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miyakosora · 8 months

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Day 1 - Envoy

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She didn’t mind the extra company…really… --- --- --- Just a cross-world trip with her three best friends...that is...if they could ever get out of the city limits. --- --- --- Azem(Oc/Persephone), Elid --- --- --- Word Count: 790

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Day 1

Envoy - a messenger or representative, especially one on a diplomatic mission.

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“Are you sure you're ready to travel this far? Once we leave the city it’ll be safer to keep a low profile.”

She should be grateful that this was her ‘punishment’ instead of another censor. It would be nice to finally get out of the city and back on the road. To travel towards the endless sky towards destinations unknown…but…

“Of course! We don’t want to attract unwanted attention. No grand feats of creation magic while on the road!” Elidibus was already bursting with enthusiasm. “Our trip will be passing by the island with the grapes, I do hope we have time to stop by and taste them.”

She didn’t mind the extra company…really…

“I’ll say, I’ve been looking forward to these grapes since I first heard of their existence.”

“She should have left the damned island to its destruction as the Convocation desired.”

Hytho shrugged while Hades pinched the bridge of his nose.

Really she didn’t mind the company per say…

…but this was exactly how she expected the trip to go.

She had been placed in charge of escorting Elidibus as an envoy to another city. I.E. the other members of the Convocation saw this as a perfect opportunity to dump their youthful member onto her.

Jokes on them, she much preferred his company to the others.

…speaking of the others.

Naturally, Hades had decided the trip would be too long and treacherous for the two of them to take alone. He ‘convently’ had work to do in the area, and needed to make sure she was held accountable for her previous actions.

She’d almost preferred to be censored.

Finally, their darling Hythlodaeus had joined on a whim. Though she assumed he wouldn’t be left out of the chaos that was about to ensue.

“Alright, gentlemen when we reach other towns outside the cities we should reframe from our titles. People from outside Amaurot can be hesitant to the Convocation. I don’t want to stir up too much trouble for them, I can’t image how frightened they’d be by three members showing up unannounced.”

“It’ll be a fun vacation, throwing titles and pretense to the wind.”

“As if they wouldn’t recognize the Chief Architect.”

“And the illustrious Emet-Selch doesn’t have an ounce of fame to his name?”

Kore let out a nervous laugh before clasping her hands together trying her best to regain control of the situation.

“Okay gentlemen, let's settle down.” Trying to take a calm approach this time. “We’ve got a long trip ahead of us. We should head out while those spirits are burning bright.”

After all, they hadn’t even left the city yet.

“Our first course of action is getting Themis to his destination. After that if and only if time allows will we make stops. The Convocation will be wanting a full report, and they expect everyone to be on their best behavior.”

“Does that include you, or is that a veiled threat at our dear Kore.”

Oh for Star’s sake Hytho.

The vein in Hade’s forehead threatened to pop. A perfect summary of how this trip was going to go. The two started bickering like the old married couples she’d met on her travels.

“Boys, we’ll never make it to our first destination before dark if we-” She didn’t bother wasting her breath as the two continued. She dropped her shoulders with a sigh and turned towards Themis. Fixing the bag on her hips she kneeled down. “Come on Themis, I don’t want to sleep on the ground and Lahabread will have my head and my seat if you don’t arrive on time.”

He motioned to move in before pausing. She glanced up at his apprehensive face.

“...Aren’t I getting a little old for you to carry me, Kore?”

She tried not to be taken aback by the question. Sure he was a growing young man, but he still had several years before he’d reach up to her in height and stamina.

“Nonsense, and I’ll put you down as soon as we’ve reached a safe distance from those two. Now come on, I wouldn’t mind stopping by that island for some grapes.”

“If you say so Kore.”

It took a little more effort for her to hoist him onto her back. Perhaps he had gotten a little heavier since their last trip together…how long ago had that been? Nevermind. It wasn’t important. He was a growing boy and it wouldn’t be much longer before he would be trusted to make his envoys alone.

She’d certainly miss his boyish optimism.

“Kore, is it okay to just leave the two of them behind like that?”

“Don’t worry they’ll catch up in a little while. I just wanted to spend some quality time with you.”

