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qianoir · 3 years

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IT3D 1 - Hua Mulan

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college students!WayV x Chinese fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, college au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ (Do not interact if you are under 18)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy cursing (censored), mentions of sex, nudity, love octogon, foreign humor, overbearing parents

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @eggbutnotyolk @d1nne @fanficbitchwhowriteskpop @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

"I've only been in New York City for 15 hours, Xuejiao. And it's huge! I don't know these streets you're telling me!" You shout, ignoring the side-eyes from the passerby city slickers that give New York it’s bad stereotype.

"You're going down 96th Street right? I told you to keep going down. It's a long a.ss street. You'll find the campus eventually- look for the dome!"

The connection breaks as Xuejiao finishes the call, "I gotta go now, I’m trying to get in my astrology professor’s pants after class!" The line goes silent and you huff, opening up GPS to lead you down the forsaken 96th Street. Distracted with directions, some guy crashes into you with his bike.

"What the hell!? Watch where you're going!" You yell picking up your fallen bag- which scattered all of my weeaboo s.hit.

"Maybe if you didn't stand in the middle of the street, you wouldn't have wrecked my bike! You're lucky you didn't get killed by a real car!" You looked up at the ignorant voice and found a young, orange-haired Asian boy. Maybe Chinese, like me?

"I wrecked your bike!? You're really unbelievable.." You placed everything back into the bag and took out your wallet. "Look, I don't have time for this. I'm sorry for damaging your tricycle, or whatever- here." You threw a fully punched Xing Fu Tang loyalty card at the kid’s dumbfounded face and walked off.

It's 9:57 AM, your o-chem class starts at 10 and you still can't find the campus. Why did my parents even make me leave Hong Kong? Because of the government, the pollution? Both countries are f.ucked. I choke there and I choke here.

Finally, I'm here.

You ran to the STEM building and up the stairs to land in a spacious lab room. You hurried to an empty seat near the top row. 9:59 AM.. Thank goodness.

In the midst of the lesson, the door opened to reveal the same clumsy jerk you had encountered a few minutes ago. He rushed to an empty seat, you going unnoticed by him.

Your first 50 minutes of college went by pretty quick. Nothing more than a syllabus review and a small question/answer session.

"I know it is the first day, but you are all in big kid school now, so I am assigning a semester project you will work on for all of this first term with a partner." Each array of your peers groaned at this announcement.

"You will use your knowledge from high school chemistry or an equivalent to complete it." The professor continued, "I will choose your partners and you are both expected to be responsible with it all semester."

"Remember your partner's name so that when I'm done, you can come down to get each other's contact information."

"Man Wol and Ji An.. Ha Jin and Hae Soo.."

The professor continued to call out names as you were caught up in texting Xuejiao about the kid who crashed into you earlier this morning being in your class, only half listening until you heard your name being called.

“Y/N and Yangyang.." Did I miss a racist joke or something? What the hell is a Yang Yang?

You kept texting Xuejiao, deciding to deal with it after class.

"I know it's a lot to take in on the first day, but on the bright side, you don't have to do the project," Some idiots celebrated, "but know that I will judge you harshly on it and I will be teaching at an Ivy League while you get kicked out of an Ivy League, never achieving your dreams." He fakes a sad face and the same idiots fuss.

"Now come meet your partners and have a good rest of your first day!" Your first professor dismissed the first class.

You put your phone in your pocket and stumbled to the bottom of the classroom, calling out for "Yangyang," the name feeling awkward as it rolled off your tongue.

"That's me." You spun around and were met with the trike guy from earlier.

"IT'S YOU!" You exclaimed in unison with him, the space between you two silencing for a second, before you spoke again.

"Oh my God I can't believe I got such a d!ck as a partner." You rolled your eyes with crossed arms.

"Hey! It takes two to d!ck!" Yangyang argues back. You stared at the fellow Asian boy in disgust and dismay.

"What the f.uck!?"

Both of you suddenly broke down laughing, your huddled classmates peeking at you with judgemental stares.

Yangyang calmed down and talked more comfortably with you, "Thanks for the boba by the way. I drank it deliciously.. before I dropped it because I crashed again."

"That's what you get for being a pr!ck to me." You scoffed.

"Oh baby that wasn't being a pr!ck. That was simply getting you warmed up to want me." He tapped your chin to bop your head back while giving a creepy stare.

...

"You're a f.ucking crazy person."

"Like it or not, Mulan, you're stuck with me for an entire semester." He stuck his tongue out at you.

"Mulan?" You questioned.

"Yeah. You're a Chinese b!tch, right?" You glared at him, but had to nod ‘yes’ anyway.

"Cool. I'm Taiwanese.. I need to get to the other side of campus so give me your number so we can work out the details on the project. You wanna meet up at the library tonight?" You agreed and gave him your number.

"Great. See you tonight, Mulan." He winked and jumped out of the room.

Shaking your head at the ironic situation, you walked to the next class with a little over 10 minutes to spare, so you stopped for coffee at the Starbucks on campus.

The shop was pretty small and there weren't a lot of people inside. As you were about to enter, another Asian boy held the door open. "Thank you." You smiled, bowing your head in gratitude.

"Anything for a girl with such a charming smile. Can I buy you a coffee?" He asked.

"No, that's ok!" You replied, not wanting to inconvenience this guy- and besides, he might just be trying to get in my pants.

"Please I insist! Get anything you want!" You decided to take his offer because in the end, it’s free coffee. He was also pretty charming himself, and seemingly harmless.

"Could I get an iced Americano, please?" You ordered. "I'll have the same." The boy told the barista.

You both stood to the side of the bar, talking while the identical drinks were being made. "Thank you for paying, you really didn't have to." "No no it's really fine. I wanted to.. I'm Dejun Xiao by the way, I think I'm in your chemistry class. What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N." "Oh are you Chinese!?" You nodded. "I'm Chinese as well. Are you from China?" "I'm from Hong Kong." "That's so cool! I'm from Guangdong." "Oh nice, nice.." The drinks were handed to you and you walked out together, strolling into the center of the campus.

"What class do you have next?" Dejun asked, sipping at his coffee. You took out a crumpled paper to examine the schedule printed on it. "I have biochem next." "Oh we have the same class!" Dejun announced. "That's crazy! Are you premed?" You asked him. "No, I'm studying forensic science. I want to be a homicide detective.”

Wow this guy is impressive. "Wow, that's awesome.. I want to be a heart surgeon.”

“That’s so cool!” "Thank you." You laughed at his energy. The two of you walked in the direction of your next shared class, conversing and giggling with each other along the way.

You reached your next classroom and found empty seats next to one another. “You can call me Xiaojun, by the way. I think it’s cooler than Dejun.”

“If you have to say your name is cool, then it’s not cool.” Another Asian man walked up to your row.

"Hey man! You're in here, too?" Xiaojun asked. "Yeah! It was a lucky draw." Xiaojun then motioned over to you, "This is Y/N. She's my new.. friend?" He smiled at you, looking for confirmation. Returning his smile, "Yes I am. Nice to meet you." The other male shook your hand and introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Kun."

"She's from China, like us!" Kun was surprised. "Really? Why did you come to America?" "My parents made me." You shrugged. "Wow mine did, too." Kun chuckled and sat down in the row of you and Xiaojun.

I left China, but China came to me. Maybe this year is destined to be good..

To be continued…

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

#wayv x reader #nct x reader #kun x reader #ten x reader #winwin x reader #lucas x reader #xiaojun x reader #hendery x reader #yangyang x reader #wayv imagines #wayv fluff #wayv smut #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #wayv angst

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

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Paul Higgs: Baby Daze

Tomorrow I will return you to your regularly scheduled whump programming. Today... this is what wanted to be written.

CW: Teen pregnancy, some crass language surrounding said pregnancy, brief gun reference, some organized crime references

Approximately eighteen years before Tristan Higgs became another casualty of WRU…

"Well, look who’s here! Billy Higgs’s boy, come to see us after school, then?" Sean Malley claps him on the back and Paul nearly stumbles forward, just barely catching himself as he crosses the threshold from the sun-warmed walkway with straggly weeds growing stubbornly up through the cracks into the chilly shadowed warehouse. His sneakers scrape along the ground, but he stays standing.

He's hardly even as big as a stick compared to his dad's work buddies, all older guys with thick muscled forearms and sleeves rolled up to their elbows. He’s never had much muscle on him at all, but then his dad didn’t have much in old photos either. Maybe he’d get some as he got older, if he worked here. If they let him. "How’s things, hm? Keeping your grades up?”

Paul smiles, a slightly strained expression. The smile is automatic, it’s what everyone expects with small talk. At school he mostly doesn’t even bother with it, but with his dad’s friends… well, a smile’s polite. Right? Friendly.

He tries to look more friendly. He needs them to say yes to what he’s about to ask for.

“They’re fine,” He says, squinting as his eyes adjust to the change in light. “Same as always, A’s and B’s.”

Mostly B’s, but they don’t need to know that.

“Good, good.” Sean slides an arm around his shoulders, jovial as always. Paul tries not to be visibly uncomfortable at the touch. Everyone is always touchy, in the world, and he’s never liked it much. Except with Ronnie, but… that’s different. “So, talk to us, Paulie. What's got Billy’s boy mucking around here at the Garden with the old-timers?"

It's not actually much of a garden, unless you count the dandelions in the sidewalks and the bits of scraggly grass along the edges of the pavement as your rows of plants. Instead, the big warehouse stretches wider than two Walmarts, chopped off into pieces by the standalone temporary walls inside that don't reach the ceiling.

The ‘Garden’ is a place where things happen that no one with a badge is ever supposed to see. There's shouting, good-natured calling out of sums and figures and code words Paul doesn't know, bouncing and echoing in a constant chaos of sound. Metal scrapes, an odd clicking Paul vaguely recognizes but can’t quite place until he thinks of his dad cleaning his guns now and then at night, carefully putting them back together once he’s done.

All that noise lays heavy like a blanket over his skin. He pushes past it - he's got a reason to be here, and he won't let Ronnie down. He can’t let her down.

"I'm here to work," He says, going for strong and loud. He doesn't change expression when the men around him laugh.

He doesn't think their laughter is meant to be unkind, and besides, he doesn't really care if it is. These men have all known him since he was born - if anyone’s going to give him what he needs, it’ll be them. "My dad told me I could pick up some shifts this weekend as a lookout, that you pay cash at the end of the shift, right away. That I could get a couple hundred if I’m good at it, maybe five if I do some running, too.”

"Oh he said that, did he?" Sean meets eyes with Cilly, whose real name Paul has never learned. He isn’t entirely sure anyone here has ever given him their real legal name. Not even Sean. "Will might've let the family know first before he sent his boy here, hm?

"Well, it's. It's important I get cash. Um. Fast. I just spoke to him, probably he'll call you in a bit thinking he's giving you a warning." Paul tries for another smile, and hopes it's warm enough. A bit of coppery strawberry blond hair falls over his green eyes as he looks hopefully from man to man.

He's not even eighteen yet, but really, isn't that even better for a lookout? He knows where they do their business, he knows who to watch for, and he doesn’t look like he’s one of them at all. He's paid attention, sat up at night making maps of where they work and what they do. He knows they’ve gotten into business with WRU, even, the big Facility up in Berras has been sending people down here now and then. He’s good at this sort of thing. He knows he can do this. He’s going to make a living at this one day, and everyone starts somewhere.

He just… has to convince them. These men aren't unreasonable, and they're family. Well, sort of. In a way. In that they all commit crimes with his dad. And some of them actually are real family, although he’s not always sure exactly who.

"What d'you need cash for that can't wait for your parents to come back from Florida, then?" That's Cilly, scratching idly at a red spot on his face, sipping a mug of hot tea like they're at a kitchen counter and not a fold-out table by a warehouse door. The others all have takeout coffee cups, but not Cilly.

Paul's mom buys him new mugs on all her vacations. A gentleman among thieves, she said once.

Nah, Paul's dad had said. Just a thief. But he puts on airs for you.

All the more reason to show him my appreciation, Bill.

The mug he’s drinking from now was one of Paul’s mom’s presents to him. It has a little palmetto tree on the side and Nothin’ Could Be Finer written in swirling script. It came from a trip to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina when Paul was seven.

He hated that trip. He never liked sand. Or the ocean. Or the noise of all the people everywhere in the street. He would have been happy with a book on the couch in the condo if they’d have let him stay there.

"They're not in-"

"Think they're in Georgia," Conor pipes up, the oldest with hair gone nearly gray, cousins to the real boss, a man Paul has met maybe three times and knows only as Mr. Sondheim - which isn’t even a little bit his actual name.

Conor makes Paul’s skin prickle, the way he thinks maybe a cat feels when it sees a mean-looking dog across the street. Paul's dad came home once with blood he had to wash off his hands and a shirt he had to throw out. When Paul asked, he said only, Conor's temper is going to get someone who matters killed one day. Too bad his grandson's as bad as he is. "Aren't they?"

"Nah," Sean says, shaking his head. "Florida. Definitely Florida."

"Actually," Paul starts. "They're in-"

"I thought Texas," Cilly says, almost thoughtful. He interrupts Paul thoughtlessly, and Paul’s face colors a little with embarrassment. He feels like the odd man out in a conversation meant to be about him.

"They went to Alabama," Paul finally says, soft. Thinking no one’s listening, but they all look at him then. That's worse than when they weren't paying attention at all. He never meets any one person's eyes, instead focusing on Sean Malley's forehead, a spot that'll look like eye contact without having to be it. He's never liked having to look too many people in the eye.

Or anyone, actually.

"Ah, all right then. Alabama. Well. What couldn't wait for them to get back from Alabama, Paulie-Wol?"

No one's called him Paulie-Wol since he was eleven - and he hated it then. He blushes even darker. He's always been easy to make blush, and they laugh again. It's a little meaner this time. He has to not care. It’s important not to care, so they’ll let him work.

Paul Higgs straightens his narrow shoulders and pulls a crumpled but of paper, shiny on one side, out from his back pocket. "This is why. I need money. Fast. For this."

He can't help how his voice dips, hushed, almost in awe. Sean is the first to take the little piece of paper, eyes widening in surprise at what he sees, before he hands it to Conor, who whistles through his teeth. Cilly takes it next, with a soft exhalation that's either curse or prayer.

With this group, it could be either. Or both. Paul’s dad always says God doesn’t care overmuch about the difference.

