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sheepwithspecs · 3 months

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His Path

|| FFXIV || Rated G ||

Ao3 Link

A quiet moment of connection between husband and wife.

Ameliance wakes to darkness.

Startled into awareness without fully understanding why, she opens her eyes to find the murky shadows of her bedchamber. Casting about for something familiar in the night, her wide-open gaze lands on the pale sliver of moonlight reflected in the large mirror hanging above the chest of drawers. It waxes and wanes with the billowing curtains, the ocean breeze a faint caress against her exposed collarbone. The chronometer at her bedside table counts the seconds, each measured tick-tock scolding her for waking before the sun had time to rise. Tsk-tsk-tsk— A mechanical whir, barely more than a whisper in the night, and the tiny hammer strikes third bell.

Behind her, the mattress dips as her husband makes his way beneath the coverlet. Holding her breath, she strains to hear the rustle of fabric as Fourchenault makes himself comfortable. He relaxes with a soft grunt, the sound melting into the night before all is silent once more. There is no need for a light; she can see her husband perfectly in her mind’s eye, hair unbound and starched uniform replaced with a nightshirt of finely woven silk. Supine, long fingers folded demurely across his stomach, frowning at the ceiling as he waits for sleep to claim him.

It is a position she has not been privy to for some time now.

When was the last time they shared a bed? Or, rather, the last time she had been made aware of his coming and going? She had grown accustomed to the lonely habit of going to bed alone and waking up much the same; often she had no choice but to rely on the rumpled bedsheets at her side to tell when—if at all—her husband joined her in the course of the night. Long enough to miss his presence, to feel nostalgic for those sleepy mornings when he would brush the loose hair from her forehead, bending over to feather kisses over her sleeping face. Sometimes he would even linger there, his lips pressed to the rise of her cheekbone, breathing in her scent as though hoping to carry something of her with him on the long walk to the Rostra.

Those days are long past, unfortunately. Ameliance cannot remember the last time he woke her simply to say goodbye, to play the age-old game of a wife entreating her husband to miss important work in lieu of a lazy morning at her side. Perhaps it stems from concern. Perhaps he does not wish to disturb her peaceful slumber. Perhaps his passion has cooled into indifference.

Fourchenault loves her. It is an unequivocal truth, as simple and natural as two and two making four. The knowledge lies deep in her bones, in her very marrow. But knowledge without proof is its own torture.

He used to blush when she kissed him in public, stammering under his breath about propriety and impressions and such. And at the close of each long day he would nevertheless greet her warmly, leaning into her touch as she helped to remove his elaborate uniform. She misses their long walks in the forest, stolen moments as they watched the waves break over the Scholar’s stone feet in the distant harbor.

But now he no longer pauses at her side, no longer takes her hand in his own with all the awkward shyness of a schoolboy, despite over a decade of marriage. There is always a summons, something to pull him from his office or from the dining table, an apologetic smile on his face and an excuse on his lips. Forgive me. Next time I will stay longer. Next time I will rise earlier. Next time….

Too busy, always too busy, she had thought in those moments, her love for him a worrying thorn in her breast. Fourchenault never spoke of his work, beyond those few vague details which, in the nature of his duty, were necessary to impart. He couldnot speak of it, she now knew: sworn to secrecy, bound by magic. But even without the spell holding him to his word, Ameliance knew that he would have never divulged any of the Forum’s secrets. To do so would have been a significant breach of their trust, and that was simply not in his nature.

In his defense, there had been little time in recent years for pleasantries. His work preserving their lives for the future had instead stolen him away from life’s most precious moments; it had ostracized him from his family, brushing aside their well-meaning gestures in his hurry. Often she had pleaded with him to stay a moment longer, to take one more bite of his meal, to pause and catch his breath—each time, she was denied without a word of explanation.

At least he is finally able to rest.

Ameliance holds herself perfectly still, listening to the sounds of another body in her bed—strange, unaccustomed, after so many moons apart. All of Sharlayan has breathed a collective sigh of relief, including those charged with its salvation. Why, then, does he still not reach for her? Why does he continue to hold himself apart? Has he no more fondness for her? Or is it her own fault for not pressing harder? Demanding more? She has never been one to withhold herself from what she truly wants. Is he expecting her to reach for him? Or is he simply too tired to care, now that all is said and done?

She turns the questions over in her mind, wondering if her doubts are founded enough to bring up at their next shared meal… whenever that will be. Before she can arrive at an answer, however, there is the soft brush of fingertips against her neck. They trace a tentative line down the center of her spine, muted by the thick fabric of her nightgown. He pauses only once, perhaps alerted to the shift in her attention, but makes no effort to speak. A quiet breath, something caught halfway between a sigh and an exhale, and he presses his palm into the valley between her shoulder blades. His fingers fan out slowly, one by one, measuring the span between the rises with a gentle touch.

