way we have the last couple weeks, my mind can’t stop wandering to what I want for us.”

Your hand reaches up to his cheek, only for him to nip at the tips of your fingers causing you to giggle. “Such as?”

“To start the life we’ve always talked about.” He places more kisses on your neck. “One where our lives are strictly ours. One where I come home to my beautiful wife.”

“I like the sound of that.” You mewl, his kisses making you squirm in his lap.

“One where I get to see you bearing our child.” His hand goes down to your tummy, rubbing just above your uterus.

“I’ll be surprised if I’m not already with all the love making we have done.” You giggle.

He chuckles along with you, his hand squeezing your flesh. “You’d look beautiful. You always do.” He continues, “one where I get to raise a little me, a little you, or both.”

“It all sounds so wonderful.” You purr, feeling all warm and fuzzy at his remarks.

“Then let’s go ahead with step one.” Clive says, lifting you off of him only to sit you back down. He kneels before you, both of your hands in his one. “I don’t have a ring, but I can’t wait a moment longer. _____, will you do me the utmost honor of marrying me?”

You hum, smiling brightly at his question. “Would you have me in a wedding dress? A big ceremony?”

“Anything your heart desires.”

You shake your head, laughing at his insistence. You look at him, letting yourself get swallowed by his eyes. “I’d marry you with just the clothes on my back.”

Clive grins, bringing your left hand to his lips as he kisses your ring finger. “I cannot wait to marry you, future Lady Rosfield.”

Lady Rosfield. It has a nice ring to it.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi #clive rosfield angst #clive x reader #final fantasy xvi #my fics

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pinkkittysaw · 8 months ago

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🍉 FICSFORGAZA - SPONSOR A WIP! 🍉

hello friends ^_^ i’ve decided to join @ficsforgaza’s fundraiser and help raise money via “sponsor a wip”

please read through this ENTIRE post before sponsoring!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

HOW IT WORKS:

for a more detailed explanation, feel free to visit @/ficsforgaza’s “HOW TO PARTICIPATE” post linked here

RATE: $1 = 100 WORDS (with a maximum of $10/1000 words per donation)

you don’t have to be following me to sponsor a wip!

1) make a donation directly toward any vetted fundraiser providing aid to gaza/palestine of your choosing. (none of the money donated goes to me or the other creators participating)

2) send me an ask with the wip you’d like to sponsor along with a screenshot of your donation (blocking out all personal information), and a link to the fundraiser you’ve donated to (the asks will not be posted!)

example: hi angel! i donated (x) amount to (link of fundraiser here along with screenshot proof of donation) and wanted to sponsor (name of wip)

CAVEATS:

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i will be sending screenshots to ficswithgaza to make sure that no donations are being used across multiple writers

WIPS:

full transparency, my word count varies across my fics so i’ve decided to place a cap on the maximum amount of words eligible to be sponsored for each wip. if the word count goal is met and i find that i still have more i’d like to write, i will increase the eligible sponsor word count goal for that wip in particular.

word counts will be updated as sponsorships come in and sponsorships for individual wips will be closed if i reach max word count goal for that wip in particular. i will reblog this post as the word count get updated

next to the word count goal you will see (subject to change) the word count goal will only ever change if i decide to write MORE than what the existing word count goal is.

as of this posting, the word count goals are the maximum amount of words i feel i can get from each concept without making the stories feel like they drag on. the word count goal will only ever go UP, not down.

total sponsored words: 1,000

1) GARDEN OF EDEN (title subject to change)

matt murdock x f!reader (nsfw)

fandom: daredevil

summary: in the midst of hopelessness, you find yourself stumbling into an unfamiliar church seeking guidance. in your daze, you bump into an unsuspecting, yet rather handsome man who offers to “mentor” you in your newfound faith. as the relationship between the two of you blossoms, you find yourself at a crossroads between following your teachings or following your heart.

content warning(s): general nsfw, sacrilege, corruption kink, religious guilt, talk of christianity (warnings will be updated as needed)

sponsored words: 0/5000

word count goal: 171/5000 (subject to change)

i do a lot of research for my fics and often have various things going on in my personal life so i can’t promise quick and snappy release times but if a wip gets fully funded, i will do my best to release the fic within two months of it reaching it’s goal.

i know i can be VERY wordy, if you have any questions about my post in particular, don’t hesitate to send me an ask! if you have any questions about the fundraiser itself, feel free to check out the @ficsforgaza blog and visit their FAQ page!

even if you are unable to donate please feel free to reblog this post along with ficsforgaza’s introduction post to help spread the word, and be sure to check out the other awesome creators involved with this project!

#ficsforgaza #ffxvi x reader #rdr2 x reader #daredevil x reader #john marston x reader #clive rosfield x reader #matt murdock x reader

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qvrcll · 1 year ago

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no smooth roads for us

Summary: Clive tries to keep his strength at bay. You admonish him for it. Warnings: explicit content / NSFW, rough sex, female reader anatomy, use of the word ‘minx’, dirty talk. A/N: My first time writing for Clive! This was a journey. I want to keep writing for him — reblog’s / comments are always appreciated! :)

You discover quickly that Clive fucks you like he fights.

It starts with the gentlest of kisses, searing hot like a burn from the sun itself. Shy, but he doesn’t mean for it to be. He remedies that by driving you against him till there is no space to give, only his chest that beats with some gratifying noise when you’re bare and naked for him to witness every inch of it.

You don’t tell him, but you like it when you holds you close and fucks you rough. His fingers, calloused with the fatal semblance of war, prove your excitement as they prod and grope at your skin experimentally. He’d fucked you rough once before and refrained from it again — a fear of breaking you, he thinks. He plays it soft now.

When you moan, shudder against the splay of his fingers against the share of your muscle, the pebbled crest of your nipples, he leads his fingers further. Deeper. He tries to ignore the burning heat curdling at his hip, for you, but the intrusion against your thigh is so hard to miss.

Clive — please, touch me, comes your plea.

The madness in your voice makes the blood rush to his cock. It ruins him, makes him want to consume you whole right here, from the heat of his lap. He fights it, though, still, and his jaw bulges from the effort of it.

He begins again, tries to create and follow a slower acclivity. Maybe he could finger you, eat you out, pleasure you delicately beneath the weight of his hot, heavy fingers.

There — there you go, my love.

He splits you open deliciously slow and his remaining fingers swim against the wetness collecting on your clit. There’s a familiar rhythm amped by the joint effort of his fingers on and in your cunt but you want more of something different. A fuck thoroughly rough that you know he can manage.

It’s you who wrenches his hand from your cunt with a disappointing pop — he thinks he’s upset you in some shape or form, that he’s pleasured you too dully or too hard, but soon comes to learn that you’re acting like brat.

Come, now, my love — don’t be like that, he warns. His voice is addictively firm and set, which in turn fuels your need for more. You attempt to wiggle out his grip, piss him off further, but the flux presses against his throbbing, oozing cock, which has already spilt some of its seed against his stomach with the wait.

Don’t — his resolves works no more. His voice is more shout than reason, as he delivers your arms with a bruising feeling from the steely grip they have on them. He’s lost his patience, and his mind, pushing you into the ground with none of the prior promise of tenuity. You’ve angered him, gotten what you want finally.

Is this what you wanted, you minx? Are you happy?

He drives your ass into the floor, kneads it within the roughness of his palm like dough. On regular days, he would work you open till you were gushing and open to a guaranteed degree. Now, he primes his intrusion of your cunt with an animalistic growl, his cock pushing in till you’ve had your fill.

Rough enough?

He mocks you. Gives you no room to recover. Batters your cunt again and again with the rough slap of his hips. He grins wickedly when you cry hot, fat tears and goes to mock you once more.

Why are you crying? Isn’t this what you wanted? Could’ve sat still while I worked you open but you wanted it rough — I’m giving you rough.

You’d never thought it would be this good, this illusive. He flips you till your back faces him, and ploughs into you like none before, delivers messy and violent shocks across your body. There’s barely any touch to his ministrations, just push, as he drives your head against the floor — in the name of take it, take it, I know you can take it.

He suffocates your senses — you clamp harshly against his cock with a loud cry, unsure of your bearings. Your body spasms underneath the weight of his and when he finished with his business, taken his fill as he shatters inside you, he’s quick to smother the quickness of this violence.

I’m — I’m sorry — are you hurt? I got ahead of myself — I’m sorry, my love.

You hush him with shaking hands, and as much as your fingers reject motion, you cradle his cheeks in your palm. The reflective heat from them comforts Clive, leaves him with the blatant truth that this is what you had wanted — and now that you had it, you weren’t in it to stop.

There’s a strange curl to his lips, with the knowledge that comes to him softly in the after-burn.

He liked playing rough.

#clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield imagine #clive rosfield fanfic #final fantasy 16 x reader #final fantasy fanfic #final fantasy fic #ffxvi x reader #ffxvi imagine #ffxvi fanfic

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noctylisse · 1 year ago

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Back To You, I Will

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ A promise he whispers to his lady, the night before he departs.

Clive Rosfield x Fem Reader [Set before the Night of Flames. Takes place the night before Clive sets off to Stillwind.]

You feel the cold rush of the wind on your skin as you lay in bed. Moonlight shines across the room, tiny specks of dust floating in its wake like little fairies.

Rosalith is silent now, save for the occasional gentle sound of wagon wheels moving across the pavements.

The curtains of your bedroom window dance softly with the wind’s command. It is peaceful. And slowly, your eyes close as sleep washes over you.

Not long after you drift asleep, a loud crash sounds from outside and jolts you awake.

“Fucking bearer! Quiet down!” a slavemaster’s gravelly voice could be heard from outside, followed by the immediate defense of his slave in a trembly voice. “I-it wasn’t me! I w-was just..!”

“I don’t give a shit! Just be fucking quiet you damned thing! And clean up your mess!” The slavemaster shuts his doors, leaving the slave to clean up whatever mess was there.

You sigh. It’s unfortunate how these bearers are branded and treated as such. A recent memory sparks in your mind. One of Clive Rosfield, the Archduke’s son, helping and smiling at a bearer who had dropped fruit from a carton. He treated the man with respect as he should be, despite the beliefs of the non-branded common folk.

“Ever so kind, he is.” You whisper, smiling at the memory and facing the wall. “How lucky I must be to have his eyes on me…”

Quite forbidden, your love is. The difference in status would ruin Clive's reputation all the way through. But it didn’t matter to him, it never did. He has never failed to reassure you no matter what doubt you had.

Consumed by the thoughts you had of your lover, you fail to hear the creak of your windows as they begin to be pried open fully. The curtains begin to speed up their dance as the wind gets stronger.