"You're a bit young, aren't you? To need money for this?" Sean asks, and he's… concerned, Paul thinks, and he tries to square himself up even taller. “What’re you, Paulie, fifteen?”

"S-seventeen. It’s-... we didn’t plan on it, Sean, it just happened." This time when his face stays red, heat burning under the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose, they don't laugh. All their smiles are gone, too.

They've gone serious, these men who aren't quite blood but might as well be. They aren't laughing at or with or because of him. They look worried about him.

"Paulie," Conor says, shaking his head. "Paulie, you know better than this. Don't they teach you how to make sure this shit don't just happen? Thought we’d stop having teenagers knocking each other up once we got past the eighties.”

"They did. I had a whole health class where we-... but it doesn’t matter, it still. Happened, okay?" The absolute last thing he wants to do is talk to these old guys about Ronnie, and why, and when. If they ask him he’ll melt into the floor, and die, and just be dead right here and now.

“So, when you say you need money… Are you looking to drive her up to Berras?”

“No, that’s not... We talked about it, but she said she already thought about it and made her decision. This isn’t… Don’t look at me like that. I like her decision. I’m happy.”

“You are?” Sean blinks, surprised.

“Yes! I'm happy, so don't tell me I fucked up, because I did. I know I did, but… but I talked to Ronnie, and we have a whole plan and I need money for my plan. And just. Look at it.”

Sean glances back down, taking the paper back, smoothing it out. Shiny on one side, it's a printed black and white image, a smeary blur of monochrome shades. Unmistakable in its center, more or less, is a gently rounded blob of white, topped with another and with other little blobs coming off its sides. Labeled along the top is Baby Botham, 14 weeks 3 days.

“Botham?” Sean asks, head cocked to one side.

“That’s… that’s Ronnie’s last name. She, uh. She didn’t tell them… Because we’re not married.” Paul squares himself up again. “Yet. We’re not married yet.”

He tries not to think about Ronnie crying on his shoulder about how her parents and her sister had screamed at her when she told them, that no one was talking to her and they might throw her out, like this. His throat will close up if he does, in hurt for her, and in anger.

His own parents he’d just told on the phone today, heard the long silence on the other end. Whispers that didn’t quite carry through the line. Then his mother had said, brisk and no-nonsense as always, So what does Ronnie want to do? We’ll help however we can. Will she need somewhere to stay?

“You’re not married yet,” Cilly repeats, not with derision, just with a kind of flat uncertainty. “You’re seventeen, Paulie. Little young to be talking marriage, don’t you think?”

“Well, we’re talking it, anyway,” Paul says firmly. “And don’t tell me it’s stupid. We already made our minds up.”

“Well, far be it for me to question your judgement,” Sean deadpans. “Since you’re clearly making excellent decisions already-”

“I got married at sixteen,” Conor points out. “Wife and I been married forty-two years this December, too. Sometimes it works out.”

“Different world, different times,” Cilly counters, and Conor has to nod in agreement to that. “Lots of those didn’t work out either, now did they? Besides, kids got options now we didn’t have back then.”

“Ronnie doesn’t want those other options,” Paul says, forcing his voice to be loud enough to carry, surprising all three men, who give him a new kind of look. Maybe even seeing him as nearly a man and not a kid, just for the moment. “She doesn’t. I never told her to do or not do anything, we talked about it, and she knows what she wants to do, and I agree with her. Ronnie and I want to get married, and we’ll need somewhere we can live when-... when the baby comes. So I need to start making money. And I want-... I need some fast, this weekend.”

Cilly’s expression goes cold. “Don’t tell me your folks are making you find a place that fast. I’ll take Billy to the woodshed myself if he’d be such a bastard to his own kid when things get tough-”

“He’s not,” Paul says quickly. “They’re not. Mom and Dad aren’t-... but they get it, they’re helping us. It’s not for an apartment, not yet. It’s so I can buy her some stuff.”

"This is a serious thing," Sean says, and he rubs his thumb over what Paul is pretty sure is his baby's head. The blobs are all sort of odd to look at, but… he's pretty sure that one's the head. It’s where he would put the head, if he were designing a person, anyway. "But I can see you’re quite the serious young man, now. What sort of stuff are you lookin’ to buy, Paulie?"

Paul swallows, nervously rubbing his palms along the seems on the outside of his pants. “I… I don’t know. What do you buy someone who’s pregnant? I thought, like, baby clothes? Or a crib?”

“No, no, no.” Sean shakes his head. “You can’t just get her baby stuff, not this early. You are not starting with a crib, Paulie. You got nowhere to even put one yet.”

“Then… what do I buy?” Paul looks from man to man. “I’ve never known a pregnant person before, not anyone I cared about.”

“You were around for my wife’s last pregnancy,” Sean says, mildly offended.

Paul shrugs.

The three older men look at each other, and then sigh nearly as one. Someone pushes out the fourth chair from the fold-up table and Paul sits, each of the other men sitting in turn. Sean picks up his phone and dials. “Hey, Don. Let everybody know we’re off-limits for the next couple hours, ‘til lunch. Yeah, Billy Higgs’s boy stopped by. He’s sniffing around for some lookout work this weekend. Find him some decent jobs for me, will you?”

Paul starts to smile, and it’s genuine this time. Sean hands him back the little picture of the blob that will become a baby, his and Ronnie’s baby, and he tries not to crumble it fully in his hands, worried his sweat will smear the ink. She’ll get another one in a few weeks, said her doctor told her it’ll look more like a person, then. Less like a weird frog. Or like a really, really bad painting.

“Thanks, I’ll owe you.” Sean hangs up the phone and grins, leaning on his elbows on the wobbly little table. The sun shines warmly through the open warehouse doors on Paul’s back. “All right. Between the three of us, we’ve got, what, ten kids?”

“Yeah, but five of those are all Cilly’s,” Conor points out. “And mine stopped bein’ kids decades ago.”

“Yeah, but babies don’t change, and they don’t need much. You need a pen and paper to write things down, Paulie?”

“Write… write what down?”

“What you’re gonna spend your money on, for your girlfriend. You don’t just show up with baby clothes, kid, you gotta go all out. Let’s talk date, let’s talk gifts for this Ronnie, let’s talk it all out.”

“What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” Cilly says. “They all get that book, right? Isn’t that the one?”

Sean snorts, derisive. “Don’t get her that, not this early. That damn book had my wife in fucking tears telling her everything that could go wrong. We need to think of a happier book than that.”

“Well, call your wife and ask her what she’d want, then.”

“Maybe I will.”

“You should!”

“She’s liable to start planning a damn baby shower if I do. You know how Christa is about little ones.”

Cilly grins. “Think she’ll make those deviled eggs I like for the shower?”

“Cilly, for God’s sake, we found out about this five minutes ago.”

“Right, but... deviled eggs.”

Paul takes a deep breath, and sits back in his chair. “I’ll remember, whatever you say. I promise. I don’t need to write it down. Just tell me what I should get her, what I should do.”

“Right. Well, then.” Sean spreads his hands. “Let’s talk gifts.”

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

#original fiction #chris the strawberry blond romantic #paul higgs #ronnie higgs #the past #a very special flashback episode #teen pregnancy tw #mob stuff #brief gun reference #fluff #honestly I just wanted to explore Paul as a character because you don't see much inside his head or get much of a feel for him #writing #writeblr #whumpblr #bbu #box boy universe

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whitherliliesbloom · 3 years

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heartbeat concerto

[ ffxivwrite2021 ] ★ [ masterlist ] ★ [ prompt #03 - scale ]

[ alphinaud/wol ] ★ [ 2,605 words ] ★ [ nodame cantabile au ]

scale: an arrangement of the notes in any system of music in ascending or descending order of pitch

Illya prays to the heavens that the man beside her does not hear the fortissimo that was her pounding heart.

“Rachmaninoff?” Her voice was equal parts confused as it was alarmed, hiking in pitch that sounded like an ear piercing squeak, almost grimace worthy. Trepidation rings loud in her chest, like shrieking white noise that deafens her. “I’ve never played a concerto in front of somebody before.”

She had hoped that admittance would allow him to grant her some fraction of mercy. After all... for as gracious and supportive a tutor as he was a diligently observant audience for her playing, he surely wouldn’t throw her into the deep end after she’d just barely able to make some progress, right?

The boy merely smiles, navy blue eyes softening in its gaze as he waves the music sheets in his hands before placing them delicately upon the piano stand. He exudes an aura of gentle reassurance, but knows that his resolve to push her past her comfortable limits is implacable.

“Now would be a good time for a first then, wouldn’t you agree?”

Illya heart sinks, lips pressed into a thin, paling line as she glances at the score that awaited her - notes upon lines that were rapidly blurring into nothing but squiggles and incomprehensible doodles in her vision... as if taunting her, daring her to butcher one of the most iconic piano concertos to have ever been composed - by one of the greatest virtuoso pianists to have ever lived no less?

Sonatas were one thing - it took Illya a good amount of time to be able to even bring herself to play the first movement of Sonata Facile to completion in front of him without breaking down into a mess of cold sweat and trembling fingers.

But concertos... by the twelve, even saying the word brings her chills down her spine.

She was nowhere near good enough for pieces that demanded such high amounts of skill, precision and talent... nowhere even close to being able to perform alone on stage for a crowd to behold... let alone in front of an entire orchestra.

When she had met the violin prodigy that had been her new neighbor and he’d offered to help her overcome the performance anxiety that had crippled her ability to play the piano in front of others for years, she hadn’t expected for him to have such sky high expectations for her - expectations that she was certain she’d never in a million years be able to meet.

Alphinaud is a confident, assured young man. Performing was only natural to him, came as naturally as music does flow through his very veins - he had even stated so on the very day that they’d met. Music is for ears to hear, for the world to enjoy. What point was there to keeping music hidden behind four walls? To hide away the sound of their instruments is an affront to the very reason those instruments were made in the first place.

He moved into this apartment complex for a very different reason than she did - and she understood that he too, in his own ways that she could not yet fully understand, had his own troubles which kept him from reaching the heights in which he, and his family had aspired him to be.

But the notoriety behind the difficulty of the pieces he plays has never once made his bow once falter, nor has it ever put him off the idea of even trying. Certainly, there were aspects of his playing to critique... but his determination and confidence alone makes him more of a capable musician than she is - something she both deeply envied and admired.

Would that she could even possess half the amount of talent as he- she’d constantly tell herself, and it was a thought that possessed her even as she hung her head in defeat, trudging to the piano that sat in the middle of the living room before sitting herself down on the cushioned bench, the dent in the corner of the wood still visible from their first meeting when she’d knocked it over onto its side from panic.

Violet eyes glance down at the black and white keys with a gulp - her greatest friend in her darkest times of sorrow... yet also the cause of many of her biggest regrets and worries in life.

She stalls for a moment to pick her train of hair up from the floor and let it unravel gently behind her on the bench, her cotton slippers kicked aside to place her feet upon the pedals that were propped up by a well used extender - a necessity due to her short stature.

With stiff, slightly shaky fingers that now laid delicately upon the surface of the piano keys, Illya sharply inhales, and forces herself to quiet the raging thoughts of potential failure and humiliation as she presses down to play the first notes.

Alphinaud stands behind her by the window, quiet so as to not disturb the girl... but even with his considerate silence, Illya could not help but be acutely aware of his eyes staring holes into the back of her head. She could only begin to imagine what he was thinking - and while she’s befriended him long enough to know he was a man who was above ridicule, she still hated to disappoint - especially the first person who has heard her play the piano for the first time in years.

A symphony fills the apartment, bright as the rays of sunlight that shone through the window, making Illya’s starspun hair appear to glow like a halo. Like little bells, the piano sings out a melody that is as light as the air. It sounds easy on the ears, gentle and kind as the timid pianist who was weaving this piece into being with her fingers.

And that was the problem.

Rachmaninoff composed Piano Concerto No 2 during some of the darkest moments of his life - the piece that would go on to save his career as a floundering, helpless musician had been written from the very pits of his own despair - a song of tragedy and sorrow that tells of a struggling pianist and composer who feared to lose the very thing that gave his life meaning; something many other aspiring musicians would surely understand... something Illya herself knew all too well.

And yet when Alphinaud listened to the piece being played, it conveyed none of that sadness, none of the essence of what made Concerto No 2 become such an iconic classical piece in history.

Illya played without fault - that much he is certain. She’s taking great care to play the right notes, attentive to her own pace that would be fitting were a choir of violins and cellos playing after her tune. But he can tell, even without looking upon the tense, rigid scowl upon her face that she was focusing too much on the technicalities that she’s lost all of what made him so captivated with her playing before - a mistake that he himself has been criticized for countless times.

Father has chided him for that before - praised him for being a genius and young violin paragon both while at the same time admonishing his lack of improvement even after three years of performing professionally - three years of the same critique that would come back to haunt him over and over again.

Music was more than playing perfectly - it was about the inflections, the subtleties in the way one moves their finger across the piano keys, or the way one draws a violin bow... The emotions that would stir one’s heart in a way only music would be able to convey and can never be properly emulated with computerized digital sound.

When Alphinaud closed his eyes, he did not hear the disquiet of a child’s heart as he heard the echoes of church bells ringing on a Sunday morning... but, just as it is - a nervous pianist who was pressing keys because she was told to, because she is doubting herself.

“Illya.” he calls her name, softly so as to not startle... but more importantly, to convey that he wasn’t mad, disappointed or upset with her - as she is wont to often assume.

The piano stops abruptly, and the girl turns to look at him, her piercing stardust hued eyes shimmering with a glossy layer of worry - it suits her less than the rare blossoms of joy that sprouted in her eyes whenever she seemed to genuinely be enjoying his company.

“Y-Yes?”

The young man pauses for a moment to casually stroll up beside her, before gesturing for the lady to move. Though confused, she scoots over to her right to allow him space on the bench, questioning expression apparent on her face about his intent.

When he sits, the close proximity between them brings him warmth, and he feels the corners of his lips instinctively pull into a gentle smile.

“I’m sorry, you must have been caught off guard with such an unreasonable request from me.” He apologizes before quickly holding up his hand when he sees the young lady’s lips part in an impulsive need to protest.. but it is quickly lowered when she draws back into herself and swallows her retort. “Maybe... a little warm up would be better before we move on to such a challenging piece.”

His slender fingers stretch, the pad of his index finger resting gently upon a D key, but not pressing down.

