#just demonstrating why elezen necks are so long

[iron-sparrow]

A little gift for @mythandral that also shows off the updated teeth and tongue he shoved into Yein's face for me. The stubble toggle was such a sweet surprise, too. (Naturally I needed to pose Yein using their new-and-improved tongue........)

Seriously, I'm just so happy with this. Thank you so freaking much, my friend.

Daisy birb is from @verysmallcyborg, also. ❀

[jenovahh]

Simple - Part 1

Summary: You've defeated gods, liberated nations, traveled across worlds...and yet you desire simplicity. Someone who simply loves you for you, who lives the simple life you dreamed of.

Your dreams lately, show that you are meant for something, and someone else.

ANONYMOUS ASKED: A situation where the WoL has a significant other, but starts getting vague flashbacks to Amaurot and being with Emet-Selch when around him?

Archive of Our Own Link

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He means a lot to you.

Your Elezen (or rather Elven) lover is tall, handsome, sweet. His eyes are like the bluest of skies on a clear Coerthan day, smile as warm as a La Noscean sun. It is with a shaky voice and an outstretched hand that he offers you flowers, tied with a shimmering gold bow.

The Scions behind you are all in shock, watching as your steady hand reaches out for the bouquet. “These are...”

“A request for courtship...if you’ll have me.” His voice is trembling with nerves, hand jittering as your fingers brush against his own. Holding the flowers against your chest, you sniff lightly, their aroma pleasing without being overwhelming.

Looking up at the man, Audric, you remember, you smile and give your answer. “Of course.”

Audric was but a simple man of labor, able to repair your gear in record time. He had a lovely smile and an even lovelier voice, the sight of him working on your gear making your heart beat a little faster. Allowing him to court you seemed right; after all, when was the last time you had put yourself out there? Long enough ago, that you could not even remember.

He was normal. Not to say that you certainly didn't consider any of your fellow heroes unworthy of your hand, but you had come to respect them as your closest friends, more than anything.

Audric did not fight. He did not have the Echo, he did not lead, he did not rule. He was just a simple man, with a simple line of work, leading a simple life. 

That’s what you wanted, right?

It’s what you tell yourself, as you shyly let him hold your hand, smiling at the warmth that seems to still linger even as you go to defeat Titania. It is that warmth that drives you, as sappy as it sounds, to bring darkness to a man who has never known it.

“Why...hello there.”

Golden eyes meet yours, stealing what’s left of your breath away. You can barely hear his offer to ally with you over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears, lost in another time, another place as something struggles to push through in the back of your mind.

“Are you quite all right, hero?”

His voice snaps you out of your daze as you realize he’s addressing you, looking between the Scions for fear of getting lost in his eyes again. “I’m well. Merely tired...from the battle.”

Unable to resist, you meet those cool, golden orbs, finding yourself lost within them. You gasp as you find the condescension within them gone entirely, replaced with only a knowing quality, almost expectant. “Rest well, hero.” he murmurs. “You’ll need it.”

His words seem innocent enough, but he does not seem to be a man who is not careful with his words. The sound of his voice rolls through your mind as you sleep, sounding familiar, oh so familiar...

Ever since you had arrived on the first, there had been a nagging feeling of being homesick, though it was not for the shores of Eorzea. There was a longing so deep that it almost made you feel ill, your eyes always turned toward the briny waters of Lakeland, as if you wanted to throw yourself into it's murky depths and never surface again. 

“Darling?”

Turning around, Audric is before you, hand outstretched with a small fruit. “I’m sorry I was,”

“You have a lot to think of, I’m sure. You are an adventurer after all.” he smiles warmly, watching as you take the fruit from his hands. “I had managed to get some fruit from the local market...it is so rare these days...” he trails off, watching as you lift it to your lips.

Biting down, it is sweet, it’s flavor light and different from anything you tasted from the Source. “It’s really good.” you grin, taking another bite. Leaning in, you place a kiss on his lips, chuckling as he goes bright red in the face. “Thank you, Audric.”

“O-Of course!” he stammers, wringing his hands tightly in embarrassment. “Warrior...might you spare me another kiss?” His cheeks are tinted a light pink, eyes sparkling with affection as he waits for your answer.

“I suppose.” you grin cutely, allowing him to kiss you once more. It is as sweet on as the fruit you can taste on your lips, a smile on his face as he pulls away. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, my sweet.”

