#thinking about soft ifrit today don’t mind me

[wrathofrats]

Aether comforting ifrit after he gets overwhelmed. Taking care of everyone else before himself. Can’t stop to ensure he’s doing alright because someone else needs him more. Zephyr has too much to deal with to stop and take of him, they don’t deserve that burden.

But it’s too much, it always is. Standing in the middle of the kitchen after promising to make lunch for the other ghouls, head feels like static, vision tunneled on the sandwich in front of him. And when he drops the butter knife on the floor it just becomes too much.

Ifrit tries to stop the tears before they come, hot and thick welling up at the corners of his eyes. But he can’t. His hand shakes as he picks up the butter knife, determined to finish his task.

And aether sees, can feel that ifrit was on the brink from a mile away. Just quietly takes the utensil from him, shushing him and telling him that it’s not important, that he can’t finish this in his current state, that the others will understand.

And ifrit just collapses into him. The floodgates opening once aether wraps his arms around him, pulling his head into his shoulder.

[forlorn-crows]

i shared a mount/ifrit fantasy with @miasmaghoul today and my brain wouldnt stop thinking about it. so here's a lil nocturnal nastiness for you. @askingforthesun i said i should write more mount/if so . . .

cw for slight somno but it's of the wet dream variety and ifrit doesnt mind indulging in the side effects of mountain's filthy subconscious fantasies

Ifrit’s roused from a deep, dreamless sleep with two lanky arms locked around him and a stiffy pressed to the small of his back. He can feel Mountain’s breath on his neck—his drool too, where his lips are pressed half-parted just under his hairline.

Ifrit stirs. Mountain’s arms don’t give in the slightest. If anything, Ifrit feels him tighten a little more, rolling his hips all slow against his ass. 

“Mount?” the fire ghoul whispers into the dark. He rubs his hands against his face, waking up a little more. The only response he gets is a stuttered movement of his hips again and a huffed moan.

Completely asleep then. Asleep and clearly having a nasty dream. 

“Fffuu—” Mountain mumbles. A deep sigh follows as his cock kicks against Ifrit’s back. He has to resist a groan. The earth ghoul always sounds so pretty like this, vulnerable and soft as he is in his sleep. He moans again, high, feminine, and breathy, and the noise goes straight to Ifrit’s gut.

He should really wake Mountain up. Or pry his arms off of him, separate himself from the slumbering, horny giant. 

But sometimes, Ifrit is a selfish ghoul. It’s not like Ifrit’s doing anything to him. Who’s to say he isn’t also asleep, subconsciously affected by Mountain’s nocturnal fantasies? None of this decision to indulge is motivated by his rapidly chubbing-up dick, not at all. 

So he tells himself. 

Mountain shifts against his back, long arms drifting down to his middle. His fingers twitch against Ifrit’s stomach, ticklishly teasing just above his waistband. 

“Hh–oh,” Mountain breathes. He noses a little further up into the fire ghoul’s hair, snuffling loudly. He must smell something he likes because he whines after, thrusting three times in quick succession. 

Lucifer have mercy, Ifrit begs in his mind, biting his lip to keep quiet. 

“Mmpf—fu’ me,” the earth ghoul mumbles. “S’ good.”

Ifrit squeezes his eyes shut. Why do you have to talk in your sleep, too, you big beast, he curses internally. 

Mountain curls in on himself hard, letting out a full-voiced moan. Ifrit can feel a wet spot now rubbing against the sliver of exposed skin on his lower back. Clearly whatever he’s dreaming about must be good to make him so wet. 

“Huh-uh . . . Zephfffuu,” Mountain whines, hand roaming dangerously close to Ifrit’s now fully-hard dick. 

Satanas, he’s dreaming about Zephyr . . . fucking him? Ifrit swallows a groan, hips bucking a little of their own accord. 

For the next few minutes, Mountain continues in much the same way: humping against Ifrit’s ass, huffing random words, groaning and whining into Ifrit’s hair. It’s maddening—how he sounds, how he feels, how he smells. Juniper and sage wafting over him in heavy waves, peppered with the salty tang of his arousal and pre. 

Ifrit’s just about to pull his arms away and escape to the bathroom (he swears he is) when Mountain’s hand slips all the way down, and he fully gropes Ifrit through his boxers. 

“Shit,” he hisses. His eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan. Ifrit has to grip the sheets to keep from closing his hand over Mountain’s and forcing him to pull at him hard and fast. If Mountain wakes up now he’s absolutely going to fail at playing possum. 

“Gon’—yeah,” Mountain mutters. “Cum . . . ‘lease.”

Oh no, Ifrit thinks. Fuck, is he really gonna . . .?

Mountain’s hips stutter, and Ifrit can feel it jerk between his cheeks. The hand over his cock strokes him slowly once, twice, as if moving through water. He holds his breath, knows Mountain’s going to blow his load in his sleep right against his back. 

And fuck if he doesn’t throb just thinking about it. 

Mountain grunts, hand nearly squeezing Ifrit in a death grip. He squeaks at the pressure, feels a hot glob of precum well up at the slit as he arches into it.

“Cu—cummm, fuckfuu—” The earth ghoul tenses behind him and cums with a shuddering sigh, cum soaking through his underwear and coating the small of Ifrit’s back. 

Fucking seven hells fucking shit—

“Hah, fu—wha’ . . .oh oh shit.” Confusion seeps into his voice, thick from sleep and breathless from orgasm. If his movements are anything to go by, Ifrit would guess cumming woke him up, still rutting against him half-heartedly as he is. The hand over his dick squeezes again, but not so tight. More like a grounding touch, an attempt to locate where his limbs went while he was asleep.

“If—oh Lucifer,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably against the mess in his boxers. “Fuck, you—”

“Are you awake now?” Ifrit asks in the smallest voice possible. 

“Yea,” Mountain coughs, “yes.” 

“What were you dreaming about?”

Mountain stutters, voicing his jumbled thoughts. “I . . . did I . . ?”

“You did, and please for the love of Lucifer finish me off,” the fire ghoul hisses. 

“Finish you—oh.” Ifrit grabs Mountain’s forearm and cements his hand to his dick, thrusting up into his loose fist. “Fuck, Ifrit, sorry,” he rumbles. 

“S’okay, please,” Ifrit begs. He arches again, nudging the top of his head against Mountain’s collarbone. “Make me cum, Mount, please make me cum.”

“Shit, okay, okay—” 

Ifrit helps him slip his hand inside his boxers, letting out the most wretched moan when his thick fingers wrap all the way around his cock. Another bead of pre bubbles up, and Mountain spreads it around the head on the upstroke. 

“Faster unholy shit please,” Ifrit begs. “Can’t fucking take—shit, yesyesyes.” Mountain speeds his hand, matching the frantic tone in the fire ghoul’s voice. 

Ifrit really can’t fucking take it. His breaths turn to feverish panting, muscles tensing as he hurtles towards the edge Mountain’s unknowingly kept him on. He’s going to bust embarrassingly quickly. 

“You’re so warm,” Mountain breathes, almost reverently. His hand flies over Ifrit’s dick. “So big . . . you gonna cum?”

His balls draw up at just the suggestion, and Ifrit cries out that yes, he’s gonna fucking cum all over Mountain’s hand after he just creamed himself in his boxers while he was asleep and almost groped Ifrit to horny death. 

Ifrit muffles his shout into the pillow as he shoots hot and sticky all over his stomach and Mountain’s sleep-warm fingers, cumming so hard and fast he nearly sees stars. The earth ghoul groans into his hair, stroking him until he twitches from overstimulation.

“Sorry,” he whispers again, removing his hand and wiping it on the sheets.

“You,” Ifrit barks a dazed laugh, “you have an iron grip when you’re asleep. What’dyou dream about?”

Mountain snuggles closer, wrapping his arms back around the other ghoul. Ifrit knows it’s a trap, knows they’ll both fall asleep without cleaning up the more comfortable they get post-orgasm.

“Dunno,” Mountain yawns. Yep, big guy’ll start snoring soon, Ifrit’s sure of it. 

“Said Zeph’s name once or twice,” Ifrit yawns back. Damn him.

“Hmm. Riding me, I think,” he muses. He yawns again. “Wanted them to cum on my tummy,” he mumbles, sighing deeply as he tucks his face back against the nape of Ifrit’s neck. 

The fire ghoul grumbles, sleep already dragging him under. “Fuck that’s hot.”

[sentientgolfball]

Mushy May: Hand Holding + Let Me Take Care of You

surprise surprise it's more Zephrit. What can I say I love them, your honor. Also this is more let me take care of you than hand holding but it is still there

Word Count: 1606

Rain had been pounding against the stained glass windows of the Ministry all day. There hadn’t been a glimpse of sunlight from the time Zephyr woke. The intensity of the droplets would fluctuate, but it never stopped. The fireplaces were lit all throughout the ancient building in an attempt to keep warm. The spring weather has been lovely so far, but today was reminiscent of the chill that settles late in the year. 

Zephyr hated it. 

The storm gave them a surge of energy, sure, but what was the point when they still felt nothing but pain? They wanted nothing more than to dash outside with the air and water ghouls, let off a little elemental steam, but every joint in their body felt ready to pop with even the slightest of movements. They can’t help but think about how cruel it is that they were cursed with a body that crumbles in their element while gazing out the common room window. 

They watched the others in the courtyard; running and playing and letting out bursts of built-up elemental magick. They longed to join them. They watched Cumulus manipulate the clouds above. They could feel every time Cirrus used a gust of air to knock over one of the water ghouls. It stung like nothing else to not be out there. They were the one that showed her that trick. Their eyes drifted across the grounds, opting to focus on the little school of water ghouls. Rain was out there. They saw him with River, floating on their backs in the lake while the sky poured. A small part of Zephyr almost wished Rain wouldn’t have been with the others; a horrible hope that Rain would be aching just as much as they are. It makes them feel awful, they know Rain struggles just as much as they do, even so they can’t help it. Maybe they wouldn’t have felt so alone if he had been. 

They’re momentarily torn away from the depths of their mind when the heavy door to the ghoul den creaks open. A blast of warmth follows and Zephyr relaxes just a bit. 

“Hey birdie,” Ifrit’s deep voice calls. 

They don’t acknowledge him. Part of them is glad Ifrit showed up, he’d be able to quiet the voice in their head and the ache of their body. The other part wanted to wallow in their own misery, the air ghoul whose body is too broken to exist in their own damn element. What a waste. It’s amazing they weren’t just thrown back to the Pits when Cirrus and Cumulus were summoned. What use were they with two new air ghouls? 

“Come back to me Zeph.” 

They’re shaken out of their thoughts when a warm hand rests on their knees. Ifrit is crouched in front of them, body blocking their view of the courtyard. There’s a slight pinch between his eyebrows but the rest of his face is nothing but softness. Zephyr blinks slowly at him, pulling themselves into the present. They reach out to cup his cheek. Their movements are shaky and stiff and Ifrit sighs seeing the grimace flash across their face. 

He kisses their palm, “Have you eaten yet?” 

They shrug, humming noncommittally. Ifrit has told them time and time again he’s more than happy to help when they need it, still, Zephyr doesn’t want to admit they need it. It was their problem to deal with; they didn’t need to drag anyone else into it. Ifrit just sighs, kisses their palm again and stands. Before Zephyr knows what’s happening they’re being lifted. 

“Ifrit, what are you? Put me down!” 

“Not a chance birdie” he smiles at them “You and I both know sitting in that chair all day is going to make tomorrow worse.” 

He’s right. Zephyr knows he’s right. Sitting at the window, letting the cold seep into their body would only harm. Watching the other ghouls enjoy what they couldn’t would ruin their mood until it was warm and sunny again. But they wanted it. They wanted to have some semblance of connection to the other ghouls out absorbing their elements. Though even if they wanted to protest they couldn’t. Their legs ache too much to think about slinging them down and walking right back over to the window. The warmth radiating off of Ifrit didn’t help either. It was too enticing to stay in his hold, letting his fire soothe every ailment. 

Instead, they opted for hissing at him. Grumbling the entire walk from the common room to their shared bedroom. 

“Yeah I know I’m such an asshole” he teases. 

Once inside, Ifrit sits them down on the bed. He presses a loving kiss right between their horns before walking into the bathroom. Zephyr can see him sniffing at soaps and salts from their peripherals as the sound of running water fills the otherwise quiet room. Curse Ifrit and his caring nature. It’s hard to feel miserable when a big dumb fire ghoul won’t leave you be. 

“Bath is ready birdie!” He calls. 

Zephyr doesn’t stand. Doesn’t even look at him when Ifrit pops his head back into the bedroom. They have their cane they could make it the short distance to the bathroom, but they don’t. Stepping into that bath feels like giving up, giving in. Like they truly were admitting they couldn’t handle their own element. But Ifrit is a pillar of patience. He waits silently watching them until they sigh and nod ever so slightly. He rushes over to take their hand, helping them stand and walk to the bathroom. 