“Is that all you plan to do?” The whisper escapes before she can think to smother it, surprisingly loud in their shared darkness. Fourchenault flinches at the sound, the warmth of his hand absent as he pulls back into himself. Turning in place, she gropes along the blankets for him and finds naught but empty space. Has he already fled? Or was it merely a dream? No, not a dream… she can hear each stilted breath as it passes his lips.

“Have I woken you?” he finally asks, repentant. Remorseful. “I did not mean—”

“I was not fully asleep.” Ameliance shuffles closer to his side of the bed, attempting to bridge the chasm between them. She can sense how he draws away from her, muscles stiffening as though to brace himself… against what, she cannot say.

Well, that simply won’t do.

Boldly she reaches forward, find the edge of one tensed shoulder after a moment’s confusion. Her fingers dance their way up the slender column of his neck, reacquainting themselves with his jawline before cupping his cheek. He nuzzles into the proffered caress, lips brushing the heel of her palm. They move against her skin, sounding out the syllables of her name.

“I’ve missed this.” The confession rests on the pillows between them. “I’ve missed you,” she adds, when he does not immediately respond. Something deep within her aches to hear the same words echoed back, the proof she seeks that life without her was miserable for him in some small way.

“Forgive me.” His standard apology falls flat in comparison. Disappointed, she lets her hand fall away… or tries to, at any rate. Fourchenault holds tight to her wrist, feeling up the shape of her hand and clutching it to his cheek with the desperation of a starved man. “Forgive me,” he repeats, more urgently.

“For what?”

“For… for everything.” His voice is strangled, overbrimming with emotion. It ill-suits him, the man who prides himself on being calm and collected no matter the situation. “Everything. Or nothing. Whatever pleases you most, so long as it makes things right again.”

“But—” There is nothing wrong. Even as she thinks the words, she knows them to be untrue. Things have not been right for some time now. But what could they have done differently? How much longer could they have forestalled the inevitable? Louisoix, the Forum, the Scions of the Seventh Dawn: each had their own solution, dreams born of desperation and hope. But no one plan was wholly infallible, without fault. Even the Mothercrystal had not known the full answer, forced to cling to the belief that one day Her children would rise to the occasion in Her stead.

“I have failed everyone,” he continues, unprompted. “Had the Scions not been able to fund—had you not thought to—had the children not—” He chokes, lips pressed tightly against the onslaught of his guilt and shame. “How many more would have perished? How many more would have fallen due to my own shortsightedness?” Questions with no easy answer.

“The lamp, dearest.”

“What?”

“If you want to talk about this right now, we might as well be able to see one another.” Still he hesitates, his uncertainty at war with her pragmatism. “I want to see you,” she urges, letting her voice go soft and sweet, the one thing guaranteed to wear him down in record time. “Please?” A fumbling click, the strike of a match, and the room is bathed in a warm, flickering glow.

Fourchenault falls back to the pillow, blinking the spots from his weary eyes before turning to where she waits. His expression is at once both guarded and reproachable, waiting for her censure, willing to accept anything she throws at him. Perhaps he expects himself worthy of nothing less. Now that she is able to properly see him, she feels her heart begin to melt.

Her husband is not without blame; that much is certain. But the blame should not—cannot—rest solely on his shoulders. If there is fault to be found, he must find it within himself. She has no desire to become a font of criticism; if anything, her only wish is to become its solace.

“Now, isn’t this better?” Ameliance aligns her body to his, sinking down to share his pillow with a warm smile. Wary eyes keep watch as she settles in beside him, hooking one ankle around his beneath the bedclothes. Ever so slowly he reaches for her, finding her hand atop the coverlet and covering it with his own. While not the verbal answer she wished for, it is still encouragement enough to continue.

“The Final Days are averted, our beloved children are returned to us hale and whole, and we both are none the worse for wear. It is the best outcome this family could have possibly wished for. Is that not so?” He offers no response. “One man alone cannot protect every living thing on the star,” she reminds him softly. “How can you be responsible for the universe and its plight, when the power to save it was never yours to wield?”

“Perhaps I could not have saved everyone. But I might have done more to try.” His fingers tighten to the point of pain. She does not flinch, eager to offer even this smallest of comforts. “Instead, I chose to cling to the hope that our forefathers knew us better than we knew ourselves. That ancient methods were somehow more viable than modern solutions. A textbook example of a sunken-cost fallacy.”

“Fourchenault—”

“I was not blind to what our children had accomplished thus far. Rather, I knowingly chose not to see it for what it was. Pride, my foolish pride….”

“Do you recall that last picnic we had in Labyrinthos? It was just before your father departed for Eorzea.” Turning onto her side, she rests her free hand on his sternum. “You made a promise that day. Do you remember what it was?”

“I remember.” His eyes soften with the recollection. “For our children… for their children.”

“Mine is a difficult path, but I shall walk it gladly,” she quotes, each word laden with meaning beyond his intentional oath. “It was a difficult path, wasn’t it? But you stuck to it anyway, for their sake. You walked it alone, with no assistance from those you fought to save. Tell me: who would blame a father for acting in his children’s best interests?”