Alphinaud has only the basic understanding of how a piano is played... and he has in the past tried to expand his musical repertoire to cover the undisputedly most popular classical instrument of all time, but he regrettably never quite got the time or chance to. But he is aware of a routine piano players would use to practice, not too dissimilar to the way violinists would warm up as well.

“May we perhaps practice scales? Just for a little while?”

The humility in his tone with his request compared to before doesn’t escape Illya’s notice, but she refrains from commenting on it as her eyes widen up at him.

“Um... s-sure.”

The hesitation in her response is only natural - after all he’d just challenged her to play a difficult piece of piano concerto only to reduce their practice down to repetitive scales - something even the most amateur of players could easily do.

Perhaps he’d felt a tad sorry for his earlier forwardness and the not so subtle way he’d intimidated her into playing something she was clearly not completely comfortable performing for him.. and the only way he knew how to make amends was to correct the damage of his own transgression’s doing.

Getting Illya to relax was important - not just for her music but for the sake of herself as well. If her Rapunzel length hair, lack of fresh foods in her pantry and well worn and weathered pink camise was any indication, the girl wasn’t the best at taking care of her own wellbeing in her pursuit for musical perfection.

Illya’s shoulder is still relatively stiff as she begins to play, though not nearly as much as they were before while she was playing the concerto. Her fingers effortlessly glide across the keyboard to play an ascension of notes before moving back down.

By the third repeat, she’s begun relaxing considerably and picking up speed, and her hands were moving with a practiced, ethereal fluidity that was akin to waves of the ocean... as were the sound of the notes being played - reminding Alphinaud of the push and pull of the tides upon a sandy shoreline.

She transitions from C major to C minor, weaving in the scales of D-flat major and minor before the scales moves further and further up in pitch, so seamlessly that anyone who isn’t familiar with notes in the slightest would have trouble even realizing the switch in scales until she’s reached F major.

In the face of something that comes naturally to Illya, she is at ease... and the piano is once more harmonizing in tune with her love for the instrument.

It’s a not so subtle way of giving her a confidence boost, but Alphinaud claps as she finishes the B minor scale with a flick of her arms - and though her confusion is still apparent, he can tell just from the adorable tilt of her head that she’s relaxed now.

“Wonderful, Illya... It’s clear as crystal with the way you played how seasoned you are. I’d dare say you’re quite a prodigy yourself.”

Having a lofty title thrust onto her so suddenly without warning burns her cheeks a bright shade of red, and the girl is quick to shake her head.

“I-I... I appreciate it, Alphinaud... But I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Be that as it may...” He retorts before leaning forward to close the distance between them, his blue eyes swirling with a sincerity that begins to mirror in Illya’s bejeweled ones. “My praises are always truthful and well deserved. You’re a wonderful pianist, Illya.”

Something compels Alphinaud to continue speaking. Perhaps it was the twinkling of Illya’s eyes that held the radiantly clear reflection of himself within... or the dust of pink speckled upon her cheeks and across the width of her little button nose and pointed ears... or maybe it was the soft sound of air being inhaled through her barely parted lips - glossy, pink and befittingly cute for a woman of such beauty. But he deigns to open up his heart and speak his mind freely- he finds himself being able to do so more easily towards her than any other person for some reason.

“Besides... It was because of my own selfish desire to be able to hear you play that I offered to be your tutor. Being able to be by your side here like this and watch you play alone is an honor I would always treasure. So you needn’t be so afraid of playing how you wish to with me.”

When Alphinaud leans back, he finds the delightful cherry pink shade upon Illya’s face to have darkened, and her flustered quivering of her lips as him self-reflecting upon his own statement which causes him to dart his head to the side in an attempt to hide his own blooming blush.

Not that it’d be noticed by Illya in the first place, as she tilts her head down to hide her thoroughly embarrassed expression beneath the shadows of her white bangs.

“I-I’m sorry. Maybe I said too much.”

Illya doesn’t respond, and the young man is almost thankful she doesn’t... because he’s determined to force himself to recover and continue on with their practice.

Clearing his throat unabashedly, his head turns slowly back to look at the girl beside him.

“Well. Shall we continue? I could pick out an easier piece for you to try, this time.”

She nods, as halfheartedly as she did earlier when he’d asked her to perform Rachmaninoff’s piece for him. And though her playing of Mozart was even more shaky, off-pace and lacking in original intent as it did with Piano Concerto No 2 before... Alphinaud could only acknowledge her efforts with an apologetic and bashful smile on his part... for the deep red flush upon Illya’s face never once dissipates during her performance.

Nor does the trembling of her fingers - which, if nothing else, conveys the pounding of her racing heart more than clearly and loudly for him to hear.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #kiwisffxivwrite2021 #alphinaud leveilleur #alphinaud #illya skawi #fanfic #mine #nodame cantabile au #we've come so far #AAAAAAAAAA THE FIRST FILL THAT I ACTUALLY REALLY REALLY ENJOYED WRITING HALLELUJAH #I LOVE THIS AU SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAAA

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lovehotelreservation · 3 years

Text

A Matter of Pride

Summary: Courage.

What more could Foulques need than that?

Yet as he found himself reflecting in the time since that day at the North Shroud that he would never forget, his fingers still tingled from the hand that desperately reached out to him.

His gaze focused on the Miqo’te sitting across from him, innocently enjoying her dessert.

What he needed was S’nissa.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: WoL!OC/Foulques

ME TAKING UP LNC AND MEETING FOULQUES: I HOPE THIS DOESN’T AWAKE ANYTHING IN ME

ME TOWARDS THE END OF THE LNC QUESTS: G D I

AT LEAST I CAN THANK @vexingrandiloquence FOR THE CHANCE TO TURN THINGS AROUND ; v ; TYSM FOR COMMISSIONING ME~!!!

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

How does one fall asleep after nearly plummeting to their demise?

It was a question that had lingered in Foulques’s mind since that fateful day at the North Shroud, especially whenever he found himself staring out the window.

Never had he felt such righteous fury, the vengeance clawing at his soul demanding for justice soaked in crimson--a fitting retribution from the prejudiced bastards at the Lancers’ Guild. He was ready to quench the thirst of his spear, if not for the retaliating lance that knocked him back in defense of the Wood Wailers who were sent in to apprehend him.

But on the same end, to have experienced such an intense fear that left his entire being feeling hollow the moment that his footing slipped off the edge was a foreign sensation, one that rendered him chilled to the pit of his soul every time he recounted that day in the time that had since passed.

It was a sensation he truly hoped to never go through ever again.

Though, something he wasn’t quite against from experiencing once more was the sensation of a hand--welcoming yet protective--reaching out to seize hold of his, a grip so tight despite belonging to such a petite figure.

The cry of his name, the desperate efforts to bring him back up to safety.

How strange it felt to be wanted.

“You know, they say it’s impossible to frown when eating jellied compote.”

Brought out from his reverie, his dark pink eyes flickered from gazing out the window to instead face into the alluring irises of sapphire and jade.

His rival, his savior, the thorn in his side and yet greatest inspiration--S’nissa.

Before finishing her gelatin treat with one last spoonful, she teasingly continued, “But then again, this is you we’re talking about.”

As he sat across from her at the dining table, it was then that dark pink eyes flashed at her as his fingers continued to spear his spoon into his cup, lips parting to muse in soured reflection,

“Tell me, if you stood as the very embodiment of true courage, would you prefer to find yourself reduced to that of a fair house maiden?” His head tilted to the side, one eyebrow lifting as his lips fell into a frown. “To be left standing by while the only other soul worthy of your prowess in the entirety of this realm gets to display their strength in witness of friend and in face against foe?”

Needless to say, Foulques wasn’t exactly taking to being bedridden all too kindly.

To think they had gone from his drawing his spear at her to her offering a roof over his head at her home.

It was then that S’nissa’s lips, rather than savoring the last of her dessert, only formed into a pout instead, all while her eyes darted aside as she huffed with puffed cheeks, “Just say you didn’t want dessert then.”

“Hmph, the compote is worthy to have its place on my palate,” Folques snorted just before he plunged his spoon into his dessert one last time as a knowing smirk formed on his features. “But there is one confection that I’ve been meaning to savor.”

His sudden yet subtle dip in tone had S’nissa’s ears quirk.

Foulques stood up from his chair, extending an arm to rest right on her head.

Before during her days with the Lancer’s Guild, she would have assumed this gesture was him literally wanting to belittle her.

However, as his hand stroked her hair, with one thumb brushing over the soft green fur of her ears, his touch was as affectionate as could be as he drew out delighted purrs from her lips.

Affectionate for a prideful bastard like him, at least.

Ever did they toe that line beyond friend or foe.

As to where they stood now, the slow trailing touch of his hand dragging from her hair to cup her chin instead made this clear.

His voice low, he inquired, “Now come--your training in Coerthas must have you on edge, no?”

“‘On edge…?’” She repeated curiously just before her eyes began to widen as the realization of where this was going soon dawned.

Foulques let out a snort, even as his lips remained fixed in a smirk. “You take up the mantle of Dragoon, and become so flustered by words? Just wait until I am through with you.”

Her ears straightened while a hot surge of red flashed across her face, making her cheek markings and the small scar across nose all the more preciously profound. “D-Don’t get all cocky so quickly! You haven’t even started and you’re already so--!”

S’nissa had full intention to finish her sentence.

But the pressing of Foulques’s lips smothering her own had something else in mind.

He kissed her with such firmness, a kind of imposing pressure that nearly demanded for her to do something in return.

As their mouths soon parted, Folques admired her dazed expression triumphantly, all while his tongue trailed over his smirking mouth as he savored the taste of her lips and the faint trace of her jellied dessert.

He readied to kiss her once more while scooping her into his arms, but not before murmuring out hotly, “Just be at ease and watch as I show you euphoria that no other craven could even think to give you.”

“You would do this for me--?” The question barely got out of her lips as she was immediately hoisted up into his arms, a simple feat for him given the staggering difference in size between their bodies.

His large hands were already roaming over her body while he hauled her to her bedroom, his voice haughty and husky as he spoke, “It’s simply gratitude between warriors.”

A kick at the door to her room and they were soon joined together on the bed, with Foulques taking his place upon her, his hands yanking at her clothes. Her attempts to undress him were halted by him taking her wrists within one hand with ease, an arrogant smirk on his lips that silently declared his intentions.

She was to be the one treated.

But Foulques couldn’t help but feel spoiled as he continued to undress her, the reveal of the body to the one person he considered worthy only stoking the ravaging flames of his own desire.

The sight of her supple breasts, the precious way her thighs pressed together, the adorable quirk of her ears, the sensitivity to her tail when his hands happened to trace against it--to find such pleasures outside of battle was as inspiring as it was alluring.

And how delighted he was to indulge in her fully.

His touch was not vicious as he explored her body, but he was the embodiment of intense.

The pressure applied to her nipples by his lips while his hands groped her plush breasts, the deliberate and skillful drags of his fingers as they delved between her thighs to caress over her core.

To render her breathless was bliss.

But to reduce her to a squirming, blushing mess when he buried his face onto her drooling center, feasting away with the swift strokes of his tongue swapped with precise suckles onto her clit, his fingers sinking into her thighs as he kept them pressed on either side of his head until she was bucking her hips wildly with the approach of her orgasm--it ignited a sense of genuine pride unlike anything that his pursuit of courage was even close to eliciting.

As she was left to catch her breath, Foulques only felt all the more determined to please her further, his vanity validated once he finally undressed, his lips smirking as he watched her eyes grow wide at the sight of his long and thick erect cock.

“What’s the matter, S’nissa? A weapon too mighty for even you to handle?” He taunted playfully.

“Don’t ruin the mood!” She huffed yet again, her pouting lips soon treated to a kiss, which then parted once she felt the blunt tip of his dick press against her.

“Perhaps not the mood, but I will be certain to ruin you…!” His words fell into a hiss as he proceeded to ease himself into her core, his eyes squeezing shut in pleasure as hot and slick velvety walls enveloped his cock.

The pleasured cry she let out while her arms scrambled to wrap around his neck served as the encouragement he needed to begin pumping himself in and out of her. Feeling her body press right against his, his physique overwhelming hers by size and build alone, was heaven. And yet, knowing this body belonged to the one person who stoked his warrior’s pride was a pleasure that he would never forget.

She was someone worthy of true courage, to face off against him in battle.

The way she moaned and writhed beneath him--nothing set his heart aflame just as much, a desire to pit the might of his body against hers seizing at him.

And he was determined to do so.

In due time.

If there was anything to be gained from the reflection he had in the time since passed, it was to show his thankfulness to her.

Not just once, but for as long as he possibly could.

As long as she would have him, of course.

“That’s right--continue to release those moans that no one else may be able to elicit out of you. I’ll remind you of this steadfast truth until the sun is blotted from the sky: The only one who can best you in bed is me, S’nissa--I’ll make sure your body never forgets this!”

At the end of his passionate decree, Foulques kissed her once again as he pummeled his cock into her up until they both reached their orgasms, with her arms tightening their hold around his neck, her legs hugging his hips, her nails sinking into his shoulderblades--their bodies kept close up until they fell together onto the bed in dazed euphoria.

Right as S’nissa was about to draw away from him, she was only brought into his own embrace, hugging her tightly with a hold that would not relinquish her any time soon.

Feeling her snuggle up to his chest, it was then that at long last, Foulques’s lips softened into a small but genuine smile.

If he did have to fall, it may as well be in love.

#foulques of the mist #foulques x wol #wol x foulques #wol x npc #Fic #super freaknasty writing

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crystalsexarch · 3 years

Text

Seventeen: Destruct - E

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

He's also seen her masturbate.

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

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge

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

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

He'd also seen her masturbate.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tomorrow?"

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

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

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

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv fanfic #g'raha tia #ff14 fanfic #mywriting

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starrysnowdrop · 3 years

Text

Memories Like Scars

Part 2

Yume Aino x Cid Garlond

2,423 Words

Please read the first part HERE

Romantic Tension; Bonding; Expanded Cutscene

This is a retelling of the in-game cutscene where the WoL helps Cid regain his memories and gives him his trademark goggles via the Echo. Here, Yume and Cid relive Cid’s memories together and Yume and Cid discover that they have a strange bond they never imagined that they had.

A gentle breeze blew through Yume’s raven hair as she walked onto the Gridanian airship platform. She brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her right horn as she approached the white haired man waiting for her.

