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#older warrick
moonilit · 7 months
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Clive head pats
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Clive head pats 🤍
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tiphares · 7 months
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that jill warrick magnet was a lotto draw with a ticket that cost 30 bux... this is the most bougie magnet of all time 🤣 at least its a collectors item 😑
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Genres of me making ocs
Older sibling or sister of a canon character
Parents of a canon character
Fankid of my fav ship
A lover of a canon character
Either has a sad backstory especially for the older sisters and parent or just exists for fun[fankid & lover]
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shadowdaddies · 5 months
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Meant to Be - Part IV.
Dark!Manorian x Reader
Part One | Two | Three
A/N: I keep deviating from my outline but I expect there to be 2 (maybe 3) more parts to this story
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Muffled shouts sounded through the air, the sound echoing painfully in your head. Gloved hands grabbed your arms firmly, hauling you up as your vision cleared to reveal your guards eyeing you with concern. 
“Miss, are you alright to stand on your own?” You turned to your right to see a young guard holding your arm - honey brown eyes searching your face with genuine concern. You hadn’t taken the time to really look at these men who were with you almost constantly in the castle - the four of whom had been watching your every move. An oversight on your part, which you would be sure to remedy. 
You eyed the guard up and down - he was quite handsome, actually, with dark brown hair and ivory skin, tinged pink from the wind - and made a show of smiling at him as you put your hand on his. “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you...?” 
“Ryon, miss.” You batted your eyelashes, giving Ryon your best doe-eyed, innocent look. You peered at the guard to your left - a slightly older gentleman with rich umber skin and graying hair - who was eyeing you with suspicion. You moved your hand to his lower arm, giving a gentle squeeze as you smiled brightly.
“And your name?” 
The guard’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “Arnoux, miss.” 
Rubbing your thumb soothingly along Arnoux’s arm, you stepped back slightly from the two men to stand on your own - all four guards still watching you intently. “Well, thank you both for your assistance. I do think that I should head back to my room, though. I am still feeling a bit faint.” 
Ryon and the other two guards - you’d have to remember to learn their names later - looked to Arnoux, who was still watching you closely, an air of caution evident on his face. His dark eyes never left yours as the man gave a curt nod, signaling his approval. Ryon gently guided you ahead so that you were walking with the other two guards ahead of you, Ryon and Arnoux close behind. 
You held your head high, mostly so that it was easier to make note of your surroundings without turning your head too much. You suspected Arnoux’s, admittedly wise, consternation towards you was due to your unabashed snooping, and you’d need to be more careful moving forward. 
The group arrived at the door to your room, a tall blonde guard who Ryon addressed as Warrick ushering you inside as Arnoux instructed him to alert their Majesties of your “incident” in the garden. You internally sighed, hiding your disappointment as the door closed behind you, locking you in the room once more. The clock ticked quietly on the wall - its hands revealing how late in the day it was.
You looked out the window to the garden below where you had just fainted, your pulse pounding when you remembered what was in your dress pocket. You let out an exhale when flowers brushed your fingertips - they hadn’t caught you with the foxglove. Rushing over to the armoire, you took the foxglove from your pockets, burying the flowers beneath your sleeping clothes. You closed the drawer and doors to the chest, hurrying back to sit on the bed before anyone might come in and see. 
The moment of rest as you sunk into the mattress was like a dam breaking open - the swell of emotions crashing down into a torrent of tears as you began to process the news. Your fiancé was alive, and here. This changed everything in your plan - you’d have to find not only your own way out of this castle, but how to help him escape as well. 
Now was not the time for planning, however, as you finally let the tears fall, crying audaciously for anyone to hear. You wanted them to hear - Arnoux, Ryon, Manon, Dorian. You would let the entire palace hear your pain. And when you were ready, the entire palace would feel your wrath.
The door burst open, interrupting your sinister daydream as Dorian rushed in, Manon right behind him. Dorian looked near to tears himself as he knelt before you, sapphire eyes studying you for any sign of pain. Your mind detested how your heart swelled at his care. “We hurried here when Warrick informed us that you fainted in the gardens. We’ve called for a healer, but I needed to see that you were alright.”
Realizing they were coming from the dungeons where your fiancé was supposedly held, you glanced discreetly towards the clock on the wall. Less than eight minutes for Warrick to get down to the dungeons, and for them to return. If you could find the path to where he was kept, you would be able to make your escape with your love. An idea came to you - this would take time, but would be worth it in the end. 
You turned to Dorian, slipping on the too-familiar mask of innocence you’d used on Ryon just moments ago as you sniffled and nodded into his hand that held your cheek. “I am feeling quite ill. The journey to the gardens was unexpectedly difficult for me. I was thinking, I should probably stay indoors for awhile. The library was warm and comfortable.”
You held back your smirk at the shocked look on their faces at your proposal, their predatory smiles of pleasure as they thought they’d finally tamed you. Little did they know that the fawn was luring the wolves into an archer’s range. 
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icehearts · 11 days
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Esca Reynault
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— B A S I C S
Name: Esca Reynault
Nicknames: Lady Belladonna (derogatory), milady (also derogatory), milady (affectionate???)
Age: Early-to-mid 20s.
Nameday: 7th Sun of the 4th Astral Moon. (7/7)
Race: Midlander Hyur.
Gender: Cis female; she/her.
Orientation: Bisexual.
Profession: Alchemist by way of the Alchemists' Guild of Ul'dah, botanist by way of her father's tutelage, reluctant shopkeep of the family plant nursery-cum-apothecary
.
— P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S
Hair: Long, chestnut, well-kept. Usually swept up in a ponytail or pinned back and out of the way.
Eyes: Tigerseye brown. Inscrutable.
Skin: Fair, unblemished; the complexion of one raised in comfort and relative luxury.
Tattoos/scars: None to speak of.
— F A M I L Y
Parents:
Mother - Leopoldine Reynault, the youngest daughter of a minor house of Ishgard. Members of the Reynault family have historically been employed by larger noble houses as retainers, midwives, maids, cooks, in-house chirurgeons, groundskeepers, among other roles. Father - Warrick Caraway, a Studium-educated botanist and horticulturist with a specialization in environmental, plant, and soil sciences. Part of his ongoing post-graduation research involved evaluating the aetherial qualities of the soil in the various Calamity-affected Coerthan regions, and developing methods to encourage the growth of more diverse foliage and flora that could withstand the recently altered environs.
Siblings: None. She's an only child.
Grandparents: None to speak of. Her parents' union was not approved by either family involved, so Esca's grandparents on both sides remain quite distant.
In-laws and Other: Silas ████████, a Garlean ex-patriot who acts as a sort of older brother figure for Esca.
Pets: None to speak of.
— S K I L L S
Abilities: Alchemy, of course, botany, and she's rather savvy with a needle too. She's no seamstress, but Esca can mend an article of clothing or even stitch up a wound if need be. She has some aptitude for spellcasting, primarily wind- and water-aspected magicks. Her mastery over such magicks is lacking, to say the least, and Esca has little patience for things she can't control.
Hobbies: Reading, tending to the greenhouse, concocting experimental solutions and potions. Hunting down the ones she thinks are responsible for her mother's suspiciously sudden illness. Daydreaming about how she'll pay them back for humiliating her family. Honestly? She needs more hobbies.
— T R A I T S
Most Positive Trait: Diplomatic.
Most Negative Traits: Deceptive.
— L I K E S
Colors: Blues, whites, blacks. Silver and gold.
Smells: Fresh air, delicate florals. Nothing overpowering.
Textures: Smooth silk, gauzey cotton, weathered leather.
Drinks: Mulled tea, coffee, mint lassi.
— O T H E R D E T A I L S
Smokes: Never.
Drinks: Very rarely. Alcohol makes it a little too easy for the mask of composure to slip off, so she tends to avoid the stuff. Plus she tends to be an emotional drunk, and that can be embarrassing.
Drugs: None.
Mount Issuance: A snow-white chocobo affectionately named Ambrosia.
Been Arrested: Why? Do you think she's guilty of something?
Tagged by: @paintedscales @sealrock @shroudkeeper tysm <3
Tagging: YOU! 🫵 That's right YOU! If you haven't done this yet but want to, consider yourself officially tagged!
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iwaasfairy · 2 years
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┌─ “ ! „ LENIENT
tw. tis incest as always i am not sorry, big bro nico, dom/sub, dubcon, breeding, rough, choking, kinda size kink-y wordcount. 4k
a/n. ♡ at first i wasn't going to write this bc i'm not sure if there's much interest for this manga bUT i needed iT I JUST NEEDED IT so please give it a chance even if you don't know this show/manga because nIICHAN NICO LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREEEeee and it probably won't be the last gangsta fic :>>
nicolas brown x fem!reader
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Most parts of your personality are solidified early into your childhood, easy to get to, easy to ruin. That’s how you get manchildren, and arrogant pieces of shit, and know-it-alls. It’s how you get ruined adults.
It doesn’t take one fuckup, but a series of fucked up events to permanently mold adults into the shitty ones they are, and if nothing else, Nicolas is pretty sure he can pinpoint most of the rules that lead him to being the way he is. Truths ingrained into him from birth.
One. His purpose is to serve and protect; die for that cause when death comes for him. Two. He is, and will always be, an addict— a non negotiable truth of his existence, and well. He’s not exactly looking to change that; at least not anymore. Three. Whoever told him otherwise was a liar, and a bad one at that. There are other lessons too, less fundamental ones he learned early on. Warrick is the older brother he chose, but you’re the only family he was given.
You two have a different sort of meaning in his life.
Your sign language is too sloppy and rounded, this too is always true. He’s tried to tell you. But they remain too soft, much like you are, and at this point he can’t hold it against you anymore. He’s done plenty of that, and it never sticks. Can’t begrudgingly brush you off for being unreadable, because he knows without doubt that there’s goodness behind your actions. Of all these things, at least knowing that ‘you’re trying’ isn’t complicated.
And with that comes your talking. It seems to him like you’re always talking. He catches parts of your monologue each time you turn over your shoulder while hanging the laundry out of the chipped windows to dry. You place both hands on your hips as you tilt your head and whirl around a little too enthusiastically to face him. Brat, is the first thing he thinks, but in a soft, appreciative sort of way. His eyebrow raises a little, glancing between the magazine he has open against his propped up knees and you, until you lean in a little further and he can feel the heat climb up his neck to his ears.
He does his best to ignore you, until you’re basically halfway taking over his page with your face pulled in a half amused, half annoyed sneer. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you,” he says, the signs long grown familiar. His mouth corners quirk up when you bristle, before smacking the back of your hand against his knee.
“Niichan~”
He can see how you drag out the word much longer than normal, how whiny you look when you tilt your head and pull up your lips into a little pout. You softly poke at his side, and it sets the hairs on his arms on end. “Slide over,” you ask. He tells you back that he doesn’t want to, and your face goes from surprised to disbelief. “You’re lying.” Then again you try, this time grabbing his sleeve as you plead. “Plea—se, Nic nii? Can I slide in?”
Really, he wants you to. You should’ve done it as soon as you came home, bless him with your closeness and your warmth before he has to head out for yet another mindless task good for nothing other than keeping the money coming in. He wants your body glued to his so he can be a big brother in peace; but any opportunity to tease you is a good one. Can’t help it— you just look so fucking cute begging him for stuff. When your thumb rubs over his wrist right under the end of his sleeve he obliges, though he makes it a bigger show than is necessary.
