#he got tired of waiting for wol to come get him so he came to them 🙏

[fatewalker]

leofard in the forerider gear 😵‍💫

[voidedleylines]

FFXIVWrite 2023 Day 5: Barbarous

Welllll this one got a way from me a little bit lol. Finally had the inspo to focus on my girl and i. Gave her a real bad dream lmao. Zenos & WoL focus. Allusions to Hien/WoL

Enjoy?

Rating: T+ CWs: violence, character death

She misses sleeping. It’s not something that comes easy to her as of late. Her head feels like it’s filled with lead and it hurts to move it around too much. It’s a humid day in her room at the pendants and the beads of sweat accumulating on her forehead and rolling down her neck don’t help her need for sleep.

She crawls out of bed and walks to where there’s a pitcher full of cool water at the table and splashes it on her face, soaking her clothes in the process. She’s too tired to care about the mess as she wanders back over to the mattress and lays down again. Her heart beats loudly in her ears and her jaw aches with how hard she’s biting it closed. “Please,” she whispers, “Not tonight.”

Whatever god she was praying to, it was obvious they weren’t listening as she sees herself in the same venue as before. He’s waiting with open arms, a smirk dripping from his face. “Ah! My friend you’ve finally come,” he says. As she always does, she stays silent.

Zenos’ face falters only just as he lets out a hum, “Very well. I see you still play the role of the stoic hero,” he walks towards her and his eyes linger on her up and down. A rage begins to bubble in her gut. “But as I say again and again you don’t have to take that facade with me. Lest you forget I am the only one who knows you. The real you.”

The venue changes and she’s back in her village, up in the mountains of Southern Thanalan. The smell of sulfur hits her in a wave that makes her cough. She sees herself, small and dirty, barely five summers old. She hears whispers from the room outside. Voices she barely recognizes. Her mother and father.

“We have to leave this place,” her mother begs, “It’s not safe here. No one cares or listens to me. We have to go.”

“It’s not that simple-” her father begins.

“The hells it isn’t. I don’t want to be around that thing. Don’t want to be killed in my sleep by it one day.”

The other voice is quiet. Freyalin stares at the small child as she sleeps. Her face twists in discomfort. Hands glow red for the briefest of seconds. She looks down and sees her own doing the same. She hides it behind her back. “Alright,” her father says, “We’ll leave tomorrow.”

The scene shifts again and Zenos laughs from behind her, her spine tingles with his breath.

“Get out of my head,” she growls. He responds with more laughter.

She’s still home in her village, only now a friend is dead in front of her. She chased after a voidsent too powerful and something happened. She stopped in the middle of a cast. Light blinded her, head pounded. She saw a vision of another voidgate close by, people slaughtered. There wasn’t anything she could do for them though so why watch in fear. When she came to, she was too late. Her squadron around her cried out in confusion, asking why she stopped, why she left him defenseless. She couldn’t answer. Her hand turned red than black until the light dripped from between her fingers.

“It was the Echo,” she whispers. Again Zenos laughs with such sincerity she turns and swings a punch at where she thinks he is, but he’s gone.

“Now now adventurer. That’s no way to treat a friend. An equal,” he says.

It feels like there should be blood pouring out of her mouth when she speaks, “we are not equal,” she says.

The scene splits into two now. A side by side. Zenos rips through soldiers on a battlefield. The smell of hot blood hits her nose. She winces. The other shows herself fighting through many different scenes so far. Preatorium. Doma castle. The Ghimlyt Dark. Her movements match his, they’re just holding different weapons.

The scenes merge into one. Her blood runs cold. It's one she's never seen before

Hien stands before her. Before him. That scene when Elidibus still took his body, though this time it's her inside. “Zenos,” she tries to scream but he's not listening.

His arm moves, readying his sword, she's helpless to try and fight him. She's trapped in the motions as they fight Hien blow for blow.

“Freyalin will be here soon my lord,” Yugiri calls out from somewhere beyond her current tunnel vision. Zenos’ laugh rings loud around her. She feels every vibration.

Steel meets steel and faulty ground twists Hien’s ankle and he screams out as he falls to the ground.

She looks down at him as his chest rises and falls. She watches in horror as her arm rises and places the sword on his chest.

Directly above his heart.

“Zenos,” Freyalin cries out again, “You can't win this. This will not break me.”

Again all he does is laugh, deep and long, “I’m not looking to break you, my friend, that was never my intention,” he says. Weight is put on the sword. Hien’s face is stoic and his jaw is set; but his eyes shine with tears. Show how he’s scared. “I’m looking to see how long I have until you realize how meant to be we are. As equals,” he presses down, breaking skin, “as partners.”

She's too slow to react as the blade cuts through Hien. She feels every thrust and twist of it. Her eyesight goes blurry, her head fuzzy. Hien chokes out his last breath before his green eyes go lifeless.

She feels numb.

The scenes shifts one last time and the two of them stand in a dark space, a void with no light. He is smiling at her. She is standing tall across from him. After a moment he turns away. “Until next time, adventurer,” he says. He walks on, the echoes of his footsteps the only sound.

She wakes in a pool of her own sweat and her throat sore from screaming. She quickly flicks her hand to light the candles near her bed. Her chest feels heavy and she takes deep breaths in and out. There's a knock on her door, now doubt the manager or a concerned neighbor coming to check on her. She doesn't answer. She stays up the rest of the night, a low fire burning in her chest.

In the corner of the room a sad soul watches over her, wishing there was something he could do to help.

[crystalbahamut]

victory in stages

FFXIV Write Day 10: heady

Summary: You’re used to being liked because you’re useful, but it’s harder to believe someone likes you for…well…you, and you’re not brave enough to ask. Luckily, you have a plan to get around that. A stupid plan, perhaps, but a plan.

Warnings: Shadowbringers spoilers, unspecified/ambiguous WoL, they/them used for WoL, WoL has low self-esteem, such low self-esteem they have to get knocked about the head, literally, mild violence, 2nd person, G’raha Tia/WoL

Words: 3,363

 ---

Purging the remnants of the Lightwardens from you would have been enough to make you feel weightless but combined with the defeat of Emet-Selch, the fact that you had gone into a fight and come out with no causalities, the fact that G’raha Tia had stood in front of you, hurt but so gloriously awake and alive…

You were so overwhelmed by gratitude, by things going so right for once and so drunk on the heady feeling of absolute victory you had surged forward and grabbed G’raha in your arms and squeezed. He had gasped and hugged back, stammering your name…

…But now, a couple of days removed from it, you’re wondering if you hadn't just…startled him.

“Did you travel back to the Source without telling us?”

You jolt up, taking your chin from your hand and sitting back to face Alisaie and Y’shtola, who look unamused and amused, respectively. “Sorry,” you say. “What were you saying?”

Alisaie rolls her eyes and looks askance at Y’shtola. “It’s probably a good thing we made them sit with their back to the Crystal Tower or we’d never catch their attention again.”

You frown. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” But Y’shtola smiles into her cup as she merely holds it to her lips. “You seem to be very deep in thought, is all. One has to wonder what has caught your mind so thoroughly.” Her smile widens. “Or who.”

You duck your head between your shoulders at the insinuation. “Oh, it’s not…”

“Please, you’ve been asking after the Exarch ever since we got back from the Tempest,” Alisaie says. “Haven’t you gotten tired of his company even a little?”

“I haven’t seen him since we came back.”

Both Y’shtola and Alisaie lose the teasing edge and sit forward. “What?” Alisaie asks in disbelief.

You shrug, very uncomfortable with where this conversation is going. There must still be some sin eaters around somewhere that need killing, right? That seems like more fun than being subjected to Y’shtola’s and Alisaie’s very special brands of tough love. “He’s still the Exarch helping run an entire city, and I’m just…what he needed me for is done. There’s no reason for him to want to see me.”

“Did he say that?!” Alisaie asks and starts to rise.

“Oh I severely doubt it.” Y’shtola grabs Alisaie’s sleeve and pulls her back down into her seat. “You know our friend and their insecurities.”

“Hmf.” Alisaie crosses her arms but looks less murderous, at least. “Honestly, I thought that would all be assuaged by that show of affection in the Tempest. I didn’t know a hug could be so fraught and romantic.”

“I think I just surprised him.” You stare down at your cup. The tea is likely lukewarm but you don’t pour more; you doubt you’ll drink it. “I’ve been meaning to talk to him, to ask him if–…Back when we first explored the Crystal Tower, I thought maybe he might…but then he locked himself away, and that answered that. But before we went to fight Vauthry he said some things that implied maybe he…might feel something for me, but I haven’t asked him about it since, and…”

You look up and jerk back. Alisaie and Y’shtola are both just staring at you. You feel like crawling under a rock for the rest of your miserable life. “It’s stupid, isn’t it?” you say and hide your face in your hands. “Gods; please forget I brought it up.”

“The Exarch spent a hundred years trying to prevent your death,” Alisaie says, speaking slowly. “Nearly sacrificed his own life to do so, calls you things like his ‘inspiration’ with sickening amounts of adoration, looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you don’t think he’s madly in love with you?”

“I don’t know if he likes me romantically.” You duck down into your shoulders again. “Just because other people think I’m a hero that needs to go on living doesn’t mean there’s any deeper attachment to it. Stories can inspire, but at the end of the day they’re just that– stories.” You take a sip of your drink and grimace. It’s not even lukewarm anymore. “Also, the stars thing…technically I did bring back the night.” You put the cup down. “But I was supposed to do that. Now that I’m not useful anymore–”

“Warrior!” one of Lyna’s soldiers says, nearly breathless as she rushes up. “The captain bid me give a message to you.”

“What is it?” you say and stand.

“There’s been sightings of sin eaters accumulating over by Sullen; they seem to be disorganized and frenzied– likely starving and desperate– but there’s a similar issue by the Ostall Imperative that has most of the soldiers occupied; they won’t get to the settlement in time. Please, will you–”

“Understood.” You grab your weapon and relief surges through you– it’s terrible, probably, considering the danger people are in, but at least you can still be considered useful. “I’ll head out to Sullen right away.”

“Wait for me!” Alisaie says, leaping after you and you hear Y’shtola and the soldier talk about grabbing Thancred and the rest of them just before the two of you run off.

 ---

There is nothing quite like a successful battle, you think as you trudge back into the Crystarium with Alisaie emanating the same sense of relief behind you. Your blood is raging and your mind is clear; you feel like you can fight a primal. Maybe two primals. You feel like–

“Thank goodness you’ve returned safely.”

You stop so suddenly Alisaie bumps into you. She curses but you don’t really listen to what she’s saying. How can you, when G’raha is standing right there, looking so radiantly healthy and smiling at you like he truly is grateful to see you.

“Coming to see us back? I hope you weren’t worried,” you tease, and are rewarded by a slight flush of his cheeks.

Thancred mutters something too low for you to hear and that’s probably for the best, as Alphinaud chokes.

“Yes, well.” G’raha clears his throat and smiles. “‘Tis always a pleasure to see you all return safely.”

“And here I thought I might be special,” you say, with absolutely no acrimony.

Alas, G’raha doesn’t blush, but there is a rather fetching mischievous sheen to his expression when he says, “There was never any doubt of that.”

You swallow hard. Is he flirting? Does he mean it like you want him to? You almost mean to continue– to see how far he’ll let you go– but apparently the healers have been warned of your coming because a few of them come to escort you to Spagyrics, and as you sit for healing and bandaging and whatever else, the adrenaline settles and you start to second-guess everything again.

“You see?” Alisaie says pointedly. “He was waiting for you.”

“He was waiting for all of us,” you say and sigh. “And I was…was I inappropriate? I don’t think so, but…”

“By the Twelve, you can’t be serious,” Thancred groans. “You were so brave not half a bell earlier, I thought you were making real headway.”

“I always feel braver after a battle. It’s…” You try to think about it. “I guess after fighting for my life everything else just seems easier.”

“Would that we could bottle that bravery for you,” Thancred huffs and stands, shifting his shoulder and thanking the healer.

You sigh. “If I had a gil for every time I thought–” Wait a moment. You can’t bottle it…but you can try to manipulate it. All you have to do is talk to G’raha immediately following a fight. And that isn’t a difficult thing to do– leatherworkers need Smilodon skins, Hoptraps breed like crazy…

Alphinaud says your name as if cautious. “What are you thinking?”

“If I’m not brave enough to talk to G’raha normally, I can make myself brave enough to talk to G’raha,” you say and punch your fist.

“Excellent work, Thancred,” Alisaie says sharply.

“Y’shtola is going to kill me,” he groans in reply.

“No; this is a great idea,” you insist, because it is. “I fight things all the time and I’m still alive! This is perfect; it’s just a little adrenaline rush, nothing big.”

“Y’shtola is going to kill you,” Alphinaud sighs and Thancred nearly whimpers.

You are going to prove them all wrong and find out once and for all what G’raha truly thinks of you.

Win-win.

 ---

So your first fight does…not quite go according to plan. You found a strange looking horse while traveling through Lakeland and tried to get a better look at it, only to be immediately kicked back by hooves and knocked out. At least the sun is still out when you wake up again, but when you try to get up your ribs are definitely badly bruised, if not mildly broken. You use what healing magics you have to patch yourself back up and carry on your way. You try not to be grateful that you can’t find the horse again.

You find a botanist in a spot of trouble and help him by gathering lumber amongst a gaggle of angry triffids. It’s perfect– you get knocked around a little bit but dodging branches and putting down angry trees is surprisingly challenging and gets your blood flowing. And you help someone. A win-win indeed.

You try to clean yourself up just a little bit and head straight for the Ocular, only to be stopped by the guard.

“So sorry, but he’s in a meeting right now; no interruptions,” the man says regretfully.

“Oh, of course!” It makes sense; G’raha is still The Crystal Exarch, leading a city, doing so many important things…

The rush fades quickly and you head back to your room in defeat. G’raha comes by later, looking so sorry when he apologizes for missing you earlier, but you do your best to wave him off.

“It wasn’t that important,” you say and thankfully a yawn overtakes you.

“I’ll not trouble you any longer, then,” he says and steps back, bids you goodnight.

You watch him leave, thinking about calling him back with every step, and yet he turns a corner without a word from you.

You sigh, but it’s only day one. Tomorrow will be better.

 ---

Tomorrow is not better.

Neither is the day after that.

Neither is the day after that.

You are a capable fighter, truly– sometimes you think it’s all you’re truly good for, being thrown at violence like a martially adept doll– but you just keep having problems. Most of them are scheduling conflicts, as G’raha is still an important man and you still have responsibilities of your own, but the healers are proving far too troublesome as they seem to intercept you ninety-percent of the time. You sourly wonder if they have a magic mirror they can watch the world in as you trundle back to your room late one night.

Or perhaps they have informants.

The next day you take a little break. Or so you tell everyone. Y’shtola seems quizzical (you wonder if no one told her about this plan of yours) and your other friends seem relieved. Especially Thancred.

“I’m just doing a little delivery job this morning,” you tell them. “No fighting; since I’m carrying goods I’ll be avoiding confrontation. I’ll be back tonight.”

Sure enough, when you get back from your delivery you spy a healer watching as you come through the main plaza, and when she sees that you’re well she goes back to Spagyrics.

Snitches. Well you’re not so easily foiled– you go back to your room and then use the aetheryte at Fort Jobb to get back to Lakeland proper. The strange horse has been spotted and a few other hunters with Clan Nutsy are keen to take the job. With help, it shouldn’t take you long at all, and G’raha is almost never busy at this time of night. It’s perfect.

 ---

Up until you get knocked headfirst into a tree. That and the fact that it takes much longer than expected means you all but storm into the Crystarium later than expected, and feeling too foul to see G’raha. Sure, you can fight a primal, but with your mood you’d chew up and spit out a Lightwarden too, which is hardly conducive for a love confession.

But then there’s G’raha, calling your name before you get too far. “I was looking for you earlier; Urianger said you’d gone to your room but–” He jerks back when he sees you and his eyes widen in surprise, and concern, and so much care that your anger fizzles like an overloaded lamp. “What happened?”

“Bad luck,” you say and sigh. “And if I see a healer I might…do something I’ll regret. I’m sorry, G’raha, but maybe we can talk later.”

“Oh no; the blood on your face is worrisome enough, but the way you look makes me think you may have a concussion,” he says. “Pray, if you will not see a healer, would you allow me to care for you?”

There is a right answer, a wrong answer, and an inappropriately desperate answer, and your tongue twists on the latter. G’raha doesn’t wait for you to speak– he grabs your hand and pulls you along behind him, and you become so focused on that (he’s holding your hand) you barely realize what’s going on before you’re in a room in the tower you’ve never seen before, where there’s a bed and a nightstand and…

Maybe you do have a concussion.

“Here,” he says and sits you on the bed. It’s a really nice bed.

“With as much as you do I’m surprised you ever sleep,” you say and feel over the soft top blanket while he prepares something or other for…something or other. Why are you here again? You try to shake your head and gasp in pain. Right. Concussion.

“Easy; no need to cause yourself more pain,” G’raha murmurs and sits next to you. He cleans your face as gently as he can and you try to hide how much you ache regardless. You feel a little clearer, a little more focused, and you try to remain that way. “And I don’t sleep much, but it looks like you’re picking up my bad habits, friend. You’ve been keeping so busy lately,” he says as he bandages the cut on your forehead. “I feel like every time I try to see you you’re out doing something or another.”

“I’m not…doing that much.” You swallow. “I’m just trying to be useful, and, well, fighting is all I’m good for.”

“It’s not all you’re good for.”

“It’s helpful,” you insist. “For me too. I needed to–…to…”

“To?” G’raha repeats and you wonder if maybe the concussion can take you now, because G’raha has always been the same when he gets one little piece of information– he hounds about it. Relentlessly.