“The best of intentions cannot excuse the poorest of executions.” A Studium proverb if there ever was. “Regardless of my aim, I hurt my family. My children. You did not see the expression on their little faces in the Lotus Stands, when I told them that they were not….” He raises his hands before his eyes, staring at them in the dim light. There is no doubt in her mind what he sees, superimposed upon his fingers: the memory of chubby, infantile hands clinging to him, so trusting in their innocence. “But they would be obstinate, unmoved—”

“Yes… I wonder where they could have possibly picked up that particular trait?” Eyes twinkling, she moves to kiss the corner of his downturned mouth. “Alphinaud and Alisaie love you, my darling… as do I. But if you feel as though you must make amends, let this be the first: allow me to be your wife in more than name. Let me bear my portion of your troubles, the way you bear mine. No more secrets.”

“F-Forgive me, I had no choice. It was my burden to—”

“Shh.” A shake of her head is more than enough to silence his stammered apology. “Even had you not been sworn to secrecy, I doubt you’d have bothered to bore your wife with trivial details about the end of the world.” He flushes, the tips of his ears darkening further under her scrutiny. “Everyone needs a shoulder to rest their head at the end of the day, Fourchenault. In your case, I’d rather that shoulder be mine.”

“Ameliance….” His frown wavers, eyes glistening.

“After all, haven’t I always kept pace with you?” she grins, brushing pale wisps of hair from his cheek. “I promise I’m up to the task.”

“You always were.” He sighs, relaxing fully and indulging in her loving ministrations. “In that case,” he murmurs, eyes drifting closed, “I’ll have no more secrets from you, either. No more under-the-table dealings with merchants—” She kisses him, partly to interrupt the incoming lecture but also from the sheer delight that her stern husband, her stoic, inscrutable husband is teasing her for the first time in ages. Eager arms wind around his neck, fingers tangling in his loose hair as she steals the breath from his lungs.

“No more unscrupulous, unmarked payments to the Scions,” he manages, when she breaks away for air. “No more adventurers traipsing in and out of our foyer, regardless of the time.” Trembling hands cup her cheeks, outlining her features with both thumbs. “And absolutely no more of those ridiculous outfits—”

“Ridiculous? I seem to recall your eyes being glued to a certain pair of sheer leggings… you didn’t like them? Perhaps they should be discarded?”

“You know I liked them,” he grumbles, winding an arm around her waist. “Just as you know I would have fallen on my knees before you, had the servants not—” The remainder of his words are swallowed by another searing kiss, deeper than the last. Warm hands slip beneath her gown, guiding her legs until she straddles his hips. As close as they already are she cannot help but want to be even closer, tugging fruitlessly at the unwanted barrier of his nightshirt.

“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles against the seam of her lips, tracing the smooth skin of her outer thigh. “You deserve so much more… you deserve the world….”

“Look at me.” His lashes flutter open, eyes stormy with lust. It is as unraveled as he will allow himself to be, the ever-present crease between his brows smoothing only when she rests her forehead against his. “Our children are my sun and stars,” she whispers, staring deep into his eyes. If given half the chance, she would willingly drown herself in the love that pools there. “They are the light guiding my every step, make no mistake. But my world is here, with you.”

No fewer words can describe what she knows to be true. Their children soar far from home on open wings of their own making, their love for this star carrying them beyond what either of their parents could possibly have hoped to imagine. She basks in their distant glow, buoyed by pride and maternal love. But when the ground beneath her feet start to tremble, when the firmaments feel ready to crumble and collapse around her, Fourchenault is the solid weight she reaches for. He is her strength, and she is his: in sickness and in health, for better or for worse, through the end of the world or in its wake.

“Ame—!” Without warning he pulls her into a crushing embrace, a ragged exhale smothered into the join of her shoulder and neck. Her lungs protest the constricting hold, but she had no desire whatsoever to pull away before he does. If only they could remain like this, locked together for eternity….

“You are my everything,” he echoes, clutching at her for dear life. “My world, my life, my… Ameliance….” His arms tighten even further, as if to draw her into his body by force. “Every day… not a day goes by that I am not thankful you chose me.”

“Who else would I possibly choose?” Swallowing thickly, he draws back just far enough to see her face. She winks, unable to help herself. “I knew from the start that only one man in all the world could ever put up with the likes of me.” The corner of his mouth lifts in an unbidden smile, eyes crinkling as he bends to the weight of her amusement.

“Another difficult path, perhaps… one I will gladly walk until my dying day.”

Author's Note: I've been working on this idea since 2022 and I've only now got it to a point where I'm happy releasing it. Ever thankful for "A Legacy of Hope" Side Story, since it helped me narrow down the ideas that have been floating around in my head for 2 years now.

Maybe one day I'll write about Ameliance in those 2B leggings....

#Final Fantasy XIV #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv #ameliance leveilleur #fourchenault leveilleur #ameliance leveilleur x fourchenault leveilleur #fanfiction #oneshot #my writing

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magpie-atelier · 1 year

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thanks, Alphinaud

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cienne-fireborn · 11 months

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Gratuitous self indulgence...