Your hand is entwined with another’s, walking through a city with buildings towering so high you can hardly see the tops of them all. The hand holding yours is warm, warmer than anything you have ever felt, and it matches the same warmth you feel in your heart.

“I must repay your kindness, somehow,” you speak, before being shushed by the figure walking beside you. 

“Your affection is enough, even on the coldest of days.” They whisper, as if it is but a secret between the two of you. “You must only voice what you need,” with a twist of their hand, a fruit is conjured from thin air, “and I will do my best to provide it for you.”

Your eyes slowly open as you pull yourself from what must be a daydream, meeting Audric’s concerned eyes. “Are you well?” he asks, hands clutching your shoulders. Looking down at the fruit in your hands, you silently take another bite. “I’m fine.” you murmur, missing the golden eyes looking at you from afar.

The daydreams become more common, and seemingly from nowhere as time goes on. They are never at an inopportune moment, seeming to mostly occur in your times with Audric. It is only as time goes on that you can stitch them together to realize they are memories, though they are not your own. The Echo must be resonating with someone, but who?

Why are golden eyes at the back of your mind?

“Lost in thought, Warrior?”

You let out a small noise of shock as Emet-Selch stands before you, his lantern slightly warm in your hand. “I’m sorry, I,”

He leers as he shushes you, eyes twinkling with mischief. “You had been gone for so long, your little group of misfits had begun to worry. I thought it best I seek you out, before you hurt yourself in your attempts to find your friend.”

His taunting makes you red at the face, arm hurling the aether lantern at him which he catches with ease. “Come now, Warrior. Is that any way to mistreat the gift I lent you so that we might pluck your friend from the lifestream? Need I remind you every moment that passes, our chances of saving her lessen.” The lilting sound of his voice just flusters you more, hands fisted at your sides as you can do nothing but glare at him. “Need I remind you how to whistle?”

“I know how to whistle!” you huff, baring your teeth at him. “I was just...thinking of other things...” you trail off weakly, somehow losing your steam whenever you look at him. 

“Forgive me for doubting you, but I feel I require proof now. Go on and whistle for me, if you would.” The lamp disappears from his hands with a light pop, his eyes focused solely on you. You freeze up suddenly with performance anxiety under his steady gaze, seeing an eternity in those eyes.

You’ve been lost in them before.

“Why do I...” you whisper, making no moves to keep him away as he comes closer.

“Perhaps, a demonstration will help.” The silk of his glove is soft as he catches your chin in his hand, his grip on your waist firm as his arm pulls you close. “Simply purse your lips together...” His head dips, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss.

You freeze for a moment, brain slowly processing the feeling of the Ascian's lips on yours. It feels wrong. It feels strange. It feels...

Divine. 

You press back into him with fervor, gasping as he nips your bottom lip with sharp teeth, giving him the entrance he needs to ravish you further. He greedily drinks down your moan, arm pulling you painfully tight against him as your hands link around his neck. Pulling apart, you gasp for air, his lips kissing at the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your neck. Your mind is in a daze, the feeling of wanting to break free stronger than it has ever been, as if something within you is reaching for the man currently ravishing your neck.

So, you push him away.

He is only moved because he allowed it, this you know. A man with powers that he has is not moved unless he wants to be. You try to find it within yourself to be angry at him; for sneaking up on you like that. It is with disgust that you can find no one else to be angry at besides yourself.

“I find that was a suitable demonstration...” his grin is devious as his fingers run over his lips, a smirk so satisfied it makes you want to throw yourself at him in rage. 

“I...I already have a lover.” you grunt, turning to stomp off in the forest. 

“Do you now?” he laughs, the sound twisted and grating. “I was not aware. Forgive me then, hero. I could not help but sate my...curiosity.” 

Flushing red with shame, you turn around to look at him, as if a force wants to keep pulling you closer to him. His eyes haven’t left your form, roaming across you as a predator would it’s prey. “The aether lamp...may I...” you mumble, wringing your hands together. 

“But of course, my dear hero!” he bellows, all theatrics. With a flourish, the lamp materializes in your hand, soft and warm. “Off you go, to find your little friend. Unless, you desired my company?”