You sigh. Heavily. If it gets too hard you’ll clam up, and he’ll be disappointed, and then where will you be. But G’raha says your name, and so you steel yourself to try. “I needed…to be brave,” you say and wince as he dabs at a cut on your hand. “I wanted…I wanted to talk to you.”

He slows his motions and then stops. “My friend,” he says gently; he’s always so gentle and sweet it makes you nearly sick with want. “What would make you so afraid to talk to me? After all we have been through together, surely you can tell me most anything?”

“It might be stupid. Presumptive,” you admit. “And I…I don’t want you to think less of me.”

Gentle fingers touch the bottom of your chin and tilt it up. You stare into crimson that somehow looks so adoring, but does he adore you as a savior…or a person? “My dear friend,” he says. “There is nothing in this world that can make me think less of you.”

Staring at him, you feel your heart pound like it’s going to burst out of your chest and you think– you can’t do this anymore. If you don’t find out you’ll go crazy; you have to know, whether it hurts or not. “G’raha, in Kholusia, before Vauthry– were you talking about me?” you say, trying to speak as fast as you can, before you lose your nerve. “Do you like me? Romantically?”

He stares at you. Dumbfounded.

Like he couldn’t possibly have predicted this.

You swallow a lump of tears and feel shame settle upon you heavier than the world itself. You look down to try and maintain some dignity. “F-forget I said anything; I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I swear–”

“I thought I was obvious.”

You blink. You lift your head and some of the nausea quells. G’raha is smiling softly at you and wringing the cloth in his hands, even though it’s nearly gone fully dry. “I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says. “You seemed to shy away from me so I thought I would give you some time to figure out your feelings, for mine– mine have always been thus, ever since the first time I saw you again after you cleared the labyrinth and my heart swelled to see you safe.”

“Really? Even then?” you ask.

“Oh, most certainly.” It is adoration in his eyes as he slides his hand over your cheek and you lean into his touch. “How could you sound so disbelieving?”

“I’m just…me. I go where I’m needed and do as I’m told. If anybody else had the blessing they’d be twice the hero,” you say but you can’t help but slide your hand over his. “But you, G’raha, you’re strong and smart and kind and clever and you’ve always been so much more; are you sure you–”

He kisses you so suddenly he has to hold your shoulder to keep you from falling back. But it’s so good, you forget all about trying to talk some sense into him. He pulls back to pant for air and you try to stop the swimming of your head. You are not letting a concussion get in the way of this. “My friend– my love,” he corrects and it’s your heart that swells. “Anyone could have had the blessing and not been a tenth of what you are. If only you could see what I see.”

“I-I can try.” You know it gets tiring for people to have to listen to what you think about yourself sometimes– even your friends have gotten fed up on occasion– and you don’t want to drive him away. If he thinks you’re good enough for him, you can but try to be good enough for him– without getting knocked in the head again, you hope.

“Good,” he says simply and brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to the back of it. “However we will have to continue this when you no longer have a head injury.”

“It’s not that bad,” you say and try to lean in for at least one more kiss, but you wobble, and the next thing you know G’raha is laying you on the bed.

“I’ll be checking in on you often to make sure that concussion isn’t severe.” He squeezes your hand and smiles. “By morning you’ll take back everything you said, for how much you’ll want to murder me.”

You squeeze his hand and return his smile. “If I didn’t drown you in a puddle in the Shroud, I’m not going to be that cross with you now.”

You fall asleep to his laughter.

 ---

When morning comes it’s even brighter (in a good way) than it has ever been. You and G’raha have breakfast together, and hold hands, and when G’raha kisses you goodbye as you leave him to get some work done you practically float across the Crystarium to share the good news.

Your friends, touchingly, are very happy for you.

Y’shtola doesn’t even kill Thancred when she finds out what incited the whole thing.

(It’s a near thing though.)

[bjy-on-ao3]

Fic Friday: Respite

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Been playing a lot of FFXIV lately, so of course all the handsome men from it are taking up space in my head. I’ve written for a couple before in short form for Kinktober, but this is my first official one-shot for anything FFXIV. Took a good deal of cutscene study to pick up proper word usage/speech patterns, but I also got to listen to Aymeric, so that’s a plus.

Summary The Warrior of Light looks forward to some relaxation of sorts with their favorite denizen of Ishgard upon returning from an adventure.

Tags/Warnings Consensual Sex, Creampie, Established Relationship, Reader-Insert, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Sex

Respite (F! WoL Reader/Aymeric de Borel)

Upon returning from yet another duty - the list of tasks both mundane and daunting assigned to you seemed insurmountable sometimes  - you were looking forward to the hospitality oft afforded you in Ishgard. Hospitality likely borne from all the aid you had lent them and your standings with many prominent figures of Ishgardian society, but hospitality nonetheless. Of course, there was a particular hospitality you were most greatly anticipating, and it was that which you would tend to first.

You began by asking some of the stationed soldiers if the Lord Aymeric was in. Several of them had no clue, leaving you increasingly frustrated. Eventually though, you came across a man who could confirm that, yes, the Lord Commander had recently returned from some business and instructed you where you might find him.

So off you set, with a renewed spring in your step and a trembling anticipation that was a struggle to contain. It was obvious even to simple passersby how much more your mood had changed compared to when you had initially returned to the city, particularly brighter than after questioning the previous soldiers. Excitement overflowing or not, you tried to contain yourself, managing to not break out into a sprint through the stone cobbled streets and alarm the city folk.

At last, you pushed open the last doors you expected to separate you and your reunion with the Lord Commander. The sight of the man in all his armored elegance greeted you immediately, and you tried to the stifle a grin. For a split second, Aymeric de Borel remained unaware of your presence, engaged in conversation with an Ishgardian official you didn't recognize off the top of your head.

The sound of the doors and your boots on the ground though drew the attention of both elezen swiftly, however, and they glanced towards the interruption. You noticed a nearly imperceptible flicker in Aymeric's stunningly blue eyes as he saw who had arrived. But he was practiced in self-restraint, too, and the shift in his eyes had been all that spoke of his truest emotions. The smile that curled his lips, while pleasant, held the warmth acceptable of the standard pleasantries expected of him.

"Have I come at a bad time? I can return later, if must needs be," you said tentatively.

You knew Aymeric would be loath to turn you away - he hadn't seen you in several weeks thanks to various business that preoccupied either of you. Though you knew he took his responsibilities seriously, and you also didn't want to interrupt anything important.

Aymeric shook his head gently. "We were nearly done. You needn't go," Aymeric informed you, turning back to the other man. "Pray, keep me informed. I look forward to word of progress in the near future," he said with a respectful bow of his head.

With an agreeing nod and a few more words you didn’t bother to try to catch, the other man turned to take his leave. You moved aside courteously so as not to bar his way, and the pair of you exchanged cursory passing pleasantries. Then he was gone, leaving only you and Aymeric in the chamber.

Once Aymeric was certain you were alone, the initial spark of excitement you had spied in his eyes grew many fold, the blue tumultuous as stormy seas in his mirth. You hadn't doubted for a single ilm Aymeric would be happy to see you, but seeing the warmth and sparkle in his eyes was always reassuring. "I've news for you of my latest task," you started, tone level and business-like. A flash of disappointment darted across Aymeric's face at the prospect you had dropped by merely for the sake of business alone, as often the case unfortunately was.

"Though I find myself rather...tired from the trip. Would my Lord allow me a brief respite before my report?" you inquired, tone growing more coy. It was a bald-faced lie that you were tired, laced with an underlying subtle hint. A hint you doubted would go over Aymeric's head.

"Ah, of course. Come, come, allow me to escort you somewhere you might lie down for a time," he responded with a gentle sweep of one hand, moving closer to you. He lay a hand over your shoulder, as if to guide you in the right direction.

In the public eye, Aymeric might not even have laid that same light hand on you, appearances mattering as they did. You had shared many a more-than-pleasant private moment, yet still it seemed imperative that what you shared remained hidden from the rest of the world. And as much as a part of you would have loved to declare your affections for Aymeric to the very streets of Ishgard and all who might listen, you didn't mind keeping things quiet.

You fell in step with Aymeric, or as much as you could with his long strides, the featherlight touch on your shoulder settling just a bit heavier, slender fingers splaying more relaxed over you. As you went, you made a quip here or there, telling snippets of a story from one of your more fun adventures, knowing how well Aymeric enjoyed them. True be told, you did actually have business that required reporting at some point, but it wasn't urgent, so it could wait.

Several minutes whiled away as you spoke, taking in the subtle smile on Aymeric's lips that made your own grow with each moment and getting lost in the man before you, as you were wont to do in his presence. You came to another set of solid wooden doors and paused. Aymeric, gentleman as he was, quickly pushed them open before you, with a slight 'after you' motion. You took the invitation, walking into the room, certain to put a sway in your step, knowing he would watch all the way.

Following, Aymeric sealed the doors behind you, turning locks into place and double-checking they were secure. Too many close calls and interruptions had made the both of you wary of ensuring doors were actually locked. If an emergency occurred, they could very well tell either of you through the door - without catching you in a compromising position.

Satisfied the locks were secured tight, he turned to you, and the sparkling cheer in his vivid blue eyes darkened, pleasant still, but intense and a more raw. You made no move towards Aymeric, acting as if the act of fussing with various straps and buckles of your gear was far more interesting. Or mostly, at least. Aymeric seemed entertained enough watching you make slow progress, though wasn’t content only to watch for long.

"Might I lend a hand?" he asked, making his way toward you again. You huffed exaggeratedly and feigned ignoring the Lord Commander further. "Though perhaps you would rather struggle and do away with what little time we possess," he ribbed in a playful voice.

Arriving by your side, he didn't wait for your permission before he set to work assisting you, holding bits of leather or cloth or metal in place to make removing them easier or making quick work of various buckles and ties. With Aymeric's help it wasn't long before you were standing in the room - which you observed was a warmly decorated room appearing to be one of the more affluent guest rooms - hidden scarcely by your small clothes.

Aymeric didn't follow suit at first, instead reaching out toward you, while you, too, pressed yourself in closer, now free of your restrictive adventuring gear. Large hands spread across your back and over your rear, pulling you flush. The touch of his ornate armor plates here and there was cold, as if they had trapped the frigid air from outside, and you couldn't help but shudder. You quickly brushed off the sensation, in favor of leaning into Aymeric's embrace until your face hovered next to his.

There was a moment that internally went on forever until your lips met, in a way far more eager and passionate than before. It had been some time since you met the Lord Commander for a private moment, and all the pent-up desire came pouring out as soon as his fingers brushed over your skin and small clothes. Aymeric, too, seemed eager, but showed more restraint all the same. Sometimes his restraint was admirable, and you were jealous, though other times you wished, nay, longed for him to throw his restraint to the winds.

As you kissed, beginning mostly closed but fervent and a bit messy, Aymeric's hands stroked in light lines and circles over the skin and cloth they rested on, making you squirm impatiently. You grabbed handfuls of the cloth of his armor and tugged lightly, as if to convey your frustration at how he was still dressed head-to-toe.

A smile twisted your kiss, and he took the lead to deepen it, distracting your grasping hands. He relished your impatience and enthusiasm, even if he more oft than not didn't give into it immediately, even when your time together was fleeting. But it was always worth it in the end.

In an ardent rush of motion, you were suddenly beside the bed, with Aymeric urging you down to the sheets. He followed you down, though didn't immediately join you on the bed. You whined plaintively when he separated from the kiss and took a step back from the bedside, taking his warm touch with him. Your noise of complaint was silenced effectively though as he worked through discarding his own armor.

After a process that took far too long in your eyes and asked too much of your patience - or lack thereof - Aymeric had stripped away the pauldrons and plates and cloth, carefully setting it all aside. Left only in his own small clothes, through which you could easily see his arousal strain, he at last joined you on the sheets. You moved up and back until you lay more securely on the sheets. Meeting you at the head of the bed, Aymeric pressed himself over top of you, his lips crashing back to yours.

In that moment Aymeric's admirable restraint frayed somewhat, as if he had shucked it off along with his armor. His lips pushed against yours more fervidly, his tongue trailing your lips and slipping between them when given the chance. You groaned, more than pleased to meet him in a twisting, passionate dance. Strong hands clasped you by the wrists when you moved to wrap your arms around him and you whined again.

When Aymeric broke the kiss again, it was to tip his head up and laugh gently, a warm, soft sound that made you shiver and rub your thighs together. "My, what troubles you, my love?" he asked, pretending an innocence that was ruined by the low, sultry timbre of his voice.

Half-lidded eyes stared down at you with a burning, affectionate intensity you had seen before. Even before you had come together, you had caught glimpses of it in Aymeric's eyes, mistaking it at first for only the admiration between friends and warriors-at-arms. But you could see it now for what it truly was. Between it and the desire making Aymeric's eyes dark and stormy, your breath nearly caught in your throat. But you shook off the awed stupor, focus returning to Aymeric's question.

Your lips curled into a pout before you spoke. "However can I touch you like this?" you complained, pushing against his unyielding grasp as if to emphasize your words.

Another amused, rich laugh met your question. "Ah, but you well know how your touch affects me," Aymeric rumbled. He dipped down until his lips ghosted the shell of your ear. "Pray, grant me some dignity, won't you, my dearest?"

You shivered again, snaring your lower lip between your teeth and biting down as if it might quiet the heat and pulse growing in your underwear. You freed it quickly when the hot touch of his tongue curled over your ear, followed by a coy nip on the lobe that made you gasp.

"Aa-alright, fine," you groaned out, bowing up unbidden into his body still pressed snugly to yours.

Your fingers flexed greedily, itching to break free and and draw your nails along his shoulders and back, or tug his lips back to yours to entangle you both in another mind-numbing kiss. But you yielded, making no attempt to escape his hold, and his grip shifted. Gathering both of your wrists in one large hand, the other was left to trail down your skin. A light touch dancing down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, before pausing at the top of your small clothes.

Pulling the fabric down to free your chest, he set to massaging each breast in slow, almost lazy motions, lingering to brush a teasing thumb over steadily standing nipples. You groaned his name softly, closing your eyes and basking in the sensation, letting your head fall back against the pillows and arching up into him once more. You whimpered when he pushed back, letting you feel each hot, hard inch of his body, the most intimidate parts of you hid away by scant scraps of thin fabric.

Your eyes had fluttered shut without meaning to, so keen you were on relishing the feeling. When they fluttered back open and you met his gaze, another roiling wave of desire hit you square in the gut. There was something more intent, sharp, primal, smoldering in the desire-deepened irises and wide blown pupils as he watched you lose yourself in the pleasure he provided. You swallowed hard, stifling another pleasured coo, and a mischief of sorts flashed through the swirl of emotions in Aymeric's expression.

His hand on your chest slowed until it was toying with each nipple frustratingly lightly, alternating between the two. You squirmed and whined, craving the more thorough touch from before. Aymeric's new touch was pleasant, but the bare brushes and strokes made you feel  strangely over sensitive. You struggled reflexively against his grip again, not really trying to break free, whining his name in that same plaintive tone from before.

"Aymeric, was it not you who stated how short our time together is?" you tried to reason, knowing it was a wasted effort.

"Mm, it was, and I am enjoying such precious time to the utmost," he assured you. "Do you not share that sentiment, my dearest?" Aymeric added, as if daring you to speak otherwise.

Your face, already hot, flushed furiously further, equal parts flustered and frustrated from the game Aymeric was playing. He didn't enjoy teasing you quite so much, no, not so much as he enjoyed hearing how much you needed him in plain words. So he persuaded you to beg or demand of him what you wanted.

"Aymeric..." your tone was mock warning, serious but breathy, trying to deflect him half-heartedly, and hoping he would give you what he knew you wanted, but he wouldn't be so easily dissuaded.

He bent forward, continuing to teasingly massage your breasts, mouthing at the soft flesh of your throat and shoulders. "Tell me then what more you would ask of me?" he urged you. His teeth scraped against the column of your throat, and you groaned again.

By then, you were a ruin, skin abuzz with heat and desire and his fleeting touch. Your underwear felt damp and sticky, your arousal soaking it through, leaving an obvious wet spot on the cloth. Each little push sent you tumbling further and further, grinding down your resolve until you gave in at last.

"Pray, cease toying with me," you began to beg. "Fill me; I need to feel you inside of me, now. Nothing else will do," you finished, almost surprised at how thick the desire had made your voice. You tried to turn your head to reach Aymeric, to convince him more with what few kisses you could leave across his cheek and jaw despite being held down otherwise.You wriggled and ground your core against his needily, as if to prove your point. "Please, please."

"Who am to I deny you when you ask in a voice so divine?" Aymeric answered in a husky hush.

He released your wrists, though shot you a pinning stare that made you think twice about moving from your prostrate position. You settled for watching him sit up and move down your body, hooking his fingers beneath your underwear and dragging them down. You assisted as much as you could, and he discarded them to the side of the bed. Before removing his own underwear, he paused, dark eyes focusing on your newly revealed cunt, dripping and slick and inviting.

He drew one long finger up and down your slit until the digit was coated in your fluids. He withdrew it, raising it to his lips and somehow making a show of licking it clean seem refined. A deep, pleased hum rolled through him, and Aymeric turned to rid himself of the last article of clothing keeping him from you.

Just as your sopping cunt had drawn Aymeric's gaze, the sight of his erection, thick and hot and hard, crowned by a fat pearl of pre-cum. drew your attention. You licked your lips in anticipation, resisting with all you had to remain still and not sit up and reach for his cock. You wore that eagerness on your face readily, though, and another pleased laugh slipped from Aymeric's lips.