He digs around the cabinets for a bottle of shampoo while they get undressed. Zephyr can smell the fragrance emanating off the water and it is divine. The vanilla and lavender scent break down the fight in their body even more. Still they try to hold onto it, clinging to it like salvation. Even so, Zephyr dips a clawed toe into the water. They hiss, jumping just a little with how hot it is before sinking their whole foot into it. They step into the bath slowly, letting their body get acclimated to the change in temperature. They can’t help the groan that slips out when they’re fully submerged. 

Ifrit sits next to the rub, sleeves rolled up past his elbows. Zephyr flicks water at him with their tail. 

“Gonna have to try harder than that if you want me gone” he laughs “Let me wash your hair. Let me take care of you birdie.” 

“You’re an annoyance” There’s no real venom to their words. The hot water seeped everything out of them. 

They lean closer to him, letting him take their hair out of its bun. He runs his claws through it, careful not to tug on any tangles. He cups his hand over their eyes so he can wet their hair. He does his best to avoid soaking the feathers on their neck while he works. He presses another kiss to their forehead before uncapping the bottle and squinting some shampoo onto his hand. It's Zephyr’s favorite. The one that smells like lemongrass and rosemary. The one that reminds them of the day they fell in love with Ifrit. 

He scrubs their hair gently, claws scratching against their scalp. He takes his time with it until all the tension melts from their face and a crackling purr vibrates in their chest. 

“Love it when you sing for me birdie.” 

“Mmm mention it again and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

He laughs pressing a kiss to the corner of their mouth “You wouldn’t. You like my tongue too much.” 

Zephyr cracks open an eye to give him a questioning look. Ifrit smiles, leaning into rub their noses together before capturing them in a proper kiss. They break for just a moment before Zephyr leans forward to quickly peck him on the lips. They settle back into a comfortable silence as Ifrit washes the soap from their hair. Zephyr feels floaty by the time Ifrit pulls them from the tub. He dries them off, wrapping them up in a fluffy robe. 

Zephyr immediately goes to the bed to curl up under the thick blankets. Ifrit sends a quick text to Swiss first, asking him to bring dinner to their room whenever he’s done with it. He throws his phone onto the nightstand before crawling in behind Zephyr and pulling them tight against his chest. He lets his fire curl up to the surface, keeping warmth seeping into them for as long as they need. He traces the edge of their feathered ear, watching it twitch and flutter against the touch. 

He loves being able to see Zephyr like this. Relaxed and vulnerable. It makes his heart swell knowing he’s the one who they go soft for. 

“You’re staring” they state. 

“How can you even tell, you’re practically asleep.” 

“I can feel it.” 

“Can’t help it” he picks up one of their hands, lacing their fingers together. 

He brings their intertwined hands up to his lips, pressing kisses across Zephyr’s knuckles. With each little kiss, he pushes more warmth into them, soothing the aching joints of their fingers. He kisses the top of their hand before settling. He doesn’t let go though, keeping them together while he watches Zephyr fall asleep. He stays wrapped up with them until Swiss brings dinner. Even then he doesn’t move right away. He already knows every line, every feather and wrinkle of their face, even so he looks. Memorizing every single detail once again. Every time he gets to do this he falls in love all over again. 

[sayonaramidnight]

Not much time passed since their joint exploration of Tam-Tara Deepcroft, but to Arianna it felt like eternity. And like a moment, at the same time. Too long. Too short. Perhaps time was playing tricks on her, or perhaps it was all in her head.

Watching her sister make miracles with that grimoire of hers was indeed astonishing - through her time away from Eorzea, Seawalker had turned into an actual adventurer who could predict her opponents' moves and always be one step ahead of them. Good for her, sure. But everything that had happened later... Arianna only heard stories. Rumours about the Lord of the Inferno risen from the flames to answer the prayers of his worshippers. She had not been there, not seen the woman called Helvi Seawalker slay the alleged god of Amal'jaa, so when they had reunited, all she could do was look closely at the new godslayer in search for any proof. Any sign. Any change.

She had found no such thing.

Except... When asked about adventuring, Seawalker had given her a confused look. "There are more than one way to make people's lives better," she'd said, "Why should I stick to one, if I can do more?"

On what 'more' was, she had not elaborated.

-

Today, though, was almost like old times. The two spent a lovely morning at the household of Swiftfingers' parents, exchanging gossip over the plate of almond cream delicious croissants - albeit Master Zezemuchi's tale about Arianna's involvement with the Sunsilk Tapestries might have been a tad embellished. And even though the third sister wasn't there anymore, in a way she still was - in spirit and fond memories - so the Thanalan Tinies could reunite one more time...

And somewhere along the way from the Steps of Nald to the Sapphire Avenue, it got so easy to believe Seawalker had never left. She stormed the market, ransacking the jewellery and metallurgy stalls for high quality materials and chatting with the merchants about the craftwork she had seen overseas. It was fun - and relieving - to see her that happy and giddy about her old trade.

It was no fun, though, to see her go completely broke.

"You know, it wouldn't do you any harm if you haggled a little," Arianna shook her head, "Those people ain't dependent solely on you and won't get famished if you don't overpay them".

But the Roegadyn didn't take her words to heart, deeply convinced the merchants of Ul'dah deserve all her gil. She approached Arianna with a wide grin and a different earring in each hand. "Truly, you are an Immortal Flame," she said fondly, "Bright. Undying. We need to think of a fine set of jewellery that would fit your uniform".

"We need, you say as if you're going to consider my opinion," the Duskwight snorted, "Good to see you back in your element, though. Now that you've rejoined the Goldsmiths' Guild, are you planning to stay in Ul'dah? Or go back to Mist, so your aunt can keep her eyes on you?"

"Neither my aunt, nor the glorious sea can keep me far from my Rinoire and the memories of Zezelyn," her sister laughed and spread her arms, as if she wanted to embrace the whole city, "Not that I haven't got any other options since the Grand Companies invited me to join them, so if I ever change my mind, I-"

Right. That was the other thing Arianna heard about recently. Not a rumour, but a true story confirmed by General Aldynn himself. If it wasn't for the reverence she had for him, he would have been given a piece of her mind and not in a kind way.

"Bloody hells, Seawalker, don't tell me you're considering it. You're no soldier." There was no ill will in these words, just the truth - not because she lacked the required skills, but because she did things in her own pace, which did not go well with taking orders. Not to mention her calling was making things, rather than killing people.

"I know, I know. Which is why I kindly told them to sod off".

"No, you didn't".

"No, I didn't. I gave them my thanks and expressed my concern it would spread discord between them," Seawalker kept smiling playfully, as she continued investigating the jewels and metals in a truly scientific manner.

"Nice try, but they ain't gonna stop asking," Arianna followed her, still concerned, "Unless the Scions claim exclusive rights for you".

"They haven't yet, but it is another good reason to stay in Ul'dah. In case they're in need of me, I won't be far".

"In need of you to do what?" the lancer clenched her fists, ready to defend her sister from the selfsame people who had sent her after Ifrit, "Craft a set of rings or slay another god?"

"Gods cannot be slain so easily. Not for good," the Roegadyn shrugged, giving a vibe of someone who knows everything about the topic, "And we- they suspect that other beast tribes might follow, that someone's been steering them from the shadow-"

"Rhalgr take them and all their suspicions," Arianna could not help but growl, already fed up with this conversation and unable to argue with that consummate do-gooder, "Why did it have to be you?!"

"And why did you stand at Carteneau?"

One question, one simple question made Arianna stifle a gasp. "That wasn't- That-" she stumbled and gritted her teeth. That was just another war, she was meaning to say, with no supernatural factors involved. But she could not utter a lie. There was Dalamud, after all. There was that bloody primal dragon.

Still, she could not contain a surge of anger. Who were they - those Scions or Archons, or whatever they called themselves - to bug her sister about problems too big for her and order her around? What if they were the ones who would turn her into a soldier? And right after her return to Eorzea, before she could even settle down?

"The thing is, I had a choice," she said finally and that was it, that was the whole point of her concern, "Did you?"

"How could I choose to turn my back on them?" the Roegadyn cried out, her voice both sad and irritated. Perhaps mostly sad. "Rinoire, you should see what a primal can do to people - not only to their worshippers, but to anyone around. Those people are... changed. Their minds, twisted forever... There's no way to reverse it, but there's a way to resist it I'm capable of".

"And you ain't the only one, right? Are they looking for more 'venturers with the sixth sense like yours? Or will they just- I don't know, turn you into a one-woman army and say that's enough?!"

The look Seawalker gave her was rueful but determined. The look of someone who cannot stand being useless and tries desperately to change it. As if she didn't know how much good she can to for the world without throwing herself into fight.

She leaned to whisper into Arianna's ear. "Let me tell you a secret," her voice was soft and gentle, easy to soothe anyone's anger. Perhaps even tame a primal.

But it could not fool Flame Sergeant Noirterel, who knew that precious, incorrigible woman all too well. "Oh yeah? Shoot".

"The stall behind you has some fine Nagxian silk".

"WHAT?!" Every concerned thought vanished from the Duskwight's head in an instant, when she turned around and rushed up to the stall in question, to get all the silk she could afford at the moment. On behalf of the Weavers' Guild, obviously; she would not buy any fabrics without showing them the bill.

-

"That- that wasn't fair," she said after what felt like a year, glaring at one overjoyed goldsmith, who was carrying two large bags of some suspicious stuff that might have been meant for crafting. She laughed triumphantly and said nothing.

"What are all those materials for? Got that many commissions already?" Arianna asked, intent on giving up on the previous conversation. That was not a topic for a shopping day, not when it could be deflected and forgotten way too easily.

"No, no, don't worry, no one's commissioned me yet," Seawalker said absent-mindedly, "With these, I'm going to craft fine gifts. A magic staff, maybe. A set of knuckles. Goggles that don't cover half of one's pretty face," she went on, completely preoccupied, "Perhaps a gemmed paperweight for Minfilia..."

Ah, those people again. Lovely. Perhaps she did not get along with them as well as she tried to show, if she wanted to bribe them with gifts.

"Finding the right design for Y'shtola is going to be the hardest task," she heaved a somewhat exaggerated sigh, "Something that complements her beauty and doesn't look too showy..."

Arianna sighed too, utterly defeated. "Just pick whatever and set it in a ring. It won't distract you from her face if it's on her finger."

"So it would seem like a bonding proposal? Perish the thought, I would not dare!" Seawalker shook her head, rocking back and forth on heels, "But you, dear sister! Jewellery for you will be no problem, as soon as I get the perfect gemstones I've got in mind!"

"If you say pink tourmalines, I swear I'll-"

"What? Why would I?" this time Seawalker seemed genuinely confused, "I was thinking star sapphires or maybe diamonds."

"The less expensive one. Or else you'll be broke in no time."

The Roegadyn pouted, clearly discontented with the companionship of an ignoramus who does not understand true art. However, her mood changed in a blink, when a new thought popped into her scattered mind.

"It sure would be nice to find some eyes of lightning, though," she flashed an impish grin, "They look almost pink in the right light, so if you wish-"

"No!"

[catte-bard]

Heart’s Desire

(A scene that’s been in my head for a while about the rocky start to Bel and Thancred’s relationship.)

@ffxiv-writers

The last few days had been long and exhausting.

So much occurring in such a short span of time. Taking Castrum Oriens, trekking out to Rhalgr’s Reach, having to fight the bloody crowned prince himself.

And then was Y’shtola...

If Bellona wasn’t already certain she was awake, she’d assume it was all a terrible dream. 

Her body was sore. Her limbs felt heavy. And her chest ached with the need to sob. All she wanted now was the comfort of a warm bed within the safe walls of the Rising Stones. 

To close her eyes and forget all that had occurred...if only temporarily. 

“You don’t have to escort me, you know.” She quietly told her companion. 

She only meant to travel from Rhalgr’s to the castrum. The trek wasn’t very long and most of the wildlife seemed content with leaving travelers alone as long as they kept their distance. But she still made sure to keep her bow within easy reach. 

“A gentleman never allows a fair lady to walk alone at night.” He simply replied. 

Despite her lousy mood, that managed to get a smile out of her. There were very few people in Eorzea who would think to cause trouble for her. Few corners of Eorzea where her reputation was not known. 

They were traveling in East End now and most of their journey had gone by uninterrupted. She doubted anything or anyone would cause them much trouble this close to an Alliance encampment. 

“I’m quite sure I can handle a few beasts and bandits.” She told him.  “Asides, there have to be a myriad of other more lovely maidens that you’d rather be spending your time with tonight.” 

Though in truth, Bellona was glad for the rogue’s company. She put on a brave face, but the twist in the day’s events had greatly shaken her. The Reach’s chirurgeons had advised her to stay put and rest. But the miqo’te had grown restless in the infirmary. 