Elezen women pretty...

#ffxiv spoilers #ameliance leveilleur #Cienne fireborn #WoL x Ameliance #Fourchenault doesn't have to know

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cinnabun-faerie · 2 years

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FFXIV React to the WoL's obvious crush on Ameliance Leveilleur

A/N: I couldn't just do a Fourchenault one without one for Ameliance, now could I?

You can find his here !

Alisaie

The exhale from her nostrils should be enough of a reaction. She's says she's not angry but she keeps glaring at you. She is aware that you're like a parent-friend with her, but you don't have to go dating her parent of all people!

Alphinaud

Well, to say that he was surprised was an understatement. He might even be a little unsure of what to think about it. And should he see you and his mother flirting, he would not know how to act. Perhaps he would just stand frozen while his brain attempts to reboot.

Ameliance

She's very flattered. As a matter of fact, she has taken a bit of liking to you as well. She would have made this very clear to Fourchenault. She would shamelessly flirt with you just to see your cute reactions.

Estinien

He knew you were excited to meet the twins' mother, but he didn't expect to watch you swoon over her. What would be your move if she were to reciprocate your feelings? He had to admit that he was curious. Not to mention that he would find Fourchenault's reactions hilarious.

Fourchenault

The man is shocked but not surprised. You have taken his kids to be fair, he disowned them and now you're coming for his wife. Does he do anything about it? No, cause he can see the way that Ameliance was staring at you. You weren't unattractive at all, so he saw your appeal but he wasn't going to mention that to her.

Thancred

This was quite the cheeky move was it not? Flirting with Ameliance in broad daylight, aware that her husband were watching. He wasn't above flirting either, but you were quite ballsy. And for your crush, he was not surprised. You had a type.

#ffxiv #ameliance leveilleur #ffxiv reactions #ameliance x reader #alisaie leveilleur #alphinaud leveilleur #estinien varlineau #fourchenault leveilleur #thancred waters

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zahra-hydris · 2 years

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sobbing about the leveilleur family thanks to ameliance’s custom deliveries pt. 2

#ameliance leveilleur #fourchenault leveilleur #this plus the last dialogue have me wanting more ameliance x fourchenault content #ffxiv #endwalker spoilers

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yukiotacon · 2 years

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Ohhh, could I get Ameliance and Fourchenalt dating a WoL that is a Viera and they suddenly find out that they are a lot older than Mr. And Mrs. Leveilleur? Even though they look much younger cause they're Viera?

Ameliance x WoL x Fourchenault

Viera edition

Sharlayan has no short of Viera

Though it did not stop them from being surprised when you revealed your true age

Ameliance would definitely be the one to ask you about your life

All the places you have been and all the people you have met

She cannot contain her excitement

Fourchenault would be hesitant to ask you anything

He feels genuinely embarrassed about assuming your age

All this time he though he was speaking to you as if you were a child

Fourchenault's cheeks would be red as tomatoes

He would definitely try to look away when Ameliance points it out

Though truthfully He does genuinely wish to know more about you

All in all, get ready to hounded by your two inquisitive loves

#yukiotacon #; yukiotacon ask.#ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv fic #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy xiv x reader #ff14 headcanons #final fantasy xiv headcanons #ff14 fanfic #final fantasy x reader #ameliance leveilleur #Ameliance x reader #ffxiv Ameliance #fourchenault leveilleur #ffxiv Fourchenault #Fourchenault x reader #Ameliance x wol x Fourchenault

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polyamships · 2 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fourchenault Leveilleur & Warrior of Light, Ameliance Leveilleur/Fourchenault Leveilleur/Warrior of Light, Ameliance Leveilleur/Warrior of Light, Ameliance Leveilleur/Fourchenault Leveilleur Characters: Ameliance Leveilleur, Fourchenault Leveilleur, Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) Additional Tags: Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Au Ra Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Cuckolding, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Marathon Sex, Aftercare, Banter, Anal Sex, Nipple Play Summary:

Forchenault Leveilleur gets back at Shiranami Aogane under the watch of his wife.

#ot3: ameliance leveilleur x fourchenault leveilleur x warrior of light #fandom: final fantasy xiv #fanwork: fanfic

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autumnslance · 2 years

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Okay, Omega and Hildi are cool and all, but they pale next to this patch's lore bomb. During the Custom Deliveries, Ameliance says: "*For years*, I've supported my children from afar as a sponsor of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn". They're finally moving away from the time bubble :)

They really aren't.

Ameliance supporting the Scions for years isn’t new information. It was a major reveal in the 6.0 harbor scene (”Bonds of Adamant(ite)”). Tataru tells us that Lady Leveilleur has "supported us from the shadows since the very founding of the Scions, ere we even had coffers to fill...” to the shock of Fourchenault and the twins.

Per Louisoix's plans, Minfilia formed the Scions in the immediate wake of the Seventh Calamity from her own organization--the Path of the Twelve--and the Circle of Knowing. The Scions were operating for five years before the Warrior of Light arrived, before the twins came of age and formally joined themselves. Ameliance simply remained involved in her father-in-law’s endeavor.