#final fantasy 14 #ffxivwrites2023 #azem oc #ffxivwrites #ff14fanfic #fanfic #ffxivfanfic #elidibus #endwalker spoilers #emet selch #hythlodaeus #hades ffxiv #themis #warrior of light oc #persephone azem #azem #ffxiv azem

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yaelleffxiv · 10 months

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Hi all, so I wrote something and forgot to say anything here, oops :3

So this kicks off right at the end of 6.0 follows the events in a mostly lore-compliant way, and follows my WoL in the aftermath while she struggles with memories and dreams from the past, PTSD and her feelings towards G'raha Tia and Emet-Selch.

5 chapters up, 6 on the way. Oh, and it's explicit and might have one gposed pic per chapter. I love hearing if people enjoyed it so please do share your thoughts if you did.

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ievaxol · 2 years

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The last chapter of my wolcred fic is up! If resolved sexual tension, there was only one bed and a helping of hurt/comfort if your thing, look no further >>LINK<<

#wolcred #wol x thancred #thancred waters x warrior of light #ffxivfanfic #rambles #mine writing

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crystalsexarch · 3 years

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Six: Avatar - E

You have some nerve, Hades. Blushing like a virgin.

Allow me just this once to play the role.

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Explicit. Second-person ambiguous WoL. Despite their differences, the Crystal Exarch and Emet-Selch pine for the same Warrior...and develop similar habits.

CW: tentacles?

Also on AO3.

Part of the 2021 FFXIV Writing Challenge

A wisp. A wanderer. A shadow of a shadow. You are to him what moths are lanterns; a sign that light is there, but not the light itself. Never the light. No, not even close.

And yet he watches you. Something in your affects sways him—the spark behind your eyes, the way you carry yourself from room to room. You remind him, almost, of what it felt like to be truly vulnerable.

Eons have passed. Empires have come and gone. Vulnerability was long ago rooted out from the Ascian Emet-Selch’s repertoire. However, for you—for something shaped like you—he has worn many masks in private. As you wander about the First, trying your damnedest to impede his patient plan, he goes through the motions of brooding, craving, and pining in his private quarters somewhere ancient beneath the sea.

You’ve been many things to many people. A traveler. A voice from ages past. A cackle on the battlefield, before would-be defeat. A secret reason to keep fighting. You are the least imperfect iteration of the worst possible you. As much as you are an argument to stop at seven Rejoinings, you are even stronger evidence that he needs to keep going. That he needs to go all the way.

He could do it like a beast on hand and knee. He could do it like a man, hunched over and pitiful. He could conjure something to fuck—in the image of something worth fucking—but why limit himself to one option at a time? In this foolish dance, he does his very best to please every part capable of feeling pleasure. And when the bliss fails to change his mind, he knows again that the way forward is a bitter one. He knows the resolve of his mind is greater than the lust of his body.

The lust always begins and ends with you. Old you, ancient you. The one strong enough to take him as an equal. Sometimes, he kicks his boots up on his useless dining room table and fits both of his hands around his cock, tossing his gaze elsewhere like he’s too bashful to bear the sight. A show of shyness for no one but himself. He imagines how the teasing might go.

You have some nerve, Hades. Blushing like a virgin.

Allow me just this once to play the role.

You’ll have to work hard to convince me.

He can never get your voice right, but he hums in amusement anyway. Once he’s had enough of using his own hands as a hole, he bids away his clothes with a flicker of magic. Dark particles scatter, leaving him fully exposed to an audience of none.

How exciting. He loves to play for a crowd.

One natural benefit of remaining unsundered—he retains the full scope of his abilities. Thus, calling up a chorus of slick, swollen-headed vines is a simple task, accomplished with his eyes closed. Spreading his legs, he lets them lap at his body and vie for the right to plunge inside. Two hardy tentacles bind his hands high above his head.

Oh my, warrior! What are you up to?

Silence, Ascian, and let me work.

He doesn’t know when new you, broken you started slipping into these moments, but he cannot deny that flashes do come. It’s laughable, that your pitiful, sundered form would appear to taunt and tease him with tentacles. None of your magic could spread him how he spreads himself. Two arcane heads leak upon his hole until one presses inside and starts pumping. A tiny rush of cool air leaves the ring of his lips with a muted groan.

Look at yourself.

He keeps his eyes closed, despite your imagined command. The fog of limbs tugs his right leg from the table. Another arm of darkness slaps onto his chest and squeezes. Emet-Selch treats himself impolitely, and he pretends any version of you would do the same. If you called him disgusting, he would laugh and tell you to fuck him harder as punishment for wanting it so badly.