When Cid Garlond turned to face her, she could not help but smile. Just why he had this particular effect on her, she really couldn’t explain. She could not stop the butterflies in her stomach and her heart would flutter at the mere sight of him. All she knew was that he has the most brilliant smile, a strong jawline covered with a short, white beard, long, white hair, shining silver eyes, muscular arms, broad shoulders, and a sculpted chest that she always catches herself staring at for far too long... Yes, he was a beautiful man, there was no denying that.

Yet, what she admired most was not skin deep: his jovial nature, his humor, his intelligence, his determination, and most of all, his kindness. Cid helped her to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of the attack on the Scions, with his quick wit and endless compassion for others.

She couldn’t understand it herself, but she felt she could trust him... completely. Such a rarity indeed for the Raen ronin who had left everything behind in Hingashi.

“Yume, you have returned! And just in time too.” Cid smiled as he gestured towards the Enterprise behind him. “According to my tests, the device is now functioning in perfect harmony with the crystal─meaning we can leave whenever you're ready.”

Yume smiled back at him before gently nodding. “That is good to hear. I am ready to go if Alphinaud is.” She gestured to her fellow Scion, who was still talking to one of the airship platform attendants.

The Garlean man nodded in return, then sighed deeply.

“But you must understand: tests can only tell one so much.” Cid folded his arms and looked towards the Enterprise.

“Until we approach the Howling Eye─until we attempt to breach the barrier itself... I cannot be sure that this will work...”

Yume’s sapphire eyes grew wide as she realized what Cid was about to tell her. Not that she hadn’t been in life or death situations before; she had been in far too many for her to count. Still, her heart seized up with the thought of Cid and Alphinaud being in harm’s way. If anyone should be ready to die it was her... not either of her newfound companions.

Cid hesitated a moment before he spoke once more.

“I think it only fair to tell you that there is a small but statistically significant chance that the crystal could trigger a massive...”

Cid shook his head before he unfolded his arms and continued, “Hmmm... Mayhap it is better that we remain positive.”

“Yes, we should foremost be positive, and assured that we will make it through the barrier... then we will defeat Garuda. Doubt will cost you everything,” Yume answered with a calming intonation.

Yume giggled as she looked up to the sky in thought. “A great general once said, ‘Victory belongs to the most persevering’...” She then shrugged as she looked back to Cid, “...or so I have been told anyway.”

The Garlean smiled once more as he seemed to hesitate for a moment. Cid then breathed in deeply as he reached out his hand and caressed Yume’s ivory scaled cheek, while he placed his other hand on her shoulder. Yume’s breath caught in her throat as Cid’s silver eyes looked directly into hers.

“Yume, I want to thank you. For reuniting me with my ship, for trusting in me to develop this plan... for everything. You've helped me to rediscover a part of myself I'd forgotten. I am not the man I once was, and I do not know if I ever shall be... but I do know one thing: this feels right.”

Yume placed her hand over his as she leaned into his touch. Her heart was beating rapidly as she forced herself to stop shaking from the emotions that threatened to overflow.

“There is no need to thank me, Cid. I am glad... glad that we met.”

Cid’s silver eyes softened as Yume continued, “This feels right for me too... as if this was meant to be. I just know that if you are by my side, everything will be alright.”

Cid ran his thumb over her scales on her cheek and brushed his hand down the side of her face till he took his hand back.

He chuckled for a moment, “Ahem... My apologies for the sudden outpouring of sentiment. I would have waited until after the mission, but... well, you understand.”

Yume simply nodded in response before the short elezen in blue and white coughed loudly, finally catching everyone’s attention, “Well, if we are done here, then let us be on our way.”

Alphinaud squeezed himself in between Cid and Yume to step onboard the airship, exasperation set on his face. The two simply shrugged at each other in response before following Alphinaud onto the airship themselves.

———

Once the Enterprise took to the air, Cid was at the helm with Yume standing vigil right by his side. Alphinaud was standing a few fulms behind Cid, his arms crossed while staring out at the cloud filled sky.

Cid reached up and took off his signature goggles, revealing his Garlean third eye. He stared down at the goggles in his hand with a look of longing in his eyes. After a few moments, Cid grabbed his forehead hard, as if the third eye itself was hurting.

“Damn it!” Cid cursed to the winds as he turned towards the Raen.

“I... I once flew in this airship. And I was not alone,” Cid spoke slowly as his mind’s fog began to clear, “There were adventurers on board... adventurers like you, Yume.”

“Cid, are starting to remember something?” Yume inquired.

“I... I think...”

He then was interrupted by a sharp pain in his head. Grasping at his head in a fruitless attempt to stop the sudden painful attack, Cid then turns to Yume with a look of shock mixed with confusion.

Yume gasps as she reaches out to him, but it is no use. She knows what is coming.

A bright light envelops the both of them, as they are transported to an entirely different space. It was a vast empty space filled with a soft light. When Yume looked behind her, Cid was standing there exactly as he was moments before, seemingly stunned at what he was seeing.

“Yume? Is that you?”

Nodding back at him, Yume breathlessly spoke, “Yes... but... I do not know why you are here with me.”

“Where are we? What is this place?” Cid spun around in utter disbelief at the endless nothing around the two of them.

“This is the space where I view visions of the past. This is the power of the Echo.”

“The Echo? The Echo causes THIS?”

“Sometimes, yes... usually I am seeing events unfold already, of someone’s memories. Other times, this space appears while visions appear to me after a short time. I have had this power for as long as I remember, but I still do not know how to control it... or how it works entirely.”

Cid sighs in exasperation. “Alright, well, we must be here for a reason. Let’s figure out what that is then.”

Yume nodded before she answered him, “Cid, you had said that you flew on the airship with adventurers before, right?”

“Yes... though I had only remembered because I was holding my goggles in my hand.”

Cid held his hand out to Yume, the pair of goggles sitting in his palm. Yume stepped forward and looked down at the goggles. She studied them for a second before Cid spoke aloud his thoughts.

“Just how long have I worn these damn goggles?” Cid sighed as he shook his head. “Wait... I think I am beginning to remember something...”

It was mere seconds afterwards that a small boy ran up to them... a boy with white hair and a Garlean third eye. Yume knew instantly that it was Cid as a child.

Yume smiled at the younger Cid as the present Cid seemingly continued to voice his stream of consciousness aloud.

“Ah, yes. I fancied myself a trendsetter in my younger days. The young prodigy, admired by all... exactly like his father.”

The younger Cid sat down at a desk building a tiny version of what appeared to be Magitek armor. Cid continued, “I was born and raised in Garlemald...”

“It was only natural that the precocious young student should become an engineer. Had his father not done the same?”

Child Cid then got up from the desk, with a distressed look in his silver eyes. The boy walked away and faded away into the emptiness. Yume felt tears come to her eyes as Cid continued, “Father... When did we stop seeing eye to eye?”

Suddenly, the space went dark, then appearing from the darkness, the blood red moon Dalamud hung eerily above them.

Cid’s voice began to shake, “When did Meteor become your everything, and your loved ones cease to matter?” Yume turned to Cid and saw the pain in his eyes. “You abandoned us all. But he was there for me, Father─there for me when you were not.”

Yume turned around to see a large man clad in a rust red coat and black Imperial armor. He walked slowly forward and touched the shoulder of who appeared to be Cid a few years younger than he was right now. The armored man looked rather intimidating to be sure, but the younger Cid was not afraid of him. On the contrary, the young Cid seemed to look to the man with admiration in his eyes.

Cid’s voice floated to Yume’s horns as she watched the two figures slowly fade and the soft light return to the space. “Though he proved no better in the end. Gaius was just another man with an all-consuming obsession.”

The Raen’s gaze returned to Cid, who had closed his eyes in contemplation.

“And so I ran─left the Empire behind and came to Eorzea, where I built the Ironworks.”

Opening his eyes, Cid looked down at the goggles in his hand. Suddenly, the space erupted into light, and was replaced by the two standing on the deck of the Enterprise, but accompanying them were a younger Cid sans beard, along with Biggs and Wedge, Cid’s assistants that Yume had saved from the Garleans soon after joining the Immortal Flames.

“Eorzea opened my eyes. It was home to so many manner of people, each with their own hopes and dreams. People worth saving. And so I fought beside them. I wanted to prove that my knowledge could serve a nobler purpose. I wanted to prove that there was another way...”

Cid smiled at his younger self, who was looking out onto a night sky filled with stars, with the wind blowing through his white hair. “And it all began that day, when I found my new home...”

The peaceful atmosphere was broken when a burst of light appeared just over the side of the airship. Yume and Cid squinted their eyes as the younger Cid approached the light.

After Yume’s eyes adjusted to the change in brightness, she soon realized that the light was in the shape of a person. “What...?” Yume inquisitively stepped forward to see the figure more clearly. She gasped when she saw who the figure in the light was.

Cid mimicked his younger self and stared in awe at the light, clearly not quite believing what he was seeing.

“How can that be... I always thought it was just a dream...”

Yume shook her head. “This is no dream, it is one of your memories. But, how is it possible?”

Cid’s silver eyes smiled down at her and he laughed lightly, “Of course, that light─it was you, wasn't it? All along, it was always you...”

A deep blush adorned Yume’s cheeks as the two watched the scene play out in front of them. The light figure of Yume reaches out to the younger Cid and hands him something. She smiles at him before the light fades away. The younger Cid looks down in astonishment at his open palm and sees the goggles sitting there.

After a few moments, the younger Cid places the goggles on his forehead, clipping them to his third eye. He turned around towards Biggs and Wedge, whom both gave a thumbs up in approval.

Yume held her head with her left hand as she concentrated on the scene that had played out in front of her very eyes. “I gave you the goggles...? I must have used the Echo to give them to you... but when?”

“Well, I have had these goggles since I first came to Eorzea, before the Calamity. But I could never remember where I had gotten them from. I always thought that vision of you in light was a mere dream. I can’t believe it really happened.”

Cid looked around at their surroundings as the scene began to fade back to the softly lit empty space. “Then again, it’s hard to believe that we are standing here reliving my memories. But here we are.”

Yume turned to Cid, as she furrowed her brow. “I am just not sure when that could have possibly happened. Before the calamity, I was still in Hingashi... in Kugane specifically.”

Cid brought his hand to his chin in thought for a moment. “Yume, think back to that time... what happened five years ago? Or go back further than that—perhaps it will spark that particular memory.”

Yume closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew what will happen if she concentrated too hard on her memories... those times filled with pain and heartache.

Cid, the man she admired, the one who made her heart skip a beat just from one look, a dear friend who had been there for her when she needed someone the most... what would he think of her if he saw who she truly was? Would he turn away from her in disgust?

Her heart would be shattered if he walked away from her now... but she needed to know. She had to know... did she truly have this connection with Cid before they had even met?

((To be continued))

#my writing #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fanfiction #ffxiv oc #cid nan garlond #cid garlond #cid garlond x wol #cid x wol #yume aino x cid garlond #yume aino #oc: paint it black #otp: always you [ yume x cid]

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windupnamazu · 4 years

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listen my lover (to the beat of my love)

ffxivwrite2020 #02: sway || fills

⮞ wol/g'raha. 1511 words. ⮞ 7th astral era | crystal tower storyline | disclaimer: do NOT climb scaffolding supporting a structure milleniums old to dance with your love interest after youve both had alcohol | titled by @winduphaurchefant!! ⮞ a pyjama party, of sorts.

“to move slowly from side to side / to cause something to move or change”

Often when he found her dancing, it was to an old Thavnairian tune that stuttered every other note, her tiny orchestrion fumbling over the worn music roll she'd plucked from a merchant's dusty crate for just ten gil over a dozen suns ago. He could never make heads or tails of the lyrics, but he knew she had her mother's old lullabies passed from daughter to daughter to daughter—a legacy she told him she doesn't know how to bear or add to it herself—and the Echo: a blessing she never really wanted.

"We're really testing the limits of this scaffolding," he dared to pipe up when he climbed high enough to comfortably rest his upper half and elbows on the scaffolding, tail still casually swaying to and fro in the air as he balanced upon the rickety ladder. "Lunya, I'm afraid even I am not normally so bold as to climb this high after a round of drinks."

There came no answer, so caught up in her art as she was. She moved like she was born of the sea and the waves sing in her veins, graceful and fluid in every measure. To an outsider, perhaps, each step would look perfect: but he knew as well as she did that there was a slight sway to her movements, the sweetness of that night's wine seeped into her bones, staining a lovely flush warm against her cheeks.

"I only drank enough to feel buzzed, but Reese doesn't want me practicing down by the lake," Lunya finally said as the orchestrion murmured into silence, the words gusting out with the force of a storm as she exhaled, looking at him. Her eyes glowed beneath Mor Dhona's twilight, just as violet and thrice as clear, slivers of pink and azure facets gleaming through as she smiled in greeting, the very thin tendrils of the start of inebriation softening her expression even more. "I thought you were already asleep, Raha."

G'raha clambered up onto the platform, careful not to kick the ladder back—for all the tales she'd told him of «balefire»'s chaotic rampages across Eorzea, he was certain she wouldn't want to add "got trapped on some scaffolding with a colleague, both wearing pyjamas in the dead of night while most of the camp was drunk in their cups" to her collection—and looked her over now that she was standing still.

She seemed fine, outside of the fact that he knew she'd been drinking. Much like the robe he'd grown accustomed to seeing her in, ridiculous rabbit ears and all, the tunic she chose to sleep in was pure white. She was a vision of stardust, swathed in the light of the full moon above them, and he thought it was a shame he was born a Seeker of the Sun when each moment he got to spend with Lunya inclined him more to keeping the moon.

"Nazyl Duzyl started singing," he groaned instead of verbalizing such flowery thoughts. "Though I imagine it better to call it caterwauling. You still should not be up here, imp. One slip and you'd fall right off."

"You came up too, brat," she pointed out, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smirk as he pouted at her. "But if I have the honor of being fretted over by you I suppose I'll have to restrain myself next time."

Fretted over. He could have snorted, knowing he had basically flung himself from his bedroll when he awoke without his tentmate sleeping soundly nearby, tipsily flinging his shoes on without the leg guards so he could search for her. It would be wrong to say he was very good with spirits, but he knew that impulsive surge wasn't entirely from the drinks.

"Well, while I'm up here," he said as cheerily as he could, sweeping into a low, pretentious bow, "May I have a dance?"