Maybe it’s the fact that you’re the one person who already gives him all the attention he could ever ask for that makes him so bold, or the way you look up at him with those big, innocent eyes. He always wants more. The couch springs bend as the extra weight is added. It’s not big enough for two people, but you just about fit when you drape one leg over his hips to keep balance, placing your face on his chest. “You’re really clingy,” he tells you, and you look from his face to his neck in embarrassment.
Your breathing goes from short-short to long, long, long when you nuzzle into him for a few seconds, then shift your weight even more into him. He’d be lying if he said it was the most comfortable— but not in a bad way. The thoughts just get harder to ignore when your nose is buried in his chest. His hands slide down the length of your covered back, keeping you from skittering away from him again. You could fall asleep like this, he knows that.
He will have to wake you up if you do. He knows well enough you won’t wake up; and he’ll be trapped under you. So he tries to tell you this much, signing it with his hands on your back. But you don’t move, probably aren’t looking, so he taps your shoulder instead. This does stir you, though it seems to take too much effort to lift your head so he can talk to you; until he licks his lips and breathes out an impatient “Listen to me.” His voice feels extremely sore from the lack of usage, exhausting; and he’s sure his speech is about as sloppy as your signing is.
But that’s okay. Those understanding, soft eyes flick up to his, and cold crawls down his spine.
Your body wash or shampoo smells really good right about now, your hands playing gently up his sides. It’s cute and awfully distracting, you’re cute staring at him with the kind of patience he’s not really used to from you. It’s where you two differ. Nico could pretend that’s part of him, where he did a great job instilling morals and respect. But the truth is, you weren’t old enough to remember what it was like before, so you have no reason to have the same painfully trained patience he does.
And really, he’s happy about that miniscule change for the better. You’re a rambunctious brat, and you know how to play him and Warrick both. It’s how you’ve always been, and maybe it’s how you’ll always be. Best at looking a lot sweeter than your dirty mouth and brash personality. He’s the good listener, you’re the better talker— when you both want to be. Though your blond roommate would have you two both beat, he supposes.
Now he has your attention, he’s quick to explain before you get sleepier. “Warrick will be back before tonight, so you should eat with him.”
“But I wanna eat with you,” you yawn into the sentence, supplying the missing words with your soft, rounded signs for him to follow. You want to eat with him. Your chin rests back onto his chest, digging into the skin a little. He doesn’t reply back, just breathes in and out into the ever-present silence; and thinks. You want to eat with him, you want to lay with him, you want to sleep with him and help him out and cling to his side whenever you can— it’s true. Like a little puppy dog without an owner, you’re prone to just following him about because you can. It’s not really out of concern, or at least he doesn’t think it is. He takes care of himself nowadays.
But you two never grew out of the codependence you started with, clinging to his hand with those chubby, tiny fingers. You, placed on his one hip, a heavy duty weapon on the other. You always slept in the same bed out of necessity, so now that it no longer is one; you don’t have a good reason to stop. “Eat with Warrick,” he replies after a bit, “I’ll be out late.”
It’s not what you want to hear. Your eyes glide away from his to the dogtags resting between his pecs; between you and him too. And your mouth corners pull down, making you look so — fucking sad for a second, before it fades. You push yourself off of him, taking your warmth with you as you go.
He fights the very real urge to drag you back down with him for a little longer. Most of anything else, Nicolas can’t give you. Shouldn’t allow himself to long for where you’re concerned, but closeness… is the one thing he’s unable to fuck up with just actions. Your hand slips out of his when you get up from the couch, and the noiret doesn’t cling onto it enough. Regrets it, hates it. He hates the void a lot when you’re not there. But your mouth is moving again, and his eyes snap onto it like a lifeline. “Fine, I’ll make dinner. Yours will be in the fridge. ‘M gonna go take a shower.”
You run a hand along your hair to pull out your tie, before your pretty eyes flick back to meet his. “Don’t come.” It’s a warning if he’s ever seen one. But the draw is too much, and he sits up to put the magazine away. If he’s going to be leaving for the night, it won’t be like this. Not even to speak of the flares of jealousy that cross his mind at you being in Warrick’s presence, alone, at night. The guy still calls you ‘kid’, sure, but all three of you have seen that you’re no longer one.
A mean thought crosses his mind, one more selfish than concerned. He’d rather make you upset at his presence than lose you to another guy. Simple as that. And yet shame floods him from his toes to the top of his head as he watches you kick off your socks and toss your sweater aside. The line of your neck exposed to him, shorts slipping down your thighs. He sees the way you purse your lips and bite them, how one of your straps slips down your shoulder, deathly quiet in the doorway.
You’ve noticed him though, because you stop halfway to turn, arms wrapped around your chest and heat marking your neck and cheeks. You’re so fucking cute like this, he can’t help but think, filled with a messy mix of inappropriate emotions. He should get the Doc to check him out. Or Warrick, or fucking— someone. He knows full well the way he feels about you isn’t normal. “Go away, niichan,” you ask, sucking your lip between your teeth to bite at it. “You know you’re not supposed to be in here.”
However irrational it is, this ticks him off a little, brows furrowing. He steps closer, and you hide away more. “This is my bathroom.”
“Doesn’t matter, Rick nii says you’re not supposed to.” Warrick is right, a voice of reason in this dim, dark life; but the guy doesn’t understand you like he does. There’s things only you know— a one person encyclopedia about his every twitch, his every thought. So it doesn’t surprise him that you let him walk up to you anyway, not bothering to close the door as he takes your wrists and undoes them from around your body. It’s an egregious display of selfishness on his part, as your eyes flutter and your chest rises a little faster. “Nicolas… I- we��re…” You get so flustered that you start fidgeting with the tags dangling around his neck. “We can’t.”
Last time you got caught. Last time you were caught taking half of his cock down your throat when Warrick walked in, his hands in your hair and the drool and tears and the stuttered explanation wasn’t anywhere near enough to justify anything. There was a lecture that night, of sorts, about what was and wasn’t right— what wasn’t allowed to happen between a big brother and his little sister. No sucking your big brother’s dick into that gummy, little mouth. No kissing privates. Maybe you’d never been taught, maybe this was an overdue lesson you two had missed out on. It wouldn’t be the first. But even as he said it all, the blond didn’t seem to quite believe it. Not when it came to Nicolas and you.
And if even that guy could sense the difference in your relationship… we can’t isn’t the answer he can abide by. “We were meant to be with each other,” he tells you, and your eyes become glossy right away. Somehow, he always manages to get you to the point of tears. It’s not intentional. “We don’t have to do anything,” he says it more to himself than to you, convincing exactly no one, “just let me be close to you.” But you sniffle, and you give in, dropping your hands by your side as he noses at your temple and slips his thumbs under the edge of your panties to drop them down too.
Your nipples are peaked in the cold air, grabbing at his belt for some much needed support, or maybe to pull him closer. And he can’t help but smirk. “See? Little sister’s way~ clingy.” It’s effective immediately, having you glaring up at him and stepping out of reach to instead get into the shower. I was just joking, brat, he thinks, but it’s no use. You’ve already turned away. It doesn’t take too long to pull his shirt over his head and strip down naked like the day he was born to join you, trying to ignore his cock chubbing up.
The guise of innocence is stripped away with it as he slips into the stall after you, crowding close for warmth. You can’t ignore the press of his body against yours, shivering before him. So he hooks his chin over your shoulder to lean over you to talk. “You’re mine. Even if you don’t believe it. I’m yours and you are mine.” Water runs down his head, dripping from his lashes and chin, and along every curve. Hot, cold, everything in between travels his body as he presses a little closer into the embrace. “Have I been a bad brother to you?”
“No,” you instantly shake your head, eyebrows slanted in worry as you look back at him. “You’re mine too, niichan. And I… love you. But-” The shower drums on his skull with a rhythmic pattern that only makes him more anxious. For all you’ve been for him, all he’s done for you— it’s a very real possibility that he has been bad to you too often for you to forgive.
He’s been more than just selfish. He’s killed people who got too close to you, left them bleeding out in the street. Has sat you down and told you lies and half-truths, even when you found out, even after you stared up at him with tears in your eyes. Nicolas is nothing if not thorough, and he’s been with you for as long as you’ve lived.
He has also laid with you, too many times to count. Sometimes softly, letting you wrap your arms around his head to quiet the painful stabs of guilt. Kissing you under the covers, letting his hands roam over every dip, every hidden spot. Every curve. He still remembers the shivers, and the way you had looked at him so confused as he told you it would all be okay. Very far and few in between, you’d have fights under those same covers, push him away from you to cry your eyes out if he went and did something stupid again. Overdosed. Almost died.
You’ve been patient with him, and understanding. You’ve loved him down to the bone. “Warrick’s just…” you mumble, placing your hands on his neck, “Warrick says we shouldn't. It’s wrong to k-kiss and—”
“He says what he thinks he’s supposed to say,” Nic clenches his jaw, leaning in until you’re basically nose to nose. “You don’t actually believe that.” At least, he hopes you don’t. Your back arches when he leans in more, pressing your tits and cool skin against his much warmer body, letting him press a kiss on your lips. You swallow into it, let him grab your head and push you up against the wall so he can slip his tongue into your mouth. It’s not elegant, but you’re clinging harder, licking back into his mouth he greedily claims for himself. ‘It’s not wrong’ chants through his head, because if he thinks it hard enough, maybe one day he won’t feel so guilty and disgusting.
He taps your hips to let you hop up, catching you easily before going back to kissing. Your fingers thread through his wet hair, pulling hard enough to drive him crazy. Little minx. His hard cock bops between his thighs, rubbing pre cum all over your ass and cunny. An insidious curse he still can’t quite explain. He shouldn’t want you like this. Or bent over his lap, or on his tongue— he shouldn’t want you at all. “Tell me you want it, tell me how good I make you feel,” he asks you, and you throw your head back.
“Please, oniichan. My big brother’s cock feels the best. Want you to put it in and make it hurt, wan’it so bad.” Your hands are shaky behind his head as he lowers you enough for his flushed tip to kiss your sloppy, little entrance. You don’t believe it either. He smiles when you pull back for another kiss, letting you take what you need from his mouth. He lines you up, slowly lowers you onto his hard, heavy cock with a groan that escapes his throat— stretching a hole really not fit for him yet. Your tight-lipped expression, like you can’t really handle it, is too fucking cute.
He slides you down, warm, wet pocket clinging so tight to his cock where it twitches to get deeper into you, take more of that little cunny. He shivers as you mumble something against his temple, and though he can’t tell what— it’s safe to assume it’s an encouragement as he starts moving you up and down his cock in a slow, deep pace that has your thighs shaking around him. The curve of his cock hits that soft spot in your walls and has slick seeping out of you with each pump. A nipple is sucked into his mouth as he works your thighs open more, filling you up and up and up.
As your nails scratch down his back and you hold him like you’ll collapse without his help, he looks up to you again. And you smile, teary eyes and clumped lashes so pretty. “Wanna have Nic nii inside me forever. Have you fuck me full of your babies.” Fuck. You almost make him cum right there and then, his entire body clenching with the idea. As horrible as the thought is, it doesn’t leave him as soon as it comes to him. He should fuck you full of his babies, make you his permanently. You kiss him a few times as he holds you in place on his cock to rub your clit and flick your nipples.
“My baby sister’s cunt’s so tight and hot. Want to keep fucking.”