And so she had left, at first intending to simply pace around the Reach for a while. But everywhere she looked, she was reminded of the attack. Reminded of her fight with Prince Zenos, and her wounds would begin to ache again. 

Thancred—the damnable rogue—had of course seen her slipping out. And he insisted on accompanying her. Claiming that he was heading back to Mor Dhona himself. He didn’t voice it, but she knew it was because he was worried.

Everyone was worried after seeing what Zenos was capable of. And the fact that Thancred had been the one to pursue her warmed a small part of her. She was glad for his presence. 

Thancred chuckled.  “I don’t doubt there are many a pretty maidens who long for company this night. But there are none that I’d rather spend time with more than you.” 

That surprised her. It shouldn’t have; Thancred was a friend. Of course he’d want to spend time with her over a stranger. 

“Well regardless there’s no need to worry over me.” Bellona assured him. “Today’s events have been terrible but I’m capable of taking care of myself.”

However even as she said this her foot happened to catch in a root unseen in the darkness. And with a very unWarrior of Light yelp stumbled clumsily, losing her balance. But before she could make an embarrassing fall she felt two strong arms catch her.

“What was that about not needing an escort?” Thancred’s voice was laced with amusement. 

Bellona felt her face burn with embarrassment and indignation. Of course it would be her luck! And knowing Thancred, he would never let her live it down.

“I only tripped.” She grumbled.

“And here I thought all miqo’te were of impeccable balance.” He teased further. 

He was close.

Strong, tawny arms held her against his chest, cradling her as if she were some swooning maiden. His face was mere ilms away from her own. 

Thancred was a rather handsome man. The thought occurred to her as her gaze flicked over his features. His roguish new look was starting to grow on her. Even that silly bandana he insisted on always wearing was starting to seem charming.

Her eyes met Thancred’s gaze, finding a tenderness there. He smiled fondly at her, seeming captured within a reverie of his own. Had he always looked at her like that? So...warmly? 

It tugged at something within her. An odd emotion... 

However, she quickly pushed it down, something within her fearfully flinching from it. Clearing her throat she found her footing again, pulling herself from Thancred’s arms. 

“We shouldn’t linger here for too long. I remember Lyse saying that the bears were bold around here.” She awkwardly mumbled.

Thancred blinked, seeming hesitant. Another strange expression on his face. However, whatever was on his mind he bit back.

"Right." He agreed quietly as he followed behind her.

Quiet had fallen over them then as they continued their journey. A tense and awkward kind. Thancred seemed to have fallen back into his old habit of brooding. Stewing in silence over something. Every time she glanced his way his face was drawn and he seemed deep in thought.

Twice she thought about prodding him for what was on his mind. But found her own tongue heavy. And her own mind troubled; still wrestling with the strange feeling trying to bubble up within her. 

The heavy silence seemed to make the trip to the castrum stretch on longer. Or perhaps she merely misjudged the distance?

“So what happened to your eye?” Bellona eventually managed, hoping to break the strange silence that had fallen over them. “You never told me. Get into a fight with a nutkin?”

Her friend’s new accessory had her curious ever since they first reunited in Dravania. She never thought to properly ask him about it. And opportunities had always been stolen away by duty’s call.

Thancred perked, whatever clouds in his mind parting. “I think the mystery of it makes me seem all the more dashing. Would you like to see it?” A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Bellona paused mid-step, her face scrunched into a grimace, but the morbidly curious part of her did perk up. “As long as it’s not...gross or anything.” She told him.

“Worry not, the injury has long since healed, so no puss or rotting flesh or anything like that.” He said as he reached up to undo the sash.

A gasp was already on her lips as he pulled it away, however it stopped short when she saw...just an ordinary eye hidden behind. She frowned, confused for a moment. And Thancred seemed rather amused by her bemusement. 

With a chuckle he stepped closer, leaning down towards her. “Here, look.”

For a few seconds, Bellona wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be looking at. Her gaze must have looked over his features three times before she finally noticed. His eyes—they were two different colours. The left eye was almost like Y’sthola’s—pale and grey.

It was an endearing look for him in a strange way. Made him look more mischievous which matched his nature as a rogue. 

But she also felt a pang sympathy for him. “Does it...hurt?” Without thinking, Bellona reached up to touch his face. 

And as her fingers brushed against his cheek, Thancred winced causing her to jump. However, a smirk quickly broke out across his face and he winked at her. “No it’s fine. See?” He took her hand, guiding it back up to his cheek. His skin feeling soft and warm under her fingertips.

 Bellona could feel her own cheeks growing warm. She prayed Thancred didn’t take notice. 

“I can still see out of it...the light bothers it and sometimes I get headaches. But it’s nothing that has been too debilitating. I’ve learned to get used to it.”

“How did it happen?”

Thrancred shrugged. “Perhaps, a side effect of Y’shtola’s Flow spell. Prolonged exposure in the Lifestream can’t be the healthiest thing.”

Her thumb absently brushed across his cheek. At the back of her mind, Bellona scolded herself for it. However, Thancred seemed not to notice or mind the gesture. 

He’d changed much since the last time they’d seen each other. This half-wild man before her was a far cry from the scroudral of a bard she had departed from in Ul’dah. There was a new hardness to him. A new weight he carried on his shoulders.

“Well I’m just glad you came back to us safe in the end.” Bellona said. 

His thumb brushed against the back of her hand. The gesture sent a tingle through her.

And there was that look again...That soft, fond look he gave her. “Would you believe me if I said that it was the thought of you that kept me going when I was out there?” 

The sudden confession left her speechless.

His hand slowly wrapped around hers and he closed his eyes. Leaning into her touch. "Every moment I doubted I would survive—that I would see my friends again. The mere thought of your strength, your conviction, even your smile gave me enough reason to keep fighting."

"Thancred…"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. There was a long pause between them, a heavy silence hung in the air. Something far too soft—far too filled with longing in both their gazes to be denied. And they both could sense it. 

And perhaps that’s why it happened.

When Thancred leaned down, Bellona leaned against him, catching his lips against her own. Rough, calloused hands were gentle as they held her. As if she were something softer and more delicate than the warrior she was.

Her hands roam over his chest, resting over his beating heart. Her own racing along with it. It felt good in his arms, safe, warm. She had forgotten how good it felt to be held like this. And in that moment the weight of her travails lifted from her. All felt good and right.

But...

Bellona pulled away from him, her eyes squeezed shut.

What are you doing?

“I shouldn’t have done that.” She whispered. 

She hadn’t been thinking when she’d done it. Only hearing her heart thudding in her ears. Listening to the intensity of the emotions rushing through her body. And it had been a mistake. A foolish, stupid, mistake.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that…” She mumbled again and stepped away, feeling as if her face had been bathed in Ifrit’s fires. Good gods, why did she do that?!

She felt a nauseating knot twist her stomach. Oh how she wanted to die on spot right then and there. Wanted to run away and hide somewhere. 

“Bel…” Thancred breathed, his voice lace with astonishment. “Bel it’s fine.” He gently takes her by the shoulders.

His mere touch sends levin through her body. It sends her heart racing. “N-no it’s not.” She argued. “That wasn’t appropriate of me.”

And he laughed. The sound warms the air around them. “How is it inappropriate when I feel the same way?”

What? At that, her cheeks felt even hotter. She looked back up at him, searching his face. He was giving her that look again. That soft, loving look.

He meant those words.

“You...do?” Bellona blinked. She could feel herself shaking. 

“I do.” His voice just above a whisper. 

She was speechless. 

Is this what had been stirring within her since his return? This strange feeling tugging at her heart? That flutter whenever he looked at her a certain way?

How had she been so unaware of her own emotions?

And when did her heart become so soft and so easy to enchant? 

She should’ve realized what it was. And perhaps she had known all along what it was but had just been too afraid to acknowledge it. Because it felt too soon after Haurchefant. Because it felt like a betrayal to him.

Because she was scared of feeling that heartbreak again...

Love stung. And she swore never to trust it again; yet here she was...being a swooning fool again. Enticed by its seemingly harmless appearance and forgetting its barbs.

She looked up at Thancred. Why him? Why did it have to be him? And why now?

“Have I perhaps misread something?” Thancred suddenly sheepishly asked, noticing her distress.

Bellona winced, hating the pained note in his voice. Hating the pained note in her own voice. “No it’s fine...I just.” The words came to her slowly. What? What was wrong with her feeling this way? 

Thankfully, the buzz of her linkpearl saved her from having to finish her response. 

Giving Thancred an apologetic look, she quickly answered it. “Yes? O-oh, Alphinaud.” She did her best to keep the trembling of her emotions from her voice. “Yes...I'll be there shortly.”

The call ended, she looked sheepishly at Thancred. He still waited for an explanation for her reaction. Something she wasn’t ready to explain yet.

“I have to go.” She mumbled.

Disappointment fell across his face. “Of course.” He replied.  “I suppose I should get going as well…”

She hesitates. “We’ll talk about this later…” 

That seemed like the appropriate response. And Thancred seemed to accept it. Albeit reluctantly.

“Later then.” He nods.

If he had anything else to say, Bellona didn’t allow him the chance. Quickly turning away and walking off before he could. Mentally scolding herself as she went.

Her heart didn’t stop racing for a long time.

[pain-in-the-asguardian]

Pillar

Ch. 2.  Read on Ao3 here!

The good thing about drowning himself in alcohol was that he slept like a log, and if he had dreams he didn't remember a damn thing. The downside was that the mere act of opening his eyes was painful. His tolerance was much higher than his partner's, but it had its limits, especially given his existing injuries. Aside from the dull ache that ran through every muscle, the first thing Rude was aware of was the foreign combination of scents surrounding him. There was the sterile hospital smell from the salve covering his wounds, and a contrasting, clean tang of tea tree. A scent he always associated with Reno, though not one he was accustomed to smelling here, in his own bed.

Reno...  Last night...

Deep brown eyes blinked open, a low sound rumbling in his chest as wakefulness edged out the haze of sleep. He was met with the sight of a bright shock of vermilion resting in front of his nose. Sometime during the night, they'd gone from back-to-back to facing one another. Reno was still asleep, the swell of his chest slow and steady, the silky fabric of the pajama shirt flowing around him. This was a Reno that he wasn't used to seeing. His vivid hair fell loosely about his face, expression relaxed. The lines of tension usually present in his lean frame had melted away, leaving him looking almost... soft. It was still Reno, but sleep had smoothed all of his hard, sharp edges. The man might have a relaxed attitude, but Rude knew that most days, beneath that laid-back manner, he was anything but.

He caught himself staring, fascinated by the change. The events of last night were hazy, but.. he'd never forget the feel of those soft pink lips against his. Ifrit's horns, he had great lips, and.. And they'd kissed. Rude swallowed, feeling a rising heat in his cheeks. It had been one literal hell of a day, and... No, he didn't want to remember the rest of it. Not yet. That would come later, when they got out of bed and the world became all too real.  For now, he could allow himself a few blessed minutes to lay here and focus on Reno. The rest of the world could stay somewhere far away.  It wasn't long before the other began to stir, sheets rustling softly as pale blue eyes fluttered open. Rude watched as he sleepily took stock of the situation, yawning widely.

“Morning,” he said softly.

Reno blinked at him, lips slowly curling into a sleepy, unsure grin as the setting dawned on him. “Hey...” He paused. “...Guess that wasn't a dream... yeah?”

Rude managed to shake his head without actually lifting it from the pillow. Several moments ticked by in silence, neither one sure how to continue, both unable to look away. He was strongly aware of his own heartbeat. Taking a breath, he reached out, slowly, to wipe some sleep away from the corner of the other's eye. Reno didn't protest, and Rude, emboldened, dared to brush a thumb along the sharp edge of one cheekbone.

“Last night,” Reno began quietly, stilling beneath his touch.

“.... Yeah.”

“You mean what ya said, yo?”

“Yeah. You mean what you did?”

He breathed out a laugh. “Hell yeah.”

“How do you feel?”

“Everything's sore. Got a headache. You?”

“Same.”

There was a feathery shuffling, and Reno edged closer to him, draping himself across Rude's chest. Almost reflexively, he moved to wrap his arms around the other, to hold him closer.

“Ow...” they chorused, both wincing at the same time and pulling back. Damn bruises.

And then the moment, whatever it had been, was gone.

“Fuck, I need coffee, yo.”

“Water probably wouldn't hurt, either.” He should have made them both drink some last night, but... that hadn't happened. Rude pushed himself slowly into a sitting position, which his head strongly protested. That might be the most he'd ever drank in one sitting. He probably shouldn't do that again, ever.  Reno eventually mirrored him, sitting up with a groan. Rude couldn't remember ever seeing him so exhausted. He hadn't bothered to fully dry his hair before they'd passed out, and now one side was flattened against the side of his head from the pillow, while the other fell in a haphazard mess.  That got a corner of his lip to turn up.

“What're you grinning at, partner?” The other's tone was accusing.

“Major case of bedhead you've got.”