Up went one snowy eyebrow. "Didn't you just point out that I could slip and fall off the scaffold? Would this not increase our odds of dying a horrible death?" Even so, she rewound the orchestrion roll and offered a hand to him, biting her lip with an uncharacteristic tinge of embarrassment as he took it.

G'raha placed his free hand over his heart. "It would be an honor to die with you, Lady Warrior," he promised her, ears wiggling mirthfully as she leveled a glare at him. "Though I know neither of us could find a grave so easily while we have so much to do."

Lunya mumbled something—doubtlessly not real words, since he would have heard what they were, but he was certain she was thinking stupid cat.

"This will be the least coordinated thing you'll ever see me do," she warned him as the music kicked in once more, luminous eyes flashing up to him. "You're twice my height and I can't even teach you the steps."

"I'm sure." He laughed as he took a step closer, emboldened—by what, the drinks? His affection for her? The fear that had been looming over him for some time now that he'd miss his chance? "Thank you for the opportunity, my dearest friend."

He didn't know the song and couldn't understand the lyrics, but as they swayed back and forth, hand in hand in a loose, unbalanced, sloppy rendition of one of her perfected moves, he felt he may be closer to her heart now than ever before. Lunya hummed along with the singer, the closest he'd ever heard to her singing, and they both laughed when he improvised a twirl into their faux dance routine. The way the moon cast light over Mor Dhona was beautiful, and she seemed right at home in their dance beneath the stars.

"Whoops!"

Lunya heard his grin before she found it as she fell backwards. When she looked up, G'raha's face was close to her own, beaming mischievously right at her while he was knelt down and holding her in a ridiculous-looking dip, his tail bracing the back of her knees.

"Very bold. That was not an accident, Raha," she scolded only half-heartedly, reaching up to pinch the cheeky smile off his face but only fueling the fire. He wondered if the excited pound of his heartbeat in his throat echoed in her own. "Would you mind letting me stand?"

"I do mind, in fact." He hid his grin in her hair as he stood, cradling her in his arms and shaking with laughter as Lunya thumped her small fist against his chest once, twice, before she sulkily gave up, slumping against his shoulder with a tiny noise of discontent. "As enchanting as this night has been, it's far past the Warrior of Light's bedtime. Luckily for you, I happen to have one ticket for a G'raha Tia cart back to her tent."

"Shuddup, cat," she mumbled, waving a hand in the direction of her orchestrion. He scooped it up for her, placing it carefully on her lap so she could turn it off and keep it close before he began their precarious descent back down the ladders.

The camp was still quiet, the remnants of their drinking party still evident in the abandoned assortment of cups around the Find. A few of the Sons were scattered in sight, most of them snoring away on any solid surface they could find, and others still nursing a drink to the side, singing quietly to themselves.

A lone Miqo'te kept vigil at the fire and his ears perked up as G'raha approached. Tehra'ir raised an eyebrow at the sight of them, clearly wanting to ask about Lunya's presence in his arms, but all he did was nod to him: a silent acknowledgement that G'raha hadn't died trying to retrieve their wayward Lalafell and neither of them were in immediate need of medical assistance.

Waving him goodnight, G'raha turned to follow the path back to his and Lunya's shared tent. She was already half asleep when he pulled open the flap, though she blinked blearily at him setting her down on her bedroll, wiggling both her orchestrion out of her hands and her boots off her feet.

"Sweet dreams, Lu, and thank you for the dance," he told her fondly, turning to his bed. A small tug at the back of his shirt had him looking back to her as she sat up on her knees, rubbing at her eyes.

"Raha," he heard Lunya say sleepily before she leaned forward and pressed a warm kiss to the corner of his lips, sending a shocked spark soaring through him, a frazzled flutter that left him wide-eyed and wanting. The saccharine scent of wine flooded his nose as she pulled away, sinking back down into her blankets, sleep coming back to abduct her before he could even properly respond. "G'night."

"...Goodnight," he whispered, knowing she wouldn't hear him. Laughing to himself and his face impossibly warm, far more heated than the sweet wine had made him feel, G'raha Tia removed his shoes and crawled back into his own bed, heart askew.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #g'raha tia #lalafell #oc: lunya #s: let me find you #tales from the warriors of light #TPOSES DOWN THE HALL TOWARDS U #the titles from a hindi song peepo really likes :'3c thank u for my life beppo #*

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antiloquist · 4 years

Text

A Gentleman Asks, Rather Than Does - Chapter One

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so it did.

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

So much for simple.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll freeze!”

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

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

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

“Besides, we have the kettle!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Three simultaneous nods, slightly bashful.

“Why!?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A rEaL oNe?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head affectionately as you watched them go.

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

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

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

You grinned. “You know it.”

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

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

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

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

Everyone, that was, except Hildibrand.

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

“Hildy?” you called softly.

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

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

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

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

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

You chuckled. “What have we got planned?”

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

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

“Spoons.”

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

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

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

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

“That would be very kind of you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggled. “Hildy, are you embarrassed?”

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

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

“Even if the lady didn’t mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve never said anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?”

“Are you propositioning me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hildibrand looked conflicted. “But you want-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goodnight, Hildy,” you whispered.

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

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

***

(consent is sexy, y’all)

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy xiv #hildibrand #hildibrand manderville #lord help me i'm back on my bullshit #spicy text #my writing

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vaniccio · 3 years

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sea’s wol challenge — x. awakening (ft. @witchfall‘s Izzie!)

The first time he experiences the nonsense that comes with the magickal defenses set up around her house, it’s well into the dead of the night. Muffled cursing floats up from the open window facing the road. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes before irritably dragging himself out of bed.

Of course it’s one of the nights that she’s out of the house, halfway across the world in Othard. He hopes it wasn’t one of the more severe traps; she’d shown him how to disable everything but spells have never been his strong point and he really doesn’t want to scrape a poorly-informed burglar off the gravel.

Or explain to the Yellowjackets that no, sorry sir, the Warrior of Light didn’t inadvertently murder someone at her doorstep.

He stumbles down the stairs, flicks the light on, and nudges open the door. And stares as one of her friends wrestles with the mess of writhing vines crawling up her legs, rooting her in place.

“Izzie,” he greets without batting an eye. “You alright?”

Her ears flatten against her head and her eyes snap in his direction, but recognition immediately loosens her stance. “Finally! I thought I’d be stuck here all night. Help me out of these, would you?”

He steps out into the night with the door sliding shut at his back, mindful of the other cantrips and glyphs he knows are hidden in the grass. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a midnight stroll through Mihren’s yard,” she drones. “What’s it look like?”

“Like you stepped in something you shouldn’t have. Don’t you know what she has set up around here?”

"She said she turned them all off!" He swears he can see her tail poof up in the night. "Are you going to help me or not?"

He warily eyes the vines tangled around her legs. None of them are barbed and the grip doesn’t seem overly tight. More of a nuisance, he figures. “Wait here.”

Using an axe was out of the question. He didn’t want to accidentally sever a limb right alongside the greenery. The knives in the kitchen weren’t the right tool either—and something told him Mihren would talk his ear off for even considering them—so he settles for something out of his own armory. A simple, sharp dagger would be enough.

Izzie, apparently, comes to a similar conclusion, and he returns to find her irritably slicing at the restraints wrapped around her left leg. “Why won’t this stupid thing—”

“Hold still,” he orders, then kneels beside her and grabs the closest vine. It’s easy enough to slice through, and the sharp steel in his hand cuts through the strand like butter. The problem presents itself as soon as the sawn-off piece of plant hits the ground and withers. Izzie recognizes the issue just as he does.

“They’re growing back!”

He sits back on his haunches as the vines stretch further up her body as though out of spite. “I can see that.”

She angrily slices off another chunk wrapped around her waist. The empty space is almost immediately replaced with two smaller, thinner strands.

“Persistent creepers, aren’t they,” he mutters under his breath.

“Persistent what?”

He gestures at the mass of vines now tangled all around by her feet, covering her boots and up to her knees. It grows each time she slices off a piece.

He grabs her wrist when she moves to do it again. “Stop. You’ll be part of the yard at this rate.”

“Got any bright ideas then?” She glares down at him, but loosens her grip—which is good, considering she looked seconds away from treating her predicament as one would approach the thick foliage of a jungle. “Don’t you know how to turn this off?”

He should. But the longer he wracks his brain for the instructions Mihren left, the more he realizes that no, he doesn’t remember a thing she said—at least not for this particular trap.

And it shows on his face.

Izzie groans. “Great. So I’m stuck here.”

“I can call her back.”

Her tail twitches. “To see this? She’d die of laughter before she helped us.”

That pulls a small smile out of him. But some part of him agrees, because he moves on from that option almost just as quick. She didn’t need more ammunition to tease him with.

“G’raha might be of help,” he mulls. “Last I heard from Tataru, he was in Limsa Lominsa on Scion business. If we’re lucky he may still be nearby.”

At that, Izzie stiffens. The heated glare returns to her face, though this time it’s accompanied by a slight blush that even he can see in the dim light. “No.”

“No?”

“No. We can get out of this ourselves.”

They don’t get out of it themselves.

. . .

G’raha, to his credit, does an admirable job of keeping a straight face. For at least the first minute.

“Before you ask,” Izzie mutters, “This is all Mihren’s fault.”

“I’m sure.” G’raha’s eyes glitter with amusement as he enters the yard. “Though this is most certainly not what I was expecting when you mentioned ‘magical troubles.”

Ardbert shrugs and stands off to the side as he inspects the vines. “Describes the problem well enough. Got any idea how to turn it off?”

Izzie stubbornly refuses to meet G’raha’s gaze, arms crossed and back straight. Somehow, she manages to make it look like she had the entire matter under control, as though it was my idea to be in this situation, thank you very much, and not like she was mere minutes away from looking suspiciously like the leafmen in Il Mheg.

Ardbert frowns as the thought crosses his mind. The trap had some striking similarities.

“Ah. It seems our dear friend Feo Ul decided to share some pixie knowledge after all.” G’raha straightens out and tilts his head in thought. “These are curious modifications, though.”

“I’m sure it’s very fascinating,” Izzie mutters under her breath. “Can you get me out?”

“Of course.” G’raha’s brows furrow in concentration. One snap of the fingers later, the restraints slide down Izzie’s legs and back into the bushes lining the gravel path like an obedient dog. Her heated glare follows them the entire way back.

Ardbert clears his throat. “Now that that’s settled. What were you doing here anyway? Especially ‘round this time of night.”

“Her house was the closest,” Izzie says with a shrug.

He considers her a moment before his attention flickers to G’raha. Like Izzie, there were dark circles under his eyes and a weariness settled over his shoulders. Clearly tired, despite the distracted way the man smiled at her.

Ardbert sighs and beckons them in. “Come on, both of you. Gods know there’s more than enough room in here for all of us.”

#seaswolchallenge #masq writes #astra inclinant #the mihren tag #char: izzie #the last five entries have basically been 'misadventures with ardbert'#but listen... i'm having fun and that's what matters #the izzie tag

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raelly-writing · 4 years

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Prompt 11: Ultracrepidarian - FFXIV Write 2020

I... blanked so hard on this. So uh, I dunno, have some random ‘they got bored and joined Tataru and WoL on a trip to Ishgard’ Ishgard Restoration nonsense.

5.3 spoilers, beware.

Ultracrepidarian: noting or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside the area of his or her expertise.

---

Alphinaud stared silently at the sight in front of him in disbelief.

Thancred was cutting up the plucked bird carcasses - admittedly, very swiftly, using a far too large cleaver than what seemed safe - into sizeable chunks, filling up one bowl before passing it further down the counter to where Viana stood by one of the stoves.

She, in turn, took the pieces and put just a few at a time into one frying pan, apparently turning them over a few times before depositing them into another bowl. This process was repeated, until one pile of meat had gone from one bowl to another. Every now and then, she took a scoop of flour and… fried in the empty pan?

The fried flour and bowl of meat was then passed onto the other counter, where Tataru was chopping up vegetables with G’raha, while also overseeing several large pots that bubbled atop their other stove. Onions were fried, taken out, something that looked like red sauce added, left in there for a moment, then the onions added once more. Then other vegetables, and finally the meat.

“Help me with this one, would you G’raha?”

“Of course, Tataru!”

To Alphinaud’s horror, what Tataru required help with was fishing out a horrendous looking mess of flesh, skin and bones out of another pot. Parts of the brown liquid within were then added to the pot with the other ingredients, which Tataru cheerfully stirred around. That… did not seem right.

The four of them were chatting and laughing amidst their work - which was great! Alphinaud felt genuinely happy seeing people he considered so close to himself happy and enjoying themselves! Except…

There was a twang of annoyance in his chest.

“Honestly you four!”

Pausing, they all turned to look at him, confused. G’raha’s ears were flicking nervously, and he suddenly jolted away from the stove when his tail brushed up against the oven door. Sheepishly, he curled his tail around his leg, a quick glance at the others to ensure they had not caught his little mishap. But Viana and Thancred had their backs to him, and Tataru was too busy giving Alphinaud a concerned, if confused, look.

“Something wrong, Alphinaud?” she asked while wiping her hands on her apron.

Sighing, he put his hands on his hips. “When you said you’d help out with the dinner for all the workers, I didn't think you’d all play around this much!”

Confused glances were exchanged between them.

“You’d save so much time if you just put all the ingredients into the pot without flapping about like this!” Alphinaud huffed, gesturing to how the four of them were taking up one entire section of the kitchen. Elsewhere, others were preparing more food - the scent of bread and cookies filled the air, mingling with the heavy scent of whatever food his friends were cooking. “We could have been on our way to the Fortemps manor ages ago, instead you’re here wasting time frying pieces of meat and onion by themselves rather than just getting on with cooking.”

They all stared at him, then Thancred shrugged and glanced at the others. “Well, I’ll go retrieve the last of the birds to debone.”

As Thancred walked off, amusement crept up into the expressions of the others.

Alphinaud blinked, his frown deepening.

“Oh brother dearest.”

“By Thaliak!” he exclaimed, head whipping to the side to see Alisaie standing there with a smug grin. ”Alisaie, don’t do that!”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the others get back to what they had been doing. Sighing, Alisaie grabbed his arm and dragged him over to one of the high high chairs Tataru used to stand on. “Instead of being such a know-it-all, how about you sit down and learn.”