The Time Bubble Issue The time bubble, much as we may (or may not) hate it, is here to stay. When asked at FanFest (concerning changes to Meteor's appearance through the cinematic trailers), Yoshida said he "assumed some time, maybe a few years, have passed,” but he will not give a set timeline in the game so that players can determine their own timelines for their Warrior of Lights' personal stories. He seems to answer this question at a couple panels and FanFests, actually.

Rule 1 for Yoshida was regaining and maintaining the playerbase trust after the fiasco of 1.0, hence the constant communication and responses to feedback. Corollary to that is giving players agency in regard to our personal character stories (as much as the on-rails MSQ allows).

The time bubble is also there for the developers so they can handwave any time passage to vague days, weeks, months, or years, the way people in real life will guesstimate times they don't precisely remember. This keeps them from having to keep track of aging up all the NPCs--not just the kids/teens. The start of A Realm Reborn remains the baseline regardless because it’s the only exact time we have (five years post-Calamity).

So has time passed in game? Yes of course it has; just by travel alone, as for example we know there are canon timeframes in the Encyclopaedia Eorzea of “at least a fortnight” by sea to get from Limsa to Sharlayan, and "two moons” by sea from Limsa to Doma (remember, the game world is a compressed abstract for play purposes), when one cannot teleport. We know characters on the Source have mentioned vague time passing (days, months, or years) during quests text, in and out of cutscenes. Characters have had all sorts of personal development that takes awhile to stick, and/or have to take time to recover from various injuring events. We know that the game has not taken place "all within one year" per Yoshida (though some try to claim that everything in game so far has, thanks to not grasping how the “time bubble” works as a developer tool and starting point for players).

But also per Yoshida we do not, will not, get a canon timeline for how many years have passed, as it's not convenient for the devs and it removes agency from the players.

If anyone tries to say that they or someone else have worked out an exact post-ARR canon timeline, or that they think that devs are removing the time bubble based on some of the many vague time references in game, then they're talking about their own headcanons or mistaken.

We don't gotta like it, but it's there for a purpose and unless the director himself flat out states "we now have decided it has been X number of years exactly since the start of ARR" do not assume that the bubble has been lifted. It is there as a developer tool and starting point for your own WoL storyline. Vague, contradictory, general guesstimates of time using the start of ARR as a baseline are all we're going to see canonically in the game and short stories.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Naoki Yoshida #Time Bubble #Scions of the Seventh Dawn #Ameliance Leveilleur #Encyclopaedia Eorzea #Seventh Umbral Calamity #A Realm Reborn #Louisoix Leveilleur

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sundered-souls · 18 days

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For the NPC ask, what are your character's thoughts on Ameliance and Fourchenault?

She met Ameliance and fell a little bit in love (don't tell Fourchenault! Or maybe do tell him, actually, it'll be fun.) Nothing more than an innocent crush though, the kind of platonic ones you get when you meet someone you know you'll get fabulously along with. And they do!

They meet regularly for tea and gossips, and Inge helped her with the deliveries for the students. She also admires her business sense, though it was slightly frightening to watch her deal with Rowena...

Regarding Fourchenault, they have a rather more professional relationship. In time, they'll probably get on more friendly terms but they're just both a bit guarded so they're getting there... slowly x) There's no animosity between them, though, and never truly has been despite their respective wariness.

It helps that Inge isn't as close to the twins as Aïcha and not nearly as hot-headed either: she didn't take his apparent disdain for his children to heart and was more willing to look at his choices as ones of a politician torn between family and duty. Which ended up being true.

Beside, Ameliance loves him, so clearly there's depth to discover under that grumpy face! (She took great pleasure in helping Ameliance find new outfits, and even greater pleasure in getting her feedback on the effect it had on him XD)

Thanks for the ask, @gatheredfates!

#The More You Know #answered; Inge

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dholwrites · 1 year

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Calm Before the Storm

Notes: Commission piece! This continues a small part close to the ending of Endwalker. Relationship: G'raha Tia x Female WoL [Fuujin Lorelei] Rating: Explicit (so much fucking porn) Ao3 link

Summary: Fuujin lays in her bed, dreading the coming fight. Who will she lose at the edge? Who will be left to tell the stories? Luckily the person who could distract her from the plaguing thoughts is knocking at her door.

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

The carbuncle clock clicks away as seconds turn into minutes and into bells. The sun had long descended and left the chill air to nip at her fingers. The Final Days were at their doorsteps, and the only thing she could do was lay on her futon and stare at the ceiling; the gravity of the situation she had put herself in is enough to pin her in place.

Marielle, Thancred's lover, had made her promise to bring him home; her words were spoken with a hint of desperation. It was no secret that Thancred would be the first to throw himself into danger for his friends, and for his family. The twins’ parents approached her for the same assurance. Fourchenault could barely keep his voice from wavering as he asked for Alisaie and Alphinaud to come home safely. Even with Ameliance there offering a comforting arm around his back, his eyes were already glazed over with tears. It’s not difficult to agree when she already has plans to keep them safe; if only it was easy to say “I will.”