A leg wearing a fine leather boot swings down, finding its footing on the window stool. Its pair does the same, and the very one who occupies your mind swoops down in his entirety. He’s crouching now, both arms keeping him steady.

“I should’ve been more careful..” He sighs as he looks downwards, to his left. The poor bearer was forced to clean the mess he had made, accidentally tripping on and breaking off a huge tile of the slavemaster’s roof as he was quickly trying to get to you.

He silently promises to give the man a gift of apologies (disguised as a spontaneous gift) before he departs in the morrow.

Your eyes narrow. That smooth voice. So familiar, so gentle. You turn around to face him.

“Clive!” You smile. It always felt nice to say his name. All the more to have him right there in front of you. He smiles back, and you sit up, swinging your legs off the bed and opening your arms to him. He rushes into your embrace and presses a kiss on your head.

“I wanted to see you before I depart to Stillwind tomorrow.” He says softly, letting go of you before kneeling down on the floor to embrace you again, his arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your shoulder. He presses a kiss on your shoulder while you play with his hair.

“But you’ll be seeing me tomorrow before you go.” You start. “I’ll be there to see you off.”

“But that’s different.” He lifts his head up to look at you. “Everybody would be seeing me off. I won’t be able to embrace you like this. To be with you like this.”

He looks away to press the back of your hand to his lips, before looking back at you again. “I only ever wish to be with you freely, my love.”

You smile sadly. “I do as well and you know that.” You caress his cheek. “But given your position..”

You sigh, placing a hand on his left cheek. He is a bearer, unbranded. You wish he would stay that way.

He frowns. “It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t.” He stands, gently pulling you up with him. “I promise you, my love. I will find a way.”

He begins to smile softly, deep ocean blue eyes twinkling as the both of you are bathed in moonlight. Ever so hopeful he is, you can’t help but share the same hope. For the future, for both of you. You smile.

He leans down, his forehead against yours, his smile and yours never wavering. “It is my duty to be the Shield of Rosaria…” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “Just as much as it is my duty to be yours. To love you, come what may, my love.” He presses his lips against yours. Soft and gentle, the way he kisses you. So full of love.

You pull away from one another briefly before you cup his face in your hands and give him a short but sweet kiss in return.

Your eyes look away from him for a moment, focusing on the moon. A silent agreement is made between you and the heavenly body. To keep him safe, for his safe return.

Looking back at him, you smile softly, arms around his neck. “I trust your mission to be successful, my love. I just know the soldiers will sing your praises. As they should be.” He kisses your cheek as a silent ‘thank you’.

“Be safe, Clive.” You whisper as he leads you both toward the window.

“I promise I will.”

"Come back in one piece, you must."

He lifts your hand up to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the back of it. “Back to you, I will, my lady.”

And with that, he kisses your lips once more before he leaves.

#clive x reader #clive rosfield x reader #clive ffxvi #clive rosfield x you #ffxvi #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy 16 x reader #final fantasy xvi #ffxvi x reader #clive rosfield fluff

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misselysia · 1 year ago

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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

#clive rosfield #clive x reader #ffxvi x reader #clive rosfield x reader #ffxvi #ff16 #ff16 x reader

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hiebies · 2 years ago

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hold my hand (as long as you want to)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; how does it feel to hold a hand, one that fits as if it were meant to do so with your own?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairings; barnabas tharmr : clive rosfield : benedikta harman : cidolfus telamon : dion lesage : joshua rosfield : jill warrick : hugo kupka -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist

holding hands with clive is a bit awkward- the first few times, especially. your hands will bump together, fingers half mangled and mashed together; the first few times are those for trying. his hands are warm, always. warm from the heat of the fire they produce, warm from his own nerves that heat his palms and make his skin perspire, warm from nervous tendencies where he wrings his hands together or against his clothes; they are warm, but earnest, as is clive himself, to be held just as earnestly.

when holding hands with benedikta, beware; she is always thinking on ways to pull you in closer. scheming away, thinking of an advantage to seek out further contact with the skin of her beloved. her hands are calloused along her palms from long years of swordplay, though they are long from loosing their softness. typically she prefers to link just a few fingers together- perhaps just pinkies- and progress her way to pressing your palms together, arms knocking together if walking and body creeping closer if simply sat or layed together.

joshua’s hands are softer than one might expect; perhaps even after so many years, certain self care habits are engrained, perhaps it’s his preference in not using a blade perhaps it’s just something so.. joshua, that it just is. his fingers are long and slender, like one might picture of a pianist, slight calluses formed on his thumb and the heel of his palm juxtapose the other parts of his hands. holding hands with joshua is like a new spring- a rebirth for your emotions and his, life anew, peace, every time you hold his hand. the feeling of home.

as much of a titan of a man hugo is, his hands are surprising in their dexterity. large fingers and even larger hands work tirelessly, work until his hands are practically dust so that they may curl around your fingers and your hands. all he wants is their reciprocal touch, their wandering over his- simply holding, admiring the security each lover brings to the other through simple touches. and he does, really does try, to convey the cadence of his admiration through the touch of his hands to your own- caressing your palms, rough fingers dragging over knuckles and lips ghosting over fingertips.. sometimes simple adoration is all he needs.

the feeling of his hands is a conundrum- dion’s hands both provide shelter in their adoration and cause calamity in their overwhelming sweetness. worn but well cared for, his hands are those of a warrior, blemished yet soft and dexterous while while still remaining strong. his thumb is somehow always dragging over your palm- slowly and in small circles when calm, backwards and forwards over your knuckles when sad, gripped a smidge too tight in anxious moments.. his hands, ones that will always seek to cradle, will always seek your hands out.

though his hands are clumsy and calloused, barnabas will never reject the offer to hold your hand. call him greedy, he’s perfectly fine with the acceptance of such a title, just please keep your hands pressed into his. let him feel your fingers tracing the backs of his palms, the dull thrum of your pulse in your fingertips and the one more steady at the junction of your wrist. let him sink into his subconscious, let him feel you, feel how real you are and how steady your presence is in front of him. please stay close to him, let him have this.

upon first thought, holding hands with jill would not ever lack sincerity- she has such honesty that she wears like a suit of armour, such sincerity that breaks through the crack of every falsehood that ever has been, is or will be. holding jill’s hand is like the first night sleeping on clean linen, like the reprieve of being rebuilt with cool air after standing outside in the summer heat to melt, like dandelion fuzz in the wind or the satisfaction one feels upon returning home after a long trip away. holding hands with jill is kisses to knuckles in quiet moments and whispered confessions in moments of twilight wakefulness.

scars, burns and other marks in every shape and size may litter the skin of his hands and arms- his entire body really- but cid’s hands, mighty as they are and have ever been, will always be tender upon the first contact with yours. the faded and fresh scars on his hands, from scrap ups as a younger man and years of continuous use of a blade make his skin rough and raised, not at all smooth but with its own story to tell. each scar, each burn and old battle wound is worn with pride- he will tell you the story of each and ever one (no matter how silly some may be, believe me some are), with an arm around your waist and one hand holding yours, mapping out the stories of the marks on his skin.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; first post done weeeeee!! :D (mayb i’m jus thirsty for content that this was my first one too) i might do more of this same thing for dif fandoms depending on how i feel

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xxladyballadxx · 2 years ago

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Taste of You

Clive Rosfield x (fem) reader

🚫 NO MINORS ALLOWED🚫

🔞18+ONLY!!!🔞

Clive had enough of these bastards at the tavern flirting with you. He grew furious at them, those hungry men fawning over you. You tried to make them go away as you started to get very uncomfortable. Too many had surrounded you. Clive felt his rage consuming him, so he got off the table and stormed off to beat the shit out of these men before you could use your magic to make them go away.

The situation got extremely heated when Clive threw his fists at these assholes for trying to touch you and flirt with you. Your jaw dropped in shock, looking at the huge mess. Even the bartender was shocked to see Clive causing a scene. “Woah…Clive…you good?” You asked him concerningly, you have never this side of him before and this is the first time you’ve seen his strange behavior. Clive huffed like a beast in annoyance, laying his eyes on you as if he were the predator. He made his way to grab your wrist and he was holding it very tight. Clive pulled you away from the tavern to go to a private room, “Let’s not waste our time here, (Y/n).”

As he continued to pull you along with him, you groaned in a little heat of pain and Clive seemed to be holding your wrist too tight causing you to yell at him. “Clive, stop! You’re hurting me! Fucking hell!” You snapped in a harsh tone, trying to pull away from him. Clive truly has a strong grip, you gave up trying and wondered what’s going to happen next.

After entering the private room, Clive locked the door so no one would dare to try and come in. “Seriously, what is up with you?! Are you-“ you got slammed into the tough surface as Clive gripped your wrists up against the wall, laying his eyes of hunger upon you. You felt your heart rising up to heaven when Clive smacked his lips against yours. Clive began to hold you close to him as he kissed you, having his arms around you. You felt a flutter of sensation flowing through your body, an emotion of excitement.

You moaned through the kiss, gripping his head and hopping onto him as Clive motioned his hands quickly to hold you. He laid you down onto the bed gently while deepening the kiss.

You and Clive paused for a moment, wanting to take a breather. “Wow…that was…amazing..” you never knew this would happen to you, you had your first kiss with someone who had been holding his strong feelings for you…for ages!

“(Y/n), I love you. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment to happen. It drives me crazy when I think of you.” Clive finally confessed the feelings he’s been having for you ever since you bloomed into his life like a wild flower that came out of nowhere, “I want you all to myself. You are mine and nobody else’s. I need you.”

Your (e/c) eyes got teary after his sweet confession, revealing your happy-sad face with happy tears, “Do you really feel that way?”

Clive curved a soft smile, he moved his head to place a swift kiss onto your lips, “Does that answer your question, my sweet (Y/n)?”

You kissed him back, caressing the side of his face lovingly, “Yes.” And so the two of you carried on having a loving moment together. Clive stripped his entire armor off and you blushed like mad when he did that, seeing him bare naked. You took off your corset with Clive lending you hand untying the knots. You took off all your clothing and tossed them aside. Clive crawled on top of you and kissed you deeply. You gave out a loud moan, flinging your arms around him. “I want to be inside of you, (Y/n). I want to show how much I fucking love you. How much I fucking desire you.” His words caused your body to tremble but in a good way. Clive inserted his sweetstick into your g-spot. A moan escaped from your lips. He thrusted forward, starting with a slow motion. “Please go rough on me, Clive…please…” you begged him to fuck your brains out like a beast. Clive smirked mischievously, his hungry eyes of desire preying upon you, “If that’s what you want, my love…” since you asked so nicely of him, he decided to go all wild on you. Thrusting inside you crazily, you can feel your whole body melting entirely. “Ahhh…mmmm…fuck….ah..ah..” your heavy moans caused Clive to get more wilder, digging your nails into the bedsheets. He goes harder on you, speeding up the motion. “Oh (Y/n)….my dear sweet (Y/n)…” Clive whispered through his moan, he places wet kisses onto your neck while his sweet cock devours your insides. Your moans got heavier across the room, “AHHH CLIVE!” The excitement from your lustrous howls were like music to Clive’s ears. “Fuck…oh (Y/n) I’m going to enjoy fucking you like an animal…” his sweet long cock twisted your insides, the heavy moans that escaped your lips were a delightful sound of harmony. “Ah…mmm….oh Clive…it feels so fucking…ah so fucking good…” you howled like a wild cat, moaning sexually. “Oh eikons, (Y/n)….I fucking love you!” Clive cried, thrusting inside you rapidly, “Shit, I’m about to cum…. Oh fuck…”

You hummed in a sexual manner, “Do it, Clive….please cum inside me!” the more you beg for it, the more excited Clive gets.