He shifted forward, covering your body with his again, though this time when his hips ground against yours, his erection slipped lewdly through your lips and you moaned; Half in the pleasure of feeling him so very close to the hottest part of you, half in anticipation, nearly shaking with it. But even though Aymeric had agreed to grant to your desires, his pace was leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world, rather than hardly a bell to spare. One hand reached up again to bind your wrists, despite how obedient you had thus far been.

Aymeric's other hand strayed to your face, cupping your jaw between his fingers. He tilted your head until it lay at the perfect angle for him to seal your lips together again and drink deep of the passion between you. Your eyes fluttered closed again as his tongue swept coyly across your lips, persuading you to let him in.You were all too glad to let him though, and as he slid his tongue into your mouth to explore and dance once more, he eased his hips forward, too, until his cock breached your folds and pressed into your awaiting entrance.

You would have moaned his name in gratitude for at last fulfilling your desires, in appreciation for the delicious way his cock sank deeper inside, but with your mouth preoccupied, you settled for a wordless groan smothered by his lips and tongue. Though the sensation of him stretching your walls was what you had craved, a sweetly maddening fullness that you would think about again when your duties took you far from Ishgard, it stung as well. Aymeric was no small man, and his thick cock filling you ached in a way that somehow melded exquisitely with the pleasure.

His tongue swept up yours, beginning to writhe and twist as he rocked his hips steadily against you, eliciting yet more muffled moans. You bucked up into his thrusts, longing for him to fill you up all over again each time his cock retreated, leaving so much of you feeling empty. The heat in your body had reached a fever pitch, breaking out on your skin in a slick sheen of sweat, and Aymeric, despite all his slow, precise actions, fared little better. His skin pressing into yours was just as slippery and hot, adding to the obscene sound of your bodies meeting.

The steady rhythm of Aymeric's thrusts, though increasing in force as time wore on and whatever willpower he had left dissolved, unwound you slowly, but surely. Your fingers and toes curled and flexed, and your chest rose and fell more quickly, breaths shallow. Around his cock your walls squeezed just as eagerly and as desperately. A familiar coil of pressure and heat in your belly was hard to ignore, blocking out all coherent thought, leaving you to worry only about chasing the high that was so close within your reach.

Throughput your coupling, Aymeric had spent much time matching the thrust and twirl of his tongue to his rocking hips, as if in imitation. The kiss had grown sloppy, wet, and hot, and when he tore his lips from yours eventually, his breath came in hot pants along with yours. He placed several more needy, desperate kisses on your jaw and your neck, the ragged sound of his breath informing you he was nearly as close to losing himself as you. Though he seemed determined not to do so before dragging you there first.

"Come now, my dearest, I want to feel you come to completion," he breathed huskily into your ear, finally releasing your jaw as one long arm trailed down between your bodies.

You whimpered and moaned aloud, barely having the sense to bite down on your lip and stifle the bawdy noise, lest someone in the corridors outside hear. "Oh, Aymeric, I-I..." you trailed off, mouth hanging open and forming a wordless 'oh' as all the pressure and heat came to a head when his fingers stroked through your folds and massaged your clit.

All you could do then was repeat his name, over and over, a ragged, breathy pray under your breath, as if you might completely drift away from the mounting bliss if you didn’t speak it. The build up reached its limit, and the coil snapped, and Aymeric's lips descended on yours again to quiet you as you cried out in earnest, unable to stop yourself. The rush that flowed through your body was liquid heat, searing and tingling. Your digits curled so tightly they ached, and your cunt fluttered frantically around Aymeric's cock. The pull of your body and the instinctive roll of your hips against him were Aymeric's siren song, luring him to the point of no return.

His moans, low and feral, rolled through him and died on your tongue in a reflection of your own. He drove himself harder forward, as if he might sink even deeper, fingers still dancing over your clit and dragging out your orgasm. After several desperate thrusts that filled the room with the obscene smack of sweat-slicked flesh colliding, Aymeric met his peak and tumbled over, each new pump into your heat filling you with ropes of cum. He pumped himself into your core through your orgasm and his, his grasp on your wrists tightening enough to make you gasp and wince through your pleasure.

His pace died away smoothly, each thrust weakening after he spent himself within you, until he lay still atop you, a heaving, sweaty mess. He lay his head in the crook of your throat, damp strands of ebony hair clinging to his forehead and tickling your skin. The startlingly cool touch of the earring he wore brushed your overheated skin, and you weren't sure if the sensation was pleasant or not. Even spent, his cock took a time to soften, occasionally twitching inside of you and making you start each time.

He withdrew gingerly, and a stray trickle of cum seeped down your thigh. Rolling over off you and onto his back, Aymeric pulled you along with him, urging you to settle yourself against him. Drained and sated, you rest your head in the same hollow of his throat as he had done to you moments before, placing tired, half-hearted kisses there. Splaying your arms across his chest, you were tempted to close your eyes and slip into a peaceful sleep. Someday there would be time to relax and laze for bells on ends, but wasn't one of those times and your fun had nearly reached its end.

Beside you, Aymeric seemed to be fighting off the same need, though was coming to the same conclusions as you, too. There was much to be done, and it didn’t matter how badly he wanted to remain in bed beside you. But he would ignore those duties for just a little longer. He sighed softly, curling an arm around you and pulling you a little tighter to him.

[crystalsexarch]

Seventeen: Destruct - E

He has seen her do terrible, extraordinary things. Were she anyone but the Warrior of Light, they would surely call for her destruction.

He's also seen her masturbate.

-

Ambiguous female WoL. G'raha Tia has figured out where the Warrior of Light takes time for herself. He decides to take some time for himself, too.

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge

He has seen her do terrible, extraordinary things. Were she anyone but the Warrior of Light, they would surely call for her destruction.

Within a week of her appearance at the find, G'raha Tia came to associate acts of great violence with a devilish laugh. Where others might've warded unruly hippogryphs away, she punished them at the call of a cackle and a leap of faith. He'd seen her fell ten enemies with a single slash, burgeoning with aether. He’d seen her rocket through the air like a fiendish fireball, bloody lance in hand. He’d seen her rend and cleave and kill and—

He'd also seen her masturbate.

The first time, he thought he was hallucinating. He was walking along the lakeside, picking up pretty rocks when he saw something like a siren reclining on a mound of water-worn stone. She wasn’t wearing her armor, nor her trademark helmet. In fact, her trousers had been tugged off of one leg entirely to hang at the side. At first his tail whipped with fearful suspicion—was she in danger? Was she hurt? And then he saw the rough rhythm of her fingers up and down between her legs.

All his breath left his body, along with the bulk of his balance. By some miracle he stayed on his feet and kept himself from combusting on the spot. She was smiling! Not a care in the world, bare and unabashed! Once G'raha got his footing, he wandered back the way he came, somehow making it to his tent without anyone noticing the shapely outline at his groin. There was only one reasonable way to get rid of it, and he did so with just a few quick strokes and a well-placed tissue.

It would be misleading to say G’raha simply stumbled upon her again. By then he’d probably jacked off more than half a dozen times and driven himself half mad in so doing. With every orgasm, his fantasy went further; his lips on her nipples, her hand groping his cock, his cum filling her cunt. Each night he would finish, sweaty, panting, and wide-eyed. He would stare at the floor and wonder how he might excise this profoundly unprofessional attachment. For a while, his accidental obsession plagued him even more than his headaches. He started taking walks again. And he tended toward a certain path.

One day, he passed the stone where he’d first seen her working for her pleasure. Her spot was empty. Feeling both relief and disappointment, he kept walking and kicked a few pieces of driftwood on the way.

On his way back, however, her half-naked form once again occupied the area. She had her knees up and her legs spread wide. From his spot around the corner, he couldn't see her hole but he could hear it, slick and wet as she fucked it with her fingers. Without thinking, he gripped his filling cock through the fabric of his trousers and squeezed. The wanting, the aching was so painfully immediate. He was doomed to come the moment he felt the warmth of his own hands and imagined how much warmer her body might feel around him.

Shamed, he waited for her to leave before making the solemn trip back to camp that time. Laundry day came early.

A wise man would've chosen a different walking path or changed his habits. G'raha needed to spend more effort on tomes and relics, but every time he settled into his tent, his red eye would ache like an icepick. The walks gave him temporary solace, the stones he found made pretty souvenirs, and the sights he collected? They made compelling memories, selfish as he was for indulging in them every night and morning.

But he could be a selfish man. He could be bold. The third time he saw her at the rock, he walked right out into the open, right into her line of sight, like he was confronting some ancient enemy. He knew very well she could kill him if she wanted to, but he had the most uncanny feeling that destiny wouldn't want to find a substitute to fill his role. He had a feeling he’d survive the encounter.

Her hand came to a gentle stop between her thighs. She didn’t say a word, but she did look at him at least. With a single eyebrow raised, she seemed more like a bored adventurer than a deadly dragoon. Something about the slightest quirk of her lips—something haunting in the electric shade of her eyes suggested words that went unspoken: well? And?

He looked to the lake for a moment, then rectified his mistake; this was suddenly a game of wills, and he didn't want to blink. He fingered his belt buckle and shifted his weight, trying to remember what confidence tasted like.

It probably tasted like her. When he reaffirmed his intent to gaze upon her nearly naked body, her little sneer grew twice as mischievous. She shuffled on the rock and spread her legs again, made her hips even with his across the way. For the first time he had a perfect view of her opening, glistening and swollen.

He wanted more than anything to pump her to completion. She was a hero, sure, but she had an emptiness he was capable of filling The proof was yalms ahead, pulsing before his very eyes. If only it could pulse beneath his fingers or around his cock. If she was letting him look, would she let him get away with more someday? In the heat of the moment, he thought it was a worthy gamble.

So he lost the belt. Just undid it and ripped it from the loops, tossed it aside. He wanted to look calm and confident for the next steps, so he took a deep breath before going for the fly of his pants. It was a bit like showing off, this act, so he slipped his cock out with a little twist of his tail and a loose, casual stroke. As if this weren't a big deal. As if this weren't the hardest his heart had ever pounded outside of direct mortal peril. Fully on display, he didn’t think he had anything to be ashamed of. He prayed he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of.

She narrowed her eyes and waited for him to stop moving. Only then did she let her gaze drop to his chest, his waist, beyond. Whatever she saw, it didn’t keep her from smiling, nor from hooking a finger between her lips and plucking upwards.

G’raha exhaled, his mouth holding a circle. He had his dick out in the middle of the shore, shaft hard and slit pointed skyward, but hells if he didn’t feel good about it. He might not have been a predator, but he didn’t think he passed for prey either. As she thumbed her clit, he dropped to a squatting position and tugged at his cock a few times, wondering whether words might ruin the moment.

What would he say? Let me handle that or let me fuck you. Let me finish inside. He could see it so plainly in his mind’s eye, the sight of her dripping with white and still not full enough for satisfaction. Let me breed you, came one especially foolish impulse. Primal, rooted deep in biology. And yet he felt it in his balls. He curled a fist around his base and steeled himself against the need to spill that very instant.

He survived long enough to keep stroking. She rubbed herself faster.

From there he moved so slowly, like he was trying to notch a silent arrow before a seldom-seen beast. She paid him almost no mind at all, fingering herself the same way she had before he came out of the shadows. He watched with every part of his body, cock coaxed to full length and attentive. As she spread herself with one hand and fucked herself with the other, he dabbed at the precum building at his head and slicked it down his length as best he could.

He wanted so badly to watch her come first. He'd made it so far without coloring the shore with his seed. Maybe he should've called himself lucky and gone into premature bliss with a smile on his face, but instead he whined and twisted his lips at the first unhappy spurt of cum. The jerk of his hips was ugly, strong enough to send him lurching forward. He placed his free hand on the ground to keep himself from toppling over completely. Stroking out the last of his release, his head darted up to check her reaction.

Well, he might not've been smiling, but she certainly was.

When she came moments later, she raised herself up on her heels and rocked into the curl of her hand, feverishly flicking back and forth. It was a long and frenzied climax, full of sighs and laughter. That cackle—it was the same one he'd heard echoing ahead in the Labyrinth of the Ancients, the same that many came to know before blacking out for good. For all the heat on G'raha's cheeks, the idea brought a cold chill to his spine. That and the breeze helped him remember where he was and how vulnerable he was while doing it.

While his hands stuttered in trying to get his dick back in his pants, the Warrior slipped easily into decency—smalls, trousers, and tunic back on in the blink of an eye. He was barely standing by the time she patted her thighs and turned over her shoulder. "Tomorrow!" she said.

"Tomorrow?"

But it was too late. She hunkered down in that dangerous way dragoons do, before launching herself over the side of the mound and onward. She was gone.

Around that time, his muscles started to ache, tired from holding the same ungraceful squat long enough to drain himself of semen. Were it not for an incriminating patch of ground before his feet, he might've been able to convince himself the whole thing didn't happen. And would it happen again? Tomorrow? He rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm and took a deep breath. Research. He should return to his research.

On his way back, he tread a bit heavier and with more unsteadiness in his gait. His footsteps looked uneven in the silt of Silvertear. For the rest of the night, his thighs hurt like hells...but for some reason his head didn't.

[entropictome]

Holiday Hot Pot

S:Final Fantasy XIV No plot or purpose. Just one man, his friends, family, his overwhelming grief and their very late Starlight. [mentioned non-WoL OCxThancred] 5754 words [ More FFXIV Content ]

“You look like shit.”

Moth’ir was missing his characteristic shades so all four occupants could clearly see the viera’s tactless comment send his eyes rolling. Five if the infant in his arms wasn’t soundly asleep. His comeback was snappy as always. “Thanks, kid. Thought I’d take a page from your book for a change.”

The Burn’s reaction was immediate. His rage coiled in his arms as he quickly changed stance. Ever one to turn to violence before reason. His voice rose as he started “,Why are you always-”

The rest was swallowed by a mitten plopped against his mouth. His smaller─but no less dangerous─companion shot him a long suffering look. Keeping The Burn’s temper under control was like trying to keep a lit match from igniting firedamp in a coal mine. Most folks had no hope but to abandon the mission to begin with. Ibuki was the sole exception. Though she could give him a good and proper dressing-down, it didn’t take much besides a sigh and disappointed look to upend his rampage before it started.

The anger didn’t go away, it just receded, but it allowed the pale and dark scaled auri to turn their attention back to their long missing friend. The three gathered around him with varying levels of interest. Leaving Havhen to flail helplessly as their presence was quickly forgotten in that of Moth’ir’s. Whom was obviously the more respected between the two when it came to their present company.

“You’ve been gone for months without word! We were really worried!” Ibuki stated, nearly whining with the intensity of her sincerity.

“We would have come sooner but there were a lot of things to take care of,” the Xaela man spoke apologetically. “There were so many festivals and trying to keep the bar staffed with so many people wanting days off and of course the Basement-”

Ibuki elbowed her much taller compatriot and cut his further worrying off by enthusing “,but Bukidai has dealt with all of it marvelously well so you don’t need to worry.”

“Oh?” Moth’ir looked at the Xaela with an appraising look. Though, paired with an easy grin, it was unlikely he was being serious. “Food baskets?”

“All delivered as of yesterday,” Bukidai, who was serious, assured him. “Thanks to our volunteers.”

“Volunteers is it? Did Mr. Auberdine show up?” Moth’ir asked and chuckled lightly when he saw Bukidai’s surprise.

“Ah, yes. Though we had to ask him to leave-”

“Because he was trying to convince everyone that volunteers deserved two baskets for their trouble.” Moth’ir interrupted, leaving Bukidai startled once again. “Did that every year. A few others too. Reason why I started delivering them my own damn self if I’m honest.”

“Every year?” Bukidai’s horror was indication enough that Mr. Auberdine had thrown one of his characteristic fits before he allowed himself to be let go.

“Grew up as a wealthy merchant’s son and then his family landed themselves in dire straights with bad investments,” Moth’ir shrugged. He was sympathetic but the sympathy was for Booker, not the man. “He’s remarkably less worse than he was but he’s never quite gotten over the idea he deserves more than everyone else.”

Bukidai sighed and shook his head. “Regardless, I think we can make do with our other volunteers if they want to pitch in again.”

“If you say so,” Moth’ir said dubiously. Bukidai held unto hope for dear life but Moth’ir had been divested of that a long long time ago. “Take care with old U’leh. Greying Miqo’te lady, very unassuming. She likes to troll through some of the donated items in Spring and Autumn for cakes to raffle off at her little charity parties.”

“She raffles off donated cakes?” Bukidai was aghast then pulled himself off the topic for another. “Spring is an awful long time away. Aren’t you coming back?”

“If you need to break out, we’ve got you,” Ibuki rose her sweater’s sleeve so she might flex her otherwise deceptively pudgy arm. Havhen─who had been watching their interaction with keen interest and was not familiar with Ibuki’s playful personality─shot Moth’ir an alarmed look over her shoulder.

“Contrary to whatever belief you might have, I am here of my own free will,” Moth’ir stated firm enough that they knew he meant it. He had certainly come of his own accord anyway. Staying was less than thrilling since he didn’t much care for the sole physician in this strange hospital. Divulging why was far more personal than he was comfortable sharing but he did add a “More or less.”

“More or less?” The Burn attention had been momentarily bought by the possibility of fighting.

Moth’ir gave him a stern look “,I’m staying.”

It was the right thing to do. More than that, it was where Thancred had left him. Left them. The four of them descended into an awkward silence. None of whom seemed particularly thrilled with the prospect.

Ibuki, hopping from one foot to the next, tried her best to break the quiet. “Is the baby yours? Bukidai said you left because you were feeling sick and had suspected but we didn’t know for sure.”

“Ibuki!” Bukidai chastised her.

Moth’ir gave him a solid kick to the shin. Which might have actually hurt had he been wearing anything but his slippers. He gasped and proclaimed with played up scandalization “What a gossip!”