Reno ran his fingers through the bright mass, which did little to correct it. “Geez. I'm getting gypped here. You don't look any different.”

Rude shrugged.

With a final glare, Reno struggled to his feet, and Rude followed him toward the hallway. The kitchen seemed painfully bright after the darkness of the bedroom, even with the thick cover of rain clouds. His eyes couldn't help wandering to the cityscape outside, squinting while his vision adjusted. He felt a light pressure against his side as Reno leaned carefully against him, following his gaze. Just like last night, Sector 8 seemed unchanged. It was as if from here, it never happened. It seemed... unfair, somehow. No, that wasn't the right word. He didn't want more destruction, and it was reassuring that life was still moving forward in the rest of Midgar. But there should be something different. Some reaction. The world had changed.  Both of them jumped as sirens blared, a pair of emergency vehicles cutting through the rain-drenched streets in the direction of the Sector 7 boundary. That was something. There were people out there, trying to help contain the damage, to do whatever was in their power...  He'd seen the Urban Planning folks racing around back at HQ.  There were good people out there, yeah.  But the reason for that...

“Hey.” He blinked at the sound, chestnut hues sliding to Reno, who nudged him. “C'mon.... Need coffee, yo. You deal with that. I'll make breakfast.”

“N...no, I can do that. You should rest, you-”

“Aren't a tank, got worse injuries, look like crap, yadda yadda.” He waved dismissively, opening the fridge to poke around as if he owned it. “One, I need shit to do. Two, I've seen you make toast and it's a crime, yo.”

Part of him wanted to pick Reno up and deposit him onto the couch, but the rest of him knew it would be pointless. He was right, they both needed something else to think about right now.

Not that making coffee took very long. He set a full pot to brewing, figuring that between the two of them they'd finish it in no time. He also poured a cup of water for himself, and one for Reno, setting it by his side. Assigned mission completed, he leaned on the counter, watching his partner.

Reno moved methodically, prepping each item. It wasn't necessarily what one could call well-stocked, but Rude made sure to keep his kitchen full of the basics. Eggs, bacon, sausages, toast. He knew Reno liked to cook, but he rarely had the chance to witness it. He worked with the same focus he applied to his job, somehow equal parts intense and casual at the same time. It was one of the reasons Rude admired him. Yes, he had an attitude and a mouth to match, but beneath that he was dedicated. Rude was honestly still amazed he was standing, after the beating he'd taken.

It surprised him just how much Reno's slim shoulders could bear. He might say otherwise, but Rude saw him as the strong one. Stronger than he looked, and more intelligent than most people gave him credit for. That was why he was Tseng's right-hand man. It took something special to be a Turk, and even more to be a top Turk.  Today, though... That burden was taking its toll. Reno seemed smaller, more subdued. Rude's oversize pajama top only magnified the effect. It slipped off one freckled shoulder, the edges of the sleeves extending past his fingertips. He would push them back, only for the slick material to slide down again after a minute. His fiery hair fell in a long, loose cascade down his back. It wasn't much longer before the scents of cooking bacon and brewing coffee filled the space.

“Order up, yo.” Reno brandished the spatula at him. “You gonna get plates or just keep starin'?”

“Huh? Oh.” Oops, he'd been caught. “Was admiring the view. Can you blame me?”

“Not at all. But I haven't eaten shit since like... one energy bar before … the.. mission. Yeah. So I'm hungry and cranky.”

“Can't have that. Here you go.” He handed Reno a pair of plates, and proceeded to fill two mugs with fresh coffee. He didn't realize just how hungry he was himself until they sat down. He didn't even remember having an energy bar. Once he had some food and caffeine in him, he started to feel a bit more alive. Reno knew what he was doing, and yes, Rude had to admit that toast was better when it wasn't a blackened brick.

“Not bad. Wouldn't mind if you cooked for me more often.”

“Anything beats yours, yo.” Reno grinned salaciously at him over a forkful of eggs. “Ya got one of those fantasies of me in the kitchen in an apron and nothin' else?”

Rude nearly spit out his coffee. He might not have thought about it before but he certainly was now. And this was not a conversation they were having. He cleared his throat, setting the mug down. “That is not what I was implying at all.” He promptly shoved a strip of bacon into his mouth, nearly burning his tongue. Reno snickered.

Rain continued to patter against the window, the only other sounds that of cars racing by, and the occasional distant siren. Despite how ordinarily calm everything seemed here, in this small space, his stomach still knotted a little with every faint wail. They lapsed into silence, filling their bellies after what felt like an eternity. The events of the past day seemed so recent, and yet hazy.  Had it been one day, or two, or a week?  Eventually they finished, and Rude rose, collecting the plates above his partner's complaint.

“You cooked, I'll clean. You really shouldn't be on your feet more than you need to be.” They glared at one another, and Reno turned with an exasperated sigh, heading for the couch. Rude shook his head and began to tackle the dishes. He heard the television flip on, but paid it little heed until he recognized the sound of a newscast. Shit. Drying his hands, he walked over to the couch.

Reno was hunched against the corner, remote clutched in one hand while the other balled into a white-knuckled fist, beryl gaze fixed on the screen. Images flashed across it – fires, rubble, people running from the fallout, helicopters circling like vultures. Rude sucked in a breath, his own fingers curling into fists. It wasn't as if he- they hadn't seen it before.  The helicopter had been nearly back at HQ by the time it had happened in reality, and he'd been tending to Reno.  But... Images had been plastered all over the vidscreens at HQ, even in General Affairs. It was impossible to avoid. Reno had tried to, at first, collapsing on the office couch and staring at the ceiling, facing away from the screens as he chugged down energy drinks. Rude had known it was only a matter of time before his partner would go and guilt himself into doing something like this.

He eased himself down next to the redhead, carefully looping one arm around him to pull him against his side. Reaching for the remote with his free hand, he eased it out of Reno's grip and flipped the channel to something else, some old movie. Just something for background light and sound that wasn't … reality.

“Rude...”

“Don't.” He rested his head against the crown of vermilion spikes, ignoring the anger in his partner's tone. “Don't do this to yourself.”

“Damn it... How can... How can you...”

“It's done.” He felt chill, despite Reno's warmth. He was always so warm, even though he was a stick by Rude's standards. “It... It's over. We can't change it. Like any other mission. We complete it, we move on.” He had to think of it like that. Compartmentalize it, wall it off. It was put into a file, and that file was locked in a cabinet somewhere in the back of him mind. The lock for this one was broken, though, and he knew it.

“Fuck,” Reno snarled, curling against him, shoulders shaking. The hot dampness of tears fell against his skin. “You had to do it. You had to see it. I didn't... It's all blank. We unleashed hell and I don't remember shit, yo.”

“Even if you hadn't, result would have been the same. Stop blaming yourself. We're partners. That means you don't have to do everything by yourself. Even... no, especially the important stuff.” He preferred it to happen the way it did. He knew he couldn't say it, it would just set Reno off, but it was true. As far as he was concerned it was a small mercy, sparing his partner that horror. He knew Reno would never see it that way, and he wasn't in any mood to argue. There was no easy fix for this, and there shouldn't be. Even if he could somehow change the past, if Platefall was inevitable, then Rude would rather set it off himself again then put that burden on his partner's shoulders. He was designed to carry that sort of weight. Reno wasn't, even if he convinced himself otherwise. And shouldn't have to be. They each had their roles.

“Yeah...” Reno's voice was soft, shaky. “Partners. And Turks.”

“Damn right.” He leaned back, ignoring the soreness to keep Reno against him. They lay together, listening to the low sounds from the television and the drumbeat of rain in the background. Slowly, he felt the other relax, heartbeat steadying and breathing evening out. Good, he needed to rest again, but forcing him wasn't the right way to get Reno to do anything. Rude closed his eyes, tired again despite the caffeine. He didn't remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eye again the clock told him it had been two hours, and he was alone. He sat up carefully, scanning the room. He trusted Reno enough to know he wouldn't run off, not far at least, especially in the shape he was in, but that didn't mean the ginger idiot could just disappear on him like this. A quick look around revealed the shades covering the door to his tiny patio were half opened. Ah.

Sure enough, he found Reno out there, abusing the privilege of using a chair. Smoke curled around his head, rising from the cigarette dangling loosely in his slim fingers. The rain had stopped, though it was only temporary by the look of the dark clouds surrounding the pale blue break. Reno raised his head at the sound of the door sliding open, shooting Rude an almost apologetic glance.

“Thought you'd run off. This's supposed to be a non-smoking unit.”

“Sorry, yo. You were out cold, and... I know ya hate it, but just needed something... Remembered I had some in my suit pocket. Survived the ordeal, somehow. You'll be happy to know that I don't do it much at all anymore, yanno? Reserved for special, extra-shitty situations. Ya gotta admit, this qualifies.”

True, he hated the damn habit, but if ever there was a time for it... He briefly considered reminding the other that the pajama top was the one and only article of clothing he was currently wearing, but realized that he didn't feel like expending the energy. That, and Reno would probably find a new and even less convenient way to configure himself out of spite. At least the walls on either side kept the place fairly private. Rude settled into the other chair, realizing too late that it was damp, and held out a hand. Reno arched a brow at the gesture.

“Got another?”

“Hehe. What was that about a non-smokin' patio?” He pulled an open pack and lighter out of the pajama shirt pocket, ignoring Rude's scowl. “What, were else was I gonna keep 'em?”

Rude shook his head, taking one and allowing Reno to light it. Shit, it had been years since he'd smoked, and it was just as terrible as he remembered. Reno watched him with mild amusement. Well, at least he was almost smiling again. That was something.

“Whaddya think's gonna happen now?” Reno turned back to stare over the rooftops.

“I think..” He paused, still unused to the sensation of smoke, but he managed not to cough. “I think Rufus will be more reasonable. He's ambitious, we know that. But... within reason.” He sighed. “Our jobs aren't gonna get any easier. But, I don't think he'll ever go that far.” “Yeah. Shit, I hope you're right, yo.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, guess we got no choice, either way. Now we get to see what Shinra's like under the Boy Wonder.  Somethin' to look forward to.  A bright, shining new era or some such bullshit.”

Before Rude could respond, the sky opened again with a low rumble of thunder. There was an overhang, but once the rain started in earnest it would do little good. Snuffing the cigarettes, the two of them hurried inside once more. They stood by the door, watching the rain. Reno leaned against him, smelling of cigarette smoke and tea tree, messy cardinal's crest of hair tickling his shoulder. After a moment, Rude carefully looped an arm around the other's slender frame, mindful of his injuries. They didn't need a repeat of this morning.

“So, ya really didn't think I was into ya?” The question was sudden, but Reno's tone was maddeningly casual.

“Like I said, didn't think I was your type. You like to mess around. And I'm...”

“A hopeless romantic?”

“Nnngh. …. Yeah.” Ouch, called out.

Reno had the nerve to pout, pink lip jutting in offense. “How d'ya know I don't like hopeless romanticism?” He blinked up at Rude, and damn it even without liner he had incredible lashes. “You're fuckin' adorable, ya know that?”

“I am not... adorable.”

“Real convincin'.” Reno's pout turned into a smirk, which was almost worse. “I can do romantic. Fancy dates, candlelight, chocolates. It ain't rocket surgery, and I'll have ya know I clean up pretty damn well, yo.” He nuzzled Rude's chest. “C'mon then. Say somethin' romantic. Woo me.”

Rude didn't respond immediately, still trying to wrap his mind around rocket surgery. Wait, woo? “Uh...”

Reno breathed a laugh into his shoulder. “C'mon. Ya gotta have somethin', yeah?”

It was true, he did. Something he'd thought about often. Whenever Reno looked at him with those gorgeous stormy eyes. He'd never put it into words, though heaven only knows he'd wanted to.

“Your eyes,” he started slowly. “... They remind me of sea glass.”

“Sea glass?”

“Yeah. Used to find it a lot, growing up on Junon beach. Mixed in with the sand and shells, and whatever else washed up. Bottles and such that get worn down by the waves into these little smooth pebbles.” He carded his fingers through Reno's hair as he spoke, and the other hummed contentedly. “My siblings and I would go out and search for it. Get enough and you can fill vases and other things. It was kind of like a treasure hunt. If you were lucky you'd find brown, or red... that was even rarer. But the kind you'd finds most of … white, blue, and green. When I look into your eyes, it makes me think of it. Sea glass.” He paused. “Dunno if you know it, but... It's like your eyes change color in different lighting. Sometimes they're blue, and sometimes gray, and sometimes they even look green. They're beautiful.” There, he'd admitted it. And strung a lot more words together than he was normally wont to do.  And... If he didn't know any better, he could swear there was a dusting of pink on Reno's pale, bruised cheeks, but he buried his face against Rude's chest with a huffed laugh before he could be sure.

“God, ya really are a cheeseball, yanno?” The words were muffled against his skin.

“You asked.”