And he does want it badly. The second head slips in. Both vines fuck at the same tempo, spread apart by a single beat. One at a time they find his sweet spot over and over again, until he’s whimpering out loud.

“Harder…”

He forgets he is safe here, sometimes. He forgets this place is untouched by yours or any other presence. He can process loss if he wants. He can weep into his hands and no one shall ever be the wiser.

“Harder. Please…”

But doing so would force him to admit a weakness. This dramatic mess is the closest he shall get to re-processing what he thinks he’s already processed, confronting what he confronted centuries upon centuries ago. One tentacle wraps around his cock and another sucks at his head, while the rest double down on their assigned tasks. Every sense he has is firing in full force all at once, and soon—

Come for me, Hades.

Everything is gone in an instant. He rights himself in his chair and hunches over, folds his hands in his lap. This is the only way he can stomach longing, because it’s the only way he can believe it’s just for show.

You are the center of his mission. The focus of his hatred. The seat of his passion. You are the thing he wants to destroy, and that which he seeks to recreate through destruction.

//

A beacon. An absolute. Sometimes the thought of being close to you is enough to make him weak and weeping. That his name—his title—might share the same page as yours in a history book is solace from the fact that he shall be remembered as a villain.

If all goes according to plan. And in the Crystal Exarch’s mind, after centuries of browbeating himself into accepting the dark path, all must go according to plan.

When he touches himself, a bitter aftertaste follows the pleasure. Your victories have inspired more than hope in his private chambers. A Lightwarden slain, a hooded man hardened. He likes to sit on his knees and lean his head against his desk, looking down upon the want he’s nursing. He uses his hand of crystal to pressure his inner thigh and his hand of flesh to stroke.

The first time he indulged like this, he tried to get it over with as soon as possible. Once he granted himself permission to imagine you straddling him, the escalation was quick and effective. He was able to come and clean up in a matter of minutes. He was able to walk away half-believing he wouldn’t do it again.

But he does. Dozens of times, sometimes more than once in quick succession, like he’s a hot-blooded scholar finding partners at the Find. Your presence, while inherently new to the Exarch after decades of waiting, is also intoxicatingly familiar. As he remembers the scent of your room in the Pendants, he recalls what it was like to fill somebody twice and still want to keep going.

The first orgasm comes with a gasp. He catches it with crystal, while his spoken hand jockeys for a few more complete motions. Up and down he rubs, until he’s shivered through the brief oversensitivity that chases even the most virile of miqo’te after climax. As it passes, he takes a deep breath and makes a V of two crystal fingers, sticky with cum. His tail whips beneath the mess of robes at his back, as he smears the letter down his shaft. He’s ready for the next, and so is his imagination.

A hero. A message. A promise. A symbol of a future worth fighting for, and one future worth avoiding. Hope incarnate. Victory incarnate. A walking, breathing legend, whose stories shall fill the annals of history from wall to wall.

A human. A person who wants things, perhaps wants people. What if you wanted him?

He starts stroking again, and his eyes flutter closed. Your mouth would be so warm around him, your tongue so deliberate at his slit. He imagines you lapping until you taste the leak of precum, then lowering your lips to the root. He would grip you by the hair and force you down, even when he knows you can go no further.

He would. He would—G’raha Tia, a scholar, an archon, an Exarch. His eyes cross at the concept of compelling you to do anything, much less let him fuck your mouth. He squeezes his cock from the base and focuses on his memory of your body—all the places you are strong, all the places you are soft. By the time he pulls his second orgasm, his tail is thumping like a hare's foot against the floor of the Umbilicus, and his legs are on the verge of cramping from the strain.

He looks down again and watches himself bob against the flat of his palm. Is he a fool to imagine he has any more right than the common admirer to jerk off to your image? In his deepest fantasies, he often plays the role of a romantic hero himself—one you might see as an equal. Though he imagines getting rough with you, he'd be just as happy to let you have your way in all ways, he thinks. You are a chance he must never take. An arrow that must not be plucked from its course. He might call you his reason for living.

Ultimately, he believes you'll be the reason anyone is able to survive.