Finding yourself unable to say no, you opt to say nothing at all and storm off into the forest. Distancing yourself from him should keep this feeling at bay, at least you pray that it does. You can only be glad that no one was around for your slip up, the guilt already gnawing at you as your tongue runs across your lips, remembering the taste of him. It was only a kiss, you tell yourself. It was only a kiss. Nothing that you had to come clean about.

“You seem very tense lately.”

How did it end up like this?

Looking from your place near the vanity, your eyes land Audric’s worried ones as he lays on the bed. “That is to say...more tense than usual. For someone as busy as you.”

There was barely any hiding your importance from Audric, with your constant need for repair and the company you kept. That you were the Warrior of Light, or rather Darkness remained a mystery to him, but even he could pick up on that you were someone important.

Placing your brush down, you move to join him in bed, slipping under the covers. “Things have been...hectic. With the Warrior of Darkness bringing night back to us and all.” you lie, tongue feeling like ash as you look at Audric’s dazzling smile. 

“Isn’t it amazing? The night sky? Never in my lifetime...” he reaches out to bring you into his arms, and you let him hold you close, the scent of the soaps and oils from his earlier bath filling your nose. It’s pleasant, but you can’t fight the increasing feeling of how wrong it feels.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. It’s just wrong.

“I’m glad you-- I mean we, get to see what the stars look like.” You smile, the happiness of doing this one thing for him the only genuine feeling you have lately. You hate that you can’t seem to shake the feeling of wanting more. You should be happy with him. He cares for you, finds you pleasing to the eye, treats you well...still, you are so unhappy.

“I already had an idea of what the stars look like. Ever since I had looked into your eyes.” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you gently. You quickly return the kiss, sharing a few more before he requests entrance into your mouth. Your groan of displeasure is taken as one of encouragement, his hands reaching for the hem of your tunic.

“W-Wait,” you breathe, catching his hands in yours.

The hurt in his eyes cuts like a knife, and you run through your head for an excuse. “I just...want to wait. I want to take things slow, I’ve never...” His eyes widen in understanding, an warm smile gracing his lips.

“I see. Forgive me for rushing you, my love. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Then what would you call this welt, forming on my arm this moment?” You pout, shoving your hand out at your offender.

The hooded figure leans over, taking your arm in their hands, pushing back your sleeve. Immediately your heart stops, feeling their skin on yours as they brush across your arm. “T-This is highly inappropriate,” you stammer, trying to pull your arm away but to no avail. “W-Wait,”

“Now, now, don’t get all shy on me. You thought to lie to me after all. Me, who bears the burden of truth.” His grip is firm, but you could break it if you really wanted, this you could tell. You make no moves to pull away as they bend to press their lips against your skin, as gentle as a summer rain. You yelp as they give a playful bite, finally gaining the courage to yank your arm from their grasp.

“Now, you will have a welt.” They laugh, even as you tackle them to the ground, their hood and mask falling from their head. “Forgive me,” they chuckle, nearly out of breath. Golden eyes stare back into your own, full of mirth. A single lock of silver hair grabs your attention. “I could not help but sate my curiosity.”

“You know me.”

[skyholding]

FFXIV A’onisya One-Shot // Windy Day

It’s been a minute, but I finally finished the next piece of A’on’s playlist one-shots--her arrival in Limsa Lominsa, and finally matching up with the main story! I promise friends, laughs, and carbuncle shenanigans--both sneaky and not-sneaky. Please enjoy! <3

Song: Windy Day by OH MY GIRL

---

Despite cheeks red and raw from a wind chilly with salt, she couldn't stop smiling.

She'd never been in a city before. She earned strange looks as she skipped across the stone walls out of the Hawker's Alley crowds rather than the cobblestone walkways. Jewel leapt along, keeping pace two steps behind with lightness to his steps.

Barely a whole day in Limsa Lominsa, and already she'd had her first adventure.

--

"Ye've come with a mind to try yer 'and at adventurin', I reckon! The name's Baderon. Fresh from home, are ye?"

"Oh, uh—yes, I am! Is it that obvious?"

" 'Twas the clothes tipped me off, right out of the northern territ'ries, aye? But ye've already got a friend there, I see—"

"Oh, I'm sorry, this is—"

"Emerald carbuncle, aye? Haha, yes, I see quite a bit of 'em! Stick around 'ere and you'll 'em pass by often 'nough.  Have ye tried the arcanist's guild yet?"