You moan, “no, s’too much,” before he can keep going, ignoring the way his eyebrows narrow.
“You can take too much.” Your little fingers are back to pulling at the shorter hair at the base of your skull as the loud paps of skin meeting skin must fill the bathroom, fill the house. And you whine and cry, as you always do— but you let your big brother take what he needs. Always. “Like niichan’s cock in you?”
“I love it- n-niisan! I love it! Don’t stop, please. Pl-please don’t stop.”
He loves you. And if it wasn’t for you, he might not ever have— you whine something into the kiss you lay on him, he can feel the vibrations of your throat through your tongue where you tangle it with his, your lips so sweet. His cock drives home each time he fills you up to the brim, balls hitting your ass and your thighs meeting his with hard pumps. The feeling is getting too much, the heavy, swirling feeling in his chest and stomach that has him feeling a bit woozy. Butterflies.
You give him fucking butterflies. What a sick joke the universe pulled on you two. He jerks back from your face to watch you pout and clack open your mouth, whining his name. One hand comes to hold your throat, and your pussy clenches hard around him. It almost keeps him there, basking in the heat of his little sister’s magical grasp, fucking open the walls of your needy cunt even harder. You’re bounced on him that way until you jut out your tongue to lick your lips and your thighs clamp around his hips tightly, hair a mess, lips glossy.
But it’s not enough. It’ll never be when you’re in his arms, an insatiable feeling at the pit of his stomach turning and twisting. He groans again, bites his cheek as he taps your cheek with a little tap to have your teary eyes focus back on him. “Tell me you love me.” You’re too slow, the red-hot sensation of his thick cock sliding into your little cunt getting way too much in the hot steam of the shower, the thoughts in his head. You’re about to cum, he can tell when you can’t even give a single smart remark back. Rendered mute for a few seconds.
His other hand leaves your ass to let you clamp around him and keep yourself up against the wall, cock forced deeper into the good spot at the far end of your cunny. One hand on your throat, the other meanly pinching your nose closed as your eyes widen a little. “Tell me you love me,” he voices it out, letting the words taste sour and foreign on his tongue. Come on, his mind rings, just a little more. Just a little more for your big brother. He wishes you knew just how much you mean. How much he gains when you’re around. But you’ll never hear it from him.
“I lo- love~ you, niichan!” you mewl through the lack of air, looking so cute and dizzy and halfway to an orgasm of your own. He’ll let you get there, promise. “I love my niichan more than anyone.” The glow spreads through his body, everything tight.
Ready to fill you up with hot ropes of cum. He lets you down to turn you around instead, your knees wobbling as you find your balance. Then he slides back inside that hot clutch as his balls pull with a long grunt, entire body tight. His hand pushes between your legs, slippery because of the water, and rubs your clit hard and fast as you hang on. Mouth dropping open and eyes rolling back as the ruthless pace of his fingers is matched with his cock and he bumps against your cervix, pressing kisses along your neck.
It’s sensory overload, his head buzzing with static as he pulls you tight and fucks into you until his hips start stuttering. You dig your nails into the skin of his thigh as you cum too, matching him as he fills you up with hot, white and pulls your body so close you two could melt into each other. Shivering and shaking as the water doesn’t feel so hot anymore. Warrick will worry about the water bill. Nicolas cannot. Not when you’re panting and leaning back into him all spent, needing him to hold you up. He’s still hard even though the cum runs down your legs when he allows you to turn, before slipping right back into your overstimulated, little body.
“Ow, ow,” you whine, but lay a few kisses onto where his heart sits anyway. “Love you.” And look up at him with big, admiring eyes. He wonders what you see. If you see a monster too.
He should clean up this mess before the blond gets home, and get going. He should do many things, and none of them sound any more appealing than the last.
Your hands are colder than him when you reach up to his neck to undo the dog tag necklace, leaning into him even further when your wobbly legs are ready to give up on you. But you still make an effort to smile as you put the thing around your own neck, wrapping your arms around his body. You fit so well. And your eyes shine with genuine love when you nudge his chin with your nose, pressing a peck to his jaw. “Don’t run away from me anymore. Monster or no monster, Nic nii. I want to hear you say you love me too.”
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cliji · 4 months
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oh we fawking love you gentle clive rosfield.
no but i need to know under what context cause he’s very gentle around jilljosh, albeit sometimes a little stern on josh (duh he’s his older brother). like does it have to do with the people of misidia or leviathan’s dominant maybe IDKKKK
but for me (user cliji, warfield megafan), i want jill warrick Going Through It™️ and clive just reverting back to his 28yr old persona where he’s 🥺 all over jill and everyone
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razzlerdazzler · 11 months
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A long week
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@micheleamidalajedi Sorry for taking so long to finish this, college was being a pain in my ass, but now I'm good to write again. Hope you like it :)
Pairing: Warrick x female reader
Warnings: Smut
Summary: After a hard week at work, you and Warrick go out to relax. However, you didn't consider the fact that neither of you have been able to have any alone time all week, and tensions get high.
You and Warrick have always been close, you both grew up in the same neighborhood, and were in the same grade. You two quickly hit it off, and soon became practically inseperable, doing everything together. If somebody saw one of you, they would know that the other was nearby. So that's why it wasn't a surprise to anybody, when you both went to the same college for forensic science.
Soon enough, you both got a job at the same lab. It wasn't long after that that you two confessed your undying love for each other, and you've been dating ever since. You and Warrick are currently on your way to a crime scene that Gil put you two on. You smile as you look at Warrick in the other seat, who's driving. He glances over at you for a quick second, before his eyes turn back to the road. "What are you smiling at?" He asks, a small smile of his own coming onto his face. Your smile turns into a mischevious smirk, "what, can't I just admire my beautiful boyfriend?" He chuckles and shakes his head. You smile and look back out the window, until an idea pops into your head and you look back at him.
"Wanna go to the bar tonight after this? My treat," you say. He glances back over at you again and his smile grows wider, "sure why not. We could use a break after the week we've had." You smile and nod, Gil has been putting your two to work on most of the cases this week. Since Catherine and Sara have been out of town at a conference about new forensic technology. "Do you want to go right after work or later?" You ask. He nods, "right after work sounds good to me."
Soon you reach the house, polic tape already surrounding it, and multiple cop cars are still at the scene. He parks the van and you both get out. You both walk up to Brass, and you say, "hey Jim." He looks up at you guys, "Sara and Catherine still aren't back yet?" You shake your head, "they'll be back tomorrow." He nods and walks towards the body, as you and Warrick follow. "Forty six year old male, he was found dead in his living room with a bullet in his chest, his wife found him." He nods his head to an older woman sobbing and talking to some police officers. You nod and look at the body. "Robbery?" Warrick asks, and Brass shakes his head, nothing is missing from the house." Warrick nods and says "I'll check the other rooms and outside to see if there's any evidence." You nod as you put gloves on and check his wrists for any marks. You see bruises and scrathces on his wrists, signs that he was fighting his attacker. Warrick comes back over and you look up at him.
"Find anything?" You ask, and he nods and raises one of the plastic evidence bags you guys use, and your eyes widen when you see the gun inside it. "Found this outside in the bushes." You raise an eyebrow at his words, "they didn't take the gun with them when they left, so that might mean that the killer wasn't expecting to use it." You suggest, and Warrick shrugs, "maybe, we'll send it to lab and see if they can get any prints on it." You nod and move the man's hand to check his fingernails. "He's got skin underneath his fingernails," you say as you grab a swab and gently take the skin under the man's fingernails and put it in a bag. "Might have enough DNA from our killer on it." Warrick nods. You both finish checking the the house and body for evidence, before you eventually make your way back to the van with the evidence, and start making your way back to the lab.
"Think we might have enough evidence to catch them?" You ask and he nods, "hopefully." You both stay in complete silence for a couple of minutes as he drives you back to the lab, before he suddenly speaks up. "Are you ready for our date tonight?" You smile happily as you look over at him. "You bet I am, the real question is if you're ready." He chuckles and shakes his head. You both return to companionable silence, and you can't stop yourself from smiling and getting giddy at the thought of your date tonight.
Soon you guys get back to the lab, and you bring in all the evidence bags. You both stay at work for hours, until the lab results from the DNA under the man's fingernails return. You open the folder, and your eyes widen when you see who the DNA matches with. You quickly exit the lab and make your way over to the room Warrick's in, when he quickly exits it. "Hey, I need to speak to you about the DNA we found under the man's fingernails." He looks at you, eyes wide, until he chuckles. "I was about to come over to you and show you the results of the fingerprints we got the gun." He raises the folder he's holding.
You nod, "you first." He smiles and gives you the folder he's holding and you give him yours. You open the folder as he says, "the fingerprints from the gun show that the person who was holding the gun was somebody from inside the household. His wife. I also checked the database for when the gun was bought, and it was only three days ago." You nod and take in his words and say "the DNA from uner the man's fingernails is also his wife's." He nods, "looks like we got our killer. Let's turn these into Brass, and head out for the night."
You smile at his words and nod. You both make your way down to Brass's office and show him the information and the evidence you collected. He nods and wishes you both a good night, as you two walk out of his office. You make your way to the locker rooms, and grab your guys' stuff, before heading to his car. You get in the passenger seat as Warrick gets in the drivers seat. He starts the car and backs it out of the parking space and out of the parking lot. You look out the window at the scenery that passes by and your leg starts bouncing from excitement.
He glances over at you and gently moves his hand to your thigh. You feel your heartbeat quicken and you look over at him, surprised by the action. He's just smiling at the road, and you feel his hand squeeze your thigh. You smile and look down at the hand on your thigh. You gently put your hand on top of his and you feel butterflies in your stomach as you notice the obvious size difference of your hands. You feel heat crawl up the back of your neck and you look back out the window.
A couple minutes later you two reach the bar. Warrick takes his hand off your thigh to park the car, and you already miss the feeling of his warmth. He parks the car, and you both walk into the bar, hand in hand. Warrick looks at you, "you go find us a table, and I'll get us some drinks." You nod, and you both separate as he goes to the bar and you go looking for an open table. Luckily, you are able to find a booth open, and as you sit in it, Warrick comes over with your guys drinks. He sits down across from you, as you take your drink from him. "Why thank you good sir," you say with a smile, causing him to chuckle and shake his head.
You take a sip of your cold drink and let out a deep sigh as you let yourself relax. "Work week is finally over." You say with a smile, and Warrick grins. "Yup, it was a rough one without the whole gang, but it's finally over." He takes a drink from his bottle and sighs, "this is nice, haven't really had a chance to hang out with you this week, well not after work I mean." You nod and grimace at his words. He's right, with Catherine and Sara gone, everybody had to work more, and you didn't hate it but it still meant not having any free time after work with him. "Well, the week is over now, and we can spend as much time as we want together this weekend." He smiles and nods, "sounds like a plan."
You both talk about different things happening in your lives recently for a couple of hours. That is until you notice that he is admiring you, and you smirk. "What are you looking at?" You ask teasingly. He smirks, "what? Can't I just admire my gorgeous girlfriend?" You feel flustered, as he uses the line you used on him earlier, and you look down at your drink that you've barely touched. "Want to go back to mine?" He asks. You nod, and realize that neither of you had really drank tonight, so it should be fine for him to drive you there. He smiles, "stay here, I'll pay our tabs." You nod at him, and admire him as he walks away. He's always been a gentleman, even when you two weren't dating. He's always offered to help you out, and when you two go out drinking, or out to eat, he always offers to pay the bill or tab. However, you usually don't let him pay for it completely. Soon, he comes back and says "shall we get going?" And holds out his hand for you to take. You smile and takes his hand as he leads you back to his car.