“Ahh…” Clive moaned, entering the climax by cumming inside you. He laid his body next to you afterwards. You kissed him on the cheek, laying down your head onto his warm arm. “Holy eikons, that was so fucking amazing..”

Losing your virginity to Clive was the greatest thing you ever experienced. “I love you so damn fucking much, (Y/n).” Clive spoke in a soft tone, his voice so soothing that made you love him even more. You set your gaze on Clive, looking up to him, “I love you too, my sweet fireflame. You mean the whole world to me.”

Clive held your face and kissed you passionately, “Marry me, (Y/n)..” he caressed your red tinted cheek as your eyes widened in surprise. “W-what..?” You stuttered, your heart rushing through the beatings of a rhythm. Clive smiled softly, laying back down, “You heard me. You’re the only one I truly want to be with, (Y/n).”

You imagined the wonderful moments you will be spending the rest of your life with Clive, living in a cottage, growing old together and things like that. “Say it again, Clive. This time, don’t demand it. Just ask.” You told him sweetly, Clive figured out what you wanted him to do. He gazed upon you and held your hand into his, the warmth swayed over to you as he looked at you and asked, “(Y/n) (L/n), will you marry me?”

“Yes, Clive….of course I will marry you!” You cried out in joy, tears of happiness formed into your (e/c) eyes. Clive embraced you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“My precious Clive..”

“My beautiful (Y/n)..”

#final fantasy xvi #ffxvi #ff16 #final fantasy 16 #clive rosfield #cliverosfield #cliverosfieldxreader #clive rosfield x reader #clive rosfield x you #finalfantasyxvi #finalfantasy16 #x reader #ffxvi x reader

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drabblesandimagines · 1 year ago

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- Final Fantasy XVI masterlist - Barnabas Tharmr Possession (fem reader - possessive, captive) Distracted (fem reader, fluff) Sweets (fem reader - fluff, bit possessive?) Clive Rosfield Prescription (fem reader, fluff) - Bedrest (sequel of sorts to above, more fluff) Pastries (fem reader, fluff) Warm Palms (afab reader, fluff) Pining (fem reader, angst/fluff) Jealous (fem reader, angst/fluff) Dreams (fem reader, fluff) Breathless (fem reader, angst/fluff) Careless (fem reader, fluff) Flustered (gender neutral reader, fluff) Captured (fem reader, angst/fluff Blessing (fem reader, angst/fluff) Fearless (fem reader, fluff) Treasure (fem reader, fluff) Promises (fem reader, fluff, major endgame spoilers) Regrets (fem reader, angst, major endgame spoilers) Under The Weather (fem reader, fluff) Commitment (fem reader, fluff - commissioned piece) Resolutions (fem reader, fluff) Somersaults (fem reader, fluff, pregnancy) Gift (fem reader, fluff - commissioned piece) Libations (fem reader, fluff, mentions of alcohol and drinking) Pendant (fem reader, fluff) Compromises (fem reader, fluff) Sulk (fem reader, commissioned piece)

Snippets (Previews of three potential fics, fem reader)

Safe (Yandere Clive Rosfield x fem reader) 18+ - kidnapping, yandere behaviour, non-con drugging

Joshua Rosfield Lessons (fem reader, fluff) Tranquility (fem reader, fluff) Distraction (fem reader, fluff) Exhale (fem reader, angst) Reunion (fem reader, fluff) Elevation (fem reader, fluff) Lead By Example (fem reader, fluff) Interruptions (fem reader, fluff) Lazy Mornings (fem reader, fluff) Banter (fem reader, fluff) Envy (fem reader, angst/fluff) Bold (fem reader, fluff - commissioned piece) Confirmation (fem reader, fluff) Signs (fem reader, fluff) Binding (fem reader, fluff - marriage) Portrait (fem reader, fluff - commissioned piece) Cidolfus Telemon Spark (fem reader, fluff, bit of spice) Petal (fem reader, fluff)

Gav Jitters (fem reader, fluff)

*last updated 27th May 2024 --

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

#ghostdogwrites #ffxvi x reader #clive rosfield x reader #joshua rosfield x reader #cidolfus telemon x reader #barnabas tharmr x reader

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kianaflame23 · 2 years ago

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Final Fantasy XVI Clive Rosfield sfw and n*fw headcanons

Summary: Decided to write this because I'm bored and still hype for FFXVI! Finally able to pre-ordered deluxe edition. The State of Play FFXVI video was AMAZING! I LOVE IT! Hoping to buy PS5 before June 22nd!

NO MINORS! I WILL BLOCK YOU IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO! ONLY 🔞!

I JUST LOVE CLIVE ROSFIELD! I'll do my best to write him more after the game is out! Enjoy reading it and hope you have a nice morning/day/night! ✨️

You know he's serious and does not like PDA. Clive is very affectionate when you are alone with him though. However, he will hold your hand while traveling together with the group.

Do not attempt to flirt anyone in front of him, you'll get your "punishment" if you don't pay attention to him or keep ignoring him.

Good luck on trying to calm him down as he decides to take you back to Cid's Hideaway, fucking you with such frustration and anger until you are filled with his cum. Most likely won't speak with you until he is ready to talk.

You need to remind him that you were just teasing him and only want him. Yes, he is a serious man and doesn't show his emotions, however, he'll be disappointed and heartbroken if you are using him for games and all...

Depending on your answer, Clive will forgive you. Giving you kisses and cuddles, feeling sorry for his intense behavior. Asking you if he was too rough on you... If he sees you crying as you explain about your bad experiences with men. Testing him if he's like those disgusting, cruel men....only craving for your body and nothing else...

Definitely will hate himself for being angry at you, saying "I'm sorry" over and over. Hugging you tightly as he kiss your forehead...

In the end, do not flirt anyone. If someone tries to flirt you or touching you without consent, then they will see true rage once they see Clive approaching them. Him glaring at them as his blue eyes growing cold and filled with hatred. He will kill them for you. A simple "yes" from you and he will do it. If you don't want to see any bloodshed and want to go somewhere safe, then he'll just punched them until they're unconscious. Pulling you closer to him as you leave the place.

Cheating and manipulation is a huge "no" for Clive. You have to be trustworthy and loyal to him if you want to be his lover. If you only care for his body and power, then Clive will NOT speak with you and will leave you. Like I said, he wants to be with someone who loves him and cares for him.

He is very protective of you. Clive will do anything to keep you safe. He'll be surprised, knowing that you'll do the same for him.

Please do praise him as you make love to him, Clive will moan as waves of pleasure and excitement takes over his body. You'll hear his soft whimpers if you keep telling him that you feel good because of him or saying "good boy" while pleasuring him...

He's a switch. Want him to be submissive for you? You can hear his cute moans coming out from his mouth, loving your lust in your eyes. Ready to "destroy" him in the bedroom.

Wear your favorite lipstick and kiss all over his body. Kiss him passionately, as you stroke his cock. Moaning louder as his hand grips the bedsheets, closing his eyes in ecstasy.

Tell him that you REALLY love his buff chest and you'll receive a smug grin on his face. Teasing you in the bed as he talk dirty to your ears...

Clive LOVES suck and lick your sweet flower, using his thumb to touch your clitoris. Allowing you to use his head as his tongue thrusting in and out of your pussy.

He will not admit it but he really love your breasts between his cock. That's right, he's into boobjob. Bonus if you suck his cock as your eyes fixated on his. Making him cum all over your mouth and face.

It is fine if you don't have huge chest. Clive still love you. He'll suck your nipples as he use his fingers on your pussy. Fingering you as he hears your moans.

If you want to try cowgirl position or any sex positions, he will do it. After all, you are his beloved darling.

You are his world, his moonlight...you are everything to him. Clive would like to stay with you forever.

If you tell him everything about your past, he will tell you about his little brother, Joshua, and why he is trying to find The Dominant. He will tell you stories about his childhood. Some memeories are good and some are not so great...Please do hug him. Clive truly deserves happiness. Comfort him too.

He doesn't mind if you aren't lady-like or not. He'll smile when you are with him. Telling you that you're beautiful, vowing that you'll be his wife when everything is over. Saving the world and all. Some day, he'll ask you if you want to be his queen.

If you want to start a family with him, then he'll protect you and the children. Making sure you don't stress yourself and eating properly. Especially if you're pregnant. It's fine if you want to adopted kids and wait until you are ready. He'll support your decision anyways.

For the meantime, he is happy to be with someone who is loving and caring. Supporting him and his decisions, Clive knows that you won't leave him and appreciate your help. Don't forget that he will always love you, protect you and support you.

Bonus ☆

His smile grows wider as he sees you and Torgal getting along, having a good time as you petted Torgal's head. Hearing your giggles cause his heart skip a beat, love and joy in his eyes. His heart practically pounding against his heart as he pulled you and Torgal in a hug, careful to not squeeze you two. He'll never forget this cute moment. Never.

#not gonna edit this #sorry for my bad grammar #hope everyone still like this tho! ^ ^#ff16 #final fantasy 16 #ffxvi #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy #clive rosfield #clive rosfield x you #clive rosfield x reader #clive x you #clive x reader #ffxvi clive rosfield #torgal #my writing #my headcanons

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freyito · 3 months ago

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ᴅᴏɢᴘɪʟᴇ

✭ pairing(s): clive rosfield x gn reader

✩ inspo: i think he really just needs a nap.

✩ in which: you two (three) get caught in a rainstorm at your weariest.