Viana cast an amused glance at him as Alisaie pushed him onto the chair. “We’re almost done here anyway,” she said with a grin. “But perhaps you’ll indeed learn something so you can do more than just gather firewood.”

#ffxivwrite2020 #final fantasy xiv #Thancred Waters #Tataru Taru #alphinaud leveilleur #culinarian and the DoL jobs are what I consider canon for Viana #Thancred's good in the kitchen #fight me

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jenovahh · 4 years

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Comm 03 - NSFW - Glitter

Rating: NC-17/Explicit Tags: Female!WoL, Cunnilingus, Penetration

The commissioner has chosen to remain anonymous! Thank you so much for this prompt it was fun to write and challenging!

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Warrior of Light.

Liberator of Doma. Savior of Ala Mhigo. Retriever of Coinpurses.

Warrior of Darkness.

Enough titles to sing your praises to fill an entire book, by this point you were sure.

Have books been written yet? You hadn’t been approached yet for a biography. Mayhap you were on the move too much for anyone to sit you down long enough to talk to you about your life; not that your life is much of a secret.

Any news of your deeds and miracles had reached nearly every part of the continent. At the very least, the only thing missing would be the more trivial escapades or your humble beginnings.

Sometimes you miss those days. The days of stepping out and actually exploring. Choosing to help the occasional stranger but still going your own way, seeing the world at your own pace. Some might think not knowing where your next meal would come from daunting, but you had never worried. You could fish. You could hunt.

You could be yourself. For yourself.

It pained you sometimes, to think of the life you could have lived. If you hadn’t met wonderful people like Y’shtola or Thancred...if you hadn’t encountered Lyse in the forest. Or...Papalymo.

Grimacing, you heave out a sigh, trudging along behind the Scions through the Rat’tika Greatwood, its muggy swamps and blistering heat doing nothing to improve your mood.

After nearly being accosted by the Night’s Blessed, fending off a potential Vauthry invasion, and held at knife point by small army of Viis, you believe you’ve earned a well deserved break, especially knowing that exploring the looming temple nearby is on tomorrow’s list of events.

You are provided with a rather cozy room, given to you by the Viis in exchange for their seal. They are all quite lovely and so is their home, your eyes drifting to the beautiful women of the village as they lead you to your room that you’ll be staying in for the night.

To your surprise there is a plush feather bed resting against the far wall, instead of a hammock like you were expecting giving what all you had seen of the village. A small basin with a mirror rests in a corner of the room as well as a desk, but the room is otherwise for the most part barren.

None of the luxuries or comforts offered to you back at your room in the Crystarium, and you are just now aware of how concerned the Exarch is for your overall well being and happiness.

You returned to your room after a hearty dinner provided by the ever hospitable Viis, waving to the Scions as you announced you would be retiring to your room for the night, practically falling onto the bed for some well earned rest.

You had already bathed in their bathhouse, feeling a bit better considering you had dove into the murky waters of the nearby lake filled with Hydaelyn knows what. It wasn’t all bad, being able to dive below and explore the ruins, feeling that sense of discovery and adventure you had longed for when you were a child.

You couldn’t hate the job entirely, even if the stress was monumental. There was absolutely no way you would be able to explore an entirely different world if you had kept to your path as a young adventurer, if you had never joined the Scions.

There might not even be a world at all.

“Really hero, must you think so loudly?”

You’re on your feet before you can blink, dagger in hand as you immediately turn towards the voice. Vision focusing, you meet stark, gold eyes, twinkling in obvious amusement in what must be considered your antics.

“My, you sundered souls are so easily excitable. Though I suppose there would be drawbacks to being unable to sense the very aether around you…” Emet-Selch trails off, hands up turned as he shrugs his already sunken shoulders.

He looks exactly as you had seen him earlier this morning, dressed in the same imperial robes with the same silly white streak in his hair. You twirl the dagger in your hands with ease, scoffing as you move to lie back down in your bed.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, Ascian?” you question harshly, not at all willing to play nice. You weren’t quite ready to throw your life away, mouthing off to a being such as he; you were no fool. You were sure that even a child could sense the danger he exuded from his very being, but you also weren’t in the mood to deal with mind games.

“My, my, aren’t we touchy.” He comments, crossing his arms and looking down at you from his nose, his lips pulled in a condescending smirk. “I come to pay the vaunted hero a visit, and am only met with hostility. Surely you are not so inhospitable to all your guests?” He asks, voice lofty and teasing, making your brow furrow in irritation.

“If all you came here to do was mock me, I would prefer you leave me be.” Is your answer, wanting to close your eyes and ignore his presence. Sadly, even with his rather hands off approach to “aiding” your group as he had said he would, you didn’t quite trust him enough to blink, let alone rest around him.

Choosing to lay on your side, you keep your eyes on him, taking notice of how his own rove across your body in a way that is almost curious.

“Normally I would follow your request and be on my way, however I find my curiosity weighing out my apathy.” He crosses over to the nearby desk and you watch as he snaps his gloved fingers. With slight wonder, you watch in awe as the simple wooden chair transforms into an extravagant, plush lounge chair.

He reclines as a royal would, crossing one leg over the other as he stares you down, eyes somehow serious and taunting at once. “I find myself interested, and perhaps a tad too invested in what could possibly be upsetting you so. So by all means, let it out.” He grins, making a sweeping motion of his hand.

You regard him silently for a moment, wondering if he’s actually serious. It’s not often you find yourself presented with the opportunity of someone who will listen. Listen to your frustrations, your woes, your chagrin at having to be you.

Of what it is to be the Warrior of Light.

“You’re not going to run off and tell Elidibus what a sad sack I am if I do talk to you, are you?” You question, moving to sit up to put you on equal footing with the Ascian sitting across from you. He rudely snorts, the action somehow still elegant on him. “Hardly.” He scoffs.

“There’s not much to say really. I wish I wasn’t me.” You offer nonchalantly, missing the slight look of concern on his face.

“Do not waste my time by giving me clipped statements.”

Something in his voice makes you look at him again, reevaluate his presence in your room. He might be relaxed in his chair, but his focus is entirely on you. There is a muted demand to his last statement, an edge to his tone that maybe, just maybe, he actually does want to listen to you.

“I don’t enjoy being the Warrior of Light.” You begin slowly, trying to judge his reaction but his face is as impassive as ever.

“There was no way for me to predict that I would be Hydaelyn’s chosen,” you can’t help but giggle at how his face twists with disgust at Her name but you continue, “and be the sole Champion of Eorzea. I had only left home to go and see what the world had to offer, only to find that I was the sole savior the world had.” Just saying the words irritates you all over again, losing what calm you had.

“It’s not enough that the Source can’t stay saved, but I must also be the savior of this world!” You hiss, baring your teeth at the ancient being before you. “Was it not enough that I had to liberate two nations? Strike down three Ascians, beings so old and powerful that I cannot even begin to imagine what any of you can do. More and more is constantly asked of me, and I…”

You let out a staggered breath, shoulders slumping much like the man across from you. “I’m tired of it.”

Silence hangs heavy in the air between you, somehow heftier by the weight of his stare. You wonder what is going through his head. You take the time to quickly analyze his features, seeing as any time he deigned to make an appearance, the tension in the room would skyrocket and he would scurry off after sowing his chaos.

He looks as tired as you, if not more so, the dark circles around his eyes strangely enhancing his sharp, handsome features. His golden eyes twinkle like the finest cut topaz, shimmering as if the very sun itself lights them despite how dimly lit your room is. His hair seems to fall a little too perfectly in place, the white streak of his hair standing out even against his pale skin.

“Perhaps you need a way to relieve the tension.”

His words snap you out of your silent appraisal, finding his expression has changed, his voice teasing. “Sadly screaming into my pillow and beating things up don’t make me feel better.” You huff, leaning back on your hands.

“Screaming into your pillow you say?” He echoes, chuckling at his own personal joke. “That very well may happen. My proposal was one of a far more pleasurable method of, as you mortals say, blowing off some steam.” He purrs, voice low and seductive, a baritone as smooth as a fine brandy.

You arch a single eyebrow at him, wondering if he was really offering what you thought he was offering.

“Are you propositioning me?”

Always best to make sure.

He barks out laughter at that, making a show of wiping his eye. “Never let it be said that the Warrior of Light went into things half sure.” He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yes, hero, I am offering you release; a union of our bodies to ease all that turmoil you’ve got building inside you.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice, and you quietly wonder if he has any secret motives by sleeping with you. However his words from days prior, that he only speaks the truth, leaves you doubting that he would use sex as a means to silence you.

Though you can’t deny, it would be very dramatic, and very much like him.

“If it is your own pleasure you worry about, fret not; I have had...years of practice.” He murmurs, bringing one hand to his lips to slowly pull his glove from his hand. You watch the action from start to finish, mind already wandering to how smooth his hand looked, and how great it would feel on your body.

“Very well.” Standing to your feet, you move to tower above him in even strides, looking down at the ancient being before you. “If it is release you’ll grant me, then I will allow it. However, it must be on my terms.” Your voice leaves no room for argument, and you take pride in watching as his eyebrows raise toward his hairline for a moment.

“By all means, hero. State your terms.” He makes no move to stop you as you move forward to kneel on the chair, straddling his lap with ease. He’s warm, which strikes you as strange, though you suppose that despite being an Ascian, he still has taken a mortal form.

There is desire in those molten pools of his, and knowing it is directed at you is empowering. You place your hands, worn and torn from battle, upon his shoulders, shuddering beneath his touch as his hands settle themselves at your hips.

“If you wish to help me find release, then you must please me.” You begin, taking care to watch for any change in his expression. “You must do as I say. Touch me how I wish. Take care of me.” His hands play with the hem of your nightshirt, his fingers sending sparks racing down your spine as he just barely brushes against your skin.

“So the vaunted hero wishes to be worshipped?” Though phrased like a question, it one of rhetorical nature, his eyes half lidded as they trail down your body. “A mere mortal asking worship of a Paragon. Hydaelyn’s chosen consorting with a bringer of darkness…”

His smirk is roguish as he finally slides his gaze back up to your own. “Why, if I were not here to hear the very words straight from your lips, I’d find myself disinclined to believe them.”

You take his chin by the hand, keep his focus locked on you. “I’m surprised you’re still alive, with all that pride you have.” You tilt his chin and he allows it; it is a control he bequeaths to you. “You probably don’t like that; having to bow to the whims of a mortal.” You finish with a click of your tongue, watching as fire lights behind his eyes.

“Is that a challenge, hero?” He mumbles, bottom lip poked out in a pout, eyes sparking with indignation.

“It’s your pride on the line, not mine.” You reply easily, taking his hands in yours and placing them on your waist. “However, I am not so callous as to prevent you to do anything you dislike. You will speak up if I do something you don’t like, won’t you?”

His eyes twinkle for a moment, his hands creeping underneath your shirt to finally grasp at your skin. “Of course.” he murmurs, eyes drifting from yours as he raises your shirt, exposing your skin to him. His eyes are hungry, and you wonder if he is more eager for release than you are.

“Let’s put these skills of yours to the test then, Ascian.” You huff, allowing him to raise your shirt high enough that his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, glad he had chosen to come at this hour when you’ve forgone your undergarments. His touch is confident, self-assurance shining through every glance of his fingers on your tender flesh.

“Does the hero want me to sing her praises?” He questions, tilting his head as he looks at you from beneath his lashes. “To worship her as one would a god?”

“Yes.” You answer without hesitation, raising your arms to help him get your shirt off but he wills it away with a mere snap of his fingers. His hands climb higher, eyes drinking in your form though there is a distant look to them; as if he is looking through you. “Touch me.” you demand, watching as his hands cup your breasts gently in his hands, running his thumbs across your nipples, now pebbled from his attentions.

“Your mouth...I want you to,” you don’t even get to finish the sentence before he leans forward and his lips press to the skin of your breast, teeth lightly nipping on a pert nipple that has you shuddering above him.

You must say that he is as skilled as he claims, his movements practiced and calculated as he tugs delicately with his teeth, knows just how much suction that has you writhing in his lap. He releases your breast with a pop, his breath ghosting across the now moist skin. “I do hope you are up for the challenge yourself, hero.”

His tone hints at pleasures unknown and stories untold, that you find yourself momentarily shaken, enraptured by the lust pooling in those gold eyes. Eager to take back control you fist your hand in his hair roughly, brows furrowing at his smirk. “Did I say you could talk?” you hiss, to which he snickers.

“Then what would you have me do?” He asks, hands moving to slip themselves to running down your back once more, his hands dipping to play with the top of your waistband. “Simply say what you desire, hero. I am more than willing to play the part.” The huskiness in his voice spurs you on, fuel to your already raging desire.

“I want you between my legs.” You state without pretense, not dropping your gaze as he rises from the chair, moving the two of you to the bed. When he lays you down you find that it too has changed, much like the chair from earlier. Gone are the cotton sheets, replaced instead with fine silk, caressing you much like his hands are.

“I want to see you too.” You add, stopping him before he can settle himself above you.

“As you wish.” He acknowledges, his robes dissolving into mist before your very eyes, baring his lean form above you. You didn’t expect him to have no meat on his bones, but it is still somewhat jarring all the same to see him bare before you; all hard lines and lean edges, a faint musculature that betrays the awesome power you know lurks beneath the surface.

You reciprocate the same shamelessness he had shown earlier with his appraisal of your own body, watching with rapt attention as he climbs into the bed to hover over your body.

You expect him to go straight between your legs but instead he busies himself with your neck, pressing feather-light kisses to your skin as his hands roam across your naked skin. “So quiet. Must I work for it?” He purrs against your skin, the sound going straight between your legs.

He trails down with more kisses across your collarbone, the valley between your breasts. You slip your fingers into his hair as he continues his way downward, parting your legs so that you may hook them over his shoulders.

“Feeling inadequate Ascian?” You tease despite the breathlessness to your voice, seeing that mahogany hair with a streak of white between your thighs. With another snap of his fingers your bottoms are gone, leaving you fully nude to him.

“Never.” He says with a smirk, pressing gentle kisses to the skin of your inner thigh. You unintentionally jerk in his hold, knowing you are dripping wet for him and yet he will not touch you where you need it most.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a growl rising in your throat at his teasing.

“I am between your legs, as requested.” He croons, caressing your thigh gently, pressing more kisses to your skin. “Or did you desire more from me?”

He is obviously having too much of a good time with this, and that will not do.