You two spend the car ride to his house in comfortable silence, your window is rolled down and you take a deep breath as you enjoy the fresh night air. You turn to look at him, and your eyes widen when you see that he is glancing over at you. You smile, "what are you looking at?" It's dark out, but you swear you can see a light blush on his cheeks as he glances back over at you. "You," and this time you can see something in his eyes, but you aren't quite sure what it is. Nonetheless, the look in his eyes and his words is making your heart beat faster, and you can feel a blush start to make its way onto your cheeks. You look away from him, and you can't help but cross your legs as you think about the heated look in his eyes.
Soon you reach his place, and you both get out of the car. You let him open the door, and right as it closes behind you, he pins you to it. You let out a squeak of surprise as he cages you in against the door, his arms on either side of your head. Before you can get a word out, he presses his lips passionately against yours. Your brain short circuits for a few seconds, until realize that he is starting pull away, and you lean forward and kiss him back just as passionately. He makes a noise of surprise, but he groans as he immediately kisses you back. As the kiss gets more heated, you move your hands to the back of his neck, as his hands slowly make their way to your waist.
Slowly he breaks away from the kiss, and you pant for air. He's breathing heavily too, and as soon as his lips leave yours they make a beeline for your neck. You gasp and moan as he starts kissing your neck. You let out a loud whine when his teeth scrape against your neck, and you move your head away from him, allowing him more room. You continue moaning and whining as he starts to leave kisses and marks down your neck. Your hands slowly make their way to his hair, and you let out a gasp as he slots his leg between yours, giving you perfect friction on your clit. You let out a soft moan as you move against his leg, trying to get more friction as he continues to leave marks on your neck. "W-Warrick," you gasp out, causing him to stop his ministrations on your neck. He pulls his head away from your neck and you feel your breath hitch as you look into his eyes.
They're so full of love and compassion, but they're also still full with that heat you saw in them earlier. You can only murmur one word as you look into them. "Bedroom." He seems to understand what you're saying as he picks you up, holding your thighs and ass so you don't fall. He makes the trek down the hallway to his bedroom, and as he reaches the bed, he lays you down onto it and gets on top of you. His lips immediately go back to your neck, this time to the other side, causing you to gasp and giggle. "Baby, what has gotten into you?" He pulls away from your neck again and says, "been pent up, haven't been able to have you all week. I mean sure, I got to see you, but that's not the same as this." He motions between you two. "Couldn't control myself as soon as we got home, I needed to have you sweetheart. Is that okay?" He asks.
You nod and smile. "Absolutely, I ain't gonna lie, I've kind of been feeling the same way this week." His eyes widen at your words, and you can't help but giggle at him. He smirks as soon as he hears you giggle. "Really now?" He asks, as his face moves closer to yours, leaving your lips only a couple of inches apart. You feel your breath hitch at the close proximity and nod as you look down at his lips. He slowly leans in until your lips touch, and you're passionately kissing each other again. As you kiss, you feel his hand slowly make its way under your pants. You let out a whimper as his fingers move under your underwear, and start gently running them along your folds. You break the kiss, "baby-clothes off." You barely get out before you let out another whine. He slowly removes his hand from your pants, as you both get undressed, until you're both naked.
You continue laying on the bed, as he sits above you, and you both can't help but admire each other. You slowly look down at his body, until your eyes see his cock. You gulp and you feel your mouth water, and you feel yourself get wetter just by looking at it. He notices where you're looking and chuckles. "Soon sweetheart." He lets his hand slowly travel down your body until it reaches your folds. You let out a loud moan, as his fingers start moving through your folds again. You let out a mewl as his thumb starts rubbing on your clit as well. You can't help but writhe under him as he continues pleasuring you. He chuckles, "so eager baby, you want more sweetheart?" You nod frantically, not able to form a word from how much pleasure you're feeling. He smiles as he coats his fingers in your arousal, and slowly slides a finger into your pussy.
You let out a broken moan at the feeling of his finger inside you, slowly opening up your pussy for his cock. He smiles at the sight, and continues to move his finger inside you. He slowly adds another finger, and you moan louder as the two fingers stretch you open. He continues moving his two fingers inside you, and as he curls his fingers, he hits a part inside of you that makes you buck your hips against him and and causes you to let out a broken wail. He smirks down at you as he continues to hit that spot, and soon adds a third finger. Soon enough he takes his fingers out, causing you to let out a needy whine. He smiles at the sound.
"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm gonna give you something better than my fingers in a minute. He spits on his hand, and wraps it around his cock. He lets out a low moan as he moves his hand up and down on his cock, and you can't help but groan at the sight. Soon he positions his cock, and kisses you sweetly as he pushes it inside. You moan, and he lets out a deep gravelly groan when he bottom's out. He stays completely still. "Tell me when I can move sweetheart." You feel your heart melt at his words, and you can't help but kiss him. After a few moments, you break the kiss and nod. "You can move baby." He takes a deep breath and starts off slowly. Only doing slow deep thrusts at first. You both moan as his thrusts slowly speed up. Until he's fucking into you hard and fast. He pants near your ear and whispers, voice low and gravelly. "You like this sweetheart? Does it feel good?" You can't even form a sentence from how good you feel. The only thing you can do is nod your head, causing him to let out a deep laugh. That's until you clench down on him, causing him to let out a hiss. "Fuck, feels so good pretty girl. I don't know how much longer I can hold on for."
One of his hands move down to your clit and starts rubbing it, causing you to let out a desperate wail. He smiles at the sight and thrusts into you harder and faster. "Come for me sweetheart, come on my cock! Come on you can do it! Come!" You let out a loud scream as your vision goes white, and you feel yourself gush around his cock. You slowly come down from your high as he keeps thrusting into you. "Fuck, so tight sweetheart, can't hold back any longer!" A couple of deep thrusts later, he lets out a deep, husky groan as he comes inside you. You feel his hips still, as warmth floods inside you. A few moments later, he separates from you. And you whine as you feel his cock move out of your aching pussy. He gently shushes you. "I know sweetheart, I know." He gently kisses your forehead, "I'll be back in a minute sweetheart."
He goes off to the bathroom, and after a minute he comes back with a warm wet washcloth. He sits beside you and starts gently wiping the mess away. While he's doing it, he's whispering praises to you, and is gently kissing your face. "Did so good," kisses your forehead. "You were perfect," kisses your nose. "So beautiful," kisses both your cheeks. "My good sweet girl," gently kisses you. You gently kiss him back, and smiles sweetly at him. "You were amazing baby," you quietly say. Soon, he finishes cleaning up and you two cuddle. Your head is laying on his chest, as he gently runs his fingers through your hair. This was perfect, especially after the busy week you two had. You look up at him and gently kiss him. "Thank you baby, I needed this." He smiles down at you sweetly, "me too sweetheart." Soon you can't keep your eyes open any longer, and you fall asleep against his chest. What a perfect way to end the week.
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diremore · 7 months
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Rekindling Firelight (21467 words) by diremore Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Final Fantasy XVI Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dion Lesage/Joshua Rosfield, Clive Rosfield & Joshua Rosfield Characters: Joshua Rosfield, Dion Lesage, Clive Rosfield Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Inspired by Persuasion, Break Up, Getting Back Together, Second Chances, Pining, Happy Ending, I think I should also warn for Anabella, Warning for Anabella, background Clive Rosfield/Jill Warrick
Summary:
Persuasion AU. At eighteen, Joshua Rosfield, heir to the ducal throne of Rosaria, had been persuaded to reject a marriage proposal from his beloved Dion Lesage due to his "impure blood" and precarious social status. Ten years later, after having led a successful war campaign against the Kingdom of Waloed, Dion has re-entered Joshua’s life as the newly minted Crown Prince of Sanbreque, and Joshua, having just relinquished his father's throne to his older brother, is now forced to confront his lingering feelings for his old love.
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Masterlist
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phoenix-flamed · 1 month
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I have a weird headcanon regarding my Elwin with taking Jill from the northern kingdom. It's pretty much a revising of all of my older headcanons pertaining to her, and as always, you are absolutely not at all obligated to agree or go with it. ESPECIALLY if you're a Jill RPer.
This may be a touchy subject for some people, so I profusely apologize in advance if I accidentally hit any raw nerves or come across as being offensive or insensitive.
Jill was taken to Rosalith as a ward of House Rosfield, to be protected and cared for by them. I used to wholly believe that she was a political prisoner -- but now, I don't believe that's the case. Not exactly, anyway. I believe that she was brought to Rosaria and placed in House Rosfield's care as a way of ensuring peace between the Northern Territories and Rosaria, yes; I don't, however, any longer view her as essentially just being a hostage to use against her father to force peace.
Not with the way the conflict in the north was resolved, which was by peaceable means in the end. Again, to me the wording is important: Elwin didn't dominate the north and its people, and he didn't force them to submit to Rosarian rule while taking over their land as a Rosarian territory. He left them virtually the same as they were, he just went over there in retaliation of the war with Rosaria that they had started and calmed them the fuck down(forgive my bluntness) while also unifying them between themselves. He even went on to offer them aid in terms of resources and taking in refugees from up there!
I headcanon that taking Jill to Rosalith with her wasn't a bid for peace in a, "you're going to do what I say or I'll keep your daughter from you/hurt your daughter" sense, but in a, "your daughter can serve as a sort of ambassador or envoy for the north, and help bring our nations closer together" way.
I also may or may not headcanon that Elwin hoped that Jill would connect with Clive and Joshua to specifically bring the next generations of the North and Rosaria together, which may or may not have also led to a hope that maybe Clive and Jill would end up getting married... But even if neither son and Jill ended up married, my Elwin still did view Jill like a daughter.
Though one thing that will never change with my headcanons is that he has no intention of forcing Jill to like him, or view him in any positive light. He would actually understand if she hated him, given that he took her from her home, her family, and her people. He definitely doesn't expect her to view him as a father figure, and does believe that that position is one that King Warrick holds no matter what happens. She'll always be Silvermane's baby!
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diamandodusto · 9 months
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A Feast To The Gods [Final Fantasy XVI]
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A Feast to the Gods 
Genre : Tragedy, Fantasy, Angst, Hurt-Comfort, Romance
Rating : +18
Warnings : Violence, sexual content, death, nudity, pregnancy, miscarriage, strong language 
Characters : Clive Rosfield, Jill Warrick, Joshua Rosfield, Elwin Rosfield, Anabella Rosfield, Cid Telamon, Hugo Kupka, Dion Lesage, Beneditka Harman, Dyanne Hidgins… 
Pairings : Warfield (Clive / Jill), Harmon (Cid / Beneditka), Dionrrence (Dion / Terrance), Benekupka (Benedikta / Hugo), Hidfield (Dyanne / Clive), Barnadikta (Barnabas / Benedikta), Bardyanne (Dyanne / Barnabas) 
Synopsis : Ever since the Eikons walked over Valisthea, seen as either Gods amongst humans or monstrosities, the world has been held in a chokehold. Therefore, the end of the world seems to slowly draw itself, but instead of watching the world burn, some try to stop the irredeemable fate and assemble broken memories of what their life used to be. 