✧ a/n: i really wanna write sooooo much for ffxvi but im like only halfway i think... so i shall stick to who i know. ALSO this is 100% NOT based off that one scene cause actually i didnt even know there was That One Scene UNTIL I WAS LOOKING FOR PICTURES FOR HEADERS. sigh. also the logic might not make sense bear with me guys i wrote this with a killer stress induced headache

✦ taglist: @shinysora

🗒 cw: gn reader, idk you guys get nakey for a bit, just fluff tho, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.7k

What a wonderful day it had been, the sun shining up high in its loft, smiling down at those of the Hideaway. You were sure it was, at least. You hadn’t seen a cloudy day plague the Hideaway, despite the many metaphorical ones. How you wished you were back there, lounging in your own room, huddled up under your nice and warm, dry, blankets. Instead, you were caught in a rainstorm in Rosaria, drops pelting you and your cloth, clinging to your body and making you all the more colder. It had started raining only after you had finished sloshing about in the swamps, putting a damper on your mood.

Ahead of you, Clive and Torgal were walking, seemingly unscathed by the rain, save for Clive blocking the rain from his eyes. You’re just a little jealous that he seems to be having it easier than you, undeterred by the circumstances. How foolish of you to believe it would be a nice little date between the two of you. When the storm started, he hadn’t even so much as looked your way to check if you were alright, no doubt too focused on the mission’s objective. He had a habit of that, getting too caught up in his work and ignoring the world around him. Aside from his dog.

Every so often, as you stumble several feet behind the two, shivering in your clothes, Clive reaches a hand out and pets Torgal, sparing the pup a few scratches behind the ears. You aren’t jealous of the dog, not at all. Surely you aren’t? You get it, the bond between the two. But there’s no way Clive had just up and forgotten about you, even with all your complaining. Maybe he got his best thinking done in the rain…? If you call out, perhaps he will spare you a quick glance at the very least.

As you open your mouth to yell, a lightning bolt strikes down particularly close to the two of you, causing you to yelp. You quite liked storms, in the comfort of your own bed, not when it was way too close. Clive finally spins around, casting a worried gaze towards you. You must look horrible right now, you realize. Your clothes soaked through, hair sticking to your face. Suddenly you find yourself shying away from his gaze, turning your head, you allow the rain to pelt your cheek.

“I think we should–” He calls out to you, but his voice is lost amidst the storm. Has Rosaria ever had such bad weather like this? Finally, finally, he has the right mind to backtrack and step towards you. “I think we should find some place to stay while the storm dies down.”

You two were too far from Martha’s Rest, and the next village over had already been reaped of all life. As well as it would be to stay there, it felt wrong to simply barge in. It was if you were defiling graves. Besides that, it was also too far. You weren’t familiar with Rosaria at all, so all you could do is look at Clive with a hopeless gaze.

The man feels as if he’d been pierced through the heart. You were akin to a soggy cat in his eyes, one he happily loved. With a sigh, he looks around. The winds had picked up, making the rain harder to see through. There were enough abandoned builds somewhere off the path that would at most stand tall for the next couple of hours. Ones that would hopefully not be struck by lightning. Well, it’s another little adventure, he supposes. With a huff, he nods towards the right of the path, and starts walking, Torgal eager to follow behind him.

The only problem with that is the fact he’s walking right back out to the swamp. Farbeit for you to feel so spoiled and posh, but you would rather stand still and weather the storm than walk back through the swamps with the ludicrous amount of water in your boots. You were cold as it is, might as well freeze to death then endure it any longer.

Clive looks back at you when he can’t hear your footsteps, and all you can do is pout. He doesn’t question it or call out, and instead makes his way back to you. Torgal looks back and waits patiently, as the man, without words, leans down and sweeps one arm underneath the back of your knees, the other holding you by your back. You aren’t unused to such things, he isn’t afraid to pamper you and shower you with the royalty treatment. Not that you were against this, either.

With a grunt of effort, he hauls you off and begins trekking through the swamp. Founder, he is warm. So very warm. Despite the rain that had showered his attire and soaked his hair, his warmth seeps through. You can’t help but nuzzle close, wrapping your arms around his neck. If you two were to sink into the swamp, at least you’d do so within your beloved Lord Rosfield’s arms, content in warming yourself with what you'd only assume is either the Phoenix’s or Ifrit’s blessing.

While you busied yourself with fantasies and the like, Clive had found suitable shelter. A rundown shack that had a few planks that weren’t rotting. It wasn’t as warm as Clive was, but it was dry enough. Gently, he sets you down on your feet with another grunt, and you wince as your boots squish the minute they hit the floor. It is almost painful to part with Clive, suddenly aware of the bite the rain had. You can’t help but shiver again, plucking at your soaked tunic and pulling it away from your skin. It allows you a moment of respite for a second, though the cold still lingers. When you let go, it sogs and sticks to your skin once more. Needless to say, it felt very unpleasant.

“Come here,” Clive urges gently, beckoning you over with his hand. Of course, you won’t deny him. A flicker of fire bursts from the palm of his hand, before calming into a small orb, producing a soft light, and an even gentler warmth. While it isn’t enough, it’s certainly better. “Does this work?”

You purse your lips, like this is something you need to ponder. It sure soothes the ache beneath your skin, and as much as you’d love to rid yourself of your clothes at any chance to feel warmer, suddenly you're so very shy. But taking them off would be for the best…

“Yes, but…” You look away from him for a second, before shuffling closer. “I still feel so cold…”

You bat your eyelashes up at him in an innocent and teasing way, and you watch his resolve waver so easily. Well, that was an over-exaggeration. Of course he’d give you what you wanted. You wouldn’t even need to ask. But all this rain has you acting a little dramatic, and it’s kind of fun, isn’t it?

“Well, that won’t do,” He smiles softly, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close. “All better?”

Certainly. Perhaps not all better, with that odd gnawing sense of embarrassment that lingers. You both know that it would be for the best to strip, but why not enjoy this oddly romantic moment for just another second?

Wordlessly, Clive leans in and presses a warm kiss to your temple. You feel your knees weaken for a moment, before you clear your throat. The time for theatrics is over, you surmise. Clive gets the hint, pulling away reluctantly and turning away to afford you what little privacy he could.

He starts a fire while you strip, the little firelight turning into a wonderful source of mending when treated with just enough kindling. You have seen Clive bare before, of course, and vice versa. Yet you can't help the embarrassment and fluster that follows when you turn to the man in your smallclothes. What a relief it was that they were dry enough. You huddle up near the fire while you give Clive the same courtesy he gave you, head down, mind occupied by the flames. When he joins you by the fire, he is left in his smallclothes too. You can't help but thank the Founder for the fact that you two can still be decent. In a way, at least.

As much as you had seen, for all that Clive had gone against, suddenly being in close proximity with your loved one was cause to fluster. While you two sat next to each other, you were quiet, the only sound breaking the silence was the crackling of fire and Torgal’s shifting as he found a comfortable position to lay, all four paws in the air. You can’t help but snicker softly, the way the wolf worms around in such a silly way, perfectly content with the conditions of the rundown shack.

While you and Clive wait for your clothes to dry, bashfully looking away from each other when you so much as brush against each other, shuffling only a centimeter away. You, inevitably, would come right back, too attached to the warmth he provided, and, well, too attached to your partner regardless.

You two sit there for hours, waiting as your clothes dried. The storm showed no sign of relenting, unfortunately for the two of you. Well, more unfortunate for Clive. You were happy to hoard the man to yourself, essentially. Even if you were drenched, or near naked sitting by the fire. The man had a habit of making himself too busy. And in doing so, the only time alone you got with him was when you were accompanying him somewhere. Otherwise, it was him meeting with a contact, or slicing his way through men, or monsters, or beasts. Of course, he put in so much effort when he came back to you, showering you with compliments, even sparing you a good night’s rest together. But by the morning, he was off making his plans again. Where he’d move next, this and that, it was all becoming a blur to you.

Even when your clothes had dried, finally affording you two some more decency. It had been however many excruciating hours as you two sat and prodded at your clothes over the fire. Furthermore, you were too exhausted, and it seemed like it would be another long while before the skies weren’t hurling down on you. You were warm enough, at least, and you could hold on for the rest of the night without the fire. Needless to say, there was no reason to stay up. In your eyes, at least.

Clive, however, was raring to go. He had the right mind not to leave while it was still raining, but that didn’t mean he sat still. While you cozied up next to Torgal, running your hand through his fur, Clive was pacing back and forth. Mumbling to himself about losing time, how he’s certain your targets have moved by now. It was important, of course, but you could see just how tired he truly was. In the dim light of the fire, his form was only slightly hunched, rather slack for how tense he usually was. His voice had a scratch to it, as if his throat was raw from using it. His feet dragged ever so slightly, and when he looked at you for a few seconds, his face just seemed oh so tired.

All of these were little details, of course. Ones you had never failed to notice, whether you were out on your excursions, or back at the Hideaway. He stressed himself out too much, bit off more than he could chew at once, and yet most of the time he didn’t even realize it. During or after the fact. Despite everyone else’s protests, Clive had always pushed past. Perhaps it was time to help Tarja tie the man down to his bed. Or do so when you two come back.

“Clive,” You call out softly, tilting your head up. “Come sit down, at least?”

He only responds with a huff, shaking his head as he continues pacing, mapping out what his next strategy was, and several other plans if one didn’t work.

“I think we should sleep.” You state firmly, gazing up at him.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea–”

“We’ve been up for quite some time, and the storm shows no signs of dying down,” You give him a gentle tug, urging him back. “Besides, you seem tired. So, we should sleep.”

Worry flashes across his face for a minute, biting his lip slightly as he thinks of a way to worm out of a healthy habit. “And if someone finds us? If we were caught unawares, what do you think would happen?”

“Who in their right mind would go searching through a swamp first thing after it rained? Soldier or not?”

Silence stretches between you two as Clive tries to figure out another way to avoid something as simple as sleep. While he had a good point, you were ready to lie and bluff your way into forcing the man to sleep. He looked so ragged, and at the moment, you were traveling light. The only way you could care for him was to, at the very least, force him to sleep. Even an hour would be fine, as long as he got some rest.

Finally, with a sigh of defeat, his body untenses. Oh, how it must be so hard for him to look out for himself every once in a while. He snuffs out the fire, kicking at the wood, making sure there was no trace of the flames left. You two stand still for a moment, allowing your vision to get used to the dark. Quietly, as if he was embarrassed, he shuffles to the spot you were, sitting down with a huff and a grunt as his armor clinks. Torgal eagerly cuddles up to him, wagging his tail happily. It seems the wolf was just as glad as you were that Clive had finally relented.

The man waves you over, and you don’t even allow your brain to process before you hurry over the short distance. You take a seat in his lap near immediately, shuffling back so you could press your head against his shoulder, looking up at him. He chuckles softly, shaking his head before wrapping his arms around your waist. Turning his head, he presses a kiss against your temple, lingering for another moment and smiling. Beneath you, Torgal readjusts, laying down across your lap. He’s a lot heavier than you expected, and yet you welcome the pup with eager arms. Or hands, in this case.