“So does that mean you're gonna ask me out on a date?”

“Might have to consider it. Once we're both back to our normal colors.”

“I don't know, purple's starting to grow on me, yanno?”

He couldn't help but smile. It had never been the most natural expression for him, and it would be even harder to do so, now. ...But if anyone could coax a grin out of him, it was Reno. He didn't know where he'd be without those flashing eyes edged in slashes of crimson. They were going to move forward. Even if it was difficult, even with the memories of Sector 7 on their heels. He wasn't alone. No, Reno would be there, racing ahead of him, that flaming hair like a beacon for him to follow after. Always in motion, always giving him a reason to keep looking forward. And he'd follow behind, just as always, ready to catch him if he stumbled. That was how it had been since the beginning, and that was how he liked it.

[johannstutt413]

(requested by anonymous)

Flamebringer walked into the Doctor’s office with an annoyed expression. “Doctor.”

“Ah, yes, Flamebringer.” She tapped her notes, a smile on her face. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you were reprimanded by your squad lead for gross misconduct in the field. You’re here for your sentencing.”

“I did nothing wrong, and you know it-”

The Doctor held up her hand. “This is not about your guilt, only your punishment. Which, in this case, is this: You will be spending the next two months out of the field minding Ifrit.”

“...Babysitting?” His left eye began twitching. “You want me to spend the next two months babysitting-”

“Be glad that’s all I’m doing, Flamebringer; last time something like this happened, the guilty party lost a week’s pay.”

He sighed. “This is bullshit.”

“Tell it to your team lead.” The Doctor checked her notes. “Ifrit should be in her room right now. Get to it.”

“I swear by my ever-thirsting blade, you’ll pay for this.” With that Flamebringer left to find his charge, cursing his luck. He’d heard about Ifrit from some of the other Operators, and while he’d never met her...He had his concerns.

He found her in her room as suggested, writing in a notebook. “Ifrit?”

“What do you want-” She looked up at him, blinking twice. “I don’t know you.”

“I’m not surprised. The Doctor said I’m looking after you for the next two months.”

Ifrit’s eyes lit up. “They sent another one? Yes! I love when they give me victims!”

“Victims?” Flamebringer scoffed. “What do you do to these caretakers of yours?”

“Put them through a trial by fire.” She snapped her fingers, and a small flame appeared on her fingertips.

He smiled. “So you like to make trouble, then?”

“I like doing what I want and having no one stop me!” Ifrit’s hand snuffed out as she turned back to her paper. “Which, right now, is coloring this picture for Silence.”

“Heh...Alright. Let me know when that changes.” With that, Flamebringer closed the door behind him and leaned against the wall.

She looked back at him. “You mean you’re not gonna try and tell me what to do?”

“Why should I stop you from coloring?” He shrugged. “Just don’t make things worse for me, and we won’t have any problems.”

“Huh. Guess they’re getting soft, aren’t they?”

Flamebringer sighed. “If this is soft, I’d rather they just flay me.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad-”

“Not about you,” he interrupted. “I have battles to fight and foes to slay, but instead I’m watching a devil-child play.”

Ifrit set her colored pencil down. “That’s rough, buddy. They’ve kept me cooped up in here since I burnt down the cafeteria that one time.”

“That was you? They had fish tacos that day, so I didn’t eat there, but it sounded like a roaring good fire.”

“They didn’t give me my second pudding,” she smirked. “You mess with the Ifrit, you get the inferno! Fwoosh!” As she made the sound, she threw her hands in front of her, and a gout of fire rushed towards the ceiling to no detrimental effect.

Flamebringer nodded. “Relatable...I’ll be here if you need me.”

“I won’t, but thanks!”

-

A few weeks later, Flamebringer took Ifrit with him to the Garden. “You promise you won’t set anything on fire?”

“Why would I? I like plants.” She had one hand in his, the other swinging back and forth merrily. “Besides, we’re going to see your girlfriend, right?”

“That we are,” he admitted.

“Hey, I get it. Don’t wanna spend all your time with me, so I get a field trip and you get a little alone time with your girl.” Ifrit smirked. “Not the first time my ‘sitter’s done that one.”

He laughed. “I thought you put them through ‘trials by fire?’”

“Well, yeah, but after awhile you gotta let them off the hook so the next time you get them, it stings more.”

“You’re a devilish girl, aren’t you?” Flamebringer ruffled her hair, earning a glare but no burns. “If you behave, we’ll get ice cream later.”

She saluted him. “I’ll be an absolute Sankta.”

“Good...Before you run off, though, let me introduce her to you.”

“Oh! Okay.” Ifrit squeezed his hand. “You know, I heard some people talking about you at lunch awhile ago. Said you were a hothead yourself. Is that why they put you in charge of me?”

He glared in the general direction of reality. “They framed me for destroying something that wasn’t my fault. I think they do it whenever Silence is going out of town.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right...I wouldn’t mind if you stuck around after she came back, though.”

“Oh yeah?” The glare disappeared, replaced with a smirk. “Because I don’t give a damn about your threats and treat you like a person?”

She winked. “Because you give me ice cream.”

“About the same, really. Lena, I’m here!” Flamebringer called out into the verdant paradise called the Garden.

“Flame?” She peered out from behind a nearby rhododendron. “Ah. I see you brought a guest?”

He nodded. “Lena, this is Ifrit, my ward for the next month or so; Ifrit, this is Lena, whom I love very much.”

“Hi!” Ifrit beamed at her.

Perfumer glanced between the two of them. “Flame, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he agreed before turning to Ifrit. “Remember: no fire, ice cream afterward.”

“How could I forget?” With that, she wandered off into the greenery, and Flamebringer was left alone with his beloved.

Lena kissed his cheek before looking off in the direction the fire-breather had run off along. “Is it safe to let her freely roam the Garden like this? If I remember correctly, she doesn’t have the best control of her abilities.”

“Her control is fine. It’s her temper that bests her most often.” He smiled. “However, if this experience has taught me anything, it’s that I’m more than prepared for fatherhood when the time comes.”

“Fu-fu-fu. Is that a proposal I hear?”

Flamebringer’s face fell slightly. “Once I have a ring, it will be-”

“Hey, Flamebringer!” Footsteps dashed over to them, followed by an Ifrit. “Miss Lena, can I take a flower with me? I wanna give it to Silence when she gets back.”

“Hmm...Show us the one you want, and we’ll see what we can do.”

She walked them over to a sunflower fully in bloom. “I want this one!”

“That’s...difficult.” Lena looked to Flamebringer. “Are you willing to help her keep it alive that long?”

“It’ll be a good project for her. You willing to take care of it yourself?”

Ifrit nodded. “You make it sound fun.”

“Flame,” Lena gently scolded him, “you shouldn’t lie to children.”

“She’s not a child in that sense, and I didn’t lie.”

She sighed. “No, but I imagine you made it sound easier than it will be for her.”

“Hey, I can take care of things!” Ifrit took a crayon out of her pocket. “I’d had this for over a month and haven’t melted it yet.”

“...Heaven help you, Flame. We’ll set it up so you can take it home.”

Ifrit nodded. “Thanks! You can go back to your alone time, though. Find me when you’re done!”

-

Over a month later, and still, Flamebringer hadn’t had a single issue with Ifrit. She was temperamental, but so was he; she’d suffered some outright egregious things, but so had he; she loved burning Reunion goons to a crisp, and he relished the chance to cut them down. It was good conversation, good training for when he was ready to start his life with Perfumer, and most importantly, it wasn’t nearly as punishing as the Doctor had made it out to be.

Until, that is, on the last day of their allotted time together, when he walked into her room and found the sunflower they’d work so hard to care for the past month in ashes, and Ifrit crying on her bed. Flamebringer took a deep breath, channeled it into a deep sigh, and walked over to her. “I see the flower is dead. What happened?”

“She’s not going to be back for another month,” she sulked. “She promised to take me to the festival, and she’s not going to be back for another month.”

“And what did the flower do?”

Ifrit turned to glare at him. “The flower did...nothing.”

“That’s right.” He sighed. “We worked really hard on that, didn’t we?”

“We did...I’m s-sorry.” She pulled him towards her to bury her face in his jacket, crying.

Flamebringer, a little awkwardly at first, wrapped her into a proper hug. “It’s alright, Ifrit. I understand.”

“B-but today’s your last day with me, and that was all I had to remember it by!” She cried harder. “I didn’t mean to kill it, I promise!”

“I know, I know...Is that really all you had of our time together?”

Ifrit’s response was a chorus of sobs.

“Well, then.” He let her finish the worst of it before pulling away to look her in the eye, wiping stray tears with his hand. “We should fix that.”

“What do you mean? What can we do in one day?”

Flamebringer smiled. “We can go to this festival of yours.”

“B-but it’s off-base, and tomorrow, and-”

“So what?” He ran a hand through her hair. “You want to go, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then we’re going. I’ll be back tomorrow, alright?”

“Okay.” Ifrit by this point had calmed down. “I’m going to draw you a picture today, then.”

He smiled. “Alright. Can I have a pencil and a paper as well?”

“Yeah...so long as it’s not red.”

“Hmm...” Flamebringer sighed. “Black will be fine then.”

She grabbed a paper and a black pencil, but before she handed them to him, she gave him another hug. “You’re the best, bro.”

“Bro?”

“You’re way better than any of the other people who’ve come to take care of me,” she asserted, “and I’ve always wanted a brother, which won’t happen since Saria and Silence won’t stop fighting, so...You’re Bro now.”

He thought about it for a moment before smirking. “Whatever you say, Sis. Whatever you say.”

[enigma-im]

House on Fire

Rating: Teen Relationship: Ifrit and Human!Female Warning: Platonic, Confrontation Therapy, Fear of Fire, Stress, Panic, ‘Take on step forward, I take two steps back’, Cursed, Bound to an Elemental

Word Count: 2,718

              Pyrophobia is the fear of fire.

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

My feet ache. I think there is a hole in my shoe. I'm not positive but I can feel the gravel dig into my arch as I walk. It doesn’t help that my shoes are basically socks at this point. Should have prepared better for a long walk in the woods. It's not smart to begin with to take this trip. The woods are dangerous for anyone traveling alone.

But I guess I'm not traveling alone.

"Can I at least get a hint," he asks. I don’t even part a glance at the voice. It's bad enough I'm holding him so near. Sure there is a box dividing us but it still makes me sweat.

The Ifrit shakes the box as he moves about inside. Adjusting himself to sit comfortably. I try my hardest not to think about it -him. I just stare blankly at the nearly overgrown path. Trying to focus on the trees framing the walkway. Focus on the birds chirping or the few clouds ghosting overhead. Anything to not think about the fire in the box.

"Come on, I got into the box, the least you can do is answer my question," I see the lid slowly lift up. Before the light inside can shine I slam my hand on the top. "Ow," he cries. I take in a deep breath as my fingers grip the box tightly. My knuckles turning white as I focus on the path. Not paying attention to the rising anxiety. Feeling his heat from the box, or maybe I'm feeling my own sweaty palms. I can't tell the difference anymore.

I keep my gaze forward. I won't think about it. I can't think about it. He will be gone soon. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a bright reflection. I flinch before I snap my head in its direction. I see the sun reflecting over a nearby river. But it doesn’t process for a second, all I see is fire.

I hate fire.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

I look up at the crooked sign hanging from two short chains. 'Rustic Cavern' the witch's house. I drop my gaze to the large door. Taking a deep breath I push forward.

The door opens, hitting a bell resting overhead. I look up at the small silver ringer.

"Hello dearie, what can I do for you today," I spot an elderly woman towards the back of the cottage. She is standing by a kitchen island, fiddling with some plants.

"Hi," I step in letting the door close behind me," you are Terresa the local witch?"

"That I am," she nods. She sorts the plucked bushels before dusting off her hands. Walking over to me with a friendly smile. She has a nice aura, giving a visiting grandma vibe.

"I'm Darlene and I have a question," I tuck my hands behind myself.

"And hopefully I have an answer, ask away young one," she stops near her table that sits beside the front window.

"Well, I have an issue I need resolved. I have a very bad phobia and I was curious if you could get rid of it somehow," I ask nervously.

"That depends on the phobia. If it's of an object I might be of help but if it's of commitment or something then probably not. If I couldn’t cure my last boyfriend's commitment issue then I don’t think I could fix yours," she laughs at her own joke.

"No, its nothing like that. It's um," I hesitate," its fire."

She raises an eyebrow," Fire?"

I fiddle with my fingers behind my back," Yea, I can't stand the sight of it. Being near it makes me a nervous wreck and it's gotten difficult with the cold season soon approaching. The nights longer and the cold trying to enter my home. I can't bare the task of starting the hearth."

"that would be an issue, how long have you had this phobia," she leans against the table. Crossing her arms, making me feel insecure. It’s a reasonable fear, fire is dangerous. Still, its many uses are important for today's way of living.