Note : Follows Final Fantasy 16’s General Story with a couple deviations. 
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CHARACTERS
Clive Rosfield : Eldest son of Anabella and Elwin Rosfield. House Rosfield. Dominant of Ifrit. 
Joshua Rosfield : Second son of Elwin and Anabella Rosfield. House Rosfield. Dominant of Phoenix. 
Jill Warrick : A ward of Rosaria and the Rosfield’. Dominant of Shiva. House Rosfield by alliance. 
Cid Telamon : Ex Lord Commander of Waloed, and leader of the Hideaway. Dominant of Ramuh. 
Dyanne Hidgins : Second daughter of Beatrix and Josiah. House Hidgins. Dominant of Leviathan. 
Dion Lesage : Prince of Sanbreque and eldest son. House Lesage, Dominant of Bahamut. 
Barnabas Tharmr : King of Waloed and Ash. House Tharmr. Dominant of Odin.
Sir Terence : Lord Commander of Dion and his lover. 
Sleipnir Harbard : Lord Commander of Barnabas and physical incarnation of his steed as Odin. 
Benedikta Harman : Ally of Barnabas and Chief of the Intelligencers. Dominant of Garuda. 
Hugo Kupka : Economic adviser of Dhalmekian Republic and lover of Benedikta. Dominant of Titan. House Kupka. 
Gav : Cid’s sidekick and scooter. 
Darius Hidgins : Eldest son of the Hidgins. Dyanne’s Shield. House Hidgins. 
Jacob Aryn : Colonel of Waloed's Army. House Aryn.
Bastin Aryn : First heir of the Aryn’. House Aryn. 
Ornela Aryn : Second heir of the Aryn’. House Aryn. 
Anael Aryn : Third heir of the Aryn’. House Aryn. 
Beatrix Hidgins : Darius and Dyanne’s mother. House Hidgins. 
Josiah Hidgins : Darius and Dyanne’s father. House Hidgins. 
Anabella Rosfield : Clive and Joshua’s mother. House Rosfield then Lesage. 
Elwin Rosfield : Archduke of Rosaria. Father of Clive and Joshua. House Rosfield. 
THE HOUSES 
House Rosfield : The Phoenix. Lords and governs Rosaria. Faith of the Eikons. Current head : Clive Rosfield. 
House Lesage : The Dragon. From the Holy Empire of Sanbreque. Governs the same region. Faith of Greagor. Current head : Sylvestre Lesage.
House Hidgins : The Sea Snake. Allies of the Rosfield and has lands in the same regions. Later alleged to Sanbreque. Faith of Leviathan, Eikons. Current head : Josiah Hidgins. 
House Tharmr : The Knight. Possesses Ash and Waloed. Faith of Ultima. Current head : Barnabas Tharmr. 
House Kupka : The Titan. From the Dhalmekian Empire. Current head : Hugo Kupka
House Aryn : The Stag. From Waloed. Faith of Eikons. Military house of Waloed and allies of House Tharmr. 
You can also read this on AO3 by clicking on this link : HERE.
A big thanks to : @damatheirin​ and @aria-lesage​ and my friend Ludrick for their help ! 
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Prelude
31 years prior 
The great assembly of people that day warmed Archduke Elwin’s heart, whilst his closest friend remained at his side. Young Clive Rosfield, only two years old, hardly remained steady next to the bigger stature of his father. On the other hand, Josiah Hidgins held a babe that was calm and quiet in his arms. A newborn nothing less, a tangible proof of his love for his wife and the fact he had an heir. Darius Hidgins, older than the babe by six years and therefore four by Clive, was trampling as he almost growled due to the bigger amount of noise that surrounded the court at this moment. Small, great folks, nobles, peasants, came to assist at the ceremony that occurred on the sunny summer day the skies blessed them with. 
“Welcome, people of Rosaria. Thou have been invited by House Rosfield to assist at the betrothal of my son, Clive, to the youngest of my dear friend, Dyanne. Our alliance shall strengthen the close bond between our families and soldiers. They shall marry at age, and then conceive an heir to assure their lineage when we will be old and senile.” 
The crowd cheered as Elwin picked up his son to put him on the up-lifted platform, so everyone could see, while Josiah, walked slowly to lay the babe before the very faces of those who stared at the infant’s traits… 
“May the Little Lord and Lady live long and healthy !” chanted the crowd. 
13 YEARS LATER
Dyanne stood as she watched her older brother and Clive swung the swords in sounds that’d made any tooth quiver as so disagreeable it was. Ever since her betrothal, the two children had blossomed into magnificent people whose beauties were deeply looked up to, admired even. Yet, Clive was despised by his own mother due to his lack of an Eikon. Whilst, Dyanne, showed signs early on of her being a Dominant. Of water. Leviathan. At first, Anabella attempted to break their arrangement to marry her to Joshua when he was to be of age. However, Elwin strictly refused it. 
Clive had a few friends to begin with. Darius, Jill, Dyanne, but that was it. Would he ever consider Joshua as a friend more than a brother ? Probably never, but all of this day was leading to the moment he’d be given the title of the Phoenix’s Shield. To make amends to his mother, but moreover, to his father who, even if he was proud of his son, endured his wife’s behaviour for his sake. “C’mon, brother!” shouted Darius, ten and nine of age, “show me off your so-said skills that give you so much admiration already!” 
Clive smiled smugly, cracking his joints and replacing his gloves, he dashed until Darius and attempted to peak his side with his wooden sword, which the latter dodged easily. Dyanne clapped in her hands, shouting both for her brother and her fiancé. However, Clive took the occasion, at his answer, to peak to his belly without any harm. 
“Oh, brother ! Are you really deserving of being my Shield if good Clive can beat you without all the training you’ve got from your fellows ?” she joked happily, making Clive laugh heartily, whilst Darius only let an unamused chuckle get out from his lips. 
Young Joshua and Jill came afterwards, sitting calmly next to Dyanne who continued to stare at both young people and her new neighbours. Jill hugged her tightly as Joshua began to cheer for his big brother as well. Making Dyanne’s heart flutter at the mere sound of this. The day was calm and quiet, yet full of excitement for the young people who lived in the castle. 
“Ladies and gentlemen! Shall you two stop this play ? Today is a big day for our new pretender, isn’t, Lord Rosfield ?” asked a man, taller than Clive, but with gentle traits and demeanour. Clive Suddenly stood straight, shoulders backwards, whilst Darius was way more relaxed. Leaning even on his sword’s hold. 
“Very much, yes, I’m in anticipation of our final trial, Lord Commander!” Rodney smiled, before drawing his own wooden blade and jumping above the fence to provoke Clive in his way to his new responsibility. The combat went smoothly, before the steps of chocobos went heard over the court, signaling the arrival of their Lord. 
“Father!” cried Joshua as he ran towards the latter, who picked him up quickly. Elwin walked proudly towards his firstborn, still holding the second. “Thus, Rodney, how has my son done so far ?” 
Rodney kneeled, keeping his face low despite his friendship with the Duke, Out of respect and to show the example to his comrades and lower graded soldiers. Yet, Elwin kindly asked him to get up on his legs, chuckling at the sight. “Unnecessary, truly.” Rodney smiled before answering the Archduke’s question. “This lad goes on very well, my Lord. He proved himself worthy of the Shields.” 
Elwin smiled gently at Clive before grabbing his shoulder proudly, the latter stepping backwards for a bit at the sudden gesture of his father, but nonetheless appreciating every second of it. “Then he shall find me in the throne room. Clive ?” the mere man nodded before agreeing and holding Torgal against him. “Yes, your Grace.”
The Archduke then walked towards his youngest, and his two guests. His future daughter-in-law kindly smiling to him. “How are you three ?” Jill answered she felt great, whilst Joshua jogged around to great his father and make it known he was fine as well. The cough didn’t get the best of him. “Fine, dear stepfather,” she called him. Elwin chuckled at the nickname, making Clive slightly blush when he turned back to hide his disturbance. 
“I shall appreciate this show of affection, Lady Dyanne. It is true, you will become my stepdaughter after Clive reaches his sixteenth spring. About duty, son, I will be waiting for your presence in the throne room, make haste.” Clive shook his head. “Yes, I will go as soon as I may.” 
Elwin departed, whilst Clive quickly followed after a quick talk with Joshua, Jill, and Dyanne. 
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CLIVE 
The boy ran almost nervously where his father waited for him. He didn’t want to see his mother, nor did he want to disappoint the only parent that ever looked up to him, at times his mother dismissed every effort he made. Yet, Clive Rosfield was also impatient and grew excited by the events planned on the morrow. He would go to Phoenix’s Gate to assure Joshua ascension, and watch his brother go through the gigantic doors. Bigger than those he was pushing at the moment, walking fast towards him, he then kneeled, which his father laughed about. 
“And you will lick my boots after ? Get on your legs, my boy, your poisonous mother isn’t there.” Clive let a slight sense of relief leave his lips before smiling to his father. Sure, both his sons weren’t troublesome in any ways, but Anabelle appreciated pushing a false fault on her eldest’s back just for the sake of it. “Father, I-… Is Joshua capable of going ? I worry about his health, as a shield but also as a brother, therefore I can’t imagine if anything sorts of as…” 
Elwin stopped him with a hand gesture. “You shall not worry, son, your brother is the Phoenix. None will ever come for him if not salvation as we know it. Just as my dear brother did, Clive. I understand your thoughts, but in these troubled times, worry isn’t required.” 
Clive blinked his eyes twice, trying to understand his father’s words for the better. Although, Elwin noticed his misunderstanding of the matter. “The nations. The Ironblood seems to become… agitated, whilst Waloed remains in conflict with Sanbreque, there’s no sign of us remaining untouched by all of these conflicts for our Mothercrystal. And your brother. I already asked Josiah to prepare his fleet in case of an attack, to limit the passage to our borders. But I know he can’t be everywhere at the same time.” 
Clive looked down to the ground, waiting on his father to pursue, but the latter remained silent. He knew;, Clive didn’t know war personally, but he knew better than his father did. But anxiety rose in his chest as he strengthened his grip to his sword's hold. “Will we have to flee from home in case of an attack?” Elwin shook his head. “No, son. But this something bad occurs, we will move to Hydrean Hill for a while. They can take Rosalith, but Hydrean Hill is surrounded by fleets plus our troops if we do move.” 
Clive sighted, relieved. Though he didn’t want to be elsewhere than home, he admitted openly it had been a time he visited Hydrean Hill and Josiah and Beatrix. “… Will my marriage be delayed in case of war?” Elwin seemed to think for a while, minutes even. But he crossed his fingers between one another and laid it on his chest. “No, it’ll even be turned into a haste. Joshua’s too young to marry and give an heir, and the agreement was the following : you marry Josiah’s sweet daughter and will give a son or a daughter. Therefore, your tender mother shall hope for a Dominant, on the opposite, this time she can’t dismiss the child. Beatrix wouldn’t let her do so.”
Clive smiled. He was nervous. Definitely. Of course, he knew he would have to marry just as he was told since he was an infant, but still. The day came closer and closer, and yet, he felt like a child again. Anxious and agitated. The girl was beautiful, sure, her face was harmonious, and they were excellent friends. Close even. Clive took his time to imagine himself a father for a bit, but, this moment was of short time. His own calling to him. “Dyanne’s on your thoughts, I guess ? Far away from me the idea of being indelicate and… grazing, but none can deny the girl is beautiful, Clive. She grew with you, knows you since you two can walk and talk. She took care of Joshua, a Dominant of none other than Leviathan. Likewise, she’s sweet, caring, daring. This marriage only makes further sense as I explain it, so what’s on your mind that bothers you, son ?” 