"A... guild? You mean there's others like me?"

"Others?! Why, ye can't sneeze what and not get a wind blade in yer face from a passin' 'buncle! Troublesome fellas sometimes, like ye 'venturers."

"Oh, I don't mean to cause trouble—"

"Aye, lass, I'm just teasin' ye! Take that lift up. Far end of Hawker's Alley.  I'm sure the guild's got some trouble ye can get up to. And you need anythin', you come see ol' Baderon 'ere at the Wench. I'll make sure you're taken care of, lass."

 --

She got turned round six ways to seven looking for the arcanist's guild, but each street was as delightful as the last. At one point she ended up in a far corner that she was quite sure was on the opposite end of the world from the guild, and found herself surrounded by uniformed individuals.

For a second she panicked, certain she had wandered somewhere she wasn't allowed. She was about to leave when a call caught her ear.

 "Excuse me! I say, miss, excuse me! Might I borrow a moment of your time?"

The voice was coming from a small group just outside the entrance. A young elezen man waved at her, his face lit with a smile. A miqo'te who looked around her own age stood on his right, arms crossed, rolling her eyes. On his left was a burly sea wolf roegadyn and a dark-skinned lalafell with sharp green eyes. The roegadyn and lalefell had hung their uniform tops along the rock railings, and were glowering at each other.

A'onisya hesitated for a moment, long enough for Jewel to take off running towards the group. The waving elezen smiled at the carbuncle. "Well, at least this fellow knows what he w-ANTS—" He lurched to the side as Jewel barreled towards the drink clutched in his other hand.

"Jewel, no!" A'on screeched as she took off after him. "Oh, gods, I'm so sorry—"

The other miqo'te's laughter cut A'on off. "Don't be! The last time Franz looked that panicked, a bloodshore bell decided to make a nest on his head!"

"That bloodshore bell was going to suck out my brains, thank you very much," Franz huffed, holding his drink high above Jewel, who whined pathetically.

"He could take it if he really wanted, he's just lazy," A'on said, tapping Jewel's side with her toe.

"Sounds like someone we know," the roegadyn growled.

"I am not lazy. Is this the physique of someone lazy?" the lalafell protested. A'on couldn't help but watch him as he struck various poses, all of them equally unimpressive.

"Swift was just joking, Yisha," the miqo'te said. Catching A'onisya's eye, she winked. "My name's D'zheja, by the by. Sorry to have dragged you into our madness."

"This is hardly madness! This is an important issue that, as leader, I will not allow to compromise our team. An outsider's opinion is just what we need to settle this." Franz nodded to A'onisya, while D'zheja just shook her head.

"If it'll make ye stop yammerin', Franz, so be it," the roegadyn said. She sized A'onisya up, and A'on swore she felt her own almost nonexistent muscles deflate further in the presence of the roegadyn's impressive physique. "Swift Axe's m'name, lass. This glowerin' fellow there  is Yisha ya Sha."

"A pleasure," the lalafell sniffed.

"What—so what exactly do you want my opinion on?" A'onisya asked, finding herself smiling at the odd group.

Franz opened his mouth to reply, but Yisha said, "Swift accused me of laziness because I would not take part in the morning training exercises."

"I believe 'couch potato' was the exact phrasing," Franz interjected.

"Whatever it was—"

"—I just wanted to be accurate!—"

"—it is insulting. I do not need to run six laps to and from Summerford Farms carrying two buckets filled with rocks. My magic is not dependent on the size of my biceps, unlike those of you who do little else than swing around an axe two times the size of myself."

"Aye, 'tis all I do," Swift Axe grumbled.

It was then that A'on's eyes trailed over the assorted weapons amongst the equally assorted group—an absurdly large axe, glinting in the sunlight, was leaning against the rocks next to a petite staff with dark metal coiled around a green emerald. Swift's and Yisha's weapons, clearly. Franz had a delicate-looking curled wand hanging from his belt, and two daggers dangled from each of D'zheja's hips.

"So... you wanna know who's stronger, or something?" she asked. "Isn't there  a way to test that out?"

"That's what I was saying—there's perfectly fine striking dummies just outside Summerford. Let 'em beat those things up—or each other, if they want," D'zheja snorted.