#ffxivwrite2021 #emet-selch #crystal exarch #ff14 fanfic #ffxivfanfic #mywriting

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nomadicbug · 3 years

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Prompt 4: Baleful

He stared straight through her very being, gold eyes alight with irritation -- and, perhaps, a hint of curiosity. His head was tilted, loose strands of that stupidly messy hair flopping over his face, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. Or was it genuine…? She couldn't get a read on him. Emet-Selch was an enigma.

She was either a threat to be eliminated, or a puzzle to be solved. One thing Celeste was sure of; he was biding his time.

That day remained etched in her memory. Every time she revisited it, it became more muddy, more clouded. His motivations had been laid bare for all to see -- all for the Rejoining. All for the destruction and recreation of the "one true world". A bitter, desperate plea of an ancient man who had clung to life in sheer determination, in sheer need and desire to fulfill that goal, though it cost him his original corporeal form.

She looked up. The moon shone down, lighting up the night sky like a hopeful beacon. Folly that it should provide more comfort to her than the light of day. Long did she cast her gaze skywards, hoping to unravel the truth that hid beneath that surface.

Beneath all that dramatic grandstanding, there were still things that didn't sit right with her. Questions that may never have an answer, questions she wished she'd had time to ask. Though, she supposed, asking a tempered being would be foolish and pointless. Even if he knew the answer, it wasn't certain he could provide it.

That day, at the edge of the world, high above the planet in that re-created space, she was helpless for a long while. It would have been a simple matter to eliminate the Scions protecting her. He didn't. Why?

If Hythlodaeus was but a shade acting under the will of Emet-Selch, why then did he bestow her the crystal of Azem, long after his creator's death? Was it all pre-programmed?

These questions circled in Celeste's head, over and over and over. She dare not speak to the Scions about this -- it was mere conjecture, questions that would have an interpretive response, nothing factual. The man at the source of this dilemma perished (probably), and Crystal knows he was utterly incomprehensible. Or at the very least, unable to speak.

She turned to her companion on the windowsill. A blue bird, eyes boring straight into her soul, as though staring through her. A familiar sensation. He followed her from Amaurot. Had been seen beneath the waves of the Tempest.

The shoebill bowed at her.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivfanfic #emet-selch #wol #shoebill consipiracy theory 2 years running and going strong #these are getting shorter im SORRY

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benjimirthursby · 4 years

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FFXIV Write 2020 - Prompt #3 “An Introductory Reunion.” The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor

"Patterns can be observed across many disparate things. Quiet and the later storm. Moments of pronounced calm and subsequent turmoil. Purists in academics may contend no possibility of commonality between them exists. A more expansive view less constrained by convention however would recognize portents in and between all things." - Wang'Chunt Tun'nyht, "On the Operational Arts."

“An Introductory Reunion.” The Book of Thursby: Scions of Numenor

The sum of the meal with Bloehiswyn met the purpose Aubreen had for it. To connect the Admiral with Benjimir. She, as much as Bloehiswyn was unsure of his mind as to what lay ahead for the Thursby Company. The quickly concluding work at sea made her all the more aware of being unable to divine the future and it engendered an uncertainty she was not accustomed too.

Bloehiswyn took her leave after an hour brandy and cigars following dinner. Benjimir had managed to milk a sniffer of top shelf brandy for the full hour without taking a sip. A skill he was famous for. A good sign Aubreen judged. It meant the meeting, Benjimir and sustaining the alliance with the Thursby Company was seen of long term value to Maelstrom. For what use or purpose to be determined still. Also that Benjimir had not lost his ability to linger about liquor without imbibing. Rather than return to Limsa Limosa aboard Bloehiswyn’s ship, she would travel with Benjimir by Aetheryte, a first for him. Common enough for the rest of the Company officers but something Benjimir was fascinated with.

Benjimir exited the list on the main level of tower with his brothers. They departed for the Company quarters and he approached her, a warm smile building as he neared.

"Golodh." Benjimir said in the old words.

"Ionneg." the commodore said, returning the smile. The friends hugged and Benjimir stepped back, making a point to exaggerate an inspecting look over her. “THIS is an auspicious look for you.”

Aubreen smirked. “Do as is done when in a strange land. Besides, I rather enjoy change.” She gestured towards the promenade and they began to walk towards the Aetheryte plaza. “It has been good to be in open air, striving, and if I may allow myself, to taste victory after so much time.”