Clive twirled his fingers, a shiver running down his spine as his father pronounced his words. He was right, yes. But, was he worthy of her ? Of this woman ? She wouldn’t let him down in any case, and she’d be a wonderful mother… She was a sword wielder, and knew how to take care of herself. But, could he achieve what his father did ? Could he do so well ? “I wonder if I’ll make a good father, the day I become one… Considering how far away I might be because of duty…” 
Elwin laughed again, reassuring his son of his loud and dominant voice. “Be rested, my boy. There’s no babe yet, and you’ll see when the time comes by itself. As far as I know, you haven’t bedded the girl yet, have you? Therefore, no need to accuse further worry. Now, go find a bit of rest before your mother comes back. Say your goodbyes to Jill and Dyanne, wouldn’t you? I’ll stay here if you need me. My boy.” 
Clive became redder again slightly at the thought of bedding sweet Dyanne, but remained collected. “I will, Father. Thank you.” 
He then left. 
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DYANNE 
Night fell on Rosalith as she quickly made her way out of her chambers to get on the balcony. She wore her simple gossamer gown, her hair untied and freshly brushed by her ladies. Dyanne walked proudly towards the exterior, catching sight of Clive nearby, she opened her double-windowed doors before stepping outside and letting the cold hair invade her being. Clive turned around, just to see her face, and quickly brushed it off as his gaze remained on her uncovered shoulders. 
Of course, she was about to become his wife, his beloved as planned, but did it mean to become perverse ? No, absolutely not. He could not bear shame and disrespect to his childhood friend. His eyes had already caught the slight forms of her curves drawn through the fabric, and that was already enough to him. “I’m sorry, I was passing by, and I didn’t think I would wake you up, my Lady.” Dyanne gently shook her head, walking closer to Clive. She found it cute how he changed his sight to the pillar instead of her. To not look. 
“You did nothing, dearest Clive. I was awake, more precisely about to go to bed. You’re no bother. Mostly if we’re about to share a bed someday.” Clive smiled gently, before removing his jacket from his shoulders to place it smoothly on Dyanne’s shoulder. The brunette held it strong, humming the fragrance that escaped from it. “I wouldn’t want the Lady I’ll share a bed with to catch a cold. Have you been well ? We haven’t seen each other since my meeting with my father.” 
“It is true, how did it go?” Clive seemed to reflect on the question for a bit, finding his answers as Dyanne’s bright red eyes struck onto his. He liked the shades of red, but what captivated his blue orbs was the glow that was in it. Hypnotizing. “Fine, we talked about tomorrow. Yet, the shapes of war drawing nearer and nearer to our borders and what awaits us if something triggers it. I just wish the best for our safety to all. Father said our marriage would be in a haste if such occurs. Does that bother you, my Lady ?” she shook her head immediately. 
So fast, she thought she’d almost make it seem weird. Dyanne always held good feelings for Clive. Well, tender feelings even. But, she didn’t know if that was reciprocated even for one bit. Therefore, she never let a word slip. But the simple thought of marrying him, made her heart flutter furthermore. “No, no, dear, no. I am beyond happy we’ll become the pillars of our family bond. Though I… wondered many times how you felt about being wedded to me.” 
Clive opened his mouth in a perfect “o” shape. He never thought she’d think about this question. Even further, that he’d come to question this. How he felt ? That was a good question. Evidently, he held her in high regard and would not put their union in perspective. If not, he would've talked to his father about the matter a while ago already. But Clive being Clive, sure he wouldn’t question it. But this, made him. 
There was no negative about this. “I don’t feel any resentment or else, if you’d wonder. My Lady. I don’t feel forced. I hope I’ll just make a good spouse and Father to…” she chuckled. “The heir ? Don’t be so bothered by it, Dear Clive. It is only a part of a marriage. My mother always told me women’s battlefields were in the chambers and not on soils sinned by blood.” 
Clive smiled kindly, before feeling the arms of Dyanne wrapping around his torso. He stepped back, yet not removing the girl from his chest. That was agreeable, he couldn’t deny. Yet, embarrassment filled him up. She smelled like vanilla with hits of strawberry. He hummed her smooth curly hair, before she raised her face to his. “Don’t straighten yourself, you’ll get hurt. If you are so shy hugging me, how we’ll do when the time comes to conceive that heir we talk about so much ?” 
He blushed furiously, before pouting a bit in his cheeks. “It’s not the same thing…! My duty as a man, and my own actions, aren’t to be mixed up…” he continued to become redder and redder, making Dyanne laugh at the same occasion. “In case, my dear, you should get used to having hands on me to prepare yourself.” Clive furrowed, not sure whether he understood. “This is perverse to me, to touch you without being wed.” 
She shook her head negatively. “Have I talked about perversion ? An embrace would not hurt anybody, even less cause an illegitimate child whatsoever. Before any duties, you are my friend. And knowing my friend will go to Phoenix’s Gate for days long, I will linger from your presence for as long you’re gone. There’s no perversion in this gesture, or please, do not see it as such, it is only a loving embrace I give you.” 
Clive was stunned, before feeling his lips curling upwards and shyly putting his hands on her shoulders to return the movement she did. He held her close at first, but then she made a step back before waving him goodbye and getting back into her room. 
“Sweet dreams, my Lady.” 
Next Chapter : HERE. 
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thatndginger · 5 months
Note
Happy STS spooky edition! What would your OCs give out to trick or treaters? Who turns the porch light off? Gives raisins? Or hides to give the kids a jumpscare?
Thank you for the ask, Vee, and apologies that it took me so long to get to it!
Canonically, the Shapeshifter trio *love* Halloween. The only problem is, they all prefer to go out to adult parties and get intro trouble on Halloween, so I’m gonna pretend that they’re now all Too Old for parties and shenanigans, so they’ve graduated to staying at home and enjoying a quieter celebration of the best holiday.
Warrick - is gonna be that person who dresses up like a scarecrow or a chair or smth and stands completely still until a kid approaches the door. He won’t freak out the tiny kids, but the older ones are free game for a good-natured scaring. He’s a neighborhood favorite because he has full-sized candy bars and ‘exotic’ candies from other countries.
Jay - doesn’t dress up, but she decorates her door and lets the kids take as much candy as they want. Compliments each kid on their costume, even the ones that are characters she doesn’t know. Has ‘special’ candy for parents if they want to indulge in some lightly-alcoholic fun.
Kerr - usually tag-teaming with Warrick to jumpscare the older kiddos. Full-sized candy or bust, though he might throw in some ‘trick’ candy like those godawful mystery Jelly Beans or smth for shits and giggles.
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Text
Things Fall Apart
Rising From the Ashes - Chapter 2
 (Previous Chapter)
Rated: T
Fandom: Final Fantasy 16, Final Fantasy XVI, FF16
Pairing: Clive Rosfield x Jill Warrick
Story Summary: Clive returned from the final battle victorious, and more importantly, alive. According to Jill, it still felt as if she'd been thrust into a lofty dream by having her love safely back in her life yet saving the world from certain doom didn't mean all their troubles ended there. Now with rumors of Joshua's survival spreading across the land, it seemed there was more work to be done than ever before.
Chapter Summary: Clive was finally awake. A cause for celebration to be sure but just because he'd come back to her in more or less one piece did not make Clive's new handicap, as well as his insurmountable grief, any easier to deal with.
<<<<>>>>>
As wonderful as it was to have Clive finally awake, the following days were anything but.
It hurt Jill's heart to admit, but it was apparent that the fight with Ultima left Clive painfully weak and rather volatile like a cornered injured animal.
Muscles and movements stiff, his entire body aching horribly even if he did his damnedest to not show it outwardly. Covered with bloody gauze and plasters over bruises and healing cuts littering his flesh from the fight did little to deter her from noticing the pale parlor of his face. The skin under his eyes bruised an alarming dark violet in pure exhaustion yet he forced himself to climb out of bed soon after he awoke from a nine day coma. A mask of stoicism allowing him to act as if he wasn't the main participant in a battle to the death in order to save the entire realm from utter destruction a little more than a week prior.
Not to mention, Clive was also in a horrid mood.
And at first, Jill said nothing. Allowing himself to work through his own difficulties without pushing or hovering over him too much to get him on the defensive. Clive had always been a stubborn arse at the best of times so hoping to deter him from getting back any sort of independence was not going to help anyone. Least of all, Clive, so Jill allowed it for now.
Byron was so happy at Clive's improvement. His older uncle eager to have his nephew up, awake and seemingly back to normal. Yet as the days progressed, there was a fatherly concern lacing those eyes as Clive jumped right back into the role of fearless leader as if he never left his post.
Gav was over the moon to have Clive awake. Remaining eye swelling with emotion as he hugged Clive tightly when he'd joined the mess to partake in the morning meal with the rest of the Hideaway's residents. Yet Gav pulled back quickly upon feeling the man's barely hidden flinch of pain from that action alone. Happiness soured into worry in Gav's green eye even with Clive's assurances of merely being sore. The way Clive acted as if absolutely nothing was amiss only made Gav all the more concerned.
Mid was super cheerful once Clive was back to his feet. Cid's daughter merrily began ordering Clive around to do her bidding just like old times. The relief in her eyes at having her item-fetcher back to her aid began waning though when even the energetic girl began to recognize how quickly Clive grew tired from even the smallest task. Her thin blonde brows furrowing in anxiety at how the man took to leaning on her drafting table when she'd talk an isle-a-minute about her new airship project.
Tarja, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding her disappointment at Clive's blatant refusal to obey her strict order of bedrest. Infuriated when Clive had even managed to tear open a few stitches doing menial tasks around the Hideaway. Even as she bandaged him closed again, threatening to hogtie his arse to the bloody bed until he was fully healed, Clive had disappeared from the infirmary a mere hour later.
From Jill's perspective, it was obvious Clive was dealing with equal parts exhaustion and grief weighing heavily on his over-burdened shoulders.
Yet Clive never let the mask of fearless leader falter.
Clive, not wanting to appear weak, never gave himself time to adjust to his lack of Eikons he relied on so heavily over the years. Not to mention the loss of one hand, which upset his very balance; she could only fathom how it was affecting his battle stance and use of the sword even if it wasn't his dominant hand he'd lost. But of course, being the stubborn arse of a man he tended to be, Clive began almost immediately pushing himself past the brink. Over-exerting himself by taking on jobs he wasn't near well enough to perform yet. Small tasks like fetching rare items on the cliffs of Sanbreque soon became monster hunting in the war torn fields of Rosaria. Fights that wouldn't even have him breaking a sweat before his fight with Ultima were now bringing him home with horrid wounds and Clive dragging his feet, nearly on the brink of collapse.
It went on a week like this.
Jill merely bit her lip as she'd fall asleep nestled by his side yet wake up to ice cold sheets when he'd always been the one who tended to sleep in past sunrise. At first, she assumed it was because he'd slept for over a week straight upon his return, but Clive's lack of sleep now became plainly apparent by his so few hours of actual rest. The man running on artificial energy supplied by him ingesting more potions and elixirs as the days trudged on, taking them merely to keep himself on his feet and moving.