What a heavenly existence. Wrapped up in an outlaw's arms, with a big ol’ puppy in your lap. For a moment, you catch yourself thanking the heavens for the storm. Annoyed as you were, suddenly you couldn’t care less. Even as the chill settled within the shack after the fire was snuffed out, you still had perhaps the warmest man in existence there, and a wolf to boot. Both were happy with a little impromptu cuddle session.

While you were dwelling on your own perfect world, it seems Clive had finally fallen asleep. His chest rises and falls against your back steadily, paired with light snoring. For all his stubbornness, it only took him a couple of minutes to fall asleep. It’s a little endearing in its own way. Perhaps he fell asleep quickly because he really was too tired? Or maybe it was because of you. You’d stick to believing the latter. As much as you wanted to reach up and pet him now, you’d rather not disturb his sleep. Even if he fell asleep fast, he was a rather light sleeper. So, you do your best to settle, fingers buried within Torgal’s warm fur.

Shutting your eyes, the sound of the wind howling and the rain beating down wasn’t so fierce now. It was kind of calming, in a way. Paired with Clive’s breathing and warmth, and Torgal’s soft grunts and groans as he settles, as well. You run your hand down from his head to his torso slowly, a soothing motion that allowed your mind to calm down. Somewhere along the fifth pet, you stopped, the weight of your exhaustion finally catching up to you.

#⁺◟freyito #ffxvi x reader #final fantasy xvi x reader #ff16 x reader #final fantasy 16 x reader #clive rosfield x reader #clive ffxvi x reader #clive ff16 x reader

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cryptictongues · 1 year ago

Text

Good Girl

pairing: Clive Rosfield x Fem!Reader rating: Explicit (MINORS DNI; 18+) word count: 9.5k summary: Reader needs the rough side of Clive in bed. High jinks ensue. This takes place after Follow the Morgenbeards, and while there are some contextual things that are referenced from the first one shot, this can be read by itself.

warnings: porn with plot, established relationship, miscommunication, fluff and smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus, blow job, masturbation, hair pulling, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, possessive behavior, spanking, desk sex, slight degradation, pussy slapping, face-sitting, deepthroating

Spoiler free aside from a vague mention of a side quest and a hunt.

[AO3 link]

The Backyard has become one of your favorite places. Getting to enjoy the greenery and the fresh oxygen coming from the fruit trees and plants has become a pastime of yours. Your reason for visiting today, however, was a mystery; for Clive wouldn’t tell you.

You had woken up in his bed alone, and assumed he went ahead for an early start and let you sleep in. When you got up later that morning, you saw he left you a note that there was a surprise for you in the Backyard. Your automatic thought was that the Morgenbeards had bloomed. Clive had told you he had to get a special kind of morbol, a Carrot, to help the flowers take root. He had brought a part of it a couple weeks ago, and it’s the only thing that could be waiting for you to unveil.

So imagine your surprise when you see a whole bed of not just Morgenbeards, but flowers from all over Storm. Pinks, blues, reds, purples, and yellows paint the grass and soil, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Clive went through all the trouble of finding so many beautiful flowers across Storm, and the gesture makes your heart swell. He is so good to me you thought. You truly couldn’t believe that you were the one to capture Clive Rosfield’s heart.

Lost in thought, it takes you a second to register two armor bound arms wrapping around your middle. “Found you.” Clive whispered, squeezing you tighter and his breath tickling your ear. You laugh and sink further into his arms, embracing the beautiful moment you are experiencing. “I can’t believe they bloomed. They are wonderful.” You sigh, your eyes never straying from the flowers before you. He hums and turns you around to get a good look at you. He can’t help but think how you are as stunning as ever, even more so with the look of pure happiness on your face.

“I would have stopped at nothing to ensure that they bloom.” Clive stated, bringing a hand to cup your face with his palm. “Even more so now seeing the joy it has brought you.”

You grasp the hand on your cheek and bring a kiss to his palm. “You are too good to me, Clive Rosfield. You have no idea how much I adore you.”

“And I you, my beautiful girl.” Clive smiles and brings you back to him for a kiss. You can feel yourself grinning from ear to ear. Clive wears his heart on his sleeve. Since love has been declared between the two of you, he doesn’t hesitate to show his affections. You could be talking with another person in the Hideaway, and he will come give you a quick peck on the cheek before continuing his rounds. You could be helping Mid in her dungeon, and he would embrace you with ease as you continue to work. Ever since that night, he has not shied away from showing his love for you, letting everyone in the Hideaway know you are his.

The thought of that night sends a flutter to your stomach. It’s been a mere few months since the incident with the vampire thorns… and the best sex you have ever had. After you had been rid of the poison, you thought the night would end with you going back to your quarters and acting like nothing had happened. By the Founder, were you wrong.

If anyone had walked in and saw what was happening before their eyes that night, they definitely would have thought Clive was the one infected with sex spores.

Because that man was insatiable.

He had pushed you over the edge so many times, had you moaning his name like he was a God you worship. He had spanked your ass until it was a “gorgeous” red, as he had put it, and fucked you until you left plenty of drool and tears in your wake from the pleasure you received. It was messy, it was intense, it was mindless. And you loved every single second of it.

However, every time you both partake in any sort of sexual activity, he treats you like you are his treasure. He makes love to you with care, mending his heart with yours as he sends you into bliss. It is beautiful, caring, loving, and intimate in all the right ways. As much as you love how he takes care of you, you do wish there were more nights where he took you like he did before.

You don’t know why he holds back. You like to think the first time was a great experience for the both of you, despite the circumstances of getting there. There have been many times you would initiate on the rougher side, but the night would always turn out the same. You understand, and maybe it’s on you for not communicating what you want, but you wish he could read your mind. Saying the filthy words of what you want him to do is too much. Especially to him.

“What’s that pretty head of yours thinking about?”

You are released from your thoughts and look up at him, seeing him looking at you with a look of adoration. You can’t help but blush. “Just thinking how lucky I am right now. Wondering what I did to deserve such happiness.”

He smiles and grabs your shoulders, running his thumbs in circles near your clavicle. “For everything you do and more, you deserve everything that your heart desires. I’d move mountains to make them happen.”

Everything except fuck me like Ifrit has taken hold of your cock.

You inwardly smack yourself. Oh, by the Founder please shut up.

Clive grabs your hand. “I have a few tasks to finish up today. I’m hoping they won’t take me too long though. I should be back by dinner.”

“Okay, sounds good.” You smile. “I’ll see you later then.”

“That you shall, my love. I love you.” He kisses your hand and goes towards the stairs, heading to his next task for the day.

“I love you too.”

“Jill, I don't know what to do. I know I could just tell him what I want but it’s embarrassing.”

You and Jill are out on the Boarding Deck, looking out onto the horizon. Earlier in the day, Jill had noticed your unusual demeanor and offered to listen to your quips and worries. To talk about the topic of sex with Jill when it pertains to Clive was the last thing you wanted to do, but you are reaching your whits end and talking to his childhood friend seems to be a great idea.

Jill listens intently, the cogs turning in her brain as she processes your words. Jill has always viewed Clive as a softy; always wanting to do good on others. She believes Clive would listen to your request of rough sex if you asked, but what she doesn’t understand is why wouldn’t he want to? A man like Clive has so much of the world on his shoulders. It only makes sense that he would want to let off some steam.

“_____, not to get too many details, but about that night. Was there anything later that night or the day after that could have startled him?”

You hum in thought. You think back to that morning. You had woken up in his bed alone. You remember feeling every emotion under the sun because he wasn’t there when you woke up. You didn’t have time to dwell on it though because Clive had come back in with something in his hand. “Morning, love. I’m sorry for not being here when you woke up. I went down to see Charon to buy some potions.” He had said, but he sounded far away. You remember him administering the potion for you, and afterwards he held you close for a long time; no words spoken. It was comfortable, but you knew he wanted to say something. You didn’t understand why he was acting the way he was, not until you had looked in the mirror later that morning. Your neck was covered in hickeys, and you had grip marks on your hips. But you didn’t see yourself as wrecked. You felt you were glowing. The marks on your body served as a reminder of the passionate night you had, and while you wouldn’t recommend taking a hit from sex pollen, you would do it all over again because you crave it. You crave him. He satisfied a hunger that you didn’t know you even had, and you needed to experience that again.

You groan. “I think I know why. But he never brought it up. He never mentioned his concerns.”

Jill nods and she seems to understand what you were referring to. “Clive has always had a hard time being honest with himself. You know he has no problem sharing how he feels about others, but when it comes to himself, it’s hard. He has never put his wants first, and I’m willing to bet he wants what you want too. However, you need to express that to him. Because if he isn’t reciprocating, it’s because he feels he went too far.”

It makes sense, you thought. And it doesn’t help that Clive is a gentleman. So how do you go about bringing out the depraved man he is hiding under his calm exterior?

And then it hit you; a plan already forming in your head. A slight curl of your mouth as you conjure up all the ideas in your head. You are going to tease him; wind him up so badly that he takes his sexual frustration out on you. Not only will you save face from the embarrassment of saying what you want out loud, but it will be fun. Good heavens it will be so much fun.

Jill sees the look on your face, and chuckles. “Something tells me you are going to do everything but tell him how you feel.”

You laugh. She isn’t wrong. “Oh, I’ll be telling him, just in a more orthodox way.”

You thank Jill for lending her ear before heading to rest a bit before dinner, as well as hashing out all of the things you are going to do to Clive to get him riled up. Maybe he doesn’t take notice of your rough habits in the heat of the moment, but with prolonged “accidents” and no relief, he is going to go mad. You are prepared to turn him into an absolute beast.

Even if he takes you to the slaughter.

It wasn’t often that everyone got to eat together for dinner. People would be out on missions, bring their food to their work stations, or turn in early. Tonight, however, was one of the few nights everyone was eating in the Ale Hall together, and it was lively. Everyone was eating the delicious food Molly had dished out and pints were being passed around in droves. You were sitting at a table with Clive, Jill, Gav, and Tarja, enjoying the night together, laughing about nothing and everything. It truly felt like the world wasn’t going to shit.

What a great time to enact your plan.

Clive is sitting to your right and his chair is right beside yours, your right thigh and his left thigh touching. Everyone else was sitting across from the both of you, with Gav sitting closer to Clive’s right side. You knew you couldn’t get too crazy, as you didn’t want to bring attention to your antics with Clive’s body in view of others. You knew you’d have to be sneaky. Challenge accepted.