“Eat me out.” You order, pressing your hips to his face. “I want you to make me come.”

He holds your gaze for just a moment before he finally presses his mouth to your folds, testing the waters with small flicks of his tongue. The sight of his golden, hawk like eyes peeking from over your curls is erotic in itself, his tongue growing braver until he finally slips pasts your folds to seek the pink bud he knows is lying underneath.

Whimpers begin to slip out as he devotes himself to his task, annoyance shining his eyes momentarily before they have that far away look to them once again. His tongue circles around your clit in a way that makes your head spin, your breaths coming fast until he pulls away.

“I will be the first to say that while your physical form is appealing…” He murmurs close to your dripping sex, breath sending shivers racing up your spine. “However...with my sight I find your soul far more beautiful.”

You flush red at his praise, shivering as he brings a finger to slowly drag across your clit, his gaze almost awestruck at how you keen out your pleasure. “Loathe as I am to take demands from a mortal…” he trails off, moving to press a kiss to your folds, drinking down your nectar. “Your soul shines far too wonderfully like this.”

You’re sure you feel your heart skip a beat for a moment, caught halfway between embarrassment and affection. He resumes his task with ardor, his eyes fluttering shut despite his prior comment on enjoying the appearance of your soul.

Perhaps he doesn’t need to actually see to look upon your soul, but most coherent thought goes out the window as Emet-Selch flicks his tongue at your sex, unashamed of the mess you’re making of his face in his bid to please you. His eyes are open again, staring through you, into you, and you wonder what you must look like to him.

The thought of someone as powerful and ancient as him steals your breath away. It makes your thighs clench tighter and your heels dig harder into his back. If it hurts, he doesn’t complain, if anything it spurs him on further, his movements growing more insistent. The moans finally begin to flow forth, filling the room that you haven’t realized has slowly changed, so caught up in chasing your pleasure.

He’s found what rhythm you like, what makes you moan loudest and it’s a continuous push to the edge with no signs of stopping. You pray that none of the Scions will suddenly require your presence, for you’re sure that your moans are quite audible from outside the door, and this is the last thing you want to explain to them.

How does one explain taking an Ascian to bed? What words could smooth over the fact that one of your greatest enemies currently lies nestled between your thighs, lapping at your folds as if a man dying of thirst and gazing at you like a blind man seeing for the first time?

It’s wrong, it's oh so wrong and you know it, and yet you find yourself unable to convince yourself to push yourself away from the Ascian to stop him, though from his grip on your thighs, he wouldn’t let you leave if you tried.

You watch hazily as one of his hands reaches downward, a moan pulled from his throat as he strokes his length. While his moan excites you, how deep and rich it was, you will not let him be distracted from his task.

None too gently do you pull his mouth away from your sex, urging him upward so that you may flip him beneath you. “It’s not your turn.” You huff, warmth blooming in your chest at how his eyes rove across your form in a way akin to reverence, eyes still glittering as he uses his sight to peer at your soul.

Pressing him on his back you climb higher until your hips rest just above his face, and from there he needs no further instruction as he presses his mouth to your clit once more, a low and throaty moan tugged from him as you pull at his hair.

You can’t help but take a peek at his length behind you, noticing just how hard he is, and you haven’t even touched him. You wonder if he really is that excited solely from pleasuring you, a pearl of precum leaking from the tip that you’re eager to taste, but not right now. Not when he slips a finger into your aching hole and thrusts it in time with his tongue working your clit, his name torn from your lips in a sigh as you press your hips further into his face.

He makes no sound of protest as you do so, that eagerness he had displayed before returning full force that has your legs quivering to keep yourself upright. Pleas for more tumble forth from your lips, his eyes holding yours in a gaze so intense that you find yourself unable to look away.

A second finger slips in with the first, thrusting at a fierce pace that practically has you sobbing in ecstasy atop him. It feels so godsdamned good, you feel ready to overload after having denied yourself release for so long.

You’re not sure when you started begging for him to make you come, for him to finally give you that last push you needed, but he curls his fingers just so and you fall apart atop him, crying out his name in abandon as your orgasm shakes you, barely able to support yourself on your arms as white hot pleasure shoots to every nerve ending in your body.

You moan in light protest as he continues to lap at your core, his fingers having retreated but his attention has not. “E-Enough,” you breathe shakily, hardly able to move yourself from atop him to flop on the bed. You feel him shift to move and as you turn to face him you freeze, feeling every bit the proverbial lamb before the golden eyes of the wolf.

His lips shine with your juices, pink tongue coming to swipe across them. His eyes are half lidded as he stares down at you. Though he is currently in the dominant position, his gaze speaks of subservience; a need to please that has your lust spiking all over again as you roll to your back to fully face him.

“Where would you have me next?” He asks, moving to hover above you, caging you with his arms. You let your own snake around his neck, tickling the fine hairs at the nape as you bring him closer to you.

“Inside me.” You whisper, feeling suddenly hesitant to kiss him. The decision is made for you when he closes the gap, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip to get you to open up for him.

Soon enough do you take over the kiss, having him moaning into your mouth as you reach between the two of you to stroke his cock. “I want you to fuck me.” You hiss, feeling how hot and ready he is in your hands.

He lets loose a low chuckle, the baritone of his voice rumbling through you. “Such vulgar words, Warrior of Light.” he purrs, lining himself up with your entrance.

You feel the head nudge past your folds, your hips already angling to try and take him inside before he can even push himself inside. “I find myself quite willing to obey, so long as you let me see that wonderful soul of yours.”

“What’s so,” Your inquiry is cut off as he finally pushes inside, feeling as if the breath was knocked out of you at his girth. He just barely pushes your limits, your body doing it’s best to adjust to his length as he presses kisses to your jawline. “Twelve above…” you moan, rolling your hips against him that has him thrumming against you.

“Yes, just like that.” He praises, pulling out slowly, letting you feel the length of him before thrusting back in, making sure you’re adjusted. He continues that slow pace, watching you closely for any discomfort, but you haven’t the heart to tell him you’re simply wrapped in so much bliss that your body feels as if it can barely take it.

“W-What does it look like?” You ask, breath hitching as he just barely brushed against that spot inside of you. “My soul, I mean..”

It took every ounce of effort you had to form coherent sentences with Emet-Selch thrusting inside you, his strokes measured and purposeful. Even in this was he skilled, as if he was determined to make sure the only noises you were making were lustful sighs or wanton moans.

When he smirks at you, his own hair mussed, skin flushed, you find he looks incredibly charming. “Normally it is the color of the sky. What the sky is supposed to look like. A dazzling, brilliant blue.”

His hands move to clutch your hips, gripping with surprising strength as the same smirk turns devilish. He brings you down hard on his cock, pleasure shooting through you as he stays hilted inside you. “It flares crimson like a sunset when you make your demands.”

You gaze up at him in wonder as he finally sets a steady pace, making your back arch in invitation to which he readily accepts. Bending over he takes a nipple between his teeth, nibbling lightly until his mouth engulfs it entirely, tongue swiping over the sensitive bud in perfect synchronization with his thrusts that has you mewling like a cat beneath him.

“Fuck me,” you demand, though it comes out a plea with how pleasure filled your voice is, your arms clutching him tightly as you meet his thrusts. “Fuck me like you mean it,” Your taunt is cut off by your own moan as he plunges deep inside, his moan dancing with your own as he pistons his hips into your wet sheathe.

You’re glad he had changed the bed, the room to much finer material because you are positive that the old, rickety cot would’ve left no pretenses as to just what was going on in your room with how forceful his thrusts were.

You had forgotten that there would be strength in the lean muscle that was currently flexing beneath your greedy hands; muscle that was now being put to use as Emet-Selch drove himself inside you, his mouth hanging open to make room for his sharp breaths as he plunged deep inside you.

He buries his face in your shoulder, your hand fists in his hair as he rocks into you at a brutal pace, giving you just what you desired, or rather at this point needed. There is something else you need, before it is all said and done.

You carefully roll the two of you over, the surprise in his eyes endearing as you straddle yourself atop him, hands flat on his chest as you begin to raise and lower your hips onto him. Now he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you, your eyes fluttering shut as you race toward oblivion, your body seemingly moving on its own accord.

“E-Emet,” you whine, feeling yourself so very close that edge. Distantly you realize you’re not ready for it to be over yet, not ready for him to stop looking at you as if he had not seen something so magical.

The choice is taken from your hands as he rubs at your clit and you come undone, crying out his name in release. Stars dance behind your eyelids as your orgasm sweeps you away, feeling Emet-Selch follow you soon after with your body clenching him so tightly.

The two of you lie there for a few moments, catching your breath as you bask in the afterglow. He is the first to move by trailing a hand lightly on the skin of your back, seeming to be content with the silence as you come down from your high.

You shift to meet his gaze, which you’re surprised to find calm and affectionate. “Well?” He prompts, the corners of his lips pulling into a satisfied grin. “I made good on my word, I hope?”

You hum thoughtfully for a moment to tease him, giggling at his displeased expression. “Yes. It was more than satisfactory.” You concede, giving him a mischievous grin of your own as you trail your finger across his chest. “And you? You seemed to enjoy yourself quite a bit.” You tease, pleased to see him suddenly unable to look you in the eye.

“Yes, well...it certainly wasn’t a waste of my time.” He scoffs, giving your skin a light pinch, smirking at your yelp of pain.

“I have half a mind to crush my head between my thighs Ascian.” You snarl, giving him a hard jab, to which he gives a genuine laugh.

“If that is your way of asking for another go Warrior, I find myself ready for the task.” His touch turns heavy as it snakes down your body, his voice but a whisper as he holds you close.

You try to ignore the way your heart flutters at his amorous actions, but find yourself unable when his eyes glitter, knowing he is looking upon the beauty of your soul. It is certainly not the strangest compliment you’ve received, but it is by far the best.

#Emet Selch #Solus zos Galvus #FFXIV #ff14 #Shadowbringers #FFXIV Commissions #Writing Commissions #Commissions #Comms #my writings

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ladyramora · 5 years

Note

If only Zenos and Emet-Selch got into a 'no, this is MY friend' conversation regarding the wol. X'D

[[MORE]]

....

Emet-Selch sighs, rubbing at his eyebrow and temple as he watches through a mirror as the Warrior of Light begs off from celebrating with their friends.

“...What are you doing, hero? Are you not happy? The evil has been defeated.”

Well, that was what he needed them to think. For now.

A sly smile quirks his lips, and he waves a hand over the mirror as his door bursts open.

“Hello, great grandson.”

Zenos yae Galvus stares at him blandly as if he hadn’t just splintered his great grandsire’s chamber door with one well placed kick.

“I care not for your grand schemes, great grandsire. Whatever your machinations, you will leave the Warrior of Light to me.”

Emet-Selch blinks slow and turns on his great grandson with a bored expression. “Will I now?”

Zenos settles a hand on his sword, eyes intensely blue. "I will not allow anyone to stand between us."

"Oh?" Emet-Selch seems entirely unimpressed. "Finally found yourself a worthy opponent?"

Zenos regards him warily as he turns and strolls towards him. "I have."

"Oh dear," His great grandsire is smiling at him in a way that Zenos misliked. "You truly have, haven't you?"

Emet-Selch sighs, his smile comically rueful and his tone of voice dripping with pity as he shakes his head, "Poor child. You've grown attached.. to the enemy."

Zenos narrows his eyes. They were that, yes, but also... "My friend."

The Emperor balks, expression shifting minutely. Eyebrows lowering and lip curling in the barest of a sneer. "...Your friend? That word implies mutual feelings of fondness, my dear boy."

His laugh is offbeat and entirely derisive. Zenos's grip on the hilt of his sword tightens, lips thinning.

"...What do you know of them, hmm?" The Emperor croons, continuing on. Fond of his own voice. "You've hardly had any interaction! Have you spoken with them at length? Stood at their side as a comrade? Slept under the same star filled sky? Listened to their inane ramblings. Learned what they like, what they fear; why the persist so on this fruitless quest."

The Emperor shakes his head, a hand pressed to his brow, lips quirking up in a sardonic smile. "Well, have you?"

Zenos does not answer. Only looking to his great grandsire with a vile feeling of murderous envy. "Am I to believe you have?"

The Emperor laughs.

"No, I suppose not. Believe what you want to, dear boy. The truth ever remains."

Zenos clenches his teeth, seething with emotions he dare not name, and unsheaths his blade to slice through his great grandsire in one smooth, swift motion.

He watches his body fall, dispassionate.

He turns away and meets the bored, golden eyed stare of the very same man leaning in the doorway. The shadows playing across his features giving him a sinister, fey-like quality. His eyes too unnaturally bright in such swallowing darkness.

Zenos feels a prickle of unease meeting that stare. He had thought once that his father had the same eyes.

He can see now that he was very much mistaken.

"Like father, like son. And as such, you commit the cardinal sin of boring me," he sighs, shaking his head, "I pity you, I really do. Ah, but I have things to do and precious little time to do them in. You understand." He pushes off from his recline against the doorframe and turns away. One gloved hand raising up, and waving lazily as Zenos watches him walk away.

Zenos stares down at his sword, and then at the body on the floor as it disappears in a puff of darkness.

"Hm." Interesting.

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corvid-lullaby · 4 years

Text

Finished 5.3 a day ago, but needed time to recover and process everything. If any of you are procrastinating from finishing Shadowbringers due to fears that I probably shared, you have my blessings. Go finish it. Final Fantasy 4 fans are gonna shit themselves silly.

I gotta say though. Not many stories out there leave me crying all fucking day but in a very satisfied way. It was extremely good, and the final fight was really fun. I’m ready for the Extreme version of it.

I’m also including a short guide for the trial if anyone needs it, without spoilers. It’ll be first thing under the cut, so you shouldn’t see any spoilers as most of it is inside vids

IF YOU NEED HELP CLEARING THIS OR JUST WANT SOMEONE TO HOLD YOUR HAND I WILL BE ABSOLUTELY HAPPY TO COME.

I’ve uploaded the climax portion and the final trial if anyone wants to see. They’ll be after the guide. This isn’t the full finale ending. The trial is a bit longer than usual since I went in completely blind, and so did a lot of others in our party. We had to learn a lot of new mechs on the fly, therefor we wiped several times, but that’s what makes doing brand new content blind so fun. You get to learn and clear it together.