Sluggish and exhausted but doing his damnedest to hide it behind his stoic facade, Clive pushed himself to the brink of fatigue. It was only a matter of time before it was easy for anyone to see that it all was becoming too much for Clive to handle yet no one in the Hideaway had the heart to tell him to stop.
Other than Jill that is, and after yet another close call on the battlefield, she'd had quite enough of his ridiculous behavior…
<<<<>>>>>
"This isn't healthy, Clive. You need to stop." Jill stated with all the pomp of a duchess.
Arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glared down at him where he sat alongside Gav pouring over maps marked with lines and circles of charcoal showcasing new monster hunts and hoards needing to be dealt with. Dressed in all his regal red and black armors with his faithful sword Invictus sheathed upon his back used to be such a welcomed sight, but the fact he was knocking on death's door only a dozen moons ago made it anything but.
The fresh blood stained plaster attached to his swollen, reddened cheek from a close call with a King Goblin wasn't helping his image either.
Gav went utterly silent at her sudden interruption. The utter relief that flooded his worried face at her intervention thankfully didn't garner Clive's attention.
Clive instead glanced up from the map to look at her with a wrinkle between his furrowed brows, "What are you going on about? Stop what?"
The genuine confusion in his eyes would have been adorable and made her back down a week ago, but now it only infuriated her at his pigheadedness. "You need to stop participating in the monster hunts," she stated firmly.
"What?" Clive looked at her incredulously, "Are you serious? Why would I not? These monsters need to be dealt with immediately, Jill! They're already pushing past the barriers in the Imperial Markets. It's only a matter of time until they break through the soldier's stronghold and destroy the entire town."
"Let the Cursebreakers and the Guardians of the Flame deal with it. You yourself stated they were more than willing to fight for the cause."
"...So what am I supposed to do? Just stay here and do nothing to help?"
"Yes," she stated with all the seriousness of a heart attack.
Clive let out a bark of laughter of pure bewilderment, "You want all these people to die? The monsters that are attacking can't be trifled with and most of the Cursebreakers are not ready to deal with their overwhelming numbers."
"Then have Wade and the remaining Shields start training them."
"With what time? They could be invading the town as soon as two sunrises from now based on the latest report Gav received."
"Well, that's plenty time to gather more reinforcements. I could help send out more missives and Lord Byron's connections are more than willing to send a few of their own men. They could make it in time before they even closed in on the town." Jill offered.
Clive let out a sigh, his face showcasing his pure bafflement yet Jill didn't back down even when he outright glared at her, "Jill. Seriously. What the bloody hell brought all this on? You can't keep me from helping my men. Who do you think you are, my mother?"
A layer of Shiva's diamond dust felt warmer than the chill that suddenly scattered over the silent room.
Instead of lashing out, Jill let out a long breath to try and taper down the anger and hurt knowing in her heart Clive would never say such a thing before all this shite went down with Ultima, "Gav, will you please give me a moment alone with Clive?"
Gav nearly tripped upon his own two feet from getting up too fast. "Of course! Ya know, I think Tarja needed assistance with a new poultice she'd been working on! I-I'll be back later to help you finish this up, Clive! See ya 'round, Jill!" he said with a sloppy salute before he took off out the doors like the fire of Hell was nipping at his heels.
The door made a loud thunk as it slammed behind Gav's retreating form.
It was the first time she could ever recall Clive looking upset at her, the purple bags that looked like fresh bruising under his shadowed eyes was even darker than it was yesterday. Eyes bloodshot and hand shaking as he placed the quill back in its inkpot. Shoulders hunched and tense as if expecting a fight even if he was safely in their chambers at the Hideaway.
Jill's anger waned. Clive looked awful…
The man in question lowered his head in shame, biting his lip before opening his mouth, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that last part, I swear it." he apologized in a soft wavering voice after Gav's retreating steps faded.
Jill didn't reply, merely crossed her arms tighter across her chest where it felt like her heart just shattered in its confines. He sounded so broken.
Gathering his bearings, Clive let out a quick breath before his displeasure returned to his expression in the midst of her silence, "My apologies, but Jill, I would never…" he tapered off for a moment before looking at her with a determined visage, "I'm sorry but you don't understand. We need to get this done immediately! It cannot wait or the entire town could be turned to akashic if this problem isn't resolved! The world isn't going to save itself."
Jill's arms fell. Fists clenching at the stubborn lit of his voice and, using the most dirty trick of all, weaponizing Cid's words against her. She couldn't help her voice from rising in her ire, "And what about you?"
Clive looked bewildered and that merely pissed her off, "What about me? This is my duty, it needs to get done."
"But you're hurt! You are in no condition to be dealing with such matters!" Jill's voice nearly turned shrill, heart hammering and she wanted nothing more than to physically throttle this stubborn arse of a man in hopes it would push some damn sense into him.
"It doesn't matter about my condition! I'm still breathing so I might as well make myself useful, right? I will get this done regardless of what you may think otherwise." Clive looked away from her before speaking the last part.
Standing to his full height, Jill instantly noticed how he swayed a bit to the left before correcting himself by placing his only functional hand firmly on the desk. The other stoned appendage at his side, the gray parlor of his hardened skin hidden away in a newly fitted leather glove Blackthorne had crafted for him to hide his affliction.
Jill's hands shook, "Oh really? You want to fight hoards of akashic when you can barely stand up without assistance? Even if me and Gav and all the others are there to help you, all it takes is one moment of distraction to end a life. Why risk it?"
Clive sighed and the exhaustion and even worse, acceptance, laced his dark blue eyes, "Jill… Please. I'll be ready to fight. I've been doing this most of my life, should you forget. I'll be fine. I'm merely tired is all."
"That's not it and you know it!" Jill hands furiously tightened, nails digging half moons in her palms as she tried to damnedest to fight back the burning of tears growing in the backs of her eyes. Looking up at him, she stared into his exhausted face before continuing, "I swear, Clive, if you keep this up, I fear you'll do irreversible damage not even Tarja can fix! You can't keep pushing your body this way!"
Clive bit his lip before putting back on his mask of stoic leader and stating firmly, "I'm fine, Jill."
"No, you're not!" she screamed in frustration, fists trembling at her sides as her eyes sparkled with tears.
Clive's expression pinched at seeing her tears but he still replied, "Yes, I am. Now, this discussion is over. I need to get prepared to leave before the hoards gain more ground. Gav and the Cursebreakers need my instructions and get their weapons saw to by Blackthorne before we depart for Dhalmekia. So, if you'll please excuse me…" Clive tried to brush past her but Jill refused to let him go.
Shiva's Dominant jumped back in front of him. Her hands grabbing the cloth covering his chest as she completely fell apart, "Clive. Don't. Please." Jill's screaming turned into a pitiful sob, hating the burn of tears finally slipping down her cheeks as she pulled angrily at his leather armor as if her physical touch could make him simply understand.
"Come on, Jill…" Clive's voice sounded so resigned.
"Please, let me send out missives right now to ask for help. I'll go in your place while you stay here," Jill begged, staring up at his face as Clive continued his refusal to meet her eyes.
"No, Jill. I'm going." Clive grasped hard to the mask he tried to keep to fool everyone but it didn't work on her. There was a crack in the stoneware that only she could see, yet he clung to it, forcing himself to accept the role of leader that he never should have been forced to take.
"Clive, please, I…" Jill's face crumbled as she wailed out, "I-I don't want to lose you! I can't…" she sobbed, her head leaning forward to rest on his sternum. Fists trembling as they grasped at his shirt as she pressed her ear to his heartbeat. Forced to recall those 13 years when she believed he was dead and just a few weeks ago when Metia flickered out and she feared she'd lost him again, this time for good.
Yet he came back as he promised and now here he was ready to leave with the readiness of one who might not make it back, especially going to fight in his piss poor condition his body was in.
"You're not losing me, Jill. I'll be back by tomorrow night. I promise." Clive's voice trembled ever so slightly as he gently grasped her hand, ever so carefully removing her hands one at a time from his clothing and as much as Jill fought to hold on, they fell back at her sides.
Clive let out a long sigh, his warm breath caressing her cheek and that only made her sob harder. "Please, don't leave…" she begged.
"Jill, I promise, I'll be back." he swore even if his voice wavered. Clive reached with his good hand towards her, fingers so gentle as they brushed away her tears. Leaning towards her, he kissed away the tears on her cheeks before he chastely kissed her mouth, "I love you," he whispered against her lips before simply walking away.
Clive was headed towards the door when Jill could simply take it no more and shouted at him, "Do you really believe this is what Joshua wanted!?"
Everything halted, Clive's hand frozen atop the door handle.
It was the first time anyone had spoken his brother's name since the day he died…
Jill couldn't be stopped in her righteous anger, "Joshua gave up his power, his life, so that you could live! And now it's as if you're in a rush to die! Ready to martyr yourself at the first opportunity! D-Do you really wish to join him that badly, Clive?" Jill whimpered, hand fisted in front of her lips as she could do nothing but stare at the wooden planks beneath her feet as molten wet tracks made their way silently down her face. "Even if it means leaving everyone behind? …even me?"
All was completely silent for a long time. Jill stood there, hands covering her mouth as tears leaked in rivers down her face. Clive was akin to a statue before she saw that facade crack when he finally turned around.
Clive Rosfield looked back at her for only a moment before, like a puppet whose strings were suddenly cut, his legs folded underneath him.
Instantly, Jill sprung to his side as he collapsed into a heap with his back against to the closed door. "Oh Founder! Clive, are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she whimpered, shaking hands running over his body to check for any injuries.
Upon finding none, and questioning why Clive wasn't answering her, she finally looked at his face only to see trickling tears leaking in small rivulets from his bloodshot eyes. The bloody plaster upon his cheek sodden and ruined amidst his salty tears and yet he remained utterly silent.
The sight ripped her heart in half.
"Oh, Clive…My love… My darling, please…" Jill muttered as she reached out to him, fingers brushing back his hair as she gently wiped his tears that didn't seem to stop.
Clive didn't respond. Lip wobbling as his mask of stoicism shattered and the grief that he'd pushed back since he awoke returned with a vengeance. Clive's chin fell towards his sternum, he curled up on himself yet Jill wouldn't have it. She pressed herself bodily between his legs and held him as tight as he would allow. His tears soaked her shirt, pooling in her collarbone as his grief became too much for him to bear.
"I'm so sorry, Jill… I'm sorry, J-Joshua…" he wailed and Jill could do nothing but cry silently with him. Her fingertips weaving through his locks and the other rubbing circles into his heaving back in what she hoped was comfort.
Clive's head rested on her shoulder as he began voicing his sorrows into her throat, "I know my body is weak. I know I physically can't do this now. I just - I j-just feel so fucking u-useless, Jill! I'm supposed to be strong! That's all I've ever had that anyone cared to see in me. It's all I've known! All I've been my entire damn life. A Shield, a soldier, a killing machine…a fucking monster. Now I don't have any of that…" Clive pulled his face back up and looked at her. His expression was laced with pure misery, grief and he looked so damn young - so utterly lost. "Now what am I?"
Jill gently cupped his handsome face in her hands, being careful not to press too hard into the plaster on his healing wound. Thumbs brushing the tears that continued to leak down his face before she answered him.
"...You're Clive…" Jill whispered with the softest smile. "And that's all I need you to be and ever want you to be…You don't need to be anything else and I'm sure Joshua would agree… I know he would."