You place your right hand on his thigh while you continue listening to Gav’s story about his experience in the hot spring baths near the Dalimil Inn. You sense Clive glance at you, but he immediately dismisses it, seemingly not thinking much of it. You leave it there for a while, building anticipation, then decide to start rubbing it up and down. You would get near his crotch and then go back down to his knee, repeating the cycle like it was routine. You feel him shift slightly, and he took a deep breath, but his face showed no effect.

This was going to be more fun than I thought.

You move your hand away and use it to pick up your spoon, only to “accidentally '' drop it onto the floor by Clive’s boot. “Whoops my spoon.” You shrug and lean down to grab it, making sure your hand grips his thigh as you pick it up. On the way back up, your hand glides over to his crotch to give a quick squeeze. This causes a grunt to leave his lips, following some coughing after which causes everyone to look at him.

“Are you okay, Clive?” Jill asks concerned, oblivious to what games you were playing.

Clive nodded, pulling himself together quickly. “Yes, thank you. Must have choked on something.” Jill nods and continues to listen to Gav, while Clive looks at you accusingly. You smile, feigning innocence and decide to do one last thing.

“I think I’m going to turn in. I have a long day tomorrow and would like to get some rest.” You announce as you stand up. Clive stands up with you. “Would you like me to escort you?”

You push him to sit back down. “You stay and enjoy tonight. It isn’t often you get to eat with everyone. I’ll see you in the morrow.” You act like you are going to kiss his cheek when you decide to “trip” onto him, your chest pressing into his face. You shake them slightly, acting like you are getting your bearings straight before standing up. “Ah my apologies, Clive. A little bit of alcohol and I’m a clumsy little thing.” Clive’s eyes are wide and mouth slightly agape. You wish everyone goodnight, and successfully lean down to kiss his cheek before sauntering away from the table, smirking to yourself at what you feel was a successful night.

Today was laundry day, which was the most tedious job you have in the Hideaway. You didn’t mind per say, however having to clean things in certain ways, wait for things to dry, and deliver laundry to people took up the whole morning, so you like to get up extra early to get started.

You enjoy this time today particularly because now you have time to think about what your next move will be in riling up Clive. You haven’t seen him this morning, seemingly because he had tasks outside of the Hideaway, which gives you plenty of time to think of a plan. Maybe you’ll get Hortense to make you something that’s a little more revealing to skimp around in. Maybe you’ll grab something phallic from the Backyard Garden and tease him with what your mouth can do. Shit, maybe you’d go wait for him in his chambers and play with yourself. That definitely seemed to work last time. The ideas are endless!

You finish hanging the clothes and linens on the lines in the Rear Stacks, and head down to the pier to dispose of the dirty laundry water. As you get to the main deck, you see Clive walking from the small boat, waving at Obolus as he walks away. You can feel the devil horns growing from your head as you get on the lift. All you have to say is thank the Founder you wore a white bodice today.

The lift reaches the pier, and you walk off, waving at Clive as you continue walking with the bucket of water on your arm. Clive sees you and picks up his pace to meet you halfway. As you walk closer, you see that his uniform is filthy, like he had been rolling around in mud for hours. You couldn’t stifle the laugh that passes your lips as he looked so roughed up. “Thank the Founder you got your uniform dirtied up on laundry day, handsome.”

Clive laughs with you. “I apologize, my lady. Things got out of hand.”

You set the water bucket down and stand so your chests are almost touching. You bring your fingertips to his arm and let them travel slowly up. “Did you have some fun without me?” You pout, your fingertips now at his shoulders. Clive grins, catching on to your playfulness. “If wrestling with a sekhret in the swampy waters of the Greenheaves is your definition of fun, then it was very fun.”

“You are a dirty boy.” You grin, your fingertips now at the opening of his undershirt. “It’s okay though. I like cleaning you up.” You let your finger drag on the skin of his pectoral, collecting some of the muck that was there. Your other hand travels to his hair, gripping it slightly and pulling his head down so his ear is by your mouth. “Just so I can dirty you up again.” As you say that, you run your dirty finger right under his ear. You feel his body twitch, the undersides of his ears always so sensitive. You release him and step away, reaching down to get the water bucket like nothing happened. You hear Clive release a sigh as you are looking away, and you smirk. This is all too fun.

You go back to look at him. “I’ll pick your uniform up from your chambers. Go ahead and get clean and I’ll catch up with you later, yeah?”

“Y-yeah. I will see you later, my love.” He stutters, face noticeably red even under all the muck. He presses a quick kiss to your cheek before heading to the lift.

Time to enact the second half of this teasing session.

You pick up the water acting like you were about to dump its contents into the water when you tilt it towards you slightly, letting the water run down your chest and turning your white bodice very see through. You drop the bucket to draw attention to yourself from Clive. “Bloody hell, I’ve made a mess of myself.” You run your hands up your breasts, pinching your nipples every pass so they are peaked through your drenched top. You glance up at Clive, and the sight before you makes your stomach flip.

Clive is staring you down. His eyes are directed to your movements, his pupils growing bigger and his mouth slacking. You can see his brain is working overtime to process what he was witnessing; his innocent little girl turning into a cunning woman right before his eyes. You walk towards him, pulling your bodice down slightly. “I guess I’ll need to change into something more presentable.”

You stop in your tracks when he walks slowly towards you and takes his cape off. You stare at him, wondering what he is about to do. He takes his cape and wraps it around your shoulders. You grimace slightly. “Darling, I’m fine. You just made me filthier with your cape.”

Clive takes a step closer, mirroring your positions from a few moments ago. He leans his head to your ear, and the words that come out of his mouth make your pussy flutter. “I’d rather have you filthy than go back up with your tits on full display for everyone to see. They are for my eyes only. Don’t you forget that.”

With that said, he steps away and walks back towards the lift, leaving you there in your drenched bodice, his dirty cape, and your now damp knickers. He is so close to snapping. You just need to give him a little more of a push.

And only then will you be in for it.

“Clive, please let me cum!”

“No.”

Clive was fucking you, his hand in your hair and his hand wrapped around your throat, keeping your back to his chest as he continues thrusting into your tight heat. You were whimpering at the fact that he wouldn’t let you cum, pulling out every time he’d feel you clenching on him for too long.

He is giving you hard thrusts, making your breasts bounce on their own accord. He takes the hand that was in your hair and draws it down to your stomach, keeping his hand on the lower part of your belly.

“Fuck can you feel that?” Clive growls into your ear, pushing down on your stomach where his cock is bulging. You cry out and grab onto his arm that’s draped around your chest, gripping for dear life as he continues his assault on your pussy. Clive pushes your head back, so your head is on his shoulder, and leans down to kiss you. The kiss is gentle in juxtaposition to the pounding he is giving you. He pulls away slightly, lips grazing each other and breaths heavy. He keeps his eyes on you, and finally grants you what you’ve been needing.

“Cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes shot open, brain processing where you were and why you weren’t cumming. You let your senses take control, and you see you are in Clive’s chambers and note that the morning horizon has yet to break. You can feel a warm, burly body pressed against you, arm draped over your torso and the sound of light breaths passing through the air.

Fuck I had a sex dream…

You inwardly groan. This is getting out of hand. The dream felt so real, and it was one of the hottest things your brain has ever conjured up. You know you are wounded up tight to be having dreams like that right beside the man who could make that a reality.

Soon enough. It will happen soon enough.

You reach down to feel that your knickers are damp. You dip your fingers into your heat and couldn’t believe how wet you were. You bring the essence to your clit and gently rub it, shivering at the contact. Founder you are so sensitive. You must be super on edge to be so sensitive without any prior pleasure. You keep rubbing your clit, wanting some form of release. You want to wake Clive up but it’s too soon. Give in now and your efforts will be for nothing.

As you continue to touch yourself, an idea pops into your head; the ultimate move to drive Clive to madness. You giggle to yourself; this was such a good idea you couldn’t believe you hadn’t thought of it before.

You are going to put your soiled knickers into Clive’s pants pouch before his trip to Dalimil today.

You maneuver yourself so your arms aren’t touching Clive, not wanting him to wake up while you are playing with yourself. You alternate between rubbing your clit and fingering yourself, drawing out the fluids so it sets in your underwear. You go back to your dream, filling in the gaps of what happened before and what happened after you woke up. Imagining how after you would come, he would keep fucking you until you came again and again. Imagining how he would pull out and make you suck his cock covered in your juices, ensuring that you consumed every last drop of his spend when he comes in your mouth. How he would make out with you after, wanting to get a taste of himself from your lips. That thought alone sends you over the edge.

You bite onto your arm to prevent the cathartic sounds that want to escape your mouth, and push through it. You let the cum from your pussy seep out onto your knickers and you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. You have never done something so naughty before and it feels so good to act out, especially knowing what these actions will hopefully lead to.

You remove your hand and lick your essence to rid yourself of the evidence. You take Clive’s arm and move it off of you so you could get up. You move from the bed and walk to where he keeps his uniform. You slide your knickers from under your gown and fold it neatly so it would fit nicely in the pouch. Right as you stick it in there, you hear movement from the bed.

“_____, are you okay?”

You turn to see a sleepy Clive, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at you. You turn around, playing off the innocent facade after doing something naughty. “I’m okay. I had to go to the privy chambers to relieve myself.” You walk back over to the bed and Clive sits up to draw you back into his arms. He snuggles his head into your neck as you lay on your back, taking a deep breath before releasing it. “Truthfully, I don’t know how I’m going to survive a night without you beside me. I can’t sleep without you.”

You turn your body to face him, heart melting at the small confession. “It is only for a night, my love. Besides, you’ll have something to look forward to. So don’t keep me waiting too long.” You run your fingers down his face, Clive turning his head to kiss your palm before pulling you closer, his head resting against your chest. His legs intertwined with yours and he places his arms comfortably around you. You sigh, enjoying the peace of the night with him.

The calm before the storm.

Clive has been in Dalimil all day, helping L’ubor with some disturbances happening out in the Velkroy, as well as helping a few residents in the area. He had come back from the desert to the Briar’s Kiss to deliver the stolen resources from one of the bandit groups that lurked nearby, and L’ubor looked thrilled.

“Cliiiiive.” He draws out. “I knew you’d get the job done.”

“I’m glad I could be of service.” Clive nods. “Is there anything else that needs to be handled?”

L’ubor shakes his head. “Please, you’ve done enough, and it is almost night. You should rest up for your travels back home tomorrow. Take this gil and mineral deposits for your resourcefulness.”

Clive takes the gifts from him. “I appreciate it. Till next time, L’ubor.”

Clive turns to walk away, opening his pouch to put the items in when he feels something within it. That’s strange. I swore I emptied them yesterday.

He takes out whatever the item was and inspects it, only to flush a thousand shades of red when he realizes what he’s holding. Your knickers. He is in shock, wondering what your knickers were doing in there. He definitely didn’t take them, he’s not a pervert. He thinks back to this morning when you were standing on the other side of the room… where he sets his uniform.