Havhen was likely the only one of them who noticed the slight hissing. Something which indicated an actual irritation from Moth’ir he hid by dramatizing it.

“Is it a boy or girl?” Ibuki asked before throwing her arms up and blithely gesturing “,you know, for now.”

It was a joke that three of them understood better than the other two. Though she wasn’t aware of Havhen’s case. She had quite nearly forgotten they were there at all. Which was more or less in their favor as they were busy taking mental notes. Specifically on Moth’ir’s face after Ibuki asked her question. Moth’ir had settled into fatherhood like a round peg in a square hole. He’d fallen in but the corners weren’t right. Fairly typical of new parents but he’d taken his ineptitude as immediate failure and the guilt had landed him here in Havhen’s care. He’d only just been able to acknowledge his daughter directly at all.

Moth’ir visibly braced himself before muttering “,it’s uh... she.”

“She’s so cute! Can I hold her?” Ibuki thrust her arms out exuberantly. Either not noticing the stumble or too polite to point it out. Moth’ir handed her over mayhaps a bit too eagerly but the fact he’d been carrying her without needing to was progress. Havhen made a note of it.

Holding a baby was something Ibuki had enough experience in that she hadn’t needed coaching. Utterly doting, she looked fairly natural cooing down at the fussy bundle who had begun to stir due to the commotion and movement. Moth’ir struggled not to look miserable watching the pair, ears flattened against his head. Grief that went unnoticed now that all attention was on the baby.

“What’s her name?” Bukidai asked pleasantly.

“Doesn’t have one.” Moth’ir said flatly. Bukidai looked to him with confusion but Moth’ir waved him off and continued. “Her dad thought I should name her but I’ve been preoccupied and just... haven’t.”

Havhen distinctly remembered the white haired hyur had mentioned he’d wanted Moth’ir to name her because it might help them bond. And something about having already named two girls but that hadn’t been meant for Havhen’s ears. The concern of Moth’ir’s friends weren’t at all alleviated by the explanation but Bukidai had enough sense to recognize Moth’ir’s agitation. He simply nodded and smiled, if a bit awkwardly. “I’m sure it will come to you soon.”

Moth’ir brushed him off, glanced over at the window and the dwindling light outside. Whatever he’d wanted to see there caused him to sigh. He postulated “,You three didn’t really have a plan once you got here, did you?”

Said three exchanged glances that said they hadn’t and then all four heads turned to Havhen. The physician shook their head and crossed their arms in front of them. “Absolutely, not! This is a mental care facility! Not an inn!”

“It’s not like you’ve got any other patients and there’s not exactly a line waiting,” Moth’ir stated sternly.

“Nevertheless there are professional standards I have to adhere to,” Haven pushed back with just as much authority.

“It’s a madhouse,” Moth’ir exclaimed incredulously “,You’re already a joke and a half!”

“Not a madhouse!” Haven corrected him with a great deal of passion. “Those facilities garner their reputation by focusing on containment and are as like to cause as much─if not more─damage to their patients had they just left them alone. This facility is for study and treatment with the intent of rehabilitation.”

Havhen was a generally genial person but this was a subject they were particularly staunch on. Moth’ir, on the other hand, was just normally stubborn and exceedingly opinionated. Where the standoff would go was any one’s guess but it wasn’t likely to be clean. With that in mind, Ibuki interjected “,that’s actually quite fascinating! I’d love to get an interview with you on the subject for an article. Mor Dhona isn’t that far from Ul’dah, I’m sure some of my readers would love to know more.”

“You’re a reporter?” Havhen asked, scrutinizing the pastel garbed auri woman closer.  “Publicity would be nice but your ilk are so fond of twisting things on their head for greater attention.”

“Well, you’re in luck because miss Bunji is far more partial toward fluff pieces,” Bukidai noted with a fair bit of amusement.

“Oh! I’m so tired of writing hard hitting news! Everyone is so wary of talking to me now but I don’t mean to find bad things! I’m just very good at tripping into them,” her sudden outburst sounded surprisingly sincere considering it’s absurdity. It had also upset the baby who she quickly went about soothing. “Oh! I’m so sorry, dear thing. It’s okay! Nothing’s wrong! You’re not running a money laundering business out of here are you?”

The last question was aimed at Havhen who simply held their hands up defensively. “If I was I wouldn’t be struggling to make rent.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ibuki sighed as she gently rocked the baby back to complacency.

Havhen considered the three newcomers and nodded approvingly. “Alright. You can stay for a short while.”

There was a short lived celebratory movement before Havhen added: “Under the condition you do chores around the building and submit yourselves for an interview of my own.”

Moth’ir balked. “Nevermind, everyone can go sleep outside.”

Havhen crossed his arms and said firmly “,if she’s going to write about my organization she might as well get the best understanding of what I’m trying to do.”

“I think we can handle some housework and questions,” Bukidai offered, trying to hearten Moth’ir whose grimace only deepened in return.

Moth’ir threw his hands up and shook his head but went to his next order of business “,Regardless, your kitchen stock is atrocious. Scribbles, go out and see what food stuffs you can pick up for tonight. It’s Starlight and almost sundown so don’t expect a lot.”

“You can count on me!” Ibuki chirped despite his sentiment and snapped off a salute unfamiliar to Havhen.

“You,” he pointed at The Burn “,there’s some weird creatures out of town. Ask around the adventurers, see what all is edible and how, kill it and bring the proper bits back.”

The Burn grinned and smacked his fists together. “I can do that.”

“As long as you can ask politely and don’t pick a fight,” Ibuki said to him as more of a warning than anything else.

“You’re with me in the kitchen,” Moth’ir nodded toward Bukidai “,let’s prep and you can see if you have any more ideas about what we have on hand than I.”

“And me?” Havhen pointed at themself.

“You’re on baby duty.” Moth’ir gestured dramatically toward his daughter, still in Ibuki’s arms who passed her off to them.

“Alright kids, we have a short amount of time and very little to work with. Let’s move,” Moth’ir gestured and his people went to do as they were asked.

Havhen and the child watched them all scatter. Before today Moth’ir had been antagonistic and withdrawn around them. This commanding man and the willingness of his peers to follow his direction was bemusing. Both attitudes were entirely alien from the way he had been with his beau. At least when he didn’t think Havhen was looking. Assuming different personae to suit different groups was normal enough but, when all was said and done, some of Moth’ir’s faces would likely have to die to save the host.

“It should be an interesting night for us, I think.” They cooed gently to the nameless girl.

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

Havhen had hoped they might be able to observe something that would give them clarity on Moth’ir in the process of the night. What they happened to see was utter chaos. Babies need care and Moth’ir’s child was particularly fussy without any seeming need to be. A fact even her wet nurse had noted. Then there was the utter mess that Moth’ir and Bukidai were making in their kitchen. Which was adequate enough by Havhen’s standards but not theirs.

The Burn returned first. A bit bloodied for his trouble. He’d gotten a handful of strange looking material he all swore was good for eating in a variety of ways. Havhen had some doubts but Moth’ir took him at his word.

“Who did you piss off?” Moth’ir asked passively after getting a proper look at the viera’s nose.

“Some weird frogs, some newts, wriggly things, you know,” The Burn gestured toward his assorted meats as if the question in itself was inane.

“I said: who,” Moth’ir reiterated, pointedly.

The Burn crossed his arms and stood defiantly. Which unraveled under Moth’ir’s steely gaze and he finally yelled “,it was some roegadyn, okay? Didn’t like the way I asked and wouldn’t listen so he started punching. He was asking for it.”

Moth’ir shrugged and shook his head. He wasn’t exactly pleased but the disappointment didn’t stick. He said to The Burn “,Thanks for the bits, kid. Since you’re here, try and keep that one out of our hair.”

Moth’ir gestured toward Havhen, saying to them: “And you? Good luck.”

It was a particularly perplexing series of statements that cleared itself up over the course of a brief conversation. Havhen came to the conclusion that The Burn would make a good case study if he’d allow it. Alas, it was unlikely that The Burn would avail himself to their care so Havhen was forced to deal with him on a social level. Which was an exceedingly unpleasant task. He was combative, sullen, and downright rude without any self awareness. A hungry malboro would have made better company.

Luckily, Ibuki returned not too long after. If her strength had been in question, it was not now as she managed to juggle a notable number of boxes. Of which she was more hampered by the awkwardice of their distribution than their weight.

“What did you do? Buy the whole market?” Bukidai exclaimed as he started offloading her parcels.

“There’s a lot more in the market than food, you know,” Ibuki retorted. “I just got things that they said were edible and looked good.”

“Is that a whole dodo?” Moth’ir asked as he eyeballed what she’d brought in.

“Yup! The man said I could have it cheap because it’s Starlight,” she said as she divested herself of her last package. Arms free, Ibuki turned to Havhen and stretched them out to them “,let me see the baby!”

They could hardly deny her after she asked so passionately.

“More likely that the seller misjudged his buyer’s needs and wanted to offload it quickly,” Moth’ir commented looking the bird over. He’d found little wrong with it all the same.

“Oh! Oh!” She hopped back around to face him after having secured the baby in her arms “,I was thinking maybe a hot pot would be good?” Ibuki’s suggestion sounded more like the favorite child pleading a favor of an otherwise stern parent. 

“I think I saw a burner for one,” Bukidai added with a questioning note. Indirectly asking why Havhen would have one to begin with.

“I’m quite particular towards hot pot dishes, myself,” Havhen explained “,I should have noodles too.”

Ibuki looked enthused for all of a second before she schooled herself back and asked “,like, spaghetti?”

Havhen gave her a sympathetic look and patted her and the shoulder “,I’m not sure I’ve had pasta in a hot pot. Personally, I’m preferential toward glass noodles but I have udon too.”

This suitably reignited Ibuki’s excitement. She nearly launched herself at Havhen, might have had it not been for the babe, asking “,you have a lot of stuff from Othard here, actually. Have you gone to Kugane?”

Havhen suspected the woman might be a tad homesick but unfortunately had to shake their head. “Not myself. The matrons of my clan told me stories of Yanxia from when we’d travel before the Garlean occupation. I believe it’s a short boat ride between?”

Moth’ir audibly hissed. A thing so uncharacteristic that it completely silenced the room a second and then was immediately moved on from. Moth’ir’s friends assuming it had been unintentional; like a sneeze. They hadn’t been told that Havhen had just happened to be Moth’ir’s long lost sibling. That their clan had once been his. At least, before they’d left him to die as a small child. But Havhen did.

They gave him an apologetic look. Divulging details about their clan hadn’t been their intent. It was an act which Moth’ir had very clearly expressed wanting nothing to do with. Their conciliation did little to quell the absolute rage that Moth’ir was having trouble keeping from his face. Cooking did though.

Havhen and Ibuki settled into chatting idly about Othard while the babe slept in her arms. The Burn─whose chaotic nature had been hard contained just moments before─sat calmly watching Ibuki. A man who was seeing his girlfriend in a domestic light for the first time and wasn’t sure what to think. Havhen rather thought he looked awed. The dining table they sat at and the kitchen were hardly separated. Only a partition that covered perhaps half the room from view. With The Burn preoccupied, he could hardly stop Havhen from observing Moth’ir.

Havhen had thought Bukidai might be in charge of the hot pot, seeing a Xaela would surely know more of the concept than a Eorzean born miqo’te. He was no doubt talented but it was to Moth’ir’s beck and call that he scurried. Ibuki mentioned to them that the pair had come to Kugane some time ago and that’s when Moth’ir had picked up some new techniques. Havhen was fairly impressed that anyone could simply “pick up” traditional methods from one trip but there was a great deal they did not know about Moth’ir.

Ibuki and his hyur “friend” had both spoken about Moth’ir’s prowess as a craftsman. The man had asked him to make a dress for their child and what he produced was of a higher quality than Havhen had expected. The act of putting the dress on the baby had helped Moth’ir acknowledge her and he’d since made several articles of it’s ilk. They had encouraged it because it seemed to be a source of catharsis for him. In the kitchen, Moth’ir seemed just as at home as he did with a sewing needle. Though these two fields were not the limits of his capabilities, Ibuki confirmed they were two specialties of his many interests.

He also seemed to be cooking more or less as a stress relief at the moment. As evidenced by the increasing number of plates Bukidai was producing.

“This is actually pretty early for us.”

It was a lovely little spread. Maybe more geared toward ten people than five. Ibuki had gotten her hot pot. Her eyes glittered despite the fact some of the ingredients used were… questionable in texture. It did look appetizing despite knowing where some of it had come from.

“Do you usually make so much food too?” Havhen eyed the spread and glanced to Bukidai.

“Uh…” Bukidai sheepishly responded, rubbing the back of his neck and then taking a moment to remove his neck tie as he’d suddenly become cognizant of it. “Yes and no? Traditionally, we cook a lot more but we also share with the neighborhood.”

“They do that at the end of every moon but Starlight is supposed to be special,” The Burn noted dully.

“Must be profitable in Ul’dah,” Havhen suggested without having any real clue.

“Oh, it’s all free though.” Ibuki commented cheerily.

“Who knew you were such a philanthropist?” Havhen remarked, turning around only to find Moth’ir missing. They stepped into the kitchen and found him sitting behind the partition. His head between his knees and both hands resting on the back of his neck.

“Gimme a moment.” He’d murmured, completely devoid of any venom he’d usually summon. He could only turn with a facsimile of it when Havhen sat beside him but the comment he’d expected to have to beat off never came. They simply sat there quietly.

Bukidai pretended to busy himself with the spread once again. Shooing Moth’ir’s clockwork toy off the table. He remarked “,that thing has a mind of it’s own.” A statement that started Ibuki and The Burn on a discussion on whether it had been set to follow the babe─since it was never far away from her─or if it was actually possessed. For that matter, where was the other one? None of the three had seen that one in a while. They only made indirect mentions of the man whose countenance both automatons shared. Neither Ibuki or The Burn knew what his relation was to Moth’ir though they’d seen him from time to time. Only Bukidai had any clue.

Bukidai who much preferred this to impeding on Moth’ir’s privacy any more than he already had.

They sat like that for a long time. The three younger ones chatting amicably amongst themselves while the miqo’te siblings sat out of view. After a bit, Moth’ir had gathered himself enough to pull himself to a more relaxed position. Havhen gave him a moment before risking a quiet remark “,they sound like family.”

Moth’ir only hmm’d at first. When he managed to speak, his voice was quiet too but the lack of force was from the palpable exhaustion that colored the tone. The kind of exhaustion unrelated to sleep. He replied “,Maybe they are. Ul’dah is a long way from the Steppes, Hingashi and wherever the hell The Burn fell out of.”

“Ul’dah is a long way from the Twelveswood too,” Havhen said gently as they could “,but you seem keener to keep your distance.”

“So many questions,” Moth’ir spat but even this indignation lacked fire.

“When one cannot find answers they are often left with nothing but questions,” Havhen replied pleasantly enough. It still pissed Moth’ir off.

The Burn was yelling about something but Ibuki and Bukidai were laughing. At his worst there was a request he calm down because he was disturbing the baby. Words which were also choked with laughter.

Moth’ir let them hang there. Content to sit and listen and not at all up to acknowledging what was a valid statement. He was supposed to be getting better after all but sometimes Havhen and their questions made him want to disappear into the swamp.

“If you don’t celebrate on Starlight, what do you do?” Havhen asked him, trying another angle.

Moth’ir sighed with his whole body. He tried to say “stuff” but all he managed was a weak roll of his wrist.

“You and your man must have some traditions?” Havhen offered.

Moth’ir snorted. The idea of Thancred being any one person’s was cute to him. Even after the hyur had confessed all those things to him before he’d left. Before Moth’ir had had the ability to say it back. Words that he so desperately wanted to say back. They pooled in the back of his throat and begged to be released so Moth’ir did something uncharacteristic of him and spoke about him. If just to speak of him at all. “Thancred’s not usually home when the holidays come around. ‘Specially not these last couple years but when he is it’s just a drink and then sleeping in.”

“Festive,” Havhen said with a chuckle.

Admittedly it didn’t sound like much but it had meaning for him. Maybe Thancred too. A tradition started nearly a decade ago. A rare occasion when Thancred hadn’t had any luck with any fair maiden despite his “silver tongue.” Too inebriated to make it to his lodgings but just sober enough to crash against the backdoor of Moth’ir’s home and workplace. Thancred almost looked dignified sitting there, looking like a misplaced gift from Nymeia’s Saint after Moth’ir’s very long and miserable day.

Thancred somehow talked him into one single drink for the occasion despite Moth’ir’s distaste for alcohol. So they might be on equal footing or some line of the sort. Though Moth’ir wasn’t anywhere near as intoxicated by the time he’d managed to dump Thancred in his bed. Then they’d passed out in a sleep near as deep as death itself. An act remarkable for the both of them.

All their important moments seemed to be in that bed. Very few─if any─had a thing to do with Thancred’s typical salacious activities. It was another sort of intimacy only available to them in the privacy and relative safety of Moth’ir’s room. Honestly and vulnerability that they’d not allowed themselves anywhere else. And yet...

“I didn’t realize you lived together.”

Moth’ir rolled a hand dismissively again. “Some of his stuff is at my place but I don’t think he lives anywhere anymore.”

“Too busy doing what he does.” Havhen said with some meaning. Near everyone who paid attention to the daily happenings around them had some conception of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn even if they didn’t know each member. Savior’s of the realm and at their center the indomitable Warriors of Light.

But Thancred was quite faliable. It was one of his charms.

“I don’t want to go back.” Moth’ir said so quietly Havhen almost didn’t hear him.

Havhen lightly bumped his shoulder against Moth’ir’s. “His life is largely here in Mor Dhona now, isn’t it?”