Fuujin made plenty of promises over the years, yet vows never weighed as heavy as they do now; not when the voices in her head fill the silence of the room. Who will she lose in the battle? How many more people must be sacrificed for everyone to be safe? Who would be left to remember and pick up the pieces? The Scion’s lives are not the only ones on her shoulders. If they falter, if she falters, it would mean the death of the Source as they know it. Everything they ever cared for would be wiped out.

The knocking at the door slowly brought her back to the present. She turns on her futon to look, a thought crossing her mind to pretend to be asleep. Another series of short knocks followed by a sweetly familiar voice calling out to her, “Fuujin? Are you up? I have some treats you might like.”

Her stomach lets out an almost monstrous growl that echoes through the entire room before she could even answer. Grumbling, Fuujin pushes herself off her bed to shuffle down the stairs. Her fingers reach up to smooth down any bed hair, careful to make sure that her ring did not get caught, as her other hand twisted the knob.

“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting your evening?” He flashes her a shy smile with two paper bags in his arms, marked clearly to be from the Last Stand. She couldn’t help but giggle while stepping aside to let him in.

“Not at all, but I am starting to wonder if you’re going to make a habit of coming to my room late at night.” G’raha froze mid-step and stammered at her teasing. With his face turning the same color as his hair, the miqo’te beelined for her kitchen with the scent of sugar trailing behind him and filling the apartment.

By the time she had turned around, the desserts were fully unpacked. Fuujin couldn't help but smile as he fretted, taking a seat on one of her carbuncle armchairs. It didn’t take long for him to set down plates of cinnamon rolls, cookies, and even a whole strawberry tart onto her table along with a fork.

“Did you buy every dessert they have, Raha?” Fuujin jokes, picking up the fork as G’raha returns to the kitchen. “Though I would never deny free sweets.”

“N-no! I mean sort of, but no!” Fuujin decides against teasing again as she digs into the cinnamon rolls. The frosting-covered pastry melted in her mouth, and along with it her worries.

She was lost in her personal heaven, floating from one sugary cloud to another. Just as she thought she was having her fill, a hand offers a cup of piping, homemade hot chocolate. A drink she is more than happy to accept, perfect for warding off the cold night and her spiraling thoughts.

"Are you feeling better?" He whispers, his eyes darting across her face. G'raha sits on the couch’s arm as he leans over her. His hand combs through her hair before rubbing at the base of her ears, gentle enough for her to purr at his touch.

"Just you being here is enough, Raha," she leans into his hand as she continues to sip the hot chocolate. "And yes, the sweets and hot chocolate are working."

"Then, if you don't mind me," before she could question what he meant, G'raha tucked his arms under her knees and around her shoulders. With ease, he picked her up and settled into her spot, placing her onto his lap. It’s a miracle that they managed to move around without spilling a drop.

Fuujin couldn't deny how she easily melts into him, her ear pressed against his chest, picking up the steady thump of his heartbeat.

"If you wanted to manhandle me, you didn't have to butter me up with sugar and chocolate." Despite her teasing, Fuujin’s tail brushed against his, purposely entwining them together. She could feel a giggle tickle at her throat as the thumping in Graha’s chest picked up.

"Consider it a small cost to pay to help you relax," G'raha admits as his hands return to her hair, his fingers once again tangling into the strands and undoing any of the knots that had formed. He plants a small kiss on the top of her head, whispering out his concern, "you've been locked in your room for the last couple of bells. I know that the coming trip is on your mind, but not taking care of yourself will only make things worse."

Fuujin lets out a soft hum which slowly rolls into a purr as he continues to brush her hair. His chest rumbles and vibrates as his sound tumbles out to match hers.

Her eyes close as she ingrains the moment in her mind. The soft touch of his hand, the scent of sweets, and the purr that she loves so much. She memorizes every little detail as if it is the last time; it’s hard to know when fate would allow her to be back in his arms when she is constantly stopping one apocalypse after another. G'raha sits in silence, his face slowly rubbing against her hair, the rumbling in his chest seems almost never-ending as he waits patiently until she is ready to speak again.

"I... I can't help but wonder if I’ll lose anyone in this fight. And who? How many will fall because of my mistakes?" There is a tightness in her throat that she has never felt before, one that makes her words feel like lead. Yet they came tumbling out as if a dam had broken, and her thoughts came pouring out like water.

"What would I tell Marielle? Thancred has always been the first to take action, even more now that he took up the gunblade. What if he got seriously hurt? Or even worse, killed?