Curiosity sets in, lifting the underwear to his nose and inhaling briefly. The brief scent traveled up his nose and in that moment a switch flicked in his brain and blood started to rush to his groin. He groans. She smells so fucking good.

With haste, Clive goes to his room in the inn, wanting to take care of the ever-growing problem in his pants. He lies on the bed, still fully clothed, and starts to grope his cock through his trousers. Your underwear is in a death grip, his mind wandering to thoughts of you and how much of a naughty girl you’ve become.

Looking back at the last couple days, he starts to think about all the incidents that happened with you around. He really did think the groping at dinner was an accident; a reflex to protect yourself from the fall that just happened to land your tits in his face. He grew more suspicious the next day at the pier, when you were talking in euphemisms and “accidentally” spilt water on yourself. He gropes himself harder at the thought that you were going to go back up with your breasts on display through your wet bodice. Fuck, you were really going to do it.

But this? The knickers in his pouch? He almost couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe you would do something so risqué. This alone makes the other incidents purposeful, and it was now obvious what you were doing, and it worked because his mind has opened the vault of all the filthy things he wants to do to you.

He slides his hand into his trousers and pulls his cock from its confines. He takes the hand that was on his cock to spit in it before returning it there, letting it warm his cock up as he strokes it. He starts to imagine every little thing he has wanted to do to you, fucking his fist as he pictures himself punishing you for all the bad things you did. You were supposed to be his good girl. Not a cunning, little brat.

He brings your underwear up to his face to inhale your scent, sending him into a frenzy. Your smell makes his mouth water and his hand go faster. Clive loves eating your sweet cunt. He loves the sounds that come out of your mouth as he sucks on your clit and licks your tiny hole; breathy wisps of praises that reach his ears. He loves to rub on your clit as you orgasm so his tongue can collect your sweet nectar, consuming it like it is his last supper. He can’t get enough of it, and smelling your essence from the present you left him is sending him into a fit that he can't taste you right now.

He is jerking his cock off at a lightning pace, imagining himself fucking you on your knees begging for relief. Imagining you with tears and drool on your face as the overwhelming need to cum kicks in. That image alone sends Clive over and as he starts to fall, he brings your used panties back to his nose, inhaling quickly before he descends. He moans loudly, not caring if anyone in the inn hears him because his mind is only focused on one thing: you.

As his orgasm subsides, he relaxes against the sheets, dirty panties in one hand and his now soft cock in the other. He needed that release, but his release now has him determined. He was going all in on you when he got home.

With a clear head, he thought about the night of the vampire thorn incident. It was that night that made Clive very aware of his primal needs. He had never been so lost in pleasure before, and he loved letting go of his inhibitions. However, seeing you covered in marks, while one of the sexiest things he has seen, woke him up. He had to remember that night was different because you were infected with something that altered your sex drive. Your mind was in chaos, so his rough touch is what you needed to get you out of it. But what about after? He didn’t know if you would like his actions as much in your regular state, so being softer with you seemed the way to go and for a while he believed that is what you wanted. He should have communicated because it is apparent that he was wrong. You wouldn’t do all these things for a sweet, loving session of coitus. It was an invitation for him to bring you to your knees and ruin you.

He can’t wait to tear you apart.

“Ta-da!” You cheer as you hold up a flower garland you finished. You were teaching some of the Hideaway kids how to make flower garlands, as they had some free time after their lessons with Tomes. They were in awe of your creation, weavings on stems that show off the red blossoms.

“Can we make one, _____?” One asked, leading the others to chime in agreement.

“Of course! Just make sure to only use the flowers in this bed. The other bed is a no-no.” You point out the bed full of Morgenbeards being off limits since they are used for a purpose rather than scenery. You watch them pick what flowers they are going to use, helping a few get their garlands started before you hear your name being called. You turn to see it is none other than Gav.

“Hey Gav, what’s going on?”

Gav gets to you and smiles. “Clive is back! He has requested your presence in his chambers. The big sap seems to have missed ya.”

“Oh okay! Um… do you mind staying with the kids? They are making flower garlands.”

“Sure! Hey kids!” He says waving at them.

You walk behind Gav and place your garland on his head. “I have to run off for a little bit. Show Gav what I taught the lot of you.” You walk away and laugh as you hear the kids telling Gav how pretty he looked with your garland, hearing him complain and say it made him “handsome, not pretty”.

You take your time getting there, savoring the moment before what’s about to go down. The knickers must have worked. There is no way they didn’t. The anticipation is building as you walk up the steps to his chambers, now standing at his door. You take a deep breath, prepare yourself, and walk in.

You see Clive sitting at his desk, writing something down until he hears the doors open. He looks up and smiles at you. “Hey sweetheart, it’s so good to see you.”

You observe him. He’s in his white undershirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He is smiling at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His eyes are giving off something more… ominous. You can’t read what they are saying, but you are hoping it’s what you’ve worked so hard to achieve these last couple days.

“Gav said you wanted to see me.” You say, closing the doors and standing by them.

“Hmm yeah, we just went over some things from my trip to Dalimil. I got him to fetch you for me since he was on the way out.”

You nod. “How was your trip?”

Clive stares at you, lips curling as he places his papers in his drawer and puts his quill to the side. “It kept me busy. Had some surprises along the way, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He sits up a little and scoots his chair back. He pats his lap. “Come over here.”

You walk over and around his desk, sitting in his lap with your legs dangling over his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Clive wraps his arms around your torso and squeezes you to him, letting his head rest on your shoulder, but not before kissing your cheek. You giggle as he snuggles his head into your shoulder blade.

“Were you a good girl while I was gone?”

The question catches you off guard, his tone playful yet conniving. “Y-yeah. I’m always good for-“. A gasp escapes you as a resounding smack lands on your thigh. Your eyes go wide as he lifts his head to look at you and the gentleman you’ve grown to love is gone. His eyes are sharp, a gaze that makes you want to curl. He rubs the spot he smacked, keeping eyes on you as his other hand clasps the back of your neck. “_____,” he draws out. “Don’t lie to me. I know what you’ve been doing.”

Your mind is going haywire. You like where this is going. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Clive tightens his grip on your neck, not enough to hurt, but enough to send the message you’ve been desperately wanting. “You are such a minx. Tempting me with your bad behavior.”

“Did it work?” You ask, admitting to your actions with the subtle question.

“You have no fucking idea.” He practically growls.

Clive stands up with you in his grasp and pushes you on his desk, chest flat on the hardwood. He lifts your dress up past your legs and hips, and he almost loses his control. You are bear for him, no knickers in sight. “Fuck, you really did have it all planned out. Wearing no panties hoping I’d fuck you the minute you walked in.” His hands run up your thighs to the globes of your cheeks. “You are going to have to earn it, sweetheart. Starting by taking accountability for every bad thing you've done.”

Yes, yes, yes! You thought. You were going to get what you’ve been needing.

Clive rubs your left cheek before bringing his hand back, landing a blow. “For teasing me at dinner.” He lands another one on the same cheek, causing you to whimper as the sensitive skin pulsates. “That’s for shoving your cleavage in my face and groping my cock.” He smacks your right cheek. “And acting like it was an accident when in reality you are just cock hungry whore.”

You moan, the feeling of his rough hands spanking you only making your pussy wet. He keeps going, alternating between each cheek, making sure to rub the supple skin between each hit.

Smack

“For your behavior on the pier.”

Smack

“For pouring water on your bodice to show off your tits.” He delivers two quick smacks in succession. “And for almost going up to show them off to everyone else. I can’t believe my good little girl would try that.” His possessive nature is sending waves of arousal to your brain, and it commands your legs to spread further, pushing your ass into his rough hands; that only makes him smack your ass harder. “That’s for enjoying this. Fuck, you really are a minx.”

Smack, smack, smack

He delivers three in a row, making your cheeks burn in the best way. He leans over your body, his clothed cock rubbing against your bare slit. He grips your hair in his right hand to bring your ear closer to his mouth. “And those were for your cum stained knickers you left me. Do you know what I did with them?”

He flips you over and lifts you, so your bottom is on the edge of his desk, getting on his knees so his face is lined up with your pussy. You flinch slightly, your butt stinging from his spankings, but you focus away from the burn when he pries your legs open, settling them on his shoulders. He nips at your thighs, running his tongue along the marks he leaves in his wake. Your hands go to trail through his hair when he takes your hands and pins them to the desk. He looks up at you, his face right up on your dripping cunt, his breath hitting your hot folds. “I jerked my cock off to your scent.” He presses a kiss to your clit. “I stroked my cock with your knickers to my nose, imagining I was eating your sweet cunt. I was going crazy not being able to just taste you.” He gives a tiny lick to your folds, stopping right before your clit. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since, so I’m going to indulge, and you are going to sit here and keep your hands to yourself while I enjoy my meal. Do you understand?”

You are at a loss for words; all you can think is how hot this side of him is. He smacks your thigh, springing you back to reality. “Do you understand, _____? I need you to tell me so I know you are listening.”

You nod enthusiastically. “Yes, I understand.”

His arms wrap around each thigh, locking you into position with your hands on the edge of the desk, and his mouth goes straight to your clit. He licks the underside of it, while his mouth suctions around it, causing your legs to spasm at the combination of stimulation. His hands are gripping the inside of your thighs as he continues to enjoy himself, his eyes trained on you as your chest goes up and down and your nails dig into the wood of the desk. He pulls away and uses one hand to spread your lower lips, seeing your hole leak with arousal. All he can think is how this is what he has been craving for hours as his tongue dips into your cunt, lapping at it as your juices collect on his tongue. Watching him eat you like this, like this is all he would want to eat for the rest of his life, makes you throw your head back with a groan. Clive chuckles and goes through the motions of sucking your clit and licking at your tight hole before he feels the oncoming wave of your orgasm. He senses you are about to tumble over, and right as he feels your pussy flutter on his tongue, he pulls away.

“Fuck Clive I was almost there.” You whine, shaking from the orgasm you were denied.

Clive stands up, his hand coming to your face to squeeze your jaw as he looms over you. “Oh, you aren’t going to cum until I tell you to. You are being punished, sweetheart. I will only let you come when my good girl has come back to me. You will take what I give you.” He lets go of you to back away, slowly stripping away his clothes, teasing you that he is the one in control. And there is nothing you can do about it.

He takes his trousers off, and your eyes bulge right from your sockets. He had no braies under his trousers, but what he did have was something wrapped around the base of his cock and his balls.

By the fucking Founder, my knickers are wrapped around his cock.