Benjimir nodded, “You’ve earned a reputation in the field. But never mind that, tell me. Katryn Vaunter? You fox. In an age I’d never thought it.” he said, to which Aubreen paused a moment. “Little stays private on fleet. Yes, maybe four years now. Tinifalas swooned, wouldn’t stop writing about it for a month. Nothing escapes that book of his.” she said and continued walking. “I’m aware it wouldn’t be above board were we up well, on fleet.” Aubreen added.

“But we aren’t nor is it my place to have say. I could not be happier for you, or her. After a lifetime taking after you as the template for formality, prim and properness, it’s exciting to see you now like this.” Benjimir said.

Aubreen smile and then took on a chastising tone. “I think it would be well to unstiffen your collar some yourself my boy.” Benjimir took it in stride and shaking his head.

He slipped into a rehearsed response he’d given before. “I’m not sure anything has been or remains further from my mind Aubreen. I’ve been buried in briefings, formalities, the trappings of my work for so long, I have gotten….”

“Uptight.” Aubreen interrupted, having heard the speech often enough. She pointed toward the end of the bazaar they reached at the end of the promenade and they continued walking.

“Uptight is a strong word, rather I think of it as being a fidelius adherent to austere personal interactions.” Benjimir mockingly retorted.

“Practicing an economy of words is a virtue. Your uptight.” Aubreen replied and turned to him as they reached the aetheryte plaza. “Take counsel from me on this Ben. As one whom is practicing what she is teaching you. These are new shores second only those those of home to me in the beauty they possess. There is work to be done here, I know not what, but this world is new. Allow for yourself here. You’ll feel reborn.” She said, patting him on the cheek maternally.

As they spoke, a woman walking towards the plaza paused, taking stock not of Benjimir but of Aubreen. The keen eyed observer would have noted her eyes taking stock of the Commodor’s rank insignia on her epaulet and the seal of House Thursby on her shoulder. Her dress was a clumsy attempt at appearing as one of standing but in effect struck those that knew her as garish. She stepped aside from the pathway to appear to tend her purse.

“I will do my best to unstiffen. But to the moment. I’ve seen these giant crystals at waypoints all the way to Ul’Dah. This is going to……” Benjimir paused as a Miqo’Te rose off the ground and seemed to fade from view amidst a swirl of blue light. “....that….to this muster in Limsa?” he finished. Aubreen smirked.

“Yes. I’ve done it my fair share. Perfectly safe as long as moons aren’t exploding in the sky.” She replied looking over the levitating crystal before them. “It is actually a rather peaceful experience, worse ways to go if it ever does go ill.”

Benjimir shook his head and shrugged in acceptance. “New shores. Is Maelstroms muster normal, for special purpose?” he asked Aubreen.

“Holdover from less ethically constrained times. A pirate tradition of sorts. Divvy the fleets prize swag, consume ale, make judgmental comments about their gender of choice. Might do well to work on that unstiffining before tomorrow.” She explained with a grin.

“What in the almighty are you getting me into. Let’s get about it though.” Benjimir lamented and gestured ahead to the inner chamber of the plaza.

The woman watched them proceed ahead before turning about and returning to her business’ office.

*******

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ievaxol · 2 years

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UHM

i went bonkers and wrote a wol/g'raha/ardbert drabble N S F W UNDER THE CUT PWP, LEMON, YOU KNOW THE DRILL

"Thank you for bringing her sandwiches," Ardbert grins against the sharp line of G'rahas jaw, grinding forward in a way that has the miqo'te wedged between them moan breathlessly with his back arching. "It made her mood a lot easier to deal with."

"Mmh - ! I'm glad my, ah, ah -" He’s almost illegally pretty like this - his voice, his body, his responsiveness - and Ardbert knows exactly what the warrior had meant when they had talked about G’raha late one night, when she had said ‘he makes you want to lose it a little bit’. It makes him nip at the miqo’tes shoulder just because he can, because the warrior had been right.

The warrior smiles underneath G'raha, blinding, most likely thinking about the exact same moment. "Less talk Ardbert, more action - especially if he can still form words," She says it as sternly as she can but her entire face is flushed, lips swollen and red from G'raha devouring her mouth earlier and some of the weight is taken out of her command by how her voice wavers and cracks, how she spreads her legs just a little bit more in anticipation.