"Yes, but now your thought has been echoed by our valuable unbiased visitor!" Franz said. "That is, ah—I don't think we've gotten your name, my friend?"

"A'onisya Dehf, sir."

"A'onisya! A fine name for a fine lady with a fine plan. Would you care to accompany us to this test of strength just outside the city walls?"

A'oniysa glanced at the others, who looked a her with mixed expressions of amusement, laughter, warmth, and a slight bit of apology. "Why not? Sounds like fun."

"Excellent! I accept this challenge!" Yisha cried, and pointed at Swift. "For once and for all I shall prove my fire as bright as—nay, brighter than—your blows! You shall witness the power of the mind overwhelm the power of the musc—"

"Stop yammerin' and put your shirts on, weirdos," D'zheja interrupted, tossing the lalafell and roegadyn their jackets. "Before Dehf over there runs while she can."

--

"All right, gang. We've got two dummies, same make, all lined up. The quickest destroyer of their dummy is... uh, well, the winner, I suppose?"

"That's one word for it, I guess," D'zheja said, rolling her eyes as Franz coughed. He made a final inspection of the dummies, and apparently satisfied, jogged back to rejoin the group. "Are you prepared—Swift, Yisha?"

"Since the day I was born," Yisha said, cracking his neck and readying his onyx staff.

"Aye, aye," Swift Axe said with a shrug, leaning on her axe hilt and eyeing the striking dummy across the field.

Sitting next to D'zheja, with Jewel curled up on the ground at her elbow, A'on looked from Swift to Yisha to the dummies. She had seen hunters back home, of course, and had hunted herself, but she'd never watched actual fighting. D'zheja had filled her in on the details during their walk to Summerford Farms—they were a new squadron the Maelstrom, not long out of training. Franz had been around longer, she said, but they were his first team. "I think he's trying to make up for his inexperience with sheer enthusiasm," she whispered, which made A'onisya chuckle, but she had to sympathize with the elezen's newfound responsibility.

"Who shall begin, then?" Franz inquired, eyes darting from Swift to Yisha.

"Ladies first?" Yisha said, sweeping his hand in Swift's direction.

Swift rolled her eyes, but grunted consent. She hefted her axe off her shoulders and positioned both her hands along its hilt, shifting its weight easily. A'on was quite sure she'd never even get the hilt off the ground if she attempted to hold the axe herself, let alone swing it. The roegadyn, however, hefted the weapon with the fluidity of a monk's fists.            

Her eyes locked onto the straw dummy, she let out a roar that A'on not only heard, but felt—rippling through the grass, pushing her back slightly. She could have sworn she saw a red glow dance along Swift's skin and down the axe, unless it was merely some trick of the sunlight. Before she could decide, Swift had bounded forward, muscled legs pumping—four massive strides brought her toe-to-toe with the defenseless dummy, upon which she brought down a single slice of the axe's blade.

Tremors shuddered through the ground as the axe head embedded itself into the dirt, the dummy cut cleanly in half, spilling guts of straw from its broken bindings. The straw along the cut was burnt and blackened, and chunks of dirt had blown out from where the axe had landed.

"Excellent display, Swift! As always, of course," Franz exclaimed, clapping madly from the large boulder had perched on to watch the proceedings.

"One. Cut." A'on had been staring so hard at the striking dummy that she did not notice Swift's return. She looked at the roagedyn woman, whose face displayed as little as if she had merely cut a sandwich in half for lunch. "Now imagine... a little lalafell there instead," Swift mused, sizing the striking dummy up and down and admiring her handiwork.

"Ha, ha," Yisha said, twirling the staff in his hands before bringing it to rest at his hip. "Now allow me to demonstrate the sharpness—of my mind."

"Gods, can you just get on with it already?" D'zheja groaned. She poked A'on in the side and grinned. A'on rolled her eyes back, eliciting a chuckle from the other miqo'te. Feeling movement on her right, A'on saw that Jewel had sat up and was now watching the action attentively, his black nose twitching.

"Always in such a rush," Yisha muttered, stepping into place several yards away from his own dummy. He sized up the straw-man, then lifted the ornate staff in one hand, balancing the weight perfectly with the emerald aloft. He brought the staff back, crouching. A'on realized he was building power, preparing to thrust the staff forward and unleash his spell—

The dummy spun as if in a gale, twisting and writing on its pike. The group watched as fierce winds buffeted the straw, like a contained tornado had come to rest in its center. Then, after several seconds of thrashing and the howl of wind filling their ears, the attack was over, and the dummy stood still.