As if answering the call, a sudden flickering light drew Clive's attention to the mantle Jill had placed the Phoenix Feather upon his return. Its ethereal light glowing brighter as if in agreement before it suddenly flickered back to its original state.
All was silent before Clive whispered, "Joshua…Oh, Joshua… I'm so sorry…" before burying his face in her shoulder.
Jill she said nothing as his tears soddened her shirt. Merely held him close as she allowed him to fall apart, to finally allow himself to grieve and hopefully allow himself to live out his life like she knew Joshua would have wanted him to.
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eddieheart · 2 years
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NEW BEGINNINGS
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Fandom: CSI Las Vegas
Pairings: NONE
Words: 649
Description: The night crew gets a new CSI
She walked into the building, body filled with nerves. The receptionist was kind and didn't make her sit for too long.
The receptionist pointed her in the direction of Mr. Grissom's office so she started her trek into the unknown building. She was told that she'd know which room was his because it was ‘full of weird stuff, like dead things in jars and bugs'.
She left her hair down that morning in hopes of seeming more laid back and less 'intimidating'.
Wearing a tight long sleeved shirt with a waistcoat and pants, she made her way to the office at the end of the hall.
It was darkly lit and filled with tanks. Diagrams covered the walls and plants hung down around them.
She knocked timidly on the open door but got no answer, no one was inside. Curiosity struck her and she couldn't help but walk inside. Her eyes skimmed through the shelves.
She had loved bugs as a child so some were familiar to her, others not so much. She leaned forward, not touching the glass enclosures but watching the little creatures scurry.
She felt a presence behind her, someone was there.
"Asbolus Verrucosus, the desert ironclad beetle. Also known as-." She glanced behind her shoulder and cut him off.
"Blue death feigning beetle." She stood up straighter and face him. She glanced between him and the floor nervously. "Sorry. It's lovely to meet you Mr.Grissom."
She smiled up at him and held her hand out for him to shake. He did with a smile of his own before walking to his desk and motioning for her to sit across from him.
"You have an interest in insects as well, Mrs. Carsons?" He asked.
"Yes, a little. Not as extensive as yours, and you can call me Jo." She gave him a tight lipped smile as he nodded.
"Well, it's lovely to meet you Jo. I'll introduce you to the rest of the team before I set you up with someone." She nodded and followed him out.
Following the older man down the winding hallway, she found herself in what seemed to be a break room. There was about five people sitting at a round table.
"Guys this is CSI Jo Carsons. These are CSIs Nick Stokes, Cathrine Willows, Warrick Brown, Sara Sidle and Greg Sanders." She nodded in greeting towards her new coworkers.
"You can just call me Jo." One of the men stood and walked up to her, he held out his hand.
"Nick Stokes ma'am, pleasure to meet ya." She smiled back at him while shaking his hand.
The others made their way over after, each pleasant enough. She shook their hands after every introduction.
"Warrick."
"Cathrine. Nice to meet you Jo."
"Sara Sidle."
"And I'm Greg. I gotta say Jo is a beautiful name for a beautiful lady." She smiled and cringed internally.
The guy seemed nice enough but she wasn't one that appreciated men staring at her instead of working with her.
"Jo today I'm gonna have you with Nick and Cathrine. Greg you're with Rick and Sara." She nodded and followed the others out.
"We'll get you a case, I think we got a spare 'round here somewhere." Nick gave her a friendly smile.
After grabbing the case they went out to a van and then traveled to the crime scene. She sat in the back while the other two sat in front.
"Is Greg always like that?" Jo asked timidly.
Catherine chuckled and leaned forward Nick doing the same.
"Yeah he's like that with pretty much ever woman he meets." Cathrine said
Jo thought for a moment before speaking.
"He sounds like a walking sexual harassment case." That only made the other two laugh harder.
"You ain't wrong Jo." Nick said in between bursts of laughter.
They were both quite kind to her. Maybe she'll actually like working here.
My fantastic Beta-Reader @buggylad helped so so much with this fic, special thanks to you.
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freshtomatoesddd · 2 years
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"The White Princess," "The Spanish Princess" and why my fanfics are cheesy royalty garbage. LONG POST.
Preface: I'm well aware that the institution and ideas of monarchy are outdated. This post is not an endorsement, rather my incoherent ramblings gushing over the stories that came from these time periods.
I've had an interest in history for as long as I remembered. The older the civilization, the more fascinated I am with it. What boggled my then child mind was the idea that one person could be chosen by god(s) to rule over a realm, and that their entire family was born to hold power. Not just their family, but the families of other 'nobles' throughout the ancient till medieval world. This once commonly held idea shaped the course of human history until Napoleon started spreading revolutionary ideas through his conquests (seeds which lead to the downfall of many European monarchies)
But what the hell does this have to do with TV shows or my fanfictions? We're getting there. But just know that actual historical events heavily influenced those shows, even if they took many creative liberties.
Introducing The White Princess:
"The White Princess" was a production by Starz (bottle yard studios. Interesting name) based on a book of the same name, which in turn was based on the life of Elizabeth of York straight off the heels of the wars of the roses.
What the hell is that? Basically a cousins war that started between two branches of the then English royal family. The then Earl of Warrick turned against king Henry VI after he married Elizabeth Woodville, Elizabeth of York's mother, in secret.
Long story short: Elizabeth's family, the Yorkists, were heirs to the throne of England but were usurped by their relative and uncle Richard. He crowned himself Richard III after claiming that Elizabeth's brother, Edward, was illegitimate. Elizabeth's mother then struck a deal with her family's ancestral enemy, a Lancastrian named Margaret Beaufort. Their children, Henry VII and Elizabeth of York, will marry to end the decades long cousins war.
Elizabeth's brothers, Edward and Richard, were locked up in the tower of London by Richard III. It was said he killed them to ensure his security on the throne, though in the books/show it was Margaret who ordered their deaths. Their bodies were never found.
In the show Elizabeth of York had a love affair with Richard III. Which is creepy, but not totally unusual for the time. She hated Henry VII for killing him, and wished they never marry. Henry VII returned those feelings and threatened to break the marriage treaty between them, though they were eventually persuaded to out of fear England would fall into another civil war.
The absolute CRACK that is this show:
If you know me, then you know I'm a sucker for opposites attracts and high-tension character dynamics. And this show? OH BOY, did it DELIVER.
Henry and Elizabeth started out absolutely hating each other. Her mother and her placed a 'curse' on the Tudor linage which doomed the male line of their family, that's how much she hated Henry. Henry, being the petty bitch that he was, returned those feelings by slut-shaming her for her past relationship with Richard. However, once they got married and Elizabeth gave birth to a son, Henry began softening up.
Footnote: it was imperative for a ruling monarch at the time to sire male heirs. They considered daughters 'useless,' because they were thought incapable of continuing dynasties. It's all super fucking sexist, but such was Tudor England.
Elizabeth first thought to use her husband's newfound affection to manipulate him. But after realizing it meant destroying her son's future, she threw herself into mending her marriage. Henry was eager to do the same, as they realized they had a lot in common and complimented each other's weaknesses. I kid you not, I screamed so many times they kissed or even touch. They came so far FR.
After a time-skip and two more kids (though historically Elizabeth had six more before dying delivering her final one) they've grown closer than ever. Henry's affection for Elizabeth is so obvious, that in both the show and historical records, it was said that people could see it from a mile away. Elizabeth reciprocated his love equally, often sharing a bed with him at a time where it was unusual for a royal couple to.
GOD. They're just SO FUCKING CUTE.
There was this episode where Henry was facing rebellion. Elizabeth read a note from her mother and looked distraught. Then Henry, THE FUCKING KING, KNELT down on HIS KNEES to ask her what's wrong. It might seem small to us now, but back then it was UNPRECEDENTED for a king to do that for anyone.
Half his troops deserted when he went to fight off the rebellion, favoring the guy who claimed to be England's rightful king instead (Henry was unpopular so people jumped at the chance to rise against him) You wanna know what Elizabeth did? SHE RODE TO THE DESERTING TROOPS AND GAVE A PASSIONATE SPEECH, URGING THE MEN TO SIDE WITH THEIR KING AND HER, THEIR QUEEN. AND IT WORKED!!!! Thousands of men RETURNED all because Elizabeth delivered a speech in her husband's name. If that's not romantic irdk what it.
Just watch the show y'all, it's literally AMAZING.
The Spanish Princess. AKA Catherine and Henry's dramatic love affair.
Footnote: The Henry in this section is Henry VIII, not his father Henry VII.
Catherine of Aragon was the daughter of the legendary Isabella of Castile and Ferdinand of Aragon. She was betrothed to Arthur, crown prince of England, her whole life and was trained accordingly. She couldn't imagine a life where she wasn't Queen of England. Sadly, her husband dropped dead three months into their marriage. Things were looking up though, because prince Henry is a manwhore and started giving her bedroom eyes as soon as his brother died.
I'm not gonna lie, I had no idea what was happening for most of season 1. Everything happened so fast and all at once, that the only thing I could process was Henry and Catherine's unbridled affection for one another. I really have no words to describe just how much they desired each other, how their dynamic was so fun to watch, how they complimented each other so well. Like, just watch it for yourself and you'll see what I mean.
Every time, EVERY TIME Henry looks at Catherine, he looks at her with so much love and devotion it's almost impossible to comprehend. This man, who we came to know as a wife-killing narcissist, fell absolutely head over heels for her. And it was historically accurate too! Many accounts said their marriage was was great (till Catherine entered menopause before giving birth to sons)
But Henry didn't discard Catherine as soon as their first son died. he was hopeful they'd have more, and there was nothing indicating they'd suffer four miscarriages. Both of them were crushed each time, but Henry got increasingly paranoid. He was only the second Tudor king, he needed an heir to continue his dynasty (in adherence with the bullshit laws of his time anyway) So it was only after Catherine stopped being able to get pregnant did he start eyeing Anne Boleyn.
Footnote: This in NO WAY excuses how he treated Catherine in their later years. Henry was considered to be a smart, enlightened man by most accounts, but totally FAILED to challenge the misogynistic beliefs of his time. He let his insecurity get the better of him, and that's his fault 100%
But before all the tragedy, it was almost painful to watch them falling in love. We have hindsight, but they didn't. So watching them genuinely care about one another in the most tender of ways, UGH, it's just too much bro.
What the hell does any of this have to do with my fanfics?
It's no secret that I love employing drama in my stories, but I bet you didn't know I pull from history half the time. Well, not exactly. I don't copy it 100% but I often use it as a foundation for what will happen. This explains why everything is so balls to walls, and why anything related to royalty is taken way too seriously.
It also explains why tyzula, in my fics, is so fucking dramatic. Because I love drama, I fucking love that star-crossed lovers crushed by tragedy bullshit. I fucking LOVE IT when the main couple have to overcome differences and come to a mutual understanding, I go FERAL when they show tenderness by kneeling or kissing the other's hand. I go BERSERK when they're about to separate and have dramatic goodbyes, I froth at the mouth CRAZY when something is at stake and they have to make sacrifices. WHY???? Because I was raised watching that cheesy shit, that's why, by shows MUCH older than the two I mentioned above. The reason I pulled up those two shows was to give you an idea on what kind of media influences my story choices. And as you can tell, it's CRAZY dramatic.
In conclusion, I believe this picture perfectly sums up how passionately I feel about drama in romance-period pieces:
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