“Alisaie throws herself into battle, blade first more often than not. She did it when we faced Emet and again with the Blasphemies. Alphinaud is doing a good job as a sage and protecting everyone, but I worry that it puts a target on his back." Tears well in her eyes with worry, the only thing preventing them from spilling is the reassuring arm wrapped around her waist. “How would I tell Ameliance and Fourchenault that I couldn’t protect them? I promised them that I would bring their children home. Should I explain to them that the twins fought bravely? That it's okay because they did what they thought was right? I have barely managed to save them before; when we were kicked out of Ul’dah, being accused of heresy in Ishgard, or even when we fought Emet-Selch deep down in the Tempest. I was one step away from losing them."

"I don't want to even get started with Estinien, Urianger, and Y'shtola. I only wish to go home with everyone. Alive. I want to make it back without worrying about breaking the news to someone." She lets out a shuddering breath, choking back the tears that are threatening to fall. Spoken out loud, Fuujin could not deny the weight they hold on her heart. The tangible stress is like a noose around her neck; the only way forward she could see is riddled with the blood and bodies of her family.

"Tell me that you won’t throw your life away just for me." Fuujin jabs him on the sides. The unexpected wheeze that came out of him was enough to crack the thick air and lighten the mood. “Swear to me that you won’t try to pull the same thing as you did back on the first.” There is no need for her to remind him of the promise of their youth. Back when he fell asleep inside the tower, she swore to be there, to be the first to say ‘Good morning’. That promise alone became one of the reasons why she pulled herself out of bed, why she continued to fight, and why she took up a sword and shield.

A moment passed, then another. The room fills with silence as she turns away from him. She was grateful that he didn't push for more. Some words are meant to be unspoken, lest she speaks them into reality. She had lost him once before, her heart can’t bear the idea of losing him again. Giving in to her insistence, he takes her hand and brings her fingers to his lips before pressing it over his heart. “I promise to uphold the vow I made on our wedding day; that I will be with you until we are old and gray.”

“Good, now say that you will bring sweets like this every night to me.” The huff that came out of him is enough to make her smile. She knows that he would make regular trips to the Last Stand if she asked nicely. Silence, once tense, has shifted into something more comfortable, more open.

"Do you remember the promise we made just before I locked myself into the tower?" G'raha started after giving her a moment to calm down, pulling away to take the cold cup from her hands and set it aside. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head while his fingers traced her cheek. Fuujin stared into his red eyes, nuzzling against his hand. He lightly bumped his forehead against hers, and she took comfort in the fact that she could feel the soft thumping of his heart and the sweet purrs in his chest. “When I woke up centuries later, I was devastated to find out that you had... That you were gone. I didn't believe them. It was impossible for someone as strong and amazing as you to simply be gone."

"I believed that it was my fault. Perhaps if I didn’t lock myself inside the tower, I could have been there to help you. Or at the very least, I would be by your side.” He brings a finger to her lips and shushes her before she could even begin to deny it. His voice grew tight and Fuujin felt like she could touch his palpable fear. G'raha leans in to bury his face in her neck. “I know you’d rather we stay here where it’s safe. But we do this because we want to, we want to take your burdens onto our shoulders. We don’t want to lose you. I don't want to lose you.”

Fuujin could feel him press his lips against her shoulder and along the curve of her neck to her cheek. G’raha placed kiss after kiss after kiss onto every inch of her face as if it would be his last. The scent of his soap tickles her nose and serves only as a reminder of where he had touched. And like ice, the weight on her heart melts away from his warmth. His hands, gentle and firm, held her as if she were a precious treasure that could shatter at a moment's notice. The warm, fuzzy feeling fills her more than the hot chocolate and desserts that he brought.

"Will you allow me to cherish you?" He asks when he finally pulls away while his hand drags down the length of her arm. His red eyes look at her wide and hopeful, and the decision came without a second thought; she leans forward and captures his lips for a kiss. He lets out a startled gasp, as if he wasn't the one that initiated the entire thing.

Fuujin pushed herself up until she could swing one leg over his and straddle him without breaking the kiss. Her heart flips when he gently sucks on her bottom lip, soft and wanting. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he pressed his body against hers, his breath running against her skin, his warm hands settling on her hips and fingers caressing the sensitive space behind her knees. Her own hands drag across his clothes, pulling at his scarf and tugging at his layers until they start to fall off. Her breath hitched when she accidentally brushed against the tent growing in his pants. She slowly pulls away, her eyelids fluttering open to see his face. His cheeks were tinted red, eyes half open and hazy, and both his ears drooped down. She looks back down only to catch a glimpse of tongue darting out to lick his upper lip. He looked positively drunk and his hands told her that he is hoping for another taste.

"Is that enough of an ans-!" Fuujin latched onto him without a moment’s hesitation as he suddenly stood up. By the time she had gotten over the initial shock, he had already carried her up the short steps toward the upper level with his arms around her waist, and her legs wrapped around his hips. This doesn't stop her from lightly smacking the back of his head for scaring her. “Warn me next time, will you?”

Her annoyance is quickly washed away when he gently sets her on the edge of her bed. Instead, her heart picks up at the sight of him kneeling between her legs. Piece by piece, he slowly peels away her layers. And with every ilm of skin revealed, he would press kisses that send shivers up her spine. From her thighs to her waist to her navel, G'raha left no space untouched, no place unloved.