Moth’ir crossed his arms over his knees and pressed his eyes there to shut out the pressure from behind his eyes. He’d had some conception of Thancred’s work but it was something alien and distant. He imagined it was much the same for Thancred and Moth’ir’s work outside the Tavern. They’d known each other in a way that no one else did─that no one was supposed to─but they’d lived separate lives save where they let it intertwine. A special and private part of themselves tailor made for each other. It had worked. Might have continued to work but then Thancred had taken him from this hospital to the Rising Stones.

He’d met the women who’d given Thancred a shave and a haircut and found he’d liked them both despite that. Hadn’t recognized the man with the sun and stars before he spoke because he’d been missing the goggles and shroud he’d seen him in before. Lightly roasted Thancred with a Seeker woman with whom he shared new material to his friend’s chagrin. One of them would tell him if anything happened to Thancred while he was on the field. Thancred had assured him of such before he’d left.

And he’d liked that. He liked the idea that he’d be one of the first to know. He liked that Thancred had shown him context to the part of his life that had been a thin outline. But Moth’ir could never go back to waiting and wondering and subtext and half told stories they were too tired to finish telling because living it had been too much. He liked knowing and he liked being here and he knew he could never ever go back to that room. It’s privacy and false safety be damned.

He’d fooled himself into thinking he’d feel differently once he returned and started to go around the usual rounds but here he was. The same comedy routine fit like a glove but it was a glove that weighed as much as a buffalo and he was so tired. More than that: “They don’t need me,” Moth’ir said, choking back something that might have been a sob. Though he didn’t know why or what he was feeling exactly.

“It’s gonna get co~ld,” Ibuki’s voice came from beyond the partition.

Bukidai’s voice came after, raised suspiciously “,alright! alright! But make sure you don’t eat everything!” His added emphasis that the couple had had a habit of scarfing down an absurd amount of food returned to a normal pitch but the reaction to it was no less raucous.

Havhen shook their head in agreement and said “,Maybe once, but they do seem to have themselves covered now.”

“Wish I did,” Moth’ir breathed. Drawing himself up and closing his eyes, trying to center himself once more.

It was quiet between them again. The only sound coming from Ibuki singing over what was assumedly a well done meal. But Moth’ir broke the silence by turning to them and stating “,I never wanted children.”

Havhen cocked an eyebrow at him but let him continue on his own without prompting. So Moth’ir continued. “I did when I decided to keep her but I never wanted children. I don’t know how to do this and I don’t… how do we do this? I don’t know how to name kids.”

Havhen considered the distance Moth’ir had kept himself from his family and friends. They considered that he carried internalized feelings of guilt as if his abandonment was due to his own fault. The way he shied away from his daughter and the way he tormented himself for having done so. They wondered if “I never wanted” simply meant he hadn’t thought he should as if he was not worthy.

Moth’ir could simply have been asking for their opinion but the emphasis on “we” seemed like more. They did not know if he meant as keepers or as a clan. They weren’t sure if offering their typical naming conventions would be much use to him. Havhen offered a smile and said “,Oh, I’m not sure it’s all very complicated. You just pick something you think sounds nice or has meaning to you.”

Moth’ir sighed, clearly unsatisfied by that answer. Answers to a question that wasn’t the one he wanted to ask would never be sufficient.

“I think picking a name of someone important to you is suitable as well. As a tribute of sorts,” Havhen tried again despite the futility.

Moth’ir’s eyes stared upward as he considered various people whom he’d had some attachment to. It was an ordeal when one specifically kept people at arms length with few exceptions. “Can’t just name her Menphina, can I?”

“I mean,” Havhen shrugged and said flippantly “,your fellow Eorzeans might find that blasphemous but it’s your daughter.” They received a gentle elbow to the ribs for their trouble.

“Moth.”

“After your mother?” Havhen asked.

Moth’ir eyed him warily. Karga clan was very distinctly something that was his and his alone. It was never far from his mind that Havhen had only ever had their gods forsaken clan. He did not know what they saw when they thought of him and his siblings and his mother together. They all had meant the world and more to him and he misliked the idea of someone belittling that.

Havhen continued to smile at him warmly as he tried to assure him “,I think it’s a lovely name. And, from what your brother has told me, a woman deserving of such dedication.”

Moth’ir only knew that Moth’wo had trusted Havhen with the health of his brother. He’d not had a clue said brother and they were related by blood. How close the two actually were was a mystery to him. He hadn’t even ventured to ask so he had no choice but to accept the comment at face value. Or at least he had no energy to grill them about it.

Eased somewhat he turned his attention inward. He reiterated the name Moth in a whisper. More for himself than Havhen’s benefit. Making it real. Making her real. He closed his eyes and used it as a point to center himself.

Havhen ventured to tap his shoulder to grab his attention before holding their arm out, hopefully offering a hug. Moth’ir regarded them irritably but leaned his shoulder against theirs and allowed himself to be pulled closer. Havhen lightly pressed his head against Moth’ir’s and so they sat. Silent while idly listening to the other three while their minds were elsewhere. For their part, Havhen was busy committing the moment to memory. A small victory for them that may mean nothing but a memento of their brother when he left them for good but that in itself would be enough.

“Hey, you think she can eat some of this meat?” The Burn’s voice asked from beyond the partition.

Moth’ir snapped to, breaking Havhen’s precious moment. On his feet and away in a second. “You feed that baby anything and I swear I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Havhen let themself linger for a moment. Wrapped their arms around their knees and listening to the new argument. Havhen had been walking with Moth’ir’s ghost for over a decade. They’d been convinced of his death by their mother and it haunted them. But then he’d returned alive; so very much alive. That life had been a messy and painful one. Whether he cared to know or not, Havhen’s had been much the same. The mystery of what laid before them could very much be more of the same but that wasn’t the important part. That they were alive is what gave those lives meaning. Nothing more, nothing less. Which is why they allowed themselves a moment to linger and not a moment more.

A life must be lived.

And there was a hot pot they needed to get to before it was gone.

[antiloquist]

A Gentleman Asks, Rather Than Does - Chapter One

Time to actually officially crosspost this here since someone’s been poking around my AO3 and I had to change my password. Limiting myself to one a day as to not spam.

Summary: The Warrior of Light calls Hildibrand out on his bluff regarding his knowledge of ‘the fairer sex’ and teaches him a thing or two about courting a lady. So begins the dramatic courtship of Hildibrand and the Warrior of Light. Fluff abound, idiocy guaranteed. Hildibrand/Female, non-Lala WoL. Sorry Lala lovers, I couldn’t figure out the height difference.

Fic as a whole is rated E for spice. True spice begins chapter 9.

CW for plot points in later chapters including stalking and implied/referenced assault.

Chapter One: WoL acts on a whim. Mild spice. Rated M.

In hindsight, you should have realized things were going far too smoothly to be true to form. Not once during the course of any of your investigations with this motley crew had everything fallen into place like this. Something was bound to happen; the other shoe had to drop.

And so it did.

It dropped in the form of sudden inclement weather. Upon attempting to charter a way to the Western Highlands, you and your party were informed that all travel to and from Ishgard was suspended for the day or so due to an incoming blizzard, effective about five minutes before you arrived at the gate.

 So much for simple.

Defeated for now, you slunk your way back to the gazebo. It was time to plan, and Idyllshire would have to wait.

“WhAt Do We Do NoW, pApA hIlDy?” Gigi asked, large inquisitive eyes turning to his ‘father’.

Hildibrand twisted his hips and pressed his fingers to his temples before seemingly coming up with a brilliant idea. “Ah! Is it not obvious? We merely wait out the storm here and continue on with our brilliant plans when the skies clear!”

Well, yes. That much was obvious. But wait-

“You… you aren’t seriously planning to sit out a blizzard out here, are you?” you asked, glancing around for any other voices of reason. Cyr and Julyan were nowhere to be seen; perhaps they’d made it out of the city before the lockdown.

Hildibrand raised a practically non-existent eyebrow in response. “Whyever not? This is a perfectly fine gazebo!”

“The inspector and I have been through way worse, back before Dalamud!” Nashu added from her perch on the bench. It seemed she’d already made herself comfortable.

“You’ll freeze!”

Gigi tilted his little head to the side as he looked up at you. “Is ThAt TrUe, AuNtIe? WiLl wE fReEzE oUt HeRe?”

That threw you for a loop. “W-well, maybe not you, Gigi...” Could mammets freeze? Logic said yes, but little Gigi had spent all that time buried in the snow and was perfectly fine after a little maintenance…

“It takes more than a little cold to knock a Manderville man down!” Hildibrand exclaimed, flexing.

“Besides, we have the kettle!”

You blinked incredulously. Surely, you should be used to the deficit of rational thought by now, and yet-

“The kettle won’t keep you safe from the wind!” You retorted. Before you could open your mouth to argue further, you heard footsteps coming towards the gazebo.

“Is everything alright out here? I am hearing quite the commotion.”

All four of you turned almost in unison to see Lord Edmont approaching. He wore an amused expression rather than an irritated one.

You bowed slightly. “Lord Edmont. Pray forgive the noise. We were simply debating on what to do next.”

“Ah, yes. Have you heard the city is on lockdown due to an incoming blizzard? I just received word from one of my knights. You should really come inside before you catch cold.”

“I’m trying to explain to these three why sleeping outside in the gazebo through a blizzard is a bad idea.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, gesturing towards your friends.

Edmont was, very understandably, taken aback by the idea. He turned his gaze upon Hildibrand and friends. “Have you three been sleeping out here this entire time?!”

Three simultaneous nods, slightly bashful.

“Why!?”

Hildibrand raised a finger, taking a moment to think. “Er, you see… the funds of a traveling inspector are sometimes…” He seemed reluctant to admit it.

“We’Re RoUgHiNg It LiKe TrUe InSpEcToRs Do!”

Edmont shook his head. “While your sense of adventure is… admirable, I simply cannot very well allow you three to stay outside in this horrid weather. Why, the storm is already starting!” As if to punctuate his point, a gust of wind that chilled even you whipped through the Pillars.

“I would hate to impose…” Hildibrand looked conflicted between his pride and his likely desire to stop being out in the cold, if his shivering was any indication. Every second that passed made it look like the latter was going to win out in the end.

 “Nonsense! I insist. It would be poor manners to merely leave an esteemed member of House Manderville and his companions out in the cold.”

Gigi tugged at his hat, shaking his head. “We ArEn’T sTaYiNg In ThE gAzEbO?”

Uh oh. You had to act fast. “Uh, we’re going to go stay in the big gazebo, Gigi! They’ve got more than just a kettle. They’ve got a whole fireplace!”

“A rEaL oNe?”

You nodded. “A real one, with real fire!”

“YaY! bIg GaZeBo!” Gigi jumped for joy.

Edmont couldn’t help but chuckle at Gigi’s enthusiasm. “Yes, a real fire. Though do take care to keep your distance from it, young man.”

“OkAy! ThAnK yOu, UnClE eDmOnT!” Forgetting about the true gazebo for now, Gigi puttered off in the direction of Fortemps Manor.

“Gigi! Hold on a moment, my son!” Hildibrand called, dashing after him.

Nashu hopped up from her seat and ran after Hildibrand. “Wait for me, Inspector!”

You shook your head affectionately as you watched them go.

“What a lively bunch they are,” Edmont commented with a smile. “However did you come to know them?”

“It’s a long, long story. Perhaps Lord Godbert could tell you sometime. But I can assure you that while they may be somewhat… eccentric, they are perhaps some of the kindest souls Eorzea has ever known.”

Edmont nodded. “Then that is more than enough for me. I trust your judgment.” He patted your shoulder affectionately. “Are you staying for dinner?”

You grinned. “You know it.”

 ~

After a lively dinner in which miraculously no one was maimed, injured, or heavily insulted, it was time to settle in for the night. All of the guests were given a room… only for Nashu to fall asleep in front of the fireplace with Gigi, who had entered a ‘sleep mode’ of sorts.

Outside, the snow was falling and the wind was howling. It was likely for the best that your entourage had been invited inside, because from what you could see from the window, the gazebo outside was already half-covered with snow and the kettle long snuffed out by the winds.

You retired to your room as you usually did, and settled in for a night’s rest… only to find yourself completely unable to sleep. This happened from time to time; occasionally thoughts kept you up at night, thoughts of the past, the present, the future…

After what you estimated to be about three or so bells of trying, you gave up and decided to see about tea. The halls of the manor were dark, and it was doubtless that everyone was asleep.

Everyone, that was, except Hildibrand.

The man in question was sitting on a couch in the foyer, hunched over parchment and muttering to himself. There was a low fire crackling, which gave the room a dim glow. In the firelight, you could see that Nashu was still fast asleep on the floor, curled around Gigi like a mother coeurl. Someone (probably Edmont or one of the stewards) had draped a blanket over them and put a pillow under Nashu’s head.

“Hildy?” you called softly.

He startled a bit, dropping the quill in his hand. “Oh, it’s just you,” he said, relaxing.

You gave him a tired smile. “Can’t sleep,” you replied, moving to look over his shoulder. “What’s all this?”

“Plans!” he exclaimed, though he thankfully had the sense to lower his voice when Nashu, still curled up by the fire, shifted. She muttered something about chickens as her ears twitched, but otherwise remained fast asleep. Sometimes you envied her ability to sleep anywhere.

“For when we get to Idyllshire?” You leaned over the back of the couch, resting your head on your folded arms as you attempted to make heads or tails of Hildibrand’s elegant scrawl.

He grinned. “Precisely! As sharp as ever, my friend.”

You chuckled. “What have we got planned?”

“Well…” He pointed to a crudely drawn diagram. “I propose that using mainly spoons, we tunnel under where the Grand Sers have made their base and catch them unawares!”

A moment of silence passed between you two, then another.

“Spoons.”

 Hildibrand made a face. “This is a work in progress, of course.” He pushed his papers aside. “What do you think?”

 “Hmm… well, we should start by questioning the residents when we arri-“

 “Ah, I just had the most brilliant idea. When we arrive, we should split up and ask around!”

You snorted in laughter, shaking your head. “Never change, Hildy,” you said, standing up and starting towards the kitchens. “I’m making tea, do you want any?”

“That would be very kind of you!”

You gave him a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchens to start the kettle.

A few moments later you came strolling back into the foyer with a tray. Upon the tray sat a teapot and two cups and saucers. “I hope you like black tea.”

“Thank you, it-“ For the first time since you’d come into the foyer, Hildibrand looked directly at you… and then promptly looked away, mouth slightly agape.

Huh? What was- oh. You looked down at yourself, remembering you were wearing a nightgown that, while very comfortable, left little to the imagination.

So Hildibrand was shy, hmm? You nearly giggled at the thought. As you poured the cups of tea, you took a moment to look at him as well. Given the late hour, it seemed he’d shed his coat and gloves, setting them neatly beside him. His bow tie hung to one side of his neck and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone. The fire from the hearth gave off a warm glow to the room, reflecting off his eyes in a way that almost made them twinkle.

Your stomach flipped a little. How had you not truly paid attention before to how handsome a man Hildibrand was?

Well, objectively you knew this as it was an undisputed fact. But here and now, with the firelight dancing off the walls and highlighting his strong jawline and muscled form? Now, it was hard to deny on a personal level.

Deciding to test the waters and see where this went, you sat down right next to him after placing his teacup on the table in front of him. “Everything alright, Hildy?”

He nodded stiffly, still not looking at you. “I am completely fine!”

You drew your legs up next to you. “Are you sure? You seem flustered.”

“I assure you, nothing is wrong. But you… are you not cold?”

“Me? I’m not cold at all. Especially not next to you, I’m not.” You patted his arm for emphasis.

Hildibrand cleared his throat. “I-I see…” You could see a hint of a blush on his cheeks… adorable.

“Why would you think I’m cold?” You wanted to hear him say it.

“Well, you see… what you’re wearing… may not be the best choice for cold weather!”

You giggled. “Hildy, are you embarrassed?”

“No! It is simply uncouth for a gentleman to gaze upon a lady in such a state of undress!”

Adorable and polite. Your heart did a few more flips in your chest. Oh, you wanted to gobble him up.

“Even if the lady didn’t mind?”

The thought hadn’t seemed to have occurred to Hildibrand before right now. He turned a little bit back towards you, still not looking at you.

“Honestly, I don’t mind. I wouldn’t have worn it outside my room if I did. And I’ve known you long enough to know you’re not a creep.”

He turned back to face the table at the very least, picking up his teacup and taking a sip. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head.

You lowered your voice to an attempt at a seductive purr. “And what would you say if I told you I wanted you to look at me, hmm?” you teased.

He raised a finger as if to make a point, but also seemed to be at a loss for words. “Far be it from me to deny a lady such a simple request,” he finally said. And so he turned his gaze upon you.

You felt your heart pounding as his eyes swept your form, wide with reverence. Sometime during the evening, he’d forgone his monocle, leaving his face clearly visible. Oh, and what a nice face it was. Now that you were thinking about him like this, you were really, really thinking about it. Hildibrand may not have been the brightest person out there, but he was kind, sincere, handsome… oh no.

Suddenly you felt a little self-conscious. You swallowed, tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. “H-Hildy?”

“The most prolific of poets could not do you justice, my lady. You are utterly radiant.”

Holy shit. Where had that come from? Your eyes widened in turn, and you could feel your face heating up. “You truly think so?”

“Of course. I always have. I have eyes, my good woman!”

“You’ve never said anything.”

Hildibrand nodded sagely. “It is hardly gentlemanly to make unsolicited compliments on a lady’s appearance. My mother taught me that from a young age.”

(And calling them old was just fine, apparently.)

Suddenly a lot of things about Hildibrand made more sense. You almost shuddered remembering how effortlessly Julyan had taken out not one but three people during the course of the investigation in Ul’dah.