For a moment they were silent. Then Franz jogged over to inspect the dummy.

"It, uh—well, it seems to be missing a few... strands?" he called back.

"An interesting display, Yisha," D'zheja said, lifting her eyebrows. "I didn't know thaumaturges were learning wind magic. Unless you’re dabbling in conjury these days?"

"That—that's not what I—"

"Though if I was trying to win a contest, I don't think I'd've used a spell I was still learnin'." D'zheja grinned toothily, settling her hands on the hilts of her daggers. "Still, neat to show us, yeah?" She reached down and scratched Jewel behind the ears. He leaned into her scritches and chirped as if in agreement.

"Though perhaps, admittedly, I believe we would all agree—not quite as, ah, life-ending as Swift's exhibition," Franz offered, having by now returned to them. "Does our fine A'onisya agree with this, being our impartial judge?"

He gestured to A'on, who managed, "I—I mean, I don't know much about that kind of stuff, but yeah, I'd say that sounds right, you know?"

Franz nodded. "As your leader, Yisha, I would suggest considering fire next time? Especially considering the inherent weakness of... straw."

"I—I didn't—" Yisha continued to stammer, his voice cut off this time by Swift kneeling down and slinging an arm across his shoulders. The lalafell staggered under her weight, and Swift laughed uproariously.

"Be a good sport, Yisha! Did your best, and I've no ill will against your magics. But now we know..." here she stopped to allow herself a small smirk, "...who's gonna be runnin' with us at mornin' drills from now on." Yisha sighed, hanging his head, as A'on, D'zheja, and Franz joined in Swift's laughter.

 --

A'onisya accompanied the squadron back to the Drowning Wench for drinks, and it wasn't until her second mug of barley water that she remembered.

"Oh, Azeyma bless, I was looking for the arcanist guild!" she burst out, slamming her drink down and wincing when droplets of water splashed through the air and directly onto Yisha sitting next to her. He merely sighed and dabbed at the water with his napkin, apparently resigned to his fate for the day, which included watching morosely as Jewel scarfed down the king-sized meat pie he had ordered. D'zheja's gaze shifted from watching Jewel delightedly to staring at A'on. "What, when you stumbled into the barracks? You serious?"

"Yes!"

"Were you really? Because you should you know weren't anywhere near the guild," Franz commented while taking an impressive swig out of his pint. Even Swift looked at the elezen with some amount of admiration. "Well, no matter!" Franz flicked his large napkin and dabbed at his mouth. "We'll make sure you get there straightaway this time round."

As Franz lifted his empty mug and looked for a waitress, Swift plucked the cup out of his hand and said, "You won't be makin' sure like this, sir. A'on's a smart girl, I'm sure she'll be fine."

"But that's how I got lost the first time!" A'on protested. She had turned her attention to pulling Jewel out of Yisha's meat pie, much to the carbuncle's protestations, but finally he abandoned his decimated prey and wriggled onto the floor next to her.

Feeling a warm hand on her shoulder, A'on twisted to see D'zheja leaning over, her grin wide. "I'll make sure she gets there, no prob. Then when I come back, it's another round on me!"

"Most excellent! As leader, I approve! Huzzah!" Franz exclaimed. He groped for his mug, nearly falling out of his chair as Swift pulled it further out of reach.

"Why've you got such long arms then, you goof?" the roegadyn muttered. She nodded at D'zheja, then finally at A'on. "Good meetin' you, kid. I'm sure we'll see you round, if you're stickin' to these parts."

A'on smiled back. "I'm thinking I might, yeah."

"Then certainly we will." To her left, Yisha stuck out a hand. He had puffed out his chest with all the air of a wounded but proud nobleman. "A pleasure, Miss Dehf." She returned the handshake warmly.

"You know, A'onisya," Franz said as A'onisya turned to leave with D'zheja. "I think you're gonna do some great things here in Limsa. Maybe even have a squadron of your own someday! Quite—quite possibly, I'd say—why, quite likely, in fact!"

A'on laughed. "I don't know about that, but—"

"You never know," D'zheja finished, poking her in the side with a hearty wink.