Ardbert could comment on it but decides against it and instead rocks forward in compliance, a broken yesyesyes tearing from G'rahas throat as he does. G’raha is adjusting beautifully to the two of them - Ardbert needn’t have worried because they all fit together like it was always meant to be. Two splinters of the same soul, with the same goal - to fuck G’raha stupid.

Every movement from Ardbert sends G'raha deeper into the warrior in turn, making her eyes flutter shut and hands curl into and around the silken sheets, white-knuckled. Her pretty tits bounce with every thrust - G’raha places a crystal hand on top of one just to feel the movement and fuck if that doesn’t make Ardbert want to do something unhinged.

G’raha is so tight and warm around Ardberts cock and he groans when the smaller man grinds back on him, a litany of curses and variations of you’re so tight, so bleeding good falling off his lips. “Such a pretty view,” the warrior coos breathlessly, beaming up at them, and G’raha manages a sheepish smile, looking over his shoulder at Ardbert.

“The t-two of you are - oh - proving a considerable force.” G’raha says, making Ardbert smirk and snap his hips up and in, making G’raha swear under his breath and lose his balance, sending him forward. The warrior cries out in absolute bliss when he does, whimpering ‘again, please do that again’ before she winds her arms around G’rahas neck and tangles her fingers in his grey-streaked hair, slotting their mouths together like she would die if she didn’t. She kisses like a force of nature - Ardbert knows this and judging from the way G’raha absolutely melts into it she is giving him the best she’s got. “Pl - mmmfh, please,” she manages in between kisses, wiggling in the way she only ever does when she really wants something. Ardbert grunts and picks up the pace until it is almost punishing, chasing his own release as this makes G’raha tip over the edge with a hoarse cry. The miqo’te slumps on top of the warrior, suffocating her in messy, sloppy kisses while Ardbert fucks into him.

“- like that, so good,” the warrior murmurs, locking eyes with Ardbert as she slips a hand down between herself and G’raha, breath hitching. “Together, c’mon, together.” Ardbert watches G’raha reach with a trembling hand to place over hers and help her come - that’s what does it for him and he completely blanks out as he spills, stars behind his eyelids, head ringing. Dimly, he hears the warriors sugary sweet oh oh oh as G’raha brings her to completion, the cadence of her voice hypnotising. After, they all lie in a boneless heap - G’raha still in the middle, eyes half closed as he fights sleep. The warrior is curled against the miqo’tes side and Ardbert lazily pets her hair, heart swelling when she turns her face into his hand and nuzzles it. This, a moment ripped from time, unburdened by their respective legacies, almost feels too good to be true.

#wolgraha #wol x ardbert #wol x g'raha x ardbert IM NOT EVEN JOKING #ffxivfanfic #i feel like i should be a little bit sorry #SHAMELESS PWP #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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"You're not alone I promise" Wol/G'raha because promises <3

AUUUU ZOLA ;-; ---

"You're not alone, I promise," he had said to her once in the dim light of a miserable tent in Mor Dhona with a grin stretching across his face like he could not ever fathom a future where that promise could be broken, no notion of how doors closing too hard would have her flinch years down the line. She had humored him then, had taken his hand and done a little curtsy that made him laugh way harder than a stupid joke should have and oh, she would realise later that he was in love and so was she.

Time has a way of revealing things like that unkindly, casts them into sharp and ugly light as if to say, here it is, the thing you could have had. And perhaps he had been right, in a way; she wasn't alone, she just didn't have him. After the Crystal Tower expedition the Warrior finds friends all around her, people she once thought of as colleagues or employers asking after her health, learning how she takes her tea. So truly, in spirit, the promise wasn't broken. Still the urge hits her hard and fast when she sees his face revealed again at the top of the world, scarred by crystal and still the most beautiful thing she has ever seen; the urge to scream and lash out and ask him why. Why he would put her through that. If he knew that he loved her when he made his choice all those years ago.

#wolgraha #wol x g'raha #ffxivfanfic #g'raha tia x wol #don't know what this ended up being but here it is haha #wol wants to be selfish hours #i had hozier on repeat while writing this #askprompt #ask #drabble #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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8. for the ask thing!