You chuckled softly. “You did say you were well versed in the ways of the fairer sex.”

Hildibrand looked away for a moment. “About that…”

“Hm?”

He cleared his throat nervously. “‘Tis true I am highly experienced in the art of treating ladies with the utmost respect! However, when it comes to courting one…”

You saw what he was getting at. “You haven’t had the chance.”

He nodded, seemingly grateful that he didn’t have to admit it himself.

“Well, I’m open to the idea.” You placed a hand on top of his.

Hildibrand’s jaw dropped. “A-are you?”

“Whyever not?” you said, parroting his words from earlier in the day. “You’re sweet, earnest, and devilishly handsome. I’d say you’re quite the catch.” You winked, causing Hildibrand’s face to erupt in a blush which in turn caused you to giggle. “You look like you’re surprised. What about your ‘swaths of adoring fans’?” you teased.

“I would never dream of taking advantage of someone’s admiration!” He looked scandalized by the very idea. Gods, how was this man real? He had an ego and a half for sure, but somehow also managed to still be utterly sweet and sincere in his words and actions.

You leaned in closer to him. This close, you could practically count his eyelashes. “If I’m offering, it’s hardly taking advantage, now is it? In fact…” You shifted so that your lips were right by his ear. “I could even teach you a thing or two about how to please a lady.”

Hildibrand stiffened, and you could have sworn the man shivered (and not from the cold). “I suppose not, no. I have a question for you, though.”

“Yes?”

“Are you propositioning me?”

If you hadn’t been supported by the couch, you’d have fallen over from the sheer shock of such an obvious question.

(Was anything ever really obvious to Hildibrand, though?)

“I have been this entire time, yes.” You laughed. “Thank you for noticing.”

Hildibrand huffed a laugh in response. “Well! I must say this is unprecedented!”

You pulled back a little to give him breathing room. “You can say no. I won’t be mad, honest. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Pray do not mistake my reaction for reluctance! I am merely… pondering my next steps. I would be a fool to refuse a beautiful woman such as yourself!”

You crept your fingers up his arm. “If you don’t know what to do… I could show you?”

He swallowed audibly. “I would be most honored, my lady.”

Grinning, you stood and offered him a hand up. “Not here,” you said, glancing over to the fireplace where Nashu and Gigi were still fast asleep. “Let’s go to my room.”

Hildibrand nodded dumbly and took your hand. You led him down the hall to your room, hips moving in an exaggerated sway the whole time. If you were relaxed about this, hopefully he would be too.

You flitted about your room, setting up candles for mood lighting while Hildibrand took a seat quite politely on your bed. He looked very much like a deer in the caravan lights, and the sight made your heart melt just a little.

Hildibrand looked up at you in awe as you approached, radiating confidence that matched his on an average day.

“Before we start, I want you to know: you can tell me to stop at any time. I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do, Hildy.” You smiled softly at him.

“Er, likewise! I will not force a lady into an uncomfortable situation!”

You chuckled. “There’s not a lot I haven’t done. Hope that doesn’t bother you.”

He shook his head. “A gentleman does not judge one on their history, merely on their present actions. Not to mention that there is no shame to be had in such a thing!”

“You’re sweet.” You took a seat next to him on the bed. “What would you like to do first?”

He froze a moment; apparently he hadn’t expected you to ask him what he wanted. Eyes widened and lips parted slightly, he held up a finger as if to ask for a moment, which you gladly gave him.

“May I… kiss you?” he finally asked, blinking a few times as if to confirm the sight in front of him was indeed real.

You grinned. “You certainly may,” you said, leaning forward and placing a hand on the side of his face as you gazed at him affectionately with eyes half-lidded. You moved closer, but left him space to close the distance or back away, whichever he wanted.

He chose the former, pressing his lips to yours cautiously. You gladly accepted, kissing back softly as to not overwhelm him. It was… it was clumsy to start with, to say the least. His lips were puckered far too much, and it was like kissing a fish.

Pulling back a little, you tilted your head at him. “How was that? Was that nice?” He nodded. “Here, try it like this.” You pursed your lips just as you had before, waiting for him to do the same.

This time was much smoother, he was a lot less stiff. The hand not holding his face came up to tousle through his hair, completely pulling it out of place. You slid your other hand down and around him, pulling him closer to you, and he grunted softly into the kiss in response. Glancing down briefly told you he had no idea what to do with his hands.

The kiss ended much slower this time. As you both pulled back, his eyes fluttered open to look at you, pupils blown wide. The sight almost made you squirm. Kissing him on the cheek, you reached down and tugged on his hands gently. He let you guide them to your waist.

“Is this alright?” you asked. Wordless, he nodded. His hands were large on your waist, and you could feel the heat radiating from them through the thin material of your nightgown. “You’re doing excellent, Hildy.” He shivered at the praise, and you took note of this.

You brought your legs up underneath you as you turned to face him fully, still sitting on the edge of the bed. Both of your hands came up to either side of his face as you kissed him again. This time he seemed to get it, pressing back with intensity equal to your own.

Moaning softly into the kiss, you moved to deepen it. He responded enthusiastically, daring to put one hand up to the side of your face. You broke the liplock momentarily to press a nuzzling kiss into his palm before returning to your target. His goatee scratched ever so slightly against your face, and you giggled at the sensation. With one hand, you silently nudged him to face you as well.

He pulled you closer to him and you happily followed, coming forward and swinging your leg over so your legs were on either side of his firm thighs. Oh, they were as solid as they looked. His grip on you tightened slightly and you responded by grinding down on him. A very solid proof of interest greeted you as well as a throaty moan from him, which you returned with one of your own.

Eager to go already? My, my, this man was full of surprises, you thought.

Your hands eagerly moved down to the buttons on his shirt, fingers fumbling with the fabric. He froze, one hand coming up to stop yours. You stopped immediately, scooting back to give him some room.

“Ah, give me a moment…” he said, breathing heavily.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

Hildibrand looked conflicted. “But you want-“

You shook your head. “Doesn’t matter what I want.” You took his hands in yours and held them. “We go at your pace. It wouldn’t be very ladylike of me to force a gentleman to do something, now would it?” You winked at him.

“It wouldn’t be something I don’t want,” he said, scrunching his face up in thought. “Apologies for my forwardness, but this is something I am very much interested in! Rather…”

“Too fast?” You tilted your head at him, squeezing his hands reassuringly.

He chuckled. “Once again, your powers of deduction are capital!”

“I did learn from the best,” you said, leaning forward and kissing him on the forehead. “That’s you, in case you didn’t realize.”

“Oh.”

You giggled. “You want to just stay like this? We could sleep.” A moment of silence passed. “Just sleep.”

“Ah, what if your friends were to find us?”

“They know what I’m like.” You shrugged. “And I won’t tell if you don’t.”

He shook his head rapidly. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell!”

You grinned, moving to lay down on your bed and patting the area next to you. Cautiously, Hildibrand moved to lay down next to you. You rested your head against his shoulder. “Is this okay?”

Hildibrand was silent a moment before nodding. “This is… nice.” He moved to wrap his arms around you before stopping halfway through. “Er, may I?”

“Please,” you said, giving him a sleepy smile. Despite the fact that your heart was still racing (and so was his, you could feel), you felt comfortably tired now.

He pulled you into his strong arms and settled you down so that your head rested against his chest. You noticed he very pointedly angled his pelvis slightly away from you, and you didn’t press the matter. Instead, you snuggled into his arms and breathed him in. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost the scent of rotting flesh and picked up saltpeter and mammet oil. It was familiar, comforting.

You sighed softly, content. Here in his arms, you felt… safe, secure. Logically you knew that if something were to happen it would be you protecting him instead of the other way around, but it felt nice to be held.

Goodnight, Hildy,” you whispered.

“Sleep well,” he whispered back, and you felt the light pressure of his lips against the crown of your head.

It was there that you drifted off, safe and sound in the arms of your inspector

***

(consent is sexy, y’all)

[inviouswriting]

Alternative to that primal AU drabble

I can’t just leave it on a sad note.

The fight had been tiresome, the Extreme mission had given the WOL absolute hell with how she would cast her flames. 

However there was a flit in her power use, and something held back a devastating Despair. The new WOL Divinity, sensed that Mormo wasn’t alone in the body. A glimmer of hope, Divinity presses forward and closes her eyes as she uses her holy abilities.

The Libra spirit, had to try something. So she did.

“Kiya? Are you still there? If you are, use your ability transpose.” It took a few moments of fire for her to see it and a soft flit between fire to ice. Divinity smiles to herself.

“He misses you. If there is a way to come out of this, please. It doesn’t have to end with death.” She tries.

There is a falter in Mormo’s attacks. They diminish, as well as the form.

“But I summoned a Primal. Into myself... I’m no different than his father... He probably hates me for this...”  Kiya’s voice, her voice is soft and weakened. Almost fizzled out from the double echo of Mormo’s.

“Silence you! And you! She has made a cardinal sin in the eyes of the realm!” Mormo comments and throws another barrage of fire and ice. Divinity uses a barrier to keep the attacks down.

“Kiya, it can be like your friend Ysayle.  Aymeric does not hate you. He thinks you are gone, but far from hates you.” Divinity tries harder. She is reminded of Kivera when she went mad with grief. Divinity walks forward, and Kiya is on guard.

“He locked me in here for so long though... I sense him from time to time... outside the walls.” Kiya buries her face into her hands, and feels a sharp pain in her head.

Divinity casts a heal onto her, and Kiya looks over.

“Why are you healing me? You should kill me...”

“I can’t do that. Not with this silver lining granted to us.” Kiya feels another sharp pain in her head and doubles over onto her knees.

Divinity runs up to her, and sees a tiny urn that fell from inside Kiya’s coat. 

Divinity’s graceful smile, she thinks for a moment what her leader would do, then thinks of herself in what she wanted to do for Kivera when she was in so much pain. Dropping her healer staff, Divinity closes the distance and wraps her arms around Kiya’s huddled form.

The kindness reminded her of what she missed and needed. She started to cry, and feel the hold from Mormo slipping away. Holding Kiya close, Divinity murmurs something, and expels Mormo out, with quick work. Divinity seals the entity away. 

With Mormo out, Divinity feels the overwhelming power dissipate. With it, Kiya collapses to her knees fully, drained of her energy. But the most she is doing, Kiya is crying full into Divinity’s chest, something she hadn’t felt in years. 

“Ah... shh. It’s over now.” Divinity pets her head, in the same manner Kivera did for her when she was on the pyre.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please! Forgive me! Aymeric!! I... Aymeric!! You’re all I have!” Divinity looks over to one of the Temple Knights that accompanied her.

“I think the threat has been neutralized. No blood was spilled today, I think she can go home.” A furious nod, and Divinity just pets Kiya’s head. She notes that with the powers gone it had left her bare. Divinity removes the white cloak from around herself and covers Kiya with it and helps steady her on her feet.

“Hey, hey. We should get you home now?” Divinity earns a nod from Kiya.

They slowly walk till Divinity has Kiya cling to her back. At the entrance to Dusk Vigil, Aymeric sees the two, he had been pacing from the time Divinity went in, he felt the power shift, then fizzle out. He was expecting a dead body to be carried out. Not one clinging to Divinity’s back.

Aymeric looks over Divinity, and then to Kiya. His love is refusing to look him in the eye, burying her face into the white of Divinity’s hair.

“Come now Kiya, do you not have something to say to him? You were crying it into my chest earlier.” Aymeric is hopeful with the address of his love’s name. When he sees Kiya lift her head up, a sense of relief hits him. Her mannerisms the same as he always knew. Whenever she was guilty, she always looked to the side.

“A-Aymeric... I’m sorry! I should have come to you... I’m sorry.” Aymeric is already at her side once he was certain it is his lover and not a demon in her body.

He is pulling her from Divinity’s back and into his arms, collapsing onto his knees with her held tight.

“Godsdamn you! Halone! By the Fury! Kiya! I thought... you were going to die.. and I had ordered it!” Aymeric holds her so tight to him Kiya realizes she had made such a horrible mistake.

“Will you forgive me.... I can understand... if you hate me for this...” Aymeric pulls her back in his arms and gives her a glare. Aymeric has her head in her hands as he presses his forehead to hers.

“My love! MY Love! Hate you? Halone be praised.. you are returned to me. I will never forgive you for what you did. However... will take all of the rest of our lives together to make it up to me. Understand? No adventures for three years. Staying with me.” Kiya can’t look away from him, and feels hot tears spill from her eyes, as well as see them out of his.

“Y-yes Aymeric.”

“Yes, Lord Commander.” He corrects her for right now.

“Yes, Lord Commander!” His face softens after she agrees, and winds his arms around her and gives her a deep kiss. One that has her head spinning, and Divinity looking away. 

Aymeric breaks the kiss and lifts his wife up into his arms. A newer knight approaches them.

“S-ser Aymeric, what do we do about her? aren’t you worried she is Enthralled? or playing a trick?”

“She is not playing a trick. Mormo was expelled, I felt and saw it myself.” Divinity counters before Kiya’s name can be dragged. He is also met with a stare from Aymeric. He clearly does not want to discuss what happened.

“Let us count our blessings. My warrior of light has returned. I do not wish to hear anyone speak ill of her in my presence. I might lose mine temper.” He warns, turning on his heels he carries Kiya out of the frozen place. Leaving Divinity to collect herself.

The days after, Kiya was on strict bedrest for observation as well as resting from the last few years did a number on her body with little eating it did. 

Kiya had a nightly visitor in Aymeric, sleeping next to her, specially the first night he brought her back not leaving her side once. Kiya got more of an earful from him when she was a little bit better. Even Estinien showed up leaving behind flowers in the vase.

Kiya lays on her back, thinking of what went awry with her spell. She feels a flick on her forehead drawing her out of her thoughts and she sees Aymeric’s firm eyes staring at her.

“I know that look. Do not dwell on what happened.” He was in the middle of washing her up, and saw how her eyes drifted off into almost another world, when she thinks of her past, or when she would do something stupid.

“Yes love.” Aymeric feels nothing but relief in his heart, having her back. He doesn’t know what he would have done if her body was brought. Besides mourn and think of all the dreams shattered.

Aymeric lays in next to her after she is dressed in fresh robes. He noted she has color in her face again.

“You look much better. You might be able to come home with me in a few more days.”

“Really?” She earns a nod from him.

“I can’t wait.. I am getting tired of this ceiling to stare at.”

“Oh? Then why not stare at me instead.” Aymeric gets her attention again, a blush on her face.

“Because you know I can’t stare at you for too long.” 

Aymeric shakes his head, and tugs her into his arms.

“I really thought I was going to lose you. All of you. When I first got word you had summoned a Primal. I thought they were joking until I saw it. You looked nothing like yourself. I did not feel you in there.. I rather had, have you die before I allowed a monster to take over you.” He voices his concerns and his feelings, Kiya’s eyes spring tears at the memory.

“To be honest... I felt consumed, I vaguely understand what Estinien went through with Nidhogg… Different circumstances. And Nidhogg was no primal. All I wanted to do... was be more helpful in the fights to come.” Aymeric pulls her back to look at her again.

“And I told you to leave the fighting to us for the time being while you rested. Had I known what happened.. I would have never left your side. You should have written me. Talked to me. Like you always did. What made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me? Your husband, your soulbound mate.” 

“I did not want to burden you with more...” Kiya is pulled into his arms tight again.

“Godsdamn you... You are never a burden. You were never one when you came to me after Haurchefant, then when you came to me after Azys Lla, and every person you had lost. You would never burden me with your pain. Tis why we made our vows eternal. I am to be your shoulder, your hand, your solace. Just as you are mine.” Aymeric feels her shuddering in crying again. She needed him more than ever.

“I’m sorry....”

“Kiya, all will be fine. But you, you need real rest.” Aymeric helps rest her down on her back. He fits in next to her, and tugs her as close as she gets into his arms till she relaxes.

They entwine their hands together, Aymeric pressing kisses to her fingers till each one has been kissed. He even presses his face to her hair to breathe in her scent. Something he had missed in his own bed terribly.

“Rest now.. we have much to discuss later.” He lulls Kiya into slumber and thanks the stars now with how she was spared a needless death.

[zerotheblackwolf]

Marks of The Past

A little short introduction to my WoL you could say.

https://eu.finalfantasyxiv.com/lodestone/character/19780975/

AO3

         “My past?” “Yeah! Well I mean you are mostly not a mystery considering that you are the Warrior of Light. But what about before that? what made you to the woman that you are?” Said the Miqo'te woman who sat across the table to me. “So you want to know about before I came to Eorzea?” I replied taking a puff from my Kiseru pipe. “Yes that you are from the far east is obvious but the rest is a mystery.” “Well normally I would be happy for it to remain that way” I said even if I knew it would pointless to try change the subject now. I took another bloss and eyed the woman who was doing the cat version of sad puppy eyes. Leah a Healer I met a few months back that have really made a place for herself in my life and shows no signs of leaving. I gave off a small laugh and said “Well fine. Of all people you deserve to know. But I warn you this is not the most happiest of stories.” Leah straighten up in her seat eagerly waiting for me to begin.