"Since I was a child," I glance around the house.

"How have you gotten along since then," she squints her eyes," Cant image you had a lot of warm winters then."

"I had help, my brother would deal with fires during the winter. But he has recently wedded and moved out. Now I have to take care of myself," I answer. She stares at me a bit longer, pondering over my words.

"Well, give me a second and I will see what I can do," she gives a quick smile then darts off to a back room. I hear her jostle some things around. Loud clanks or soft thuds emit from the back. I stand where I am till she returns

"A-ha," she yelps triumphantly. She soon appears from behind the wall holding a box. Its light brown with dark splotches about it. It doesn’t look like it has a seam for which to open. It just looks like a hunk of wood with a sigil on the top.

I curiously wander over as she sets it on the table, "What's this?"

"A potential cure for your troubles," she passes me a smirk. She pulls out a chair beside me," Now sit."

I follow her demand, resting my hands on the table as I sit. She takes the seat across from me. Holding the box between her hands.

"This is a trick I learned a long time ago about curing phobias, it can be quick or lasting depending on the person. For some, it takes years to work. But if you truly work hard and keep an open mind then this will work, do you understand," She looks up at me. I nod my head, passing glances at the box. "Good, now give me your hand," she holds her palm out. I pass her my hand, resting it in hers. Before I can react she pulls out a dagger and slices my palm. I retract but she holds firm. Quickly shoving my hand onto the box. I grab the table and try to retch my hand away. The witch closes her eyes and mumbles some words. I feel heat travel from my fingers to my wrist then up to my arm. The sensation stops just below my elbow.

"Stop," I shout. She ignores me still mumbling to herself. I glare down at my hand, gasping when I see gold wrap around my wrist. An intricate design bleeds from the box, connecting with gold on my arm. I watch terrified as the strands pull taught on my skin.

Then everything stops and she lets me go. I fall back into the wood chair, cradling my hand to my chest.

"what was that," I snap. The woman rests her hands on the box, smiling up at me. She pushes to box to me, stopping a few inches from the edge.

"This is yours now," she laughs," open it."

I massage my wrist as I glare between her and the box. I lean forward timidly, looking the thing over. It no longer lacks a seam. There is a line about half an inch from the top. The sigil from before not glows gold. I curiously reach forward, touching the design. The box feels warm to the touch. I grab the lid and slowly tilt it open. The second there is a space between the top and the box a blinding orange light shines. I jerk, knocking the lid off as I do.

The light swirls out the box, flowing to a single area beside the table. Conforming a shape in the chair. It forms into a body, keeping the orange light but also adding red and black. After a short moment details add to the figure. Making out the curves and features of a person.

Now sitting in a chair is a man. He is glowing and flickering. He looks like he is on fire. The man is fire.

"No," I scream as I shoot out of the chair. The man looks over to me, eyeing me. I trip over my feet as I back up. Frantically clawing the wall when I run into it. I hyperventilate, near tears, as I stare at the creature. "W-What is that," I shout to the old woman. The crazy old woman.

"That is an Ifrit," she gestures casually to the terrifying elemental, "He is fire itself."

"Why… why would you summon him," I panic. The Ifrit tilts his head at me.

"Confrontation therapy, dear," the woman laughs, "The best way to get over something is to know about it." I can't believe her words. I can't do this.

I slide against the wall, keeping my eyes on the being. He too watches me, he looks concerned. I make my way to the door.

"Don’t leave so soon, I haven't explained the rules yet," the woman rests her head on her palm.

"Rules," I nearly look away from him," what rules?"

"The rules of your bond," she smirks, " He is bound to you now, so there are rules."

"Bound to me," I shout," What are you talking about?" the man's head tilts as he looks me over. His hands raise and sit on the table. I nearly whimper as I see the dark char covering most of his body. Only cracks showing the fire below.

"I used your blood to free him, now you two are bound," she explains," Now the only way to break that bond is to get over your fear. Once you no longer fear him then the bind is broken and he will be free."

"No, I didn’t agree to this," I snap," I refuse, I can't do this."

"Sorry, don’t have that choice now. He follows you wherever you go," she gives a wicked grin. I don’t listen to her, I cant. My blood rushes in my ears and my legs beg for me to move. Who am I to ignore them

Without a backward glance, I run out of the cottage. I follow down the path quickly back into town. I rush past some familiar faces as I race home.

I hop over my gate and slam into my door. Fumbling with my key I unlock the door and rush inside. I turn and quickly slam the door close. My hands pressed against the wood, using all my body weight to keep it closed. I drop my head between my arms and catch my breath.

There is a person made of fire. There is literally nothing I can think worse than that. It's walking, living fire. The image of him plays in my mind. I find it difficult to calm my breathing. My body is soaked in sweat from both running and my panic.

"He is gone," I mumble to myself. I repeat it until I calm. I turn and rest my back to the door. Closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. I finally settle down. I drop my head to my shoulder, taking one last deep breath.

"Hello," I snap my head up," I feel we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Agni."

I fall to the floor.

<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>

"Can I at least stretch my legs, it's very cramped in here," Agni groans. I don’t answer him, I have never answered him. I keep on the path, trying not to think of him. "Just five minutes, you can keep walking too," he tries to persuade. I look over at the river. Pondering throwing him in.

He keeps quiet for a few more feet, I foolishly think he is going to stay silent.

"I can't take it," he growls. The box begins shaking in my hand. I panic, forcing the box closed. Something pushes back, I feel the lid lift. I quickly wrap my arms around the cursed thing. Using all my might to keep him contained. "Don’t fight me," he grunts in exertion. With a quick burst, the box falls from my hands. The lid separates from the bottom, flying forward on the path. The base lands upside down on the gravel.

I watch tensely as the box lifts and a tiny hand reaches out. A small creature crawls out from underneath. It grows slowly as it stands. Agni stretches his arms backward as he begins to increase in size. Quickly becoming full height, leaning back and popping his back. He twists side to side then rotates his arms.

I stand stalk still, eyes wide. He rests his hands on his hips as he looks around. When he spots me he stares.

"hi," he waves.

I bolt.

<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>

"Please get out of the river, you will catch a death of a cold," Agni shouts from the river bank. I stand up to my thighs in freezing water. I cross my arms and glare at him. I shake my head. He groans," I'm sure that water is freezing, just come back over." I shake my head again.

He rolls his eyes and walks over to a boulder near the water. He climbs on top it and sits crisscrossed. He rests his head on his palm with his elbow on his knee.

"I guess we shall wait here till you grow up or die," he shouts. I hold strong,

My legs begin to cramp as I stand, balanced on rounded pebbles. I start to shiver as the cold seeps into my bones. I still hold strong, a little discomfort is fine for now. I can't go back while he is sitting there. I glare at him as he picks at the rock he is sitting on. Flicking pebbles into the water.

"Is it funny that you have more fire than me," Agni calls out," I couldn’t be this stubborn for so long." I don’t answer. He leans back on his hands, stretching his legs out in front of himself. "Well since you won't talk I shall," he looks towards the sky," it's going to be dark soon. How did you plan to camp out in the woods?" he glances back at me. "I think you didn’t think that far ahead. Just stubborn as you are stupid," he shakes his head," I shouldn’t be too hard on you. I understand your fear, fire is dangerous. But its meant to be respected not feared, like a sword. If used properly than its an important tool."

I continue glaring.

"So stubborn, you know I'm here to help right? I won't hurt you, I'd feel terrible if I ever did. I can teach you how to respect fire, not be so terrified of it. All you have to do is get out of the water and be open-minded," he tries to argue.

"Get back into the box," I shout. He jumps at my voice, probably not expecting me to answer him.

"Now you talk, progress I guess," he sits up, "Now just to get you out of the river."

I shake my head.

"Alright then, baby steps," he huffs. Agni kicks his feet to the side and slides off the rock. He walks to the very edge of the river, his toes barely touching the water. "I want you to know you are safe, I cannot come near you," he gestures to the water," So I want you to get used to looking at me without a glare or panic. You think you can do that?" I sneer at him, "Alright, not what I meant but I will take the victory as tiny as it may be."

"Get back in the box," I shout again. Agni drops his shoulder with a frustrated groan.

"I'm not getting back in the damn box! Why should I suffer because you don't want to look at me," he calls out. Which is a fair question, though I will not answer it. Watching him begin to pace along the bank plants a seed in my chest, how very human of him. It's oddly helpful to see something so terrifying and dangerous as an Ifrit pacing frustrated by a river. Displaying a relatable quality that I find myself latching onto.

I guess one step at a time couldn't hurt, though baby steps may be the extent of my cooperation.

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

House on Fire by Rise Against. not a classic rock song but it felt a little fitting. it was that or Fire burning by Secret Weapons and that as way too on the nose. right up there with I See Fire by Ed Sheeran.

Platonic story, nothing too exciting. I personally have a phobia of spiders like i will cry if i have to be around one- i have cried. I get the whole ‘no one understand your fears’. its annoying that i have to ask people for help to get rid of a tiny spider and them berating you for it as they rid the pest.

though its weird, i’m terrified of spiders but driders are fine and video games spiders aint shit. almost therapeutic to kill a frostbite spider in skyrim with fire.

either way, this story felt a bit easier to write knowing first hand how ridiculous your body gets around your fears. though hers is way more understanding, fire can fuck you up.

also, Agni means fire. it’s Hindu

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Imagine Crowley and Aziraphale getting into an argument which turns into a big fight and Crowley is so angry his scales start to sprout through his skin, which surprisingly frightens the angel. He had never seen him that angry before so he just runs away in fear, leaving a less angered and sadder Crowley to his lonesome. He scared the one true thing he cared about other than the reader helps make it right by going to Crowley first, to convince him to apologize.

“You know that was really stupid of you, angel!”

“Well what was I supposed to do? Let those scoundrels push you around?!”

“They were Ifrits. Enormous bloody fire demons! One little ember on ya and would’a been a goner!!” Crowley hissed, scowling deeply at Aziraphale as the two stared each other down.

Even though they both settled down in a cozy cottage for a while, a few Ifrits confronted Crowley in his flat earlier that day, not to bring him back to Hell, but to taunt him and give him crude remarks such as “traitor”, “scum”, and the like. Some of them even incinerated his perfect plants, which made the demon understandably furious.

But when Aziraphale came to his defense and tried to convince the Ifrits to leave, such an act nearly cost him his life. Had he not brought holy water he would have been gone for certain; they were among the most antisocial demons who could have very well killed Aziraphale the moment he appeared.

Even though the situation was quickly dispersed and they left peacefully, Crowley was now furious that the angel could’ve died in that confrontation.

And he didn’t seem to care.

“Well look, I don’t have a spec of ash on me. So there’s no sense in arguing about it now.” Aziraphale huffed as he straightened his bowtie. “What’s done is done.”

Crowley’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “Wha..so y-you don’t even care that you could’a been discorporated again or-?!”

“I was trying to help you!” The angel spoke up, although he tried to keep his tone even. “The one time I try to repay you for saving me, it’s suddenly the end of the world now?!”

“Listen..losing you once was awful! And I’d be damned if I ever went through that again!!”

“Crowley, calm down. Loss is part of life and if you can’t handle that-”

At that moment, something in the demon snapped. And he slammed his hands down onto the table, causing it to shake violently. “DON’T YOU EVER TELL ME TO “CALM DOWN”, ANGEL!!!” He screamed as he gritted his teeth in fury. “I DIDN’T SAVE YOU ALL THOSE YEARS JUST FOR YOU TO GET YOURSELF KILLED IN A STUPID WAY!!”

Aziraphale flinched at his reaction, although before any more words could leave his lips, his eyes widened in shock as he noticed black scales starting to to cover Crowley’s neck and arms. Even his teeth were turning into sharp canines and fangs.

In all the years he knew him..he had never been more terrified of him than he was now. Just seeing his dear friend so enraged by his act of selflessness…gave him an ache in his chest.

All he did was try to protect him, repaying him for all those years he rescued him from certain death and discorporation.

Was it truly wrong for him to do that?

Without utter another word, Aziraphale quickly turned tail and left the house. Crowely watched him leave, seething in his own silence and anger, although the moment the door slammed shut, he calmed down slightly.

But when he touched his neck and felt the scales, that’s when he was struck with a horrific realization: He scared his angel off. Made him..afraid of him.

“Oh no..goddamnit..” He mumbled to himself, closing his eyes as he propped his elbows on the cracked table, hands buried in his hair. Tears began welling up as his own words replayed over and over in his mind “What have I done?”

He lost his best friend twice now. But this time..it was his fault.

………

Sometime later, Crowley was just sulking around the house, alcohol bottles strewn around the place, when he heard a knock at the door. In hopes that it was Aziraphale, he anxiously walked over to open it, wobbling slightly.

But when he did, he saw that it was only you and frowned deeply. “Oi, what brings..ya here today…m’ good friend?” He slurred, taking another gulp of wine as he sniffled.