She can feel the way his hands slightly tremble, his lips lingering a few seconds longer. Even when he takes her left hand into his, kissing the back of it, then once again just below her ring finger. Every move is made out of tender love and devotion. But she can sense the underlying fear of losing her once again.

Yet he looked at her as if she is a goddess and he was a follower to attend to her every want.

While her clothes were a mess at the foot of her bed, she felt none of the chilly air that had bothered her earlier in the night. Instead, her core felt like a furnace; Burning brighter and brighter with every second.

G'raha glides his hand up her leg again until he reaches her inner thigh. A pause, his eyes flickering up to look at her. Fuujin's only answer is to part her legs farther, revealing how wet she has gotten. His calloused finger stroked the folds of her pussy, drawing a needy whine from her lips. It was completely coated in slick before he pressed into her, gently caressing her insides and making her knees weak. Her body quickly betrayed her, legs snapping together, trapping him the second he pressed her sweet spot dead on. Which only encouraged him to slip another finger in to attack her weakness; his thumb grazed over her clit and worked in time with his fingers. Fuujin grasps his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as he pulled cry after blissful cry from her. If she had the time and concentration, she would admire the way his hair clips had slipped, causing his red fluffy locks to fall onto his face as he continued.

She could feel the near peak of her orgasm. His warm breath against her exposed chest, fingers curled inside, and his other hand firmly holding her leg in place. The knot inside grew tighter and tighter until the pleasure turned her mind into a blank slate.

"Was that a good distraction for you, my warrior?" His voice, breathless and husky, draws her attention back to him. Opening her eyes, which she doesn't remember even closing, Fuujin looks down to see G'raha licking her juices from his hand while his tail sways behind him in long, excited strokes.

While a good distraction, Fuujin craves something bigger, much bigger than his fingers inside of her, and it only reminds her that he is still fully dressed. Grabbing onto his shirt, she wordlessly pulls him onto her bed. The wide-eyed look on his face, his tail curling and ears perking up encouraged her to continue.

Her hands slipped under his shirt, fingers pressed down against his muscle as she pulled the fabric higher and higher. His body twitches and jolts under her touch, his own hands gripping her futon in an attempt to stay still. His eyes follow her after she pulls the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Her nails have left crescent moon impressions on his shoulders, ones that she apologetically traces before she drifts down to his tattoo. Further and further down she went, memorizing the lines of his body. The thought still haunts her, the idea of possibly losing him at the edge of the world. Thus, she takes her time, memorizing every detail of the love of her life.

By the time she reached the edge of his pants, the red flush from his face had spread to the rest of his body. The tent could not be more obvious with the way it strained the front of his pants. Her hands tug at them until they fall off, pulling his aching member free; the tip already dripping precum despite being neglected this entire time.

Fuujin straddles his waist, her arms loosely wrapped around his neck. G'raha lifts her with each of his own and holds her over the head of his cock. Her heart leaped into her throat as she slowly sunk down, feeling every ilm being pushed inside, her walls stretching to accommodate his length.

She leans forward, kissing along his shoulders and up his neck, lips purposely following the outline of his archon tattoos. Behind them, his tail brushed against hers before they curled around each other. Moans and gasps spill from her mouth at every movement. A low purr rumbles in his chest, clearly enjoying the noises she makes until he finally bottoms out. Simply sitting there sends small shocks of pleasure through her body.

His hand rubs soothing circles around the base of her tail as the other guides her to ride him, lifting her up only to sink down once more in a rush of pleasure. Over and over, as the slick noises of their joining fill the room. Her mouth hangs open, the only thing coming out are moans, cries, and what syllables she could get out of his name before her mind is submerged in pleasure once again. She could not think about anything save for him and the bliss. As she nears her peak, he lifts his hips to meet her in the middle. Pulling a cry from her, her eyes roll from bliss. It feels as if he is going deeper.

"Fuujin," he mutters into her ear, his breath hot and heavy against the sensitive skin, and she could only respond with a whine. "I'm almost there ."

With her mind barely able to form any words, she did her best to nod. It was enough as he drove into her even harder. Between G'raha's powerful thrusts, gravity pulling her down to meet him, and the warmth of his cum filling her up to the brim from his release, she lets out a final cry before collapsing onto him. With no energy left, she stayed put in his arms as he leaned back to lay the both of them properly on the bed and pull her blanket over their bare bodies. Her eyes barely stayed open long enough to even wish him a good night before the darkness took her into a quiet, restful sleep.

Fuujin woke up to the feeling of gentle fingers combing through her hair, warm sun rays caressing her body, and soothing purrs coming from the chest below her. She pried open her eyes to look around, the stained glass window had shattered color across her room in a glow that makes her wonder if she is still dreaming. Turning to face G’raha, she places a simple kiss on his lips and whispers, “Good morning, Raha.”

#g'raha tia #GrahaWoL #ffxiv spoilers #ffxiv #writing commission #commission #lemon #lemon me this

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