You didn't specify a ship but this screamed wolcred at me so thats what it ended up being! ambiguous wol, mention of wounds/needle --- "This is gonna hurt like a bitch, but I have to stitch up that wound." Thancred says it dryly, an undercurrent of I told you so permeating his every word. The Warrior fought the urge to roll their eyes at him because honestly? With the amount of times Thancred had done something incredibly stupid and needed healing for it? Still. Maybe not a good idea to bring that up to the man about to put a needle in your skin. "'M sorry," they mumble instead even if they're not, hissing in pain when Thancred starts working. Thancred murmurs encouragement under his breath and the Warrior swallows, thinks of the many times Thancreds voice has kept them anchored to the present. This isn't the first time he's been patching the Warrior up in the middle of twelve-knows-where and while the Warrior would never admit it out loud it is soothing in a way they can't - or doesn't want to - place. It makes something warm unfurl in their chest. Thancred talks through every stitch, voice low, almost inaudible in the crackling of their campfire. Hot puffs of his breath makes goosebumps rise on the Warriors skin, has them fighting the urge to blush - which shouldn't be this hard given that the situation is supposed to be distinctly unromantic. "There we go," Thancred puts away his supplies and bows theatrically, raising an eyebrow when the Warrior sticks their tongue out. "Now, is that any way to treat the one who saved your hide? I'll have you know my stitching has never left someone disappointed." "I bet it hasn't," the Warrior mutters, wincing as they try moving their arm around. Something softens in Thancreds gaze and for a moment it looks like he's about to reach out before thinking better of it, clearing his throat. "No more heroics for the day," he says instead, and there's a vulnerability to it that kills any sarcastic retort the Warrior would have responded with.

Thancreds lips quirk up when they nod, a smile so genuine coming from him that the Warrior has to look away. The silence that follows an easy one.

#wolcred #ffxivfanfic #wol x thancred #thancred waters #SO SORRY IF YOU HATE THIS SHIP lfajkf i just took the prompt and ran!#thank you so much for sending the ask tho this really was a good exercise #azure-dragonsinger #ask #drabble #needle mention #wound mention #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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“I have an apartment on the outskirts of the city. If you want to, I could take you there."

--

a one-night stand sort of between Seike and Erenville before they're scheduled to go to [redacted] EXPLICIT! 6.0 SPOILERS! F!Wol x Erenville! >> LINK HERE <<

#erenville #erenwol #wolville #(?)#ffxivfanfic #wolnpc #what is their shipname even #lemon ahoy #6.0 spoilers ahoy #i am DONE WITH THIS #finally #screams #mine writing

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ievaxol · 3 years

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late drabble for #woliangerweek, not sure what prompt this is but *tosses out* A small stream of conscioussness i wrote, i’d love to flesh it out some day bc Uri’s relationship with secrets and guilt is exquisite and fun to explore

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"Pray excuse my uncouth mouth," she snarls and Urianger could burn in the fury radiating off of her, would do so a thousand times just to feel it's warmth. "But what the fuck was that stunt back there?" The caring, the acknowledgement, it's enough to get drunk on. Ryne is looking between the Warrior and Urianger with mounting panic while Thancred cleans his gunblade, seemingly relaxed - were it not for the clench in his jaw.

"'Tis a spell with which thou shouldst be familiar; rescue -"

"I know damn well what rescue does," she's in his face, jostling his injured arm, eyes fixed on his with an intensity that tells him why she is the one slaying gods and he is the one keeping secrets. "That doesn't explain why you used it so recklessly!"

Urianger is a man starved of her attention but he cannot tell her that; when he chose to withhold the Exarchs identity he also knew he would carry the consequences. Martyrdom suits you Urianger, Y'shtola had remarked once, voice hard.

He thought so as well - prepared to do whatever it took, lies twisting and intertwining, finding life on their own as time saw them grow. He would do what no one else could he told himself - sipping on hubris like it was a sweet wine - he would make a difference. Carve a space for his own contribution.

But now the Warrior wouldn't look at him.

And he found he could not stand it.

All his conviction fell apart in the face of her coldness, a selfish coward who talks big but in the low lightning of dusk would beg for her forgiveness a thousand times, again and again to bring the light in her eyes back. She is polite but far away, a goddess he is not worthy of worshipping; the neutrality hurts more than the disdain would. Hatred, love, he will take anything but the nothingness of absence.