Your eyes widened as you looked him up and down, seeing that his sunglasses were askew, revealing the tears in his eyes, and his incredibly disheveled hair and clothing.

“Making sure you’re alright..but..you look like shit.” Inviting yourself inside, you closed the door and had him put his arm around your shoulders. The drunken demon could only whine as you lead him to the living room, where you sat him down on the couch before you joined him.

“I called Azira earlier, and he sounded depressed,” you explained. “Says you and him had a big fight and-”

“Of course..of course. An’ he had a good reason to.” He mumbled, although before he could raise the glass to his lips again, you took it from him. “Whyyy? ‘s not gonna kill me.”

“I know but I don’t like seeing you this way, and I’m sure he wouldn’t either.” You removed his sunglasses for him, setting them down.

“I’m sure he could give even less of a shit now.” He sniffled softly, inching closer to you as he curled up. “That’s 6000 years of friendship gone down th’ drain. All my fault. All ‘cause of m’ stupidity. I really am just an..ugly creature under this skin..”

“No. That’s not true. He didn’t sound angry with you.” As a comforting gesture, you wrapped an arm around him. “Can you tell me exactly how this all started?”

“…well..it..it all started in th’ garden, where I was a sneaky serpent-”

“Crowley you know what I mean,” you cut in gently, before sighing and looking at the wine bottle. “Sober up, then tell me what led to the argument.”

“Ngh..”

“Please?”

Eventually, Crowley agreed and reversed the wine’s effects, refilling the bottles as though he never drank to begin with. Afterwards he explained to you how the argument began.

When he mentioned how Aziraphale ran off because he was scared of him, that surprised you immensely, although you were relieved that they didn’t tear the house down during the whole spiel.

But even so, you could see how torn up Crowley was about the whole situation. It was clear he had been crying and drinking for a while before you stopped by to check on him.

Once he was done telling you everything, you sighed once more and stood up. “C’mon. Get up.”

He just gave you a questionable look, his snake eyes blinking several times.

“We’re taking a trip to the bookshop. I think an apology is the best course of action.”

………..

Sometime later, you and Crowley arrived at the bookshop in the Bentley. But even as he parked the car, he just stared at the entrance with sadness and hesitance.

“I-I can’t face him [y/n]..not after-”

“You can’t expect him to forget about it tomorrow, or in the next decade.” You huffed. “I’ll be right behind you. Just go in.”

However, he just shook his head, hands still gripping the wheel as he looked out at the crowded streets and sidewalks, his mind racing with thoughts of uncertainty.

Then an idea struck him and he turned back to you. “Question, can your pocket fit a tiny snake?”

You blinked in surprise, but before you could give him an answer, Crowley took your hands and transformed into a small black snake right before your very eyes. His sleek, thin body curled itself around your fingers comfortably, before his eyes gazed up at yours.

A soft chuckle of amusement escaped your lips as you patted his head. “Alright. I’ll talk to him first.” You slipped the snake into your coat pocket, making sure he was okay in there before you got out of the Bentley.

As expected, when you entered the shop, Aziraphale was in the back reading something. He looked up at you and smiled. “Oh! [Y/n]! It’s good to see you. But I can assure you that I’m quite alright now.”

“I know,” you nodded, walking over to sit on the couch across from him. “But Crowley’s a bit of a wreck ever since..y’know.”

Immediately his smile faltered and he set down his book, sighing quietly. “Yes. I..can only imagine how awful he must feel. And I know it was wrong of me to just run off like that. I was only trying to do one good selfless act for him, but..I agree it was stupid.”

“No it’s not.” You reassured him. “He just cares about your safety so much, losing you in that fire during Armageddon was pretty traumatic for him. Infernal fire is lethal to angels so..I don’t blame him for being so worried about you.”

“Perhaps..” He fiddled with the sleeves of his coat. “Well, for what it’s worth..I still forgive him. Even if he insists demons are unforgivable, I just can’t be afraid or angry with him forever. He’s been too good to me over the years and..”

However, he trailed off as he noticed a little snake wriggling out of your pocket. You saw Crowley grow slightly, dropping to the floor before he turned back into his normal-self, tears shimmering in his eyes.

“D-Damn you, angel..” He mumbled shakily, stiffening up as Aziraphale stood up and walked over to him. But before he could say a word, the angel pulled him into a close hug.

Crowley gritted his teeth as he clung to him, resting his head on his shoulder. “I-I swear I..I won’t ever fuckin’ scare you like that again,” he choked out. “Just..please for the love of God stop me if I do..”

Aziraphale simply nodded in acknowledgement, his eyes shifting to you as he smiled. A silent “thank you” for helping them mend their close relationship.

You smiled in return and, after deciding that they needed time alone, wandered back out to the front of the bookshop, happy that you were able to make things right.

[dellebecque]

Prompt #1: Voracious

@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast Who: WoL!Aden, the people who mattered most to him, and the one and only thing for which he possesses a truly voracious appetite. When: At various points. How: T, some sad stuff, minor difficult themes and allusions to darker themes.  5.0 spoilers, Shadowbringers spoilers. What: vo·ra·cious/vəˈrāSHəs/   having a very eager approach to an activity."his voracious reading of literature" Where: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20487653/chapters/48616682

Aden’s supposed to be  watching  a broody chocobo, making sure she takes to the eggs in her nest right, and much as he loves the birds he sneaks out one of Mam’s travelogues.  He’s not  supposed  to have them in the barn, too much danger of damaging them, but if he’s going to be out here all day….

The bird coos at him in that soft, motherly way only a broody one will, and shifts on her nest, ruffling her feathers slightly.  It’s a clear invitation, he thinks, and he hesitates for a moment.. then settles down next to her, careful of any eggs that might be hidden in the hay.  When he leans against her she makes a pleased trill, and immediately cranes her neck to start grooming his hair. Aden cracks open the book, trying to ignore the shifting and prodding and soft scratch of her beak.  But when she’s done he can appreciate the soft warmth of her large body, the gentle warks and coos, and lull himself into a sweet place free of anxiety as he begins to read.

If the birds like him so much, Ma and Mam  can’t  send him away like Da did.  They’d be  upset  .

____

Minfilia wends her way through the halls of the Waking Sands, asking after their newest member.  When the inevitable  why don’t you call his linkpearl  comes up she merely says, “That’s a good idea,” graciously, and continues on.   It’s rude  , she doesn’t say, knowing that he  should  be in the building.  And impersonal. After their rocky start.. well, she cannot  afford  to be anything less than genuine and forthright.  And her gifts will not avail her so well over long-distance media.

She finds him on the quiet side of the building, in a small room converted into a secondary barracks of sorts.  Stopping in the doorway, she blinks in surprise at finding all of his gear stowed here now, and he himself perched on a high bunk at the back of the room--hadn’t Tataru assigned him to the other side?--and she wonders if that, too, was a mistake.  He reclines in the bunk against extra pillows pilfered from somewhere, a slender book open across his lap. Even with the bandages covering healing burns from his bout with Ifrit he looks more comfortable than she’s seen him so far.

Yes, she thinks to herself, perhaps they’d  all read him wrong.  In his unguarded quiet her gifts show her not the dedicated soldier she saw before, but a thoughtful, introspective man, one who values solitude and a  gentler  camaraderie than many of their members can offer.  Their conversation can wait, she decides. Let the man have peace, and room to process the horror they accidentally put him through alone.

And let her have time to reassess her approach to this familiar stranger, this man her gifts cry  must  be part of their efforts.

______

Aden’s ears twitch at soft footsteps in the dust and scrub of Mor Dhona, and he knows who it is from the gait.  Moments later G’raha flops down next to him with a dramatic sigh, leaning back against the tree. Aden doesn’t look up from his book, even though he knows the man is waiting for a question.

“I think you might read more than  I do,” G’raha says when he doesn’t get his way, bumping his shoulder against Aden’s.  It’d been annoying at first, physical contact unwelcome, but now he…  understands  .  If he’d been raised by other miqo’te this would be  normal  .  It feels right, the right kind of intimate for friends, unspoken and just outside his comfort zone.  He can’t  explain  that, though, that he wants his boundaries challenged, doesn’t want to be silent and uncertain forever.

“They send you away again?”  Aden flips a page.

G’raha doesn’t move, reading over Aden’s shoulder even as he replies.   “They’re taking readings and refused to let me go after what happened last time.”

“That’s chocoboshit,” Aden says.  He knows G’raha isn’t looking for logic, doesn’t want to hear  you’re the most essential personnel on the survey  from one more person.  Aden would hate it just as much were their positions reversed.

“But if you would  accompany  me….” G’raha doesn’t finish but looks up at him hopefully.

“Cid told me if I didn’t take a break he’d drug my lunch.”  Aden flips another page, ears canting in G’raha’s direction when he doesn’t reply right away.  Finally the man gives an indignant huff on his behalf and leans heavily against him once more, reading over his shoulder.

“Wait,” he says, “is this the new one?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you get it all the way out here?”

“Tataru sent it.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and Aden wonders what’s going through his mind. He glances up from his book and thinks he sees the faintest edge of regret in his friend’s mismatched eyes.  “How far are you?” G’raha asks.

“Not far.  Want me to start over?”

There’s another moment of hesitation, this quiet side of his friend devoid of bravado that so rarely appears.  And finally, softly, “Yes, please.”

Aden thinks he knows that feeling too well, but he won’t pry to find out if it’s what it looks like to him.  He doesn’t want to talk about it, anyroad, if it is--to admit that sometimes his apparent stoicism is the memory of rejection and the worry that he doesn’t deserve the kindness of others.  But he thinks the reason G’raha talks too much is the same reason he talks too little, and he’s glad to help his friend smooth over the raw moment by flipping to the front of the book and starting over.

______

“You’ve been home, what, three bells?  And already I find you with another.” Aden looks up from his book, smiling softly as Haurchefant leans over his comfortable seat, reclining on a padded bench in one of the windows in the manor.

“They were here before you,” he says cheekily, lifting up his book for emphasis, “and they’ll be here after you.”

“ After  me!”  Haurchefant clutches a hand to his breast, mocking distress.  “Already you plan to be rid of me! I am  wounded to my core.”  He drops a knee to the side of the bench, lowering himself down to caress Aden’s cheek.  “I should have known I could never satisfy your  voracious  appetites.”

Aden laughs, unable to continue the mock seriousness.  “I could say the same thing about  you .”

Haurchefant leans down to kiss him, insistent, and Aden loses himself in it for a moment.  But at length his lover draws away, leaving him to his book. “Don’t be long.”

He knows that when he’s inevitably up past midnight reading, Haurchefant will merely tease him and welcome him to bed by folding him in the warmth of his embrace.  The judgement is all in jest.

  But in hindsight it’s the only time in his life he wishes he’d read less.

___________

He closes the door to the small cabin behind himself, struggling to find his sea legs around the dizziness and disorientation whirling through his head.  Aden presses a hand to the wall, and has to follow it to the bed. He’s glad for the privacy. Glad Tataru argued so ardently for this. Outside he has to pretend at being whole and hale, intimidating to the pirate crew.  Here he can be alone. Weak. Nurse the half-healed wounds of his body and quietly pick at the festering scabs over his heart on their long journey to Kugane.

But today he doesn’t have the strength for it.  He drops heavily onto the bunk, straining uncomfortable over the edge to open the chest lashed to one end of it, and pulls out the first thing his fingers light upon--a battered old book.  Balm to soothe the aches of his mind.

He curls up on the hard bed, remembering all the places he could’ve been instead, and tries to forget for a little while.

__________

An infirmary is not what the Exarch expects to see through his scrying, but there it is, dark stone walls and pale linens on the bed.  He frowns, leaning forward slightly. Had his actions changed the situation so much already? But--no, it is the Scions prone in the beds.  He flinches--his doing.

The subject of his scrying finally crosses the view of the window, carrying a wooden chair in one hand and a book in the other.  Aden pauses, tail swaying slowly, before he places his chair between the twins’ beds, facing out towards the rest of the room. No one else seems to be present at the moment, and he wonders if perhaps the remaining Scions are taking turns at keeping an eye on their comrades.  Would that he could tell them it’s hardly necessary beyond the upkeep of their bodies. Their time could be better spent elsewhere.

Aden sits, opens the book and looks around the room once more--is that a hint of  nervousness  he detects?  ‘Tis a familiar expression, that subtle anxiety the Warrior of Light tries  very hard  not to show--one he knew in his youth, and knows even better after his years of observation.

He understands why when Aden begins to read aloud to the unconscious Scions.  Aden’s voice is uncertain at first, but as time draws on it grows more confident, rich in its fullness.  He finds himself enraptured by it, drawing back his hood and freeing his ears to hear more clearly. Then he closes his eyes, and remembers a quiet afternoon spent under a tree in Mor Dhona.  This story is familiar, an earlier book in the series. He hasn’t read it in a hundred years.

The summoning can wait for one more story.

