#ffxvi dion lesage

[hiebies]

can i get a kiss? (your lips on mine)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; to share in a gentle passion, the press of skin to skin in the most authentic way one knows how.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairings; clive rosfield : cidolfus telamon : dion lesage : jill warrick -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist : p1

kissing clive is like a bonfire in the cooler months. the smoke, his eyes, follow you from a distance and you feel it more intensely the closer you move to him, to a warm body and warmer hands. the bonfire, clive, is warming you when your bodies are close, radiating all that is important in such a moment. kissing clive is kissing a reverent man; a man who’s body is a balmy summer, who’s lips caress your lips with every press and drag. ask him, for his warmth and he will be happy to give it to you, like a child seeing the stars for the first time.

cid’s kiss is, well, electrifying. his mouth is always seeking yours- your acceptance, your adoration, your lips. he leads many people for his cause, his beliefs, what he knows to his core is right; in the same way he leads his admiration for you, for your lips and the peaceful haze they give his mind that oftentimes wanders too far. he kisses you to enforce this, to enforce that you are with him; present, tangent, physical under his hands that wander to any part of you they can hold.

dion kisses you like you hold his beating, bleeding, uncovered heart between your hands- his heart that he has ripped from the gilded cage of his ribs and presented to you; and you do hold his heart, always. he kisses you like he wants to live by the rules of that same heart, to act on those whims, always. his hand presses over your heart, pulse in his fingertips matching its rhythm, completely at the mercy of the adrenaline running through his body; stood standing, holding you, kissing you.. because kissing you is the biggest assurance he has.

lips pressed to lips, hands held and fingers laced together with her heart as airy and candy floss- this is how jill feels every time, every kiss, every taste of you she gets. a reprieve to the cold that wraps around her bones like puppet strings, a soothing pressure to her mind and soul. perhaps it is shiva’s affect or perhaps it is just her, but jill’s hands are colder than most- soothing when placed against your face to cool you off, or that in which she touches your skin to surprise you during a kiss, offering her laughter as due payment for your surprise.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; perhaps i’m just,,, slightly maybe (read: very) hyperfixated on ff16 at the moment :]

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ hiebies 2023 ©

[olgipolgi]

Dominant of Bahamut ⚜️

[driftwoodwolf]

I ask not for acceptance... only forgiveness

find me on twitter @/driftwoodwoof

[puppetbomb]

Happy PC release day!

Based on Sewing Circle where only Clive and children can see moogles (which, given the lack of interaction between Nektar and everyone else, is not completely implausible)

Also part 2:

[ohprcr]

welcome home, my prince

[dunderella]

happy 1st anniversary to final fantasy 16, the game that changed my life in the best way possible 🥹💕

[dayasan]

[demynom]

Anyone else uhhhh thinking about the curse

[roxetta23]

What really happened post-origin. Commission art for @arixabell

[emblazons]

"You will answer for what you've done!" "You cannot control us!" "And you will not claim us—ever!"

Clive Rosfield, Dion Lesage & Joshua Rosfield in FFXVI aka: the Tri-Disaster Trio (Hellfire / Megaflare / Revelation) + full eikon set

[r-yui]

[hiebies]

it won’t be the same (you are my achilles heel)

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | desc; something happens and you are different, then, i watch you walk away from me. why are you different now?

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | pairings; clive rosfield : cidolfus telamon : dion lesage : barnabas tharmr -> x gn!reader

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | mlist ; p2

the morning is light, sweet like the scent of fresh rain and flowing with simple melodies- no string quartet to detail his failure to depollute himself, no staccato to lead into the cacophony of his mind; no whistle of brass instruments, not an off key scrape to even disturb him. clive can simply exist, watered down and trickling into a slow stream of consciousness instead of the typical roar of a torrent in his mind- no, the morning is sweet, as he thinks that it always should be. the pollution of noise comes in the late afternoon. the string quartet starts when you take your first step away from him, then the staccato follows the slump of his shoulders and the shaking of your head; whistling brass and off key scrapes come when you turn, walking away. the evening is dark.

dusty air fills his lungs, a strange comfort. the same cup has been sat at his desk for a week now, imprint of a lipstick stain left as the sole curse of his lack of focus. cid is a busy man, he is a stubborn man, yet he is cursed to stare at the imprint of your mouth on a week old dank metal cup. your lips, wrapped around the edge of it, choking and sputtering on a laugh as he appreciates you- the lamplight reflected in your eyes, the crookedness of some of your teeth, the curl of your lips and the crease in your brow. resplendent. he brings his own cup to his mouth, drinking in a swill of his drink until his mind hazes, even slightly when he remembers that damned lipstick stain, is all you’d left.

dion kisses you, just to kiss you- sweetness on the tip of his tongue, touch simple but perfect as he cradles your face in his hands. dion kisses you, just to kiss you and pulls away, hands sweetly placed against your cheeks and watching your eyes. watching your eyes, your eyes are wet like crushed autumn leaves on the pavement and he can feel his heart weep as he feels the seasons change; all while he watches your eyes. his hands drop from your face, now holding yours- he pulls the parts of you that are conjoined to his chest, where you both end and begin in an infinite moment; please, please don’t let me watch the seasons change again. then, the seasons stop changing all at once, you drop his hands and he knows winter will not leave him.

hearts beat, breaths mingle, fingers twist. stubble on smooth skin, dry lips to wet lips, palms of hands cradling cheeks. barnabas remembers all of this well as he finds himself at the top of the hill he’d found, watching the whisps of a memory take a tumble through strands of green. the whisps collect to form into solidity, a swirling vortex until they connect, phantom smile curling until it collapses and the image is destabilised. he finds himself then focussing on reality, on the whisps of green and the real figure further ahead; walking away, leaving. a kiss to the forehead, unsteady feet, hands wiping at wet cheeks. how can this really be for the best.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ | notes; so, hi! it’s been like a week haha. this, may possibly be, the product of an angst shot i read & it had a song which i realised was by an artist i don’t mind this one OTHER song to- tldr; the up theme song was also in the mix and oh GOF MAN

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ hiebies 2023 ©

[lockescoles]

JOSHUA ROSFIELD + HUGS

[materia-bb]

[lieutenantraziel]

Prince Dion, but semi-primed

[maegraeth]