 --

D'zheja took  her as far as the main aetheryte, then pointed her down the main alley past the vendors and shops to where the arcanist guild was nestled. A'on could just make out the arcanist's sign, ensuring she wouldn't lose her way this time. She hugged her new friend tightly, a gesture D'zheja returned with enthusiasm.

"Franz can be weird, but I think he's got it right this time," she said as they pulled away. "I have a feeling I'll be hearing a lot about you. But you know, you're more than welcome to swing by the barracks and tell us all about your adventures here in Limsa. We'll be cheerin' for you!"

She waved good-bye as A'on, returning the wave over her shoulder, jogged down the cobblestones with Jewel skipping in her wake.

She couldn't stop smiling. Barely a day in Limsa Lominsa, and already she'd had her first adventure... and made her first friends.

[crystalsexarch]

Clinch - T

“Personally, I believe there are few garments your presence in which would not improve.”

“And here I thought you preferred looking at me naked…”

-

Teen. Male specific WoL. Bas'ir Bahani. Aymeric tries to figure out why he and the Warrior of Light can never fall asleep at the same time. Figuratively? Literally? Yes. 

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2020 FFXIV Writing Challenge

"If I ever get married, I think I'd like to wear a gown."

Bas'ir liked to talk and Aymeric liked to listen

"The ugliest gown you've ever seen. Like an overgrown bird. Do you know the kind?"

The Lord Speaker had a balcony worth boasting about; it offered a picturesque view of white peaks, gray mountains sprinkled with green, and a fog that swirled like steam over dinner. But it was always "too cold" and the night "far too windy," so instead Aymeric moved his coziest armchair to the window, drew the curtains back, and draped his favorite Miqo'te—one of his favorite people—across his lap.

"I'd like to be a real bastard of a bride," Bas'ir said, always animated. His right arm pulled double duty when it came to gesticulating, and despite the fact that he was essentially being cradled by a much larger man, he managed to express himself just fine without tumbling onto the floor. "And no one can stop me because I'm the Warrior of Light...or what have you."

Aymeric chuckled and rubbed the man's ribs. “Where have you set your sights? A bastardly bride, or a bridely bastard?”

Bas’ir’s head dropped to the armrest but he kept his tricky eyes open. “Brideliness is in the eye of the beholder, so I’ve heard.”

“Is that what you’ve heard?” Aymeric tilted his head but kept his gaze static. “And more importantly, are you asking me to behold you?”

The Keeper started but closed his mouth and looked away. “W-well...you are already holding me…”

The chair creaked as Aymeric leaned over. Their foreheads were a few ilms apart. “Forgive me, you’ll have to speak louder.”

“I shall not!” Bas’ir said, much louder. Without his prosthetic, he couldn’t really cross his arms, but his pout carried the weight of a body’s worth of bashfulness. They stayed like that for a while, before Bas’ir thwapped his tail on Aymeric’s thigh. A sign of goodwill, if anything, and so was the backwards bunt he delivered upon drawing back toward the Elezen’s chest. “Do you know the manner of dress?"”

“Perhaps.” If Bas’ir hadn’t been reclining on both of Aymeric’s arms, he would have liked to stroke that hair, long, dark, and sleek. So unlike Estinien’s, he noticed for the first time. One of the many things that separated them. “Personally, I believe there are few garments your presence in which would not improve.”

“And here I thought you preferred looking at me naked…”

“There’s a time and place for everything.” Aymeric settled back into the chair and searched for starlight through the glass. A candle burning in the reflection kept drawing his eye, small though it was. It would flicker until he put it out, and so would his many, quiet questions about their future.

Bas’ir yawned. “I think if I ever married, I would wear my ring around my neck.”

“Around your neck?”

“On a necklace.” He craned back like a curious cat. “After all, I’ve demonstrated how easily one can misplace an arm. I figure if you’ve lost your neck, you’ve more formidable problems on your hands. Or...chest, or whatever you've got left...”

“I suppose that’s fair…”

After a long time, Bas’ir’s slow breaths turned into tiny snores. Aymeric knew how to carry him without waking him and earning his ire, but he stayed there anyway, pondering his life with stars in his eyes and a man in his arms. Everything wonderful about the Warrior left a strange aftertaste in his mouth. But at least now he knew one thing: he would never have to ask his ring size.