Clive snickers at you. “You like what I did with them? Now I can have my way with you all day if I want to.” He pulls you to your feet to pull your skirt fully off, letting it pool around your feet. He makes quick work of your corset and bodice, drinking in your naked form. You stand under his intense gaze, waiting for his next set of instructions.

“I want you on the desk, on your knees, legs spread.” He commands softly. In an instant, you climb on top of his desk, doing exactly as he instructed. You place your arms in front of you so they dangle off the desk, causing your upper body to be flush against the wood. Clive massages your ass, gripping your cheeks and pulling them apart. “Your ass is so pretty, especially now that it's nice and red.” You smirk and shake your ass in his hands, earning you a hard smack. “And here I thought my good girl was coming back.”

He spits on his hand, stroking his cock to get it ready for your ruin. Seeing you like this, with your legs spread out on the desk, not caring that it is uncomfortable on your knees, ready to be mounted and taken by him sent his arousal into a frenzy. He settles behind you, one hand on your hip while the other guides his cock into your tight heat. You groan as he pushes in inch by inch, loving the way your cunt hugs him tightly. Clive lets out a deep breath as he is fully seated inside of you, savoring this moment before it ends.

“Clive, please move.” You whine. “Ruin me. Turn me into your good girl.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulls his cock out, with the tip settling at the beginning of your entrance, before slamming back in. You jolt forward, arms and hands doing everything they can to hold onto the desk for dear life. He continues these motions; slow, hard thrusts that jolt your body back and forth, each stroke hitting your sweet spot that knocks the breath out of your lungs. Clive is grunting as he continues, loving the way you feel around him. “I love that I get to break you in. Every. Single. Time.” He says attached to a powerful stroke.

You moan as he picks up the pace, slamming into you as your pussy becomes more wet with each stroke. Your pussy flutters on his cock, signaling that you are on the precipice of cumming, when he pulls out. You whine at the emptiness, your hole clenching around nothing, trying to regain the sensation you had previously. You feel his finger swirl against your hole as it continues to flutter, causing a soft “fuck” to leave Clive’s lips. “Your cunt must love my cock. She’s begging for him.” He quips. He pushes back in and continues where he left off, fucking your cunt with everything he’s got.

You feel yourself clenching on him, the need to cum coming back ten fold. You turn your head to look at him, and seeing him with his chest glistening and his attention directed to where your pussy and his cock meet sends you reeling. You squeeze on his cock, his facial expression shifting as he sees what you are doing. He pulls out again, smacking your pussy this time, which makes your legs spread farther. He wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you up to his chest, shoving his cock back into you. His hand goes to your hair, pulling it back to expose your neck for him. He nips at the flesh between your jaw and your neck, licking the tiny bites to soothe them. He licked behind your ear, causing you to shiver from the sensitivity. “Something tells me that no matter how many times I punish you, you love being naughty. Like it is second nature to you.” You smile at his words.

Because he is absolutely right.

“You may think you can get away with it, but you are wrong. Because for now, you are going to be begging to cum. And I’m not going to give it to you.” He growls, keeping you in place as he sets a fast pace. Clive can read you like the back of his hand, meaning that every time you are about to cum, he knows and he pulls out. He waits a few minutes, kissing under your jaw and running his hand from your torso to your breast, pulling at your nipples and squeezing them. Then he goes right back in and continues the cycle.

You are wailing, wanting to cum so bad, but he is not letting you. Taking his cock away from you, playing with you, then giving it back to only take it away again. Not being able to cum is driving you to madness. Even with your knickers around his cock, you don’t know how his stamina is lasting as long as it is. Granted, he is no ordinary man.

You try to rub your clit to initiate a quick orgasm before he could pull out, but he catches your hands to bring them behind your back. His left hand is wrapped around both your wrists, preventing you from touching yourself. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. As I said, you will take what you are given.” He wraps his right hand around your throat, not squeezing, but to keep you in place. You can feel yourself going insane, tears from being denied multiple times flowing down your cheeks and moans leaving your lips each time his cock hits home. Your pussy flutters again, and once again Clive pulls out, causing you to wail. “Please put it back! Put it back where it belongs!”

Clive felt feral at your words, the possessive nature taking over his body as he flipped you over once again. He inserts his cock before wrapping his arms around your hips, and lifting you off the desk. Your arms wrap around his neck, and he can feel your body buzzing from denying you relief so many times. He is starting to feel it too, the need to cum possessing his body. He walks up the steps, with you still connected to him, and once at the bed he flops down on it so you are on top. “You want to cum so bad? You have to earn it, so work for it.” He says sternly.

Your legs are tired from holding up your body against the hardwood of the desk, but you are at your limit for being denied and you need to cum. You adjust your legs, place your hands on his chest, and start to rock your hips up and down on his cock. The smacking of your ass against his thighs resound throughout the room as you bounce on his cock, working for that orgasm you desperately need. Clive watches, and you are a sight to behold: everything from your messy hair, to your glowing skin, and your tear stricken face… you are an angel sent to him.

You feel yourself grow frustrated as you are close to cumming but are missing something. You groan as you bounce faster, trying anything to get you there. “I can’t, fuck, I can’t. Clive please make me cum I can’t do it.”

Clive sits up slightly, bringing one hand to your cheek to caress it. “Will you be my good girl from now on?”

“Yes, I’m sorry! I’ll be a good girl just fuck please!”

Clive goes to bring your body down, chests pressed together, and starts rocking his hips up into yours. He keeps one arm around your torso and brings the other one down to your clit to rub tight fast circles. He brings his lips to yours, inhaling your cries and whines as he pummels up into you, holding you so he can give you everything he’s got without you straying away from him. You feel like you are being fucked stupid, and your mind in shambles as he fucks you.

Once again, you feel yourself clench on his cock, your pussy wanting to milk his cock so bad as you cum.

Clive senses it, and this time he accepts it. “Cum for me, darling. Give me your nectar.”

You wail as your pussy spasms, clinging onto his cock as he fucks you through it. You feel your cunt gush, your cum covering Clive’s thighs and his fingers as he slows the rubs on your clit down. He brings that hand back up and licks his fingers, groaning at the taste of your essence. You are slowly coming down from your orgasm when Clive lifts you off his cock and pulls your body up his, your knees hitting the mattress as he holds onto your thighs to eat your pussy.

Nothing could have prepared for the way Clive devours your cunt. The moans and growls coming from him as he laps at the essence he helped bring on, pushing your body down more like he can’t get enough of what your hole is giving him. The amount of times you were denied, as well as your recent orgasm, has made you so sensitive. The urge to push him away is strong, your clit overstimulated, but he pulls you back to lock you in. You let out a sob as you cum on his tongue, rocking your hips as you whine at how hot this all was. He slows his roll, and removes you from his face, his smile glistening with your arousal. You lay to catch your breath, overwhelmed at what you are feeling. After a moment, you look at him and see his cock looks pitiful; it is practically needing to escape from the confines of your knickers.

You turn your body to face Clive, running your hand down his chest. “Clive darling, you didn’t cum.”

He lets out a breathy laugh. He sits up, hands on your face as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. Where do you want my cum? You’ve been good so you choose.”

You already know where you want it. “I want to swallow it. May I suck your cock please?” You bat your eyelashes.

“Anything for you.” He kisses your mouth quickly. “Where do you want me?”

“Can you stand up? I want to be on my knees for you again.”

Clive groans, feeling more blood rush to his cock, if even possible. He stands up, and reaches for the knife on the chest behind his bed to cut off your panties, his cock too hard to remove them intact. He sets them both aside, and turns to see you already on your knees, ready to take his cock. Like his good girl.

He stands in front of you, and your hands run up his thighs, nails dragging up and down. You admire his cock, pulling his foreskin back to reveal his pretty pink tip. You give little licks to his top, kissing it and running your tongue along it like you’d be kissing him. You then start to run your lips down his shaft, using the same techniques as you did with his tip. You bring your hand to his balls, carefully massaging them in your hands as your mouth continues its ministrations.

Clive groans from above you, his right hand settling on a tight grip in your hair with his left hand resting on your cheek, admiring how you treat his cock. You move back to the tip and insert it into your mouth, gently sucking it as you gaze up at him. “Fuck, if only you could see yourself right now.” He says gravely and needy. He pushes your head further down on his cock, your mouth accepting him as his tip gets to the back of your throat. You take a few deep breaths, preparing yourself as you swallow around his tip, causing Clive’s hips to buck. You choke slightly, regaining yourself as you pull your mouth back to the tip before going back down, sucking hard every time you get to the tip and swallowing when it is in the back of your throat.

Clive feels himself getting impatient, and tests the waters as he uses the hand in your hair to guide your mouth up and down his cock, slowing fucking it as you suck. You are moaning at how he is using you, loving the idea of him letting you suck his cock whenever he wants.

He sees how much you are loving this, which makes him guide his cock in and out slightly faster; enough to get him off, but not enough to hurt you. “I should let you suck my cock more often, seeing how much of a harlot you are for it.”

You moan, sending the vibrations to the tip and he groans loudly, cumming without warning. You bring one hand to the base and jerk it while sucking the tip, making sure to get all that he has to offer. You let his softened penis fall from your mouth, and you swallow his spend, enjoying the musky taste that is unequivocally him.

Clive gets on his knees to scoop you up in his arms, settling you on his lap. He holds you close, rocking back and forth as you both come down from the long session you both fulfilled.

“Hey Clive?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I have to tell you something.”

“Which is?”

“I like when you are rough with me. I always have. I’m sorry I didn’t communicate that earlier. I was embarrassed.”

You feel Clive’s body vibrates as he laughs. He turns your face to him, looking at you with the look he always gives you: one of adoration. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry I didn’t see your needs sooner.” He kisses your cheek and cradles your head into his neck. “Truth be told, I was worried. I was so rough with you for our first time together. And as much as I loved it, I was worried it wasn’t what you wanted.”

You shake your head, lifting your head so you can see him. “Please understand that I love when you make love to me. It makes me feel so loved by you and so wanted. I want to keep those intimate times, but I also want times like these where we let our inhibitions go. I want the calm and I want the storm. I want everything.”

You place your hands upon his cheeks, leaning in to give him the softest of kisses. He returns it, squeezing you closer so you won’t disappear from his hold. He releases your lips and places his forehead against yours. “I love you, _____. I will love you past my dying breath.”

You laugh, warmth running through your chest. “I love you too, Clive. Nothing will ever stop me from loving you.”

“Let me run us a bath. Let me take care of you.” Clive suggests, even though you know he wouldn’t take no for an answer. You nod in affirmation, letting him get up to carry you to his bathing room.

“Oh, Clive?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Do you think everyone heard us?”

Clive snickers. “Without a doubt.”

#clive x reader #clive rosfield x reader #ffxvi #ffxvi x reader #my fics #clive rosfield smut #smut

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