Koi 💜

Final Trial Guide

Phase 1:

Terror Unleashed (HEAL TO FULL): Dark Knight Unleashed skill raid wide. Forces the equivilant of Dark Knight’s Walking Dead on everyone and reduces hp to 1. Heal to full to remove Walking Dead or else the player will die after 15 seconds.

The Bitter End (TANK BUST)

Pause (STAY STILL UNTIL THE FIRE DEBUFF FALLS OFF): When a pause icon is above your head, it’ll count down before fire engulfs the entire raid. This puts the fire looking debuff Pyretic onto everyone. If you move at all or cast a skill while this is on you, you will take damage. Stay still until it falls off.

Play (KEEP RUNNING/MOVING): Same as Pause, but this time with a play icon. This time its a blizzard. If you’re character is still (Using skills does not count as ‘moving’) then you’ll be frozen and take extra damage. Keep moving to prevent this.

Fire/Ice Imbued Sword (FIRE: STAY STILL - ICE: MOVE): When he says “Begone, spawn of Shadow!” watch to see if he imbues his sword with ice or fire. You’ll have to treat it the same as Pause/Play. If its Ice keep moving to keep from being frozen. If it’s fire stay still until the debuff drop. The trick here is knowing when he’s actually going to cast it, as in second phase he’ll delay it. Listen for when he says, “Darkness must be destroyed!”. This will be followed by either a circle aoe around him or a raid wide aoe with a safe spot directly under him. He’ll cast ice/fire just as these aoes go off.

Floor Drawing/Sword of Light (GET OUT OF THE DRAWING): The floor turns black and lazers begin moving around to draw a figure. Watch carefully where the lazers go and get outside of the drawing asap. When the drawing is finished everyone within it takes damage.

FOLLOWED WITH

Bahamut Dive (GET TO THE SAFE SIDE): Right after a drawing incantation is finished, you’ll see Bahamut waiting and ready to do a dive right after. As soon as the drawing damage goes off, run to the safe side. Bahamut also appears later during the dark bubbles/stack/run away mechanic.

Phase 2:

Did you see and recognize that hand gesture? /wink/

Most phase 1 mechs will be in phase 2, but enhanced. Floor Drawing will look more complicated. Imbued Sword will now have a big delay from when it has been imbued to when it’s actually cast.

To The Limit: He’ll now start casting limit breaks to indicate upcoming mechs, starting with LB4 right at the start

Limit Break 4 (USE TANK LB3): This is his ultimate and, I think not completely positive since I haven’t done this enough, requires a tank LB3 to defend against it.

Meteor Rings (STAND IN THEM)

Elddragon Dive (RAID WIDE DAMAGE)

Summon Wyrm (GO TO SAFE CORNER AWAY FROM BAHAMUT DIVE + STACK/RUN AWAY MECHS): Two large glowing black orbs will spawn at two corners, leaving the other two corners safe. At the same time Bahamut will spawn to dive over one of these two clear corners. Run to the safe corner. Right after a stack mechanic plus the triangle run away marker will spawn at the same time. Stackers should stay in the corner while the person with the triangle marker should run through the center between the growing orbs. Bahamut will already have dived so it’ll be safe.

Limit Break 1 Radient Braver (SEPARATE MARKERS/CONE AOES): Similar to Earth Shakers. People marked will have a large cone aoe directed at them. Separate and everyone else needs to reposition to avoid the cleave.

Limit Break 2 Radient Desperado (DOUBLE LINE STACK): Two people will be marked with line-based stack markers. Split and stack but only ONCE. One goes off before the other, leaving the first stackers possibly tempted to run and help stack with the second one. DO NOT DO THIS. You will be given a major debuff when hit with a stack and you CANNOT live a second stack hit.

Limit Break 3 Radient Meteor (SPREAD AND HUG CORNERS, CENTER IS SAFE): Four people will be marked with huge AOE markers. Each person must run and hug a corner very closely. This will leave the center clear for everyone else. Hug it well, since the aoes are extremely big.

Small Ninja Mudra (PUSH BACK FOLLOWED BY STACK): A Ninja WoL (Not the boss) will be seen casting a mudra while mentioning cleansing water, wash away evil. Tidal Wave-like push back mechanic. Run to the side with the waterfall. This will be followed by a stacking mech. Don’t be me and use arms length or something similar to null the push back. I got the marker and died due to this since this left me far from everyone lmao.

4X Bahamut (FACE YOUR BAHAMUT AWAY/TO ITS’ CORNER): Four Bahamuts will spawn, each tethered to one person. This is like the Zenos fight in the Ala Mhigo dungeon. Each person needs to run to the Bahamut they’er tethered to and towards the corner behind it. The Bahamut will be forced to turn to face you and that corner, dropping its’ cone safely away from everyone else when it goes off.

That’s it, but let me know if I got something wrong or forgot something! I tried to keep it easy to read to use on the fly.

Finale Part 1

youtube

Finale Part 2

youtube

Finale Trial Part 1

youtube

Finale Trial Part 2

youtube

Finale Trial Part 3

youtube

Finale Part 3

Hit Video limit so here’s the link to the last video: https://youtu.be/R-pLTrmXBes

~~~~~

Again this isn’t the full ending. Just the climax.

But honestly I can’t express how much I enjoyed the closing to Shadowbringers. I’m so fucking happy that our little G’raha lived and got to come home with us. It’s just too cute how much he adores and wants to adventure with the Warrior of Light/Darkness. Hopefully he’ll get used to his new young, spry body. He isn’t a crystalizing grandpa anymore.

I’m gonna miss it.

#kanpai•#ffxiv•#shadowbringers #ffxiv 5.3 #spoilers

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whitherliliesbloom · 4 years

Text

of two minds, yet one heart

[ ffxivwrite2020 ] ★ [ my writings ] ★ [ prompt #10 - avail ]

[ deftarm & wol ] ★ [ 1,734 words ] ★ [ post-heavensward ]

vath deftarm and mentions of mogzin and linu vali, some minor spoilers for heavensward beast tribe quests. deftarm has a minor crush on illya and has no idea how to deal with it.

it’s the first time in a long while the deftarm wishes he could share one mind with someone

Loth ast Vath has never been noisier. Traffic in and out of their quaint, modest little village away from the Onemind has been prosperous, in no small part thanks to the efforts of a certain hero, whose name has been rattling incessantly in his carapace ever since her lengthened absence.

It was no secret that the Warrior of Light was the the very reason he’s managed to achieve all that he has to this day. Despite the differences that set Vath, Moogle, Goblin and VanuVanu apart, all who were considered allies and business partners to the Nonmind would never fail to echo his own sentiments of the young lady’s kindness and altruism.

Overwhelming gratefulness was one thing, and undoubtedly he held a large amount of admiration for her - as did the other beast men the hero has helped.

But there was something else, a sensation that stirred at him and troubled him for the following bells to come. A heat, a restlessness, and the jitter of his normally sturdy limbs that was exclusive to only him - and only towards her.

He’d consulted his newly acquired friends about his predicament - Linu Vali, and unbelievably, master Mogzin of the Moogle builders, who’d proceeded to laugh his kupo nuts off when deftarm suggested his master to be the cause of his continuously racing heart.

“Maybe, maybe you like her?”

Ridiculous! Why it has got to be the most preposterous thing Mogzin has ever said to him - a tall feat with all of the moogle’s tendencies for absurd pranks and jokes considering.

The deftarm had vehemently denied the possibility, despite his furry companion’s insistence otherwise.

His once master.. now someone he’d proudly declared to be his friend, was someone he greatly respected - the first of any mortal he’d grown to admire and trust. Nothing more, nothing less.

The thought of his courting instincts being riled by one of another race than himself - let alone a lalafellin that he’d considered to be his mentor above all else had left the deftarm so flustered that he could scarce concentrate on anything else.

And before he knew it, she was gone, left on yet another one of her grand adventures that he could only ever dream of participating it. He was one of a deft arm, but not daft in the head to think he’d ever stand a chance of standing by her side, for the Warrior of Light’s reputation precedes what even his many new friends would boast. It was hard to imagine a singular figure more renowned in name in the entirety of Dravania, and Coerthas for the matter, and even the deftarm struggled to the day to understand the true scale of her fame. He was but an adventurer with little renown serving his own people - while she will continue to rise like a shining star, whose name would be uttered again again by the people like she was their only salvation.

She’d certainly been his.

Melancholy accompanied the pride and loneliness that lingered in the Warrior of Light’s wake, and while he dared not hope for her to ever return, busy as she must certainly be..he’d be lying if he said that fleeting, worthless hope hadn’t crossed his mind at least once.

“How fare you as of late?”

And what perfect timing for the accursed mortal herself to appear before him, basket of nanka eggs slung over her arm and an oblivious smile plastered on her face. Deftarm furiously clucks his mandibles and taps his claws, and the other nonminds around turn to glance and chuckle in his direction.. he isn’t sure if he’s glad or not for Illya to be largely uneducated about Vath body language.

“G-good! We’re been keeping in touch with the other tribes more, and practicing our dance with as passionate a fervor as when you’d last visited!”

“That’s wonderful to hear!” The deftarm is acutely aware of every little detail of her expression - the slight curl of her lips upwards to form into a smile, the tiny folds of her skin around her eyes and the plumpness of her round and full cheeks that cradled a small, button nose.

A hard carapace was a universal sign of attractiveness to Vath and Gnath alike, a trait Illya sorely lacked in. And yet he could not help but to still think, against his better judgement, that the softness of her entire stature and being was adorable. She’s closer to a moogle than she was Vath in that regard, the pure white of her hair does no favors, but she is most definitely way cuter and less infuriating to bear the company of.

“W-w-what.. <click> <click> Um.. brings you here, m-mas- Illya.”

He utterly rattles in his scales as he speaks her name, and it felt as taboo as it did exciting.

“Hm? A-ah.. To visit you, deftarm.. I’ve been busy lately b-but.. I wanted to drop by from time to time and help out like old times... I-if you don’t mind, at least.” Her voice was one of the softest parts about her, like a melodic wind chime that danced slowly in the wind. And what she lacked in the clicking of mandibles, she more than made up for with stumbles of her tongue, and the darting of her eyes as color rose up her cheeks. He’d been made aware that that was the sign of a flustered mortal, and it did nothing but worsen his own rattling and tapping.

“Of course I don’t mind! You are ever welcome in Loth ast Vath!”

He manages to stop himself before he could add anymore unneeded sentimentality into his words, and watches with intent as the lalafellin gently nodded his head and placed her little basket of offerings upon the counter, where Vath Keeneye accepts warmly after clucking twice in a tease towards deftarm’s obviously enamored state.

And yet his idol, innocent and oblivious as she is, saw nothing amiss as the deftarm held his claws together, his head twitching and restless as he’d attempt to conjure words to say to her.

“May I ask you something, I-Illya?”

“A-ah, y-yes! Of course, you can!”

He taps his feet against the ground twice, and places the flat of his claws against the top of his carapace.

“W-what do you think of me?”

The suddenness of his question leaves Illya speechless for a moment, and her voice sputters out uselessly before she slowly thinks to regain her composure. Not even the most well read of her own kind would understand her flustered jibberish.

“W-well.. um.. you’re very brave! And kind.. and you’ve worked very very hard to help your village. Y-you’re very wonderful...” Affection laces her voice as she speaks, and though it wasn’t quite the answer Deftarm had been looking for, he’s utterly smitten by the sweetness of the words that leave her lips. “A-and..what do you think of me, Deftarm?”

What does he think of her? There were so many and more words he could think of saying, of words he wanted to say to her for a while. And yet not a single one would come to mind to form a cohesive sentence, or anything he believed would allow her to understand the depths of his heart.

“Y-you... are my hero. You are.. very vibrant! And shiny!”

“S-shiny?”

“Yes!” he clicks and frantically nods his head. “You are like.. a beacon of light! And I..admire you very much! B-but.. not in the same way as... other people..”

High praises never get any less easy for her to digest without going utterly red in the face, no matter how many times and from how many people she hears it from, but the manner of his voice trailing off catches her attention and piques her interest.

“N-not in the same way? W-why is t-that?”

“W-well! It’s like... um.. Sometimes.. I wish we were of onemind, you see?”

Had Illya been more aware, she’d have noticed the barely audible gasps from the other eavesdropping Vath, and the way Deftarm basically crumbles under the blatant confession he’d just made.

But curse all her twelve for having her be born a natural nonmind, for being a lalafell, who could only assume his words to be borne out of a relapse of his own will.

“T-that’s not good! Are you hearing voices again?” She turns from frantic and nervous to heroic in an instant, and stomps her foot forward with a furrow of her brow. “Don’t listen to them, Deftarm! You are your own person!”

“No no! That’s.. not what I meant!”

Illya’s already girded up, with a heavy scowl on her face and hands balled into fists ready to pound and fight at the injustice of the hive mind his kind have had to overcome and suffer through. And it would seem his best reassurances would only serve to worsen their misunderstanding.

“N-no, just.. forget I said anything, Illya!”

“Are you sure? If you start hearing voices again-”

“I assure you, I won’t.” Deftarm clucks in defeat, and his shoulders visibly slump. It does little to wipe the expression of worry off the girl’s face.

How much easier would if be for him to get his heart across to her if they were of onemind? If they were able to share their thoughts, to hear the beating of each other’s hearts.. surely she’d understand thoroughly without him even having to utter a single word.

But that was a fruitless dream, one of physical impossibility. He could only dream of them being of one heart.

“W-well.. Just know... you’ll always be Vath Deftarm. You’re important to me, a-and I..I would never want to see you have your thoughts and feelings stripped away again.” Her face glows as she flashes him a radiant smile, and he finds himself blinded by the beautiful twinkle in her eyes. “Your mind and your heart are of your own. Nothing can change that.”

It’d certainly be nice to be of one mind with her, would that he could understand the depths of her sincerity and kindness, and learn for himself just what she truly thought of him if she too understood his feelings.

But Illya was right, as she ever always is. If being of onemind would avail him naught, he just had to try a little harder to express his own feelings with his words and actions.

#ffxiv #ffxivwrite2020 #ffxivwrite #vath deftarm #illya skawi #fanfic #mine #kiwisffxivwrite2020 #i'm starting to feel burn out from having to write every day and we're not even halfway through the month god #i'm starting to see the quality of my writings dip #also not a pairing.. i just had headcanons that deftarm has a small crush on illya ever since i finished the vath beast tribe story

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