“In the far east I was not known as a hero. Far from it. Born in a tribe known for its highly trained and skilled Shinobi. I was born to kill and to thrive in the shadows.” I took a short break to see Leah’s reaction. And not surprisingly she seemed a bit taken by it, this was a side of me she had never heard of. But I continued. “My upbringing was unsurprisingly filled with challenges. But the most difficult one was having a mother that did barely acknowledge your existence. Almost directly after I was born she returned to her job as head advisor to the leader of the tribe.” “What about your father?” Leah asked “I never met him. all I know is that he was part of the Forest Guard.” I replied and poured me some ale. “How did you survive?” “Well quite early on my aunt took me under her wing and raised and trained me. She also had an important role in the tribe, being the the leader of the shinobi of the tribes. So not much choice on where to go with my life. However it was not all doom and gloom. My aunt really treated me like her own daughter. So my training was hard but upbringing was still quite good.” "How come she took you in like that?" Leah asked as I took a sip of my ale. "I don't know. But she was always very upset with my mother for treating me like that. But jumping forwards some years to when things really started to take of for me. I really excelled in my shinobi training with a focus on assassinations and infiltration. And that is also the reason I have such skill with multiple weapons. So with these skills my reputation grew relatively quick. However what did mean the most to me was not my reputation, but to get my mother to acknowledge me. So yeah you could really say I had mother issues, especially in my teen years." "You started killing in your teens?!" "Yes it's not uncommon for some to be even younger than what I was. As for the killing, for me back then I saw it more as a means to an end. Never took any pride in it nor did I see anything wrong with it either. What I did enjoy however was the thrill of the missions themselves. That a single misstep could mean a failure or even death." I took a short pause with a sip of ale and started a new portion for my pipe. "But if you were so good and had all that skill then why are you here in Eorzea?" Leah asked. I looked at her as I lit my pipe. She looked obviously confused and seemed even a bit conflicted. "Yes I am getting to why I no longer have any ties to that part of my life anymore in a while. You see as my reputation grew so did my influence within the tribe itself. And also the number of enemies. And the biggest one of them was none other than my own mother. You see my mother, even if she had the title of head advisor, she was the one running the show. The leader of the tribe was nothing more than a figurehead, a symbol. So when she sees me, someone she did not want anything to do with, gaining popularity and influence. She obviously started to work against me. But it was not so much difficulties before I had earned the name of Blackwolf. Wolf names carried a lot of weight in the tribe you see. And with so many starting to see me as the next successor to my aunt's position as the leader of the shinobi, my mother really wanted to get rid of me. And that she succeeded with. She managed to brand me a traitor.  She did not make it obvious that she was behind the accusations nor that the trial was rigged of course." "Your own mother branded you a traitor?!" Leah interrupted me. I took a deep bloss from my pipe before continuing. "Yes she did. At first I was to be executed, but I believe that my aunt made it so I was going to be exiled instead with no chance of redemption. And the sign of that is the tattoo I have on my upper right arm with a large scar over it. The tattoo was a symbol of being a member of the shinobi, and the scar symbolizes my exile with no chance of coming back." "That scar looks really terrible and must really have hurt. I always wondered what it came from." Leah said. "Yes that was the point. That the convicted was to feel every single cut." I replied finishing the ale I had left in the glass.

The silence filled the room only the sound of the fire in the fireplace could be heard, as I let what I said sink in for a bit. "What happened afterwards?" Leah finally asked. "Well the darkest part of my life." I started but paused as I felt a wave of emotions creeping. "My whole life has been torn away from under my feet. I desperately tried to find new meaning. You could say I let the beast inside of me, that I had full control over, lose. I nearly lost myself." I took another pause. This is a darkness that I would rather forget. "What made you keep yourself?" Leah asked looking worried at me. "I can't say I'm free from it, even today. But it happened when I was on the brink of giving up. I was tired so I  was defeated when I got into a fight with an old samurai master that was hunting evil.  Right there and then I accepted my fate. I even blacked out of exhaustion. But when I woke up again I found myself in a tent. My wounds had all been treated. To this day I can't fully understand why he spared me. All he ever said was that he saw just a little bit of light left in my soul. And that made me worth redeeming. This small act of kindness and also people he introduced me to that were willing to look past what I had been and showing some act of forgiveness. That made me fight back the darkness that had taken me. I even started to train in the way of the sword under the old Samurai. He is also the reasons I came here to Eorzea. So I could train without being haunted by my past." I paused again  as I poured me some more ale. "I guess I will have to thank that old master of yours for sending you to me." Leah said  with a teary smile. She had obviously seen my reactions to telling all of this. And I could feel it myself. The wounds are not yet fully healed. "Yeah. One day you might get the chance to thank him. Which I would also have to do now." I said. "Oh?" "For giving me a reason to fight." I said and looked straight into her eyes. "Oh, come on! Don't make me blush like that." Leah replied and buried her face in her hands, and I just laughed.

[illegiblewords]

hm-- i'm going to be the obvious one and suggest lahabrea (or hades, whichever someone hasn't already sent!)

YOU’RE IN LUCK, NEITHER HAS BEEN SENT!

LAHABREA

First impression: Wow what a boring villain, very 2-D with shitty dialogue and bland motives wearing the all black spooky-like. And we are supposed to be very impressed and intimidated just like Hydaelyn. When is Heavensward?

Impression now: My friends I have 180′d and now love this poor sad loser to pieces. Emet-Selch revealing that no, Lahabrea really has been being a lameass this entire time and why the hell did we take him seriously when he had such horrendous decision-making throughout was the beginning. Seriously, I basically yelled laughing when the “crowning moment of idiocy” line happened. Because until that point the models for Ascian behavior were Mr. I-laugh-at-explosions-and-yell-about-Zodiark Lahabrea, Sir I-don’t-talk-much-but-when-I-do-it’s-about-Zodiark-and-balance Elidibus, a certain I-hate-all-these-people-because-Zodiark-likes-them-better-WAITAHOTCHICK Nabriales, Ms. I-fucked-up-and-will-never-live-it-down-so-no-longer-show-my-emotions Igeyorhm, and a couple of oneliners. None of whom have seemed overly self-aware. The second that line came out of Hades’ mouth, it became clear that YES we can judge them all and NO this is not some kind of standard Ascian behavior we should just accept. None of them have to act that way. They’re just weirdos.

Then Shadowbringers happened and there was a period of “wait how did Amaurot’s top orator turn into the Lahabrea we know” and learning that Lahabrea was weak because he kept body hopping despite knowing it was damaging him.

Aaaaand at Gamescom, bless Oda and Yoshida, they gave the single smoothest fix and I am eternally grateful. Workaholic Lahabrea is a gift. He probably doesn’t even know what he’s saying most of the time and is just trying to give the impression he knows what he’s about before dropping a monster and running off.

But then combining all the info and playing detective with past scenes he’s actually really sad. Still lame and stupid funny at times but also sad as hell when dots get connected. At this point I figure he’s motivated by guilt complexes, denial-flavored-tempering, and fear of both falling asleep because nightmares and how much blood will rest directly on him if he fails. Because I think I remember seeing that Zodiark was his idea. And literally everyone except for him, Hades, and Elidibus died in connection with that.

I think he’s a Stepford smiler in the sense that internally he is deeply, deeply fucked but he distracts himself in how ridiculous a lot of the FFXIV situations are and laughing at the resulting blow-ups. Space-dragon-ghost-explodes-out-of-the-moon-to-wreak-havoc is a hell of a thing for the history books. I also think he probably knows or assumes people don’t like him and that he deserves it. I also think that while the other two Unsundered get frustrated with him, he’s probably also been hiding the level of fucked up he still is from them in a lot of ways and they assume to varying degrees that he’s being irrational, hot-headed, arrogant, and stubborn with it. I think in actuality he’s somewhat aware but is semi-deliberately hurting himself and alternately doesn’t think he has a right to stop or is horrified by how much less capable he is after spending thousands of years essentially hurting himself through body hopping and overwork. Reprimanding him probably doesn’t work because he already has a lot of reason to detest himself. I also think he probably tries really hard not to think about himself on a personal level because once he falls into that pit he’s not getting out easily, so there’s a solid amount of repression going on too.

I could go on. He is a sad clown to me who tries to cover up how tired he is by vomiting five syllable words.

Favorite moment

See, there’s funniest moment and there’s most interesting moment. His intro at the Thousand Maws of Toto-Rak makes me giggle a lot now. Most interesting to me is possibly his exchange with Elidibus after Nabriales’ death or when he shows up late to a meeting and discreetly tries to explain why he should be allowed to work again. 

Idea for a story

:[ I don’t know if I can do it because I am still very happily committed to my Hades/WoL sequel, but following the story Stalemate I did I could see a situation with that specific WoL checking the Eye post-Shinryu and freeing Lahabrea. Very scenario-specific and all but I have some ideas about that.

Unpopular opinion

Idk if unpopular so much as different?

I’ve seen a lot of Lahabrea variants that I think are really cool and interesting! Some are very serious and dignified. Some are intimidatingly hot-tempered. But for me, part of what I find intriguing are the ways he doesn’t quite add up with the persona he’s trying to portray. I also really like small, cute human elements in characters that let you fall in love with them a little. This goes even for characters I find reprehensible because IMO it’s important to take both the endearing and the appalling together when forming opinions. It’s still fiction and I don’t think it translates to “if you like a character who committed murder then you like murder” or anything. I do think though that if the audience steps back and has to say point blank whether they think the character is a good person, a bad person, or somewhere in-between (regardless of liking them) that kind of thing becomes important.

I can understand why people would write off the iffy early writing to just spin Lahabrea as a highly respectable, unflappable, untouchable dude. I definitely still enjoy stories where he’s written that way. It’s just not so much how I read him haha. I think he tries to be that but there’s a lot of comedy and tragedy going on with him internally that hits hard when embraced. And I think being assumed as immune to any kind of vulnerability or real connection would probably fuck with him a lot too. Before the Ascian we know, he was considered one of the most exemplary citizens of Amaurot. It would be weird imo if he was completely isolated even then, and seeing how he got from Point A to Point B has a ton of pathos potential.

I also like him a lot despite thinking Thancred is absolutely justified in hating his guts, but it doesn’t come up as much with me so I could see there being some ???

Favorite relationship

XD I just did a WoL/Lahabrea shipfic personal challenge so naturally that influences me a bit so far as shipping goes. That said I am a multishipper. I could see him with either of the Unsundered being interesting. I’ve seen some cute stuff with Igeyorhm too but have less strong of an opinion there currently. Non-shipping I think he’s probably closest to Elidibus, has a sort of testy relationship with Hades but they ultimately do care about each other, and possibly has some level of closeness with Igeyorhm too. I also think that Nabriales dislikes Lahabrea more than Lahabrea dislikes him and that can cause some interesting problems.

Probably in-general I’m just very here for dysfunctional Unsundered trio.

Favorite headcanon

The workaholic thing and the self-destructive thing are technically both canon. His being lame specifically because of being tired all the time I think is probably it because the rest just follows for me haha.

As a smaller, more mundane headcanon I think Lahabrea is a super ugly sleeper most of the time. Probably drools.

Will do a post for Hades too and tag it but need to do other stuff for a bit! BUT THANK YOU!

[the-dragons-knight]

Prompt # 11: Another Late Night

Entry eleven for the FFXIV Write 2019 hosted by @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast.

(Don’t worry @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast, I could only think of a candle when I saw the prompt X3 pat pat <3)

Prompt: “Snuff” - like putting out a candle X3

Rating: PG-13 for mentioning alcohol

Relations: Aymeric de Borel X WoL OC(Katsum Almor)

Warnings: Mentions of some drinking, set in Post-Heavensward content but no spoilers mentioned.

Another late night where Katsum must save Aymeric from his work and himself.

- - - - - - - - - -

“Aymeric?”

At the sound of her soft voice, he looked up from the document he was reading and Katsum’s heart dropped at the sight of him. Accented by the pale light of the candles beside him, he looked nothing like the Lord Commander she knew. His hair was messy, like he’d run his hands through it in frustration, giving him a very wild and untamed look. His hand holding the quill gripped it far more tightly than he should and what handwriting she could see was rushed and shaky at best. His eyes screamed at how tired and exhausted he was, the dark rings under his eyes giving away how little sleep he’d gotten lately. He appeared to be but a shell of the man she knew and loved right now, just barely staying awake and barely functioning.

The Miqo’te woman sighed and stepped into the study, pushing past the door and moving up to the desk, “My love, why are you still here in the study? Are you not coming to bed?”

The Elezen sighed and looked back down, going back to his writing with squinted eyes, “I did go and sleep for a while. I got up after a few hours. I must finish this report first before I may get more sleep.”

“Aymeric, you are exhausted.”

By his strained expression and the thin line his lips made, she knew he was not feeling like himself. She narrowed her eyes and set her own candlelabera down on the opposite side of the desk away form the documents and moved around the table to his side.

“If you do not get some sleep, you will pass out.”

“Yes, I am aware, but this must be finished first.”

“It will be here in the morning, love.”

“I want to finish it now.”

“Aymeric-”

“Katsum, leave me be!”

There was silence after that. His narrowed expression looking up at her startled her slightly and he turned back to the document before she could answer. Now it was her turn to have a thin line across her lips, her tail twitching in annoyance. There were very few times that he had ever raised his voice at her, so few that she could count them all on one hand. At first, she thought that he meant the things he said when he shouted at her, but now she knew different. It was then the twinkling of the glass in the candlelight caught her eye and she noticed the few drops of wine left at the bottom of it. Now, she understood completely. Yes, she knew better now, and it’s why she did the opposite of what he asked.

First, Katsum reach over and plucked the quill from his grasp, causing him to look up angrily and start to speak. She moved quickly around behind his chair, pulling him and it back with the very strength she felled primals with, pulling him away form the desk where he could no longer reach the parchments. Katsum then moved between him and the desk and tidied up the papers and stacked them together, setting them back into his book and closing it and setting the quill back into the ink well. Finally, she reached out and blew out the candles on his candlelabera.

“Katsum,” His voice was dark and angry, yet she turned to him with no fearful expression, even as he stood and towered over her, backing her against the desk and trapping her between his arms. It saddened her to see his sapphire blue eyes filled with such rage at something so trivial, the alcohol lightly effecting his mood as well. He leaned close to her face and growled, “I was not finished.”

   “You are for tonight. You may finish the rest tomorrow after a full night’s rest.”

   “Katsu-”

   “Aymeric de Borel, do not test me,” Katsum reached up and cup his face, caressing his cheekbone with her thumb as her ears fell back sadly, “You are exhausted. Even now you are about to faint. The city can wait until morning, I promise you, and if they can’t, they will have me to deal with come dawn.”

Even as small as she was, he knew better normally than to not press her when she spoke as she did now. It seemed to reach him now as well as she saw the fiery rage leaving his eyes as it was replaced with tiredness and regret. He looked down from her, unable to meet her gaze now as he reached up and held her hand against his face, the fingers of an overworked official intertwining with battle-calloused ones.

“Forgive me, my sweet Kat. I don’t know what came over me...”

She sighed sadly, pulling him down to kiss his cheek.

“You are tired, love. And you have every right to be. So let us go and get some sleep now, alright?” She felt him nod slowly, feeling his exhaustion taking effect. She let go of his face and took the hand he held instead and gently tugged him around the desk towards the door. He followed her with no complaints, letting her pull him to where she left her candelabra, picked it up and lit their way to the door and out of the study. She stopped only to close the door behind them, then moved into his side and took his am as she led him down the hall back up to their room.

“Thank you for saving me, my lady,” Oh how sleepy he sounded as he spoke through smiling lips, leaning against her as they walked, “I am sorry for yelling at you as well...”

Katsum holding the candles higher to light the path through the dark hallway, “It’s alright. I know you did not mean anything by it, dear. I will still be having talk with the nobles that gave you such a task so late into the night however.”

“Do not hurt anyone.”

“I won’t. I won’t. But I’ll make sure it’s harder for them to sleep.”

He laughed, stumbling a little on his feet, “Kaaat.”

“Alright, alright. I will only firmly advise them against doing it in the future. I promise.”

He kissed her hand, “I love you, my dear Katsum.”

“And I love you, my overworked, dearest Aymeric.”

[theaetherhealerffxiv]

FFXIV Write - Week One - Prompt 3 - Lost

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast​

----

FFXIV Oneshot: OC Based Fanfiction [Wol-verse]

Pairings: Wol oc x Thancred

Summary: They met years ago, but Thancred admits he knows nothing about Swath past before the Scions. Swath decides its time he finally explains his bloody history.

Word Count: 1793

With a pained grunt Thancred stretched out on the cot within the infirmary that was nestled in the side of the Crystarium. I sighed and sat heavily down next to him; despite my looks my body ached and the hustle and bustle of the room made my fatigue so much worse. Our little ward had run off to assist some of the doctors with gathering ingredients again, her mind now fully on her task after we had spoken with her. Beside me my long time companion laughed.

“Wha’ is so funny?” I asked, looking down at the beaten and bruised hyur. He looked at me with a soft smile and reached out to take my hand gently tugging me down to lay beside him. Exhausted, I complied. While I was a Viera, and much bigger than Thancred we still nestled comfortably together on the cot. My shoulders sagged and I shut my eyes for a moment feeling the pain peak in my muscles. I was sure to have bruises. Hearing the man beside me hum and place his head on my shoulder he lifted our still entwined hands. I opened my eyes to gaze at them, before feeling the need to ask my question again. “Thancred, wha is so funny?”

“This,” He shook our hands. “I would have never guessed that we would become so close.” I frowned, close? I clinked our promise bands, that were on our hands in defiance. He laughed again. “Yes, yes. But I mean when I found you outside of Ul’dah, it never crossed my mind that a day like this,” He shook our hands, “And this,” He mentioned to us and the bustling room. “Would happen. That you where the saviour of Eorzea.”

I sighed, “Hard’ly.” I muttered. “Jus’ cause some weird crystal chose me doe’sn make meh, a saviour. I’m just ah adventurer Thancred.” I shifted to nuzzle my nose into his greasy hair, smelling the dirt, blood and sweat. It was familiar, our moments of quiet together usually consisted of such things. 