[starcunning]

2018 in Writing

I’m a triple threat: art, writing, and baking. (There will not be a “2018 in Cooking” list. Sorry.)

January

Nothing long-form, here are some vignettes: Chilson Hector and Astyanax sing a duet

“What is it?” “A song I used to know,” Chilson said. “Something he used to know.” “Oh,” Astyanax said. It wasn’t often his father spoke of his … gene-sire? Father? Former incarnation? Hastur Sejanus had been likened to all these things, but none of them quite fit. Rather than say more, Astyanax lifted fingers to the keys, picking out part of the melody. “There are two voices.” “He used to sing it with his best friend,” Chilson said, his blue eyes distant through the haze of foreign memory.

Tatianna Adonia at sword drill

It was difficult, to be the youngest. To stand furthest from the glory of their forebear, not to envy the laurels that longer service ensured. Saint Alcuin taught humility, and it was this that Tatianna held in her mind as she reversed direction. Each step was a deliberate retreat, her blade brought across her body to defend. The tail of her long queue of blonde hair batted against her shoulderblades with each repetition.

February

Falling Snows

Haurchefant would not be waiting for her at breakfast. The afternoon before, he had kissed her forehead and rode for Ishgard. They would be better protected on the far side of the Steps of Faith, he told her, and he meant to sue for her safety.

He had promised to return, but she had heard such promises before.

March

Excerpts from My Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, my Brother, & Me

Fulgrim: [laughs] Beach tee shirts relax me now! I don’t know what it is! Ferrus Manus: [over] We’re killing fashion, one shirt at a time! Take that. Fulgrim: I would–I .. So .. So sue me! It’s October in West Chemos, I’d like to live on island time for a day! Ferrus Manus: You … Fulgrim: Cut me some slack! Ferrus Manus: I have Spotify open right now on my computer. Do you want me to blast you? Do you want me to put you on blast? 'Cause I got your history right here in the sidebar.  

April

This Beast that Rends Me

“I did it, I suppose, because Nael van Darnus saw a city destroyed and pulled the moon from orbit under the thumb of a god. Our aetherial deficiency is no shield against the influence of eikons, and so, there being but one aegis to adopt, we set forth.” “What would you have done?” Shasi wondered. “Been their Warrior of Light? It is a weightier task than you know.” She could hear the tremble in her voice, and wished she had not spoken.

He came to sit at her feet. “Why?” he said. “The duty of the Warrior of Light is to live,” she said. “For that reason alone I had not thought you would want it. To live, while others die for you.”

May

Untoward [NSFW]

She looked utterly miserable. He had seen her wear this sort of expression but rarely before, and now there it was, darkening her features, and it was his fault. The thought lanced through him, driving him back from the mouth of the stairwell, and he stood, looking transfixed at that forlorn expression a moment longer.

And then, like the child he was, he retreated down the stairs to curl up under the blankets. He wanted to cry, for no reason he could name exactly, but he knew he didn’t deserve to.

June

Elf Nonsense [published in The Puzzle Box of Yogg-Saron]

When I woke up in the morning—and I use the term loosely here; I was often asleep until mid-afternoon—my first thought was of my elf. When I went to sleep, often in the dawn hours, my last thought was of her, too. My life became an infinite loop between my bed and my desk. Everything else fell by the wayside.

July

Cassilda oen Domitius and Nael van Darnus: “Kiss me.”

Cassilda might have feared her once; that she was dangerous was common knowledge, with a temper as keen as her gunhalberd’s blade. But the Seventh was no place for soft hearts, and though Cassilda was no trained killer as were her compatriots, she had found the same steel in her spine not long after her assignment.

No, it was something else about Nael van Darnus that intimidated her now.

August

Imogen Spencer and Faustus lux Gereon: “Can I touch you?”

The elezen’s long, elegant fingers were absent the sort of calluses she’d have expected from a soldier—neither did he have the bearing of one, precisely, so perhaps his build had misled her. His hands were cold beneath her own, and she placed them carefully upon the piano keys. The melody she played was simple enough, and she could hardly stop herself from giggling, feeling all at once giddy and girlish. At the Studium she might never have dared, but Sharlayan was far behind her for the nonce, and the world was wide and open and full of such wonders.

September

30-Day OTP Challenge: First Date

Blood smeared his flesh, the same crimson as his tattoos where they wound around his artery. She felt, beneath her fingers, the faintest flutter of a pulse.

She fluttered too, wings of hope beating like moths against her chest.

October

Flow

His name is Thancred Waters.

If he has any hope of surviving, it is in remembering that. He recalls his last moments as a man, in the dank darkness of a sewer.

November

Suffer Me to Cherish You

“When she fought Ifrit … was she afraid?” Shasi wondered. “I don’t know,” Fray said, and it seemed to trouble him. “She was cutting me off already even then. Were you?” “When I first came here? Of course,” she said. “My number was up. Me and my squad. First wave.” “But still you fought.” “I am usually afraid,” Shasi admitted. “And I always fight.”

December

Catocala ilia

“Now you,” he said. “Now I what?” Kallisti asked, dumbstruck as a child. He scoffed, annoyed, turning his masked face from her once more. “Does She teach Her servants nothing?” he groused. “I can tear your defenses down myself, but don’t you think I have enough to do?” Kallisti shivered in the coldness of the night. It was a different darkness than the one which dwelt in him, she realized, and wondered how she had thought all darkness was the same. Had she not learned better in the instant that Elidibus touched her, cold as distant stars?

So there’s no way I’m finishing the Erebidae this year. Sorry about that. Nevertheless, it was an incredible year for me as a writer--I had work published for the first time since 2004 (today, December 31st, is the very last day that donations will be collected from sales of The Puzzle Box of Yogg Saron, benefiting the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention.). I completed NaNoWriMo for the first time ever, and also wrote a 50,000 word novella in April independent of that organization--just to do it, basically. I also finished a 30-day writing challenge in September. As best I can count it, I wrote 189,662 words in 2018.

In 2019 I’d like to contribute to another zine or project and maybe join a fic exchange. I intend to write two more novellas next year as well. My intention was for both of them to be fanfiction, but I might change my mind and do some original work instead.

[mandakatt]

FFXV Fic - "I never believed in love till I met you."

A/N: I am SO terribly late with this, but then again, they say better last then never. Right? 

So, dear Obloss of @blossattic I know your birthday was on the 8th of July, and I know life kept me busy, but I am so sorry that I am so late with this. At least when I got to the cabin today I was able to finish it without too much trouble? Apparently the muse was up here waiting for me. XD I hope you like this Doll, and happy Belated birthday! 

Characters: Prompto x Reader, Dino Warnings: None - just Fluff <3 Wordcount: 1306

Dino couldn’t help but smirk at Prompto. “Now then, tell me again what your here for? And I don’t mean the item ya had me make her…”

Prompto sighed and gently rubbed the back of his neck. “I uh--need some advice.”

“Advice, from your ol’ pal Dino huh?” he chuckled softly then gently rested his arms against his knees after gesturing to the bench seat next to him. “Well, have a seat Kid, tell me what’s on your mind.”

Prompto began to fidget from one foot to the other before he finally took the seat next to Dino, then was quickly back on his feet again, paced the dock a little then sat down next to him once more. Dino lifted a brow and started to laugh softly. “Sweet six kid, what crawled into your pants? Wait, maybe I don’t really wanna know.”

Prompto couldn’t help but sigh and gave Dino a look. “You know what, this was a bad idea.” and he moved to get up.

“Ah nah Kid, c’mon, I’m just foolin’ with ya,” Dino said softly as he grabbed Prompto’s arm, gently coaxing him to sit back down. “I’m tryin’ to get ya to relax a little. I mean, ya haven’t said one word about what’s botherin’ ya, and I figured if I coulda got ya to laugh that ya might have been able to start talkin’.”

Prompto sighed through his nose. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped.”

“It’s fine Kid, now then, tell yer ol’ pal Dino what’s on your mind. Is it because of what ya had me make?”

“Well yeah, a little, I mean—what if she doesn’t—what if she hates it? Hates me? What if she just decides that I’m not good enough?  What if—”

“Prompto, hey whoa, slow down Kid,” Dino smiled softly, reaching over to grasp Prompto’s shoulder, if nothing else to ground him a little. “She’s gonna love it cause ya took the time to think of it, have me make it special for her, and there’s no way in Eos that Doll could hate ya. She’s stuck around with ya this long hasn’t she?”

“Well yeah, but what if she’s doing it because she feels she has to? What if she’s with me because she doesn’t—”

“Once more, I’m gonna stop ya there Kid,” Dino tilted his head a little as he spoke. “From someone that always sees yer relationship with her from the outside, she’s not stayin’ with ya because she’s obligated like ya seem to think.”

“W-what?”

Dino smiled and rested his arms against the back of the bench, looking out over at Angelgard. “Prompto, she loves ya, from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, and I ain’t sayin’ somethin’ like that to make ya feel better.”

Prompto blinked over at Dino slowly. “W-what do you mean?”

Dino chuckled. “So I gotta spell it out for ya huh?” he then turned his head to look at him. “Ya haven’t seen the looks she gives ya when ya ain’t lookin’.”

Prompto blushed brightly at that and began to fidget with his fingers a little before he found a small velvet box pushed into his hands.

“Give it to her. Ask her. Don’t let this one slip by ya,” Dino then smirked. “Cause if ya do, believe me, I’ll be there to swoop up the pieces of her broken heart faster than ya can say Ifrit’s ballsack.”

Prompto blinked at Dino once, then smiled. “You wouldn’t do that, you’re—how’d you say it once, ‘I ain’t that kinda guy.’ right?”

Dino laughed softly. “Drat, ya remembered.” but gave Prompto a wink.

Prompto played with the velvet box in his fingers, then smiled brightly. “Alright. Thanks Dino. I mean that.”

“I know Kid, now, go on, and remember, you gotta invite me to the weddin’ party.”

“Duh.” Prompto chuckled as he ran off up the stairs into the Mother of Pearl, leaving Dino behind.  

Dino sighed and let his head fall back a bit as he looked up at the cloudless sky, and laughed softly. “Those two were made for each other…”

-=-=-

To say you were surprised to see Prompto all dressed up was an understatement. He’d asked you to meet him out at Galdin Quay, because he had a surprise for you.

“Prompto? Should I have dressed up?” you asked, suddenly worried.

With a laugh he reached out and gently took your hand. “No, you’re beautiful as you are.” Prompto spoke softly, petting his slightly calloused thumb against the back of your hand.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” he gently pulled you closer, linking your arm with his as he moved off the boardwalk to lead you down to the beach. The sun was just starting to set, and you couldn’t help but smile as you walked alongside him, as he laced his fingers with yours.

“So, what’s this surprise you were telling me about?”

“You’ll see,” Prompto giggled as he spoke. “And I hope you like it.”

“Of course I’ll like it, it’s a surprise from you silly.” you giggled.

Prompto seemed to relax at that, which caused you to lift a brow as the two of you came to a stop just past the long fishing dock.

“Now, I know, I’m horrible at words, and I know that I tend to ramble when I get nervous, cause I just can’t concentrate around you. You make me so flustered sometimes that I get a ton of butterflies in my stomach and I just wanna—oh, uh—” he laughed softly, gently rubbing the back of his head. “—a-anyway, I have something for you.”

Tilting your head to look up at him you lifted your brows high in curiosity before he pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket…and your breath hitched.

“The reason I asked you here was so that I could pick this up from Dino. I had him make me something special for you, cause I didn’t want just any old thing—” and he popped open the box. The first thing to catch your eye was the stone, and you gasped softly. “—it’s a yellow diamond. The guys and I found it out on a hunt, and yeah, first thing I thought of was you,” the band itself was gold, elegant in it’s own way, but it had a vine like appearance to it. “And Dino added his own little touch to it.”

You bit your lower lip, as you lifted your eyes to look up at Prompto from the ring. “I—it’s lovely, I just, what is it for?”

Prompto swallowed hard then took a step closer to you as his blush seemed to reach his ears. His voice lowered to just above a whisper. “I never believed in love till I met you, a-and I don’t want to continue on through life without you by my side, I know it’s kinda cliche to ask this on your birthday but...will you marry me?”

Feeling your mouth fall open you blinked up at him, surprised at yourself that not a sound came past your lips. He lifted his free hand and gently cupped your cheek, resting his forehead against your own.

“Please…?”

It was then you let out a soft laugh and he drew his head back, brows lifting high. Before he could question you, you leaped up, wrapping your arms about his neck to kiss him deeply. You laughed into that kiss feeling him almost lose his balance, before his arms wrapped about you tightly and crushed you against his chest.

“Yes!” you breathed as you broke the kiss, “A million times yes.”

Prompto blinked up at you then laughed himself, spinning you around once before hiding his face against your neck. “Gods I love you.”

“And I you Prompto, I think you just made this the best birthday ever.”