So when he saw the hit coming for her he pulled her back and took it head on, breaking his arm in the process - but. But. She looked at him, not through him and Urianger found the pain a small price to pay.

#woliangerweek #wol x urianger #urianger augerelt #ffxivfanfic #im write #i could go on and on in this but honestly i just wanted to post this snippet #cant find the energy to continue haha #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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“So lets see what kind of shelter we can scrounge up, eh? One of these houses must be somewhat decent,” -- the first chapter of a wolcred fic set during heavensward! canon-typical violence, mentions of self-destructive behaviour >> link here <<

#wolcred #thancred x wol #wol x thancred #thancred waters #warrior of light #ffxivfanfic #mine writing

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ievaxol · 3 years

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a small drabble for Woliangerweek, the prompt for touch ⭐

Urianger is drunk, she notes with rapt fascination. The Elezens cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glittering, posture loose and languid under night sky. He is beautiful, she thinks, not unlike a night sky all on his own, draped in black silks and golden jewelry. They're the only people left celebrating the second return of night, tucked away on a terrace far away from the other citizens.

Urianger has been reciting poetry the last half bell, deep voice lulling the Warrior into a half asleep state on her chair as she watches him, the sweet smell of his drink permeating the air. It's no wonder she doesn't notice him quiet and come closer; it isn't until she can feel his body heat radiating off of him that she reacts with a jerk, looking up at the tall man who is studying her with open interest.

"My lady, thine eyes hath not left my visage for quite some time." Urianger is smiling, golden eyes trained on her in a way that makes her blush. She is not used to him like this, relaxed and happy - when he squats down so they're eye to eye she has to fight the urge to hide her face like some flustered maiden. "Know that thine actions are the reason we art all able to be present like this and I hold thee in the highest regard. And so long as I draw breath I will strive to repay thee for this gift."

Then he cups her face in his large hands and slots his mouth over hers, her surprised yelp muffled against his lips. The kiss is searing heat and gentle intent, he cradles her face so sweetly and once the shock wears off she finds she can't bring herself to tear away. He kisses like a wave, slow but inevitable, she has no choice but to be swept along to the depths.

All of a sudden he's gone and she's panting, cheeks warm, his hands still like firebrands on her cheeks. His mouth is curled deliciously around something that is not quite a smirk, eyes flickering to her swollen lips.

"Perhaps I should have foregone my earlier attire earlier, seeing how my current garments draws thy gaze."

She swallows because she knows now, she's in trouble.

#woliangerweek #wol x urianger #ffxivfanfic #wolianger #small and silly but i wanted to do seomthing for today #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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Anon asked: 10. "I know you're hurt, [name]." with the wolgrahas? but i foolishly posted too early then panic deleted so THIS POST IS TO MAKE UP FOR YOUR PROMPT Oh anon, anon, anon

YES ambiguous wol, mention of blood

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He's angry with her. The knowledge doesn't quite stick through the ringing in her ears, the exhaustion weighing her limbs down - it floats around like so many other things she's come to learn these past few days.

G'raha has a hand splayed across her chest and it hurts but she cannot remember why, doesn't really care enough to find out. He holds her down, eyes hard and mouth down turned as he shouts something to someone behind her shoulder.

The Warrior smiles through bloodied teeth when he looks back at her, even though she isn't sure whats funny enough to smile about. She knows nothing, she thinks, remembering the rush of air leaving her lungs, the terror, hitting the ground like a ragdoll. Remembers the fear.

Her smile makes him shudder and if she wasn't so out of it she might recognise the worry at the edges of him but she is and she doesn't.

That's why she tries to stand up only to have G'raha hiss and spit a curse - something she would have teased him about any other time - as he forces her back down.

"I know you're hurt," he says, and makes it sound like a concession, "but please don't do this to me right now. Sit down. Let me heal you." His ears are pinned flat against his head and his tail is thrashing, scarlet eyes boring into hers like she should understand something unspoken in the air between them.

She swallows thickly, finds her tongue numb and resistant as she tries to form words. "Aether. Save." It is the wrong thing to say, probably, because G'raha almost recoils before gritting his teeth, the familiar warmth of his aether enveloping her. "Please," is all he says and she has no fight left in her, slumps down with a sigh now that it's clear that he won't let her go. It won't be until later in the safety of night, when the silence drapes over them all like a too-heavy blanket, that she'll recognise the tear tracks on his face for