“You may be just an adventurer to many Swath,” Thancred lifted my hand to his lips and kissed the band. “But you are at least my saviour.” I shivered a little bit at the memory; carrying his limp body out of the castrum, feeling the fear in the pit of my belly. Sure the mother Crystal had said that she had saved him but I feared… I had feared the worst. Although in this moment I was thankful. I was thankful that Thancred was opening up to me again, we had been parted for so long again. He had seemed so tired and bitter when I had first come to the First. I closed my eyes.

“Y’eh remember when yeh found me right?” I asked, shifting slightly to get more comfortable; my long ears where bumping against the top of the bed rubbing my fur the wrong way. The man who still had his lips to my dirty knuckles chuckled. 

“Aye, course.” His voice was soft. “You were so quiet, withdrawn… angry.”

“Lost,” I supplied. 

“Lost,” Thancred repeated placing our entwined hands on his chest. “You never really explained why, I realize. I know so much about you know, but I know nothing of your past beyond the moment I found you.” 

I could hear the curiousness in his voice, the wish to ask, the restraint with not, knowing it likely would hurt me. Bringing up such memories was not an easy task for me, but with all that we shared  I felt like finally, after all these years I owed him an explanation. I rolled my eyes even though he could not see and sighed. “Yeah, ‘bout time I’h explained som’ thin’s huh?” 

“If you would.” Thancred murmured, over the din of the infirmary I almost did not hear him for a moment. “I doubt anyone will disturb us here.” He then supplied, groaning as he reached up with his free hand to pop open a few latches in his chest armor. “Ah, but first if you would please help me here.” I laughed and we sat up, the white haired man before me shrugged off his jacket and I helped him free himself of his breastplate. I heaved it over the side of the bed before shedding what little pointy bits of armor I had on myself. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Thancred unceremoniously throw himself back on the cot. A faint memory of when we finished our first mission together in the Scions coming floating back before I settled back down next to him. 

“‘Ight.” I chuckled shifting so that my head was laying on top of his. He snatched my hand again and lifted above us once more playing with the band on my finger. “When yeh found me,”

“I remember you being wounded.” Thancred interrupted. I felt his head muscles shift under my cheek, indicating that he was frowning. 

“Yeah, I’h was. I’h had com’ from killin a tangent of Garleans.” I flexed my hand and smiled softly.

“But, there was not a castrum from miles around UI’dah.” Thancred said, his voice a little strained. Clearly he was not liking where my reflection was going, but I would not spare him any details.

“Aye, I’h had been wanderin for quite ah while.” I squeezed his hand gently. “I’h dun remember much, other than it h’a been days -”

“Days?” Thancreds voice broke a little, his hand stilling. 

“Aye. I went on rages often. I’h was very.. Broken, Thancred.” I muttered quietly as I waited a moment before continuing. Giving him a second to soak in the small detail. “I’h was still comin off loosin mah entire family to ah Garlean raid -”

“You never said anything about that.” 

“No. I’h guess I’h never saw a reason ta. I’h was with tha Scions, no reason ta bring up ol wounds.” I shrugged a little and he placed our hands on his chest again. 

“Pray, continue.” He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. I could not tell if it was anger, or sympathy that flavored his tone. 

“‘Ight, So, mah family, I’h was raised in tha mountains of Garlemald, small village, one who worshiped ah primal I’h guess yah could say. Tha Garleans heard o us, dispatched a tangent of men ta murder us all. I’h was adopted by these people. I’h may have not been their blood but they, ta me where mine. This group o’men, they killed everyone. I’h even think they killed meh.” I frowned as I tried to focus on the hazy memory. I could not truly recall that day, just bullets tearing my flesh and then suddenly the one I believed should have killed me was no longer there. 

“You died?” Thancred shifted sitting up to stare at me intently. Still laying on the bed I shrugged.

“I’h think. I’h dunno, it was cold and black, ‘n suddenly I’h was warm and hurting.” I looked at his face curiously trying to read the expression that he had on his face. I couldn't so I just continued my story. “Tha was when I was a wee child, sweet babe of twenty winters.”

“And Viera live quite a long time.” Thancred muttered. “How long ago was that now?”

“Ah,” I raised a hand to rub my chin. “I’m ‘round sixty winters now? I’h think? Maybeh more, lotsa that time is lost ta me cause of mah anger.” Thancred was quiet. His eyes carefully watching me. I frowned, “Thancred, yah gotta tell me wha your thinkin, I have big ears for hearin, I cant read yah mind.”

His face broke out into a tender smile before he sighed, raising his hands in a shrug. “I was just thinking you are quite older than me. And here I thought I was robbing a cradle.”

I laughed, “I’h am a babe in terms of mah kind though apparently! So yeh may not be far off.” I reached up letting my fingertips graze his arms. He laughed and leaned forward wincing a little but falling onto my breast, snuggling into my shoulder. To us, the world around us had faded away and it was just our cot. 

“Continue Swath.” He asked shifting so that he could gaze at my face as I spoke. I smiled.

“Aye, well, I’h wandered ah lot afta that. Lived in tha wild. Stayed away from aether heavy areas..”

“Because of these correct?” He lifted on eof my arms and gently fingered a shimmering blue bump on my grey skin.

“Aye, aetheryte crystals.” I twisted my arm in his grasp to show off the many that speckled my skin like freckles. “Got’em when I was fifteen winters? Was protectin, or attemptin to, protect a town from a Garlean attack. They blew up the aetheryte while I was right next ta it, nearly killed me.”

Thancred sighed. “You have almost perished a lot, Swath.” 

“Aye well.” I shrugged. “I’h lived a dangerous life till I’h came to the Scions ironically. Yeh have to thank for savin mah hide from more danger.” Thancred grunted a response and I sighed. “Well, mah history isn't much more than that, yeh found me at tha lowest point in mah life pulled me from the brink an gave meh ah purpose.” 

“And then you became the Warrior of Light, a hero at the beck and call of all who need him.” Thancred murmured laying his head back down on my chest, he sighed. “Ironic indeed.”

“Eh, I got ta meet yah and everyone. I dun mind it. I’h am happy.”  I reached up and stroked his dirt caked hair. “Though, I do miss yah long hair. An tan.”

Thancred laughed, then winced. “Ah, do not make me laugh so. I did not have any control over the appearance of my soul.” I sighed.

“Aye, but tha tan, it had lines in such nice places.”  On top of me Thancred weakly pounded my shoulder.

“Enough you.” He chided. 

As I was about to open my mouth a small blur of white appeared in the corner of my eye. I turned and smiled. “Ah sweet little child, yeh return.” Thancred laungly turned to look at her, who was blushing furiously. 

“Ah-ah did I interrupt something?! I’m sorry!!” She squeaked then ran off before either of us could say anything.

“We should.. Go tell her it is okay.” Thancred murmured.

I chuckled, “Aye, but then, ta my quarters. I demand more of this. Its been ah while.”

“Yeah yeah,” With a smack to my shoulder Thancred winced but stood and grabbing his breastplate waited for me to stand with him and grab my things so that we could chase after the little Oracle. 

[eorzeaisnotcrash]

Okay, I haven’t quite started HW yet...

I had the best/worst/stupidest FFXIV dream and I NEED to record it. It was like somebody half-paid attention through ARR, waited till they had 18 hours left to submit something, and slapped together an OVA that was 30% accurate to the source material.

Joceline and Ilberd (whom I used to think was super cool before he sold out) were supposed to be helping some civilians with some as-yet-unnamed problem, and every other word out of Ilberd’s mouth was I AM TIRED OF BEING POOR GET READY FOR THE DAY I NO LONGER WORK FOR YOU OH BY THE WAY I NEED A NEW UNIFORM even though Joceline was already in the armor I got her after Ilberd screwed us. Finally, on a ridge above us, one helpless NPC showed up: some poor kid in her nightclothes, being chased by a small dragon. They were calling the thing a grandma scavenger, but it looked like a regular old mirrorknight? Whatever it was, the kid was about to get clawed up something awful. Then, like a tacky Ishgardian Tuxedo Mask, Haurchefant came out of nowhere, wearing this pink cape over his normal clothes, and killed the monster. At this point I’d like to say Joceline wears the same pink cape as part of her armor, for Reasons, but she is struggling with trust issues and has been low-key scared of Haurchefant since she caught him eyeing her up during the Iceheart chase, so she would NOT have shared this information with him. I didn’t actually see a weapon in his hand (I haven’t seen him fight yet, so I guess my brain didn’t know what to give him), and I am not sure how he did it, but SOMEHOW the thing died, and he scooped the frightened girl into his arms and suddenly everything looked like a 90s shojo anime, with sparkly bubbles everywhere. He said something or other to console her, then set her down next to Joceline and took off in true Tuxedo Mask fashion. The two ladies looked off in the direction in which he vanished; the girl said something about how amazing he was, and while I have been mulling over which northern English accent I want my WoL to have (imagining her yelling “you know nothing, Alphinaud” brings me comfort in these trying times), I guess she decided she wants to sound Mancunian, because she admitted “yeah, that was mint.” And in the background, Ilberd was hollering “COME ON” as if he was *aware* of just how stupid all of this was.

[jungkookienoona]

The Meme and His Tutor

Part 4: The Time Jungkook Broke His Keyboard

Recommended Song: Double Trouble by MAMAMOO

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Summary:

A month had gone by and Jungkook’s English had improved.

Genre: Fluff, comedy

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader (Y/N)

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 1706

Length: 4/?

It had been a month since the first lesson and Jungkook's English had somewhat improved with the weekly lessons that followed. It was still broken but his vocabulary had expanded. During their last lesson, Namjoon had suggested that the next session be cancelled due to BTS's busy schedule, which you agreed to. However, about an hour later Jungkook sent you a message asking fir the lesson to be rescheduled to later in the evening instead of being cancelled. You were unsure at first, not quite believing him when he said that despite Namjoon’s absence, due to the later time, he had agreed to let Jungkook call on his own. It didn't take much to persuade you; a few smiley face emojis and one heart one (which may or may not have caused you to hit your knee as you stood up in shock). So when the familiar alert rang through the room, you were prepared for an odd lesson without your translator. You accepted the call as per usual and was greeted sight of a smiley yet tired looking Jungkook waving at you a bit sheepishly. You returned his smile.

"Annyeong Jungkook" You watched him lean forward and type something.

Ding! The message read 'Can't talk. Hyungz zleeping. Don't want to wake them up'.

You found his concern for his hyungs endearing but were confused by his use of the letter 'z' instead of 's'.

"What's with the z?" You ask.

Jungkook suddenly whipped around, head darting from side to side.

"Shhh," He hissed, a finger to his lips.

You apologise quietly. He leant forward slightly, the angle alluding to his toned chest that peaked out of a loose fitting white t-shirt, and produced a pair of headphones. Once plugged in, he offered you a thumbs up and you laugh freely.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

He nodded silently and looked down as he types.

'Wanted to zee you.'

In that moment you felt like you could have died happy. But you noticed the use of the 'z' again.

"Jungkook-ah, have you gotten confused with the alphabet?"

He shook his head 'no' then sent his reply. 'Broke 's' button playing Overwatch'.

You couldn't help but laugh. Of course, it was something gaming related. He looked like he wanted to say something and quickly got out his phone, typing something. Once he had finished he sent you a message.

'Iz it okay to juzt talk inztead of teach? I'm very tired.'

You looked up from the message and catch him mid-yawn. He looked exhausted with droopy eyes and slumped shoulders.

"You should go to bed. We can talk tomorrow."

He frowned deeply, 'Tomorrow buzy. Plz Noona?'

Your lips quirk into a smile.

"Sure Kookie. Tell me about your day."

You saw him get out his phone again, holding it as he typed.

'We learned new choreography today. It waz very tired. Oh, I'm uzing online interpretation in that way'  

"New choreography?"

'For new album'

"That's cool!" You replied, smiling brightly hoping to pass some of your energy onto Jungkook. His lips quirked and an idea came into your head. "Can you show me?"

His eyes widened, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness.

When he turned back he was grinning. 'Ok. I'll zhow you hook'

He got up out of his seat. You watched as he danced though you could tell it was lacking energy. When he sat back down he sent you another message.

'You like?'

You smiled and nodded feeling a tad guilty for asking him to dance when he was already tired. He seemed to hesitate before sending another message.

'Noona can we be friendz?' He was looking down, twiddling his fingers as if he was nervous.

A small gasp escaped your lips. Jungkook wanted to be your friend? And...He was nervous. An easy smile found its way onto your features.

"Sure Kookie, we can be friends."

His head whipped up, headphones slipping from his ears to his neck. He grabbed them with one hand while typing with the other.

'Really?'

"In case you forgot, you are my bias. Why wouldn't I want to be your friend?"

He looked dumbfounded for a second before giving you his famous bunny grin.

'Now have cool, zmart Noona az friend and tutor'

You laughed and without thinking said, "And now I have my cute, daebak bias as my friend and tutor."

You didn't realise you'd called Jungkook cute until he typed back 'Cute?'.

You blushed scarlet, wondering how many times you were going to embarrass yourself by calling him cute to his face. You shyly nodded and could've sworn you saw his cheeks turn pink despite the dim lighting of his room.

'How waz Noona day?'

You smiled at the message, understanding that he was trying to change the topic to stop things from becoming awkward.

"My day still isn't over yet, it's only the afternoon. But so far I've slept in and gone to college."

He brought out his phone again, furiously typing for a moment. You waited patiently for him to translate and then type.

'Did you zleep well? Noona muzt rezt and ztay healthy!'

"I did." Your eyes went to the time in the corner of your screen and you couldn't help but feel guilty again. "You need to sleep too!"

He shook his head. 'I'm good. Howz college?'

You hesitated, one part of you wanted to convince him to go to bed while another more selfish part of you was thrilled that he wanted to spend more time talking to you. Evidently that side one.

"It was good. The teacher is useless so I tend to do my own thing in lessons".

He looked a little confused for a second before asking you to send your answer as a message. You saw him typing on his phone again, translating what you had said.

'No! Bad teacher! Noona go and complain!'

You sighed, thinking back to your class and pathetic excuse for a teacher.

"I can't, Kook. And it doesn't matter, I'm leaving college soon."

He raised an eyebrow. 'Zoon?'  

"I finish college in set wol (3 months). But there is a short holiday coming up"

That seemed to have peaked his interest. You were pretty sure that if he was a dog you would have seen his ears perk up.

'Holiday? When?'

"In about saju (3 weeks) time"

'For how long?'

"Iju (2 weeks)"

Once again he was tapping away at his phone before smiling. 'Noona come visit'.

You were shocked to say the least "I can't afford it Kookie".

His face fell, 'Want to zee Nonna~'

You smiled sadly, "And I want to see Kookie."

He looked at his phone for a second, lips twisting as he thought something over. When you read his next message you had to stop yourself from falling out of your chair.

'I pay for you.'

"Ani-Ani-Aniya. I don't want you spending your hard earned money on me."

'Then when zee Noona?'

"Sanyeon (3 years). When I finish uni."

You saw his eyes blow wide in shock before he sent his next message.

'ZANYEON?! JINJJA?!'

He seemed to take a moment to think before a mischievous grin appeared on his face.

"What are you planning?"

'Nothing'

"Kookie"

'Not zaying'

Was he laughing?

You opened your mouth to respond when light flooded your screen. You looked to Jungkook in confusion who was hastily pulling off his headphones, holding them securely around his neck, and staring at something off to the side.

"What is it?" You said causing him to look back at you.

The newfound light allowed you to see his cheeks burning pink. Did he just get caught? Jin walking into view confirmed that he did indeed get caught. Jin said something that made Jungkook look back at him, scowling. From their hand gestures and head movements, you could tell they had started bickering with each other. But soon Jungkook look defeated and unplugged his headphones.

He must have turned his microphone back as he said "Mianhae Noona".

There was a pause.

"Ah, You Y/n?"

"Ye, Annyeonghaseyo Jin-oppa."

He crouched beside Jungkook, holding onto the desk chair as he squinted at the camera.

"Oh, you teach Jungkookie?"

You resist the urge to smile at his broken English. "Ye, mianhaeyo."

He turned to Jungkook, talking quickly and quietly with the occasional nod to you. You wondered what they were talking about, only being able to understand your own name because they were talking so fast. You grew more curious when Jin said something that caused Jungkook to frown and suddenly pinch Jin's nipple through his t-shirt.

"Yah! Naneun neoui hyung! No pinchy!"

You burst out laughing; their heads swivelling round to look at you. You desperately tried to muffle your giggles in your sleeve but it was no use and before you knew it Jungkook was laughing too. While the two of you chuckled like children, Jin was looking back and forth between you with an open mouth.

"Aish, you children!"

Jungkook clutched Jin's shoulder when more giggles wracked his body. Jin looked at him disapprovingly at Jungkook before turning his attention back to you.

"Sorry Y/n. Jungkook need sleep now. Very busy this week."

"Hyung" Jungkook complained, drawing out the one syllable word with a pout.

"It's okay, I understand it's late over there"

He looked helplessly at Jin who ruffled his hair and stood up.

"Bed."

You heard the door shut and as if proving Jin's point Jungkook let out a long yawn.

"Kookie, go to bed."

He nodded and pat down his dishevelled hair.

"Goodnight Noona. Have good day."

"Goodnight Kookie."

"Oooh wait, wait. Wanna say different."

"You want to say something different?"

He smiled then nodded. "Goodnight Y/n-chingu (Y/N friend)"

"Yah! We're not the same age! You can't call me chingu"

His nose scrunched in amusement and you had to hold back the squeal that wanted to escape.

"Goodnight y/n-chingu~" He sang, waving at you before cutting the call.

You checked the time and wondered how it had gone by so fast. As you packed away your untouched notebook you started to sing quietly to yourself and knew that today was going to be a good day.

AN: The Meme and His Tutor will now be updated every Wednesday! Yay a schedule! 

Story co-written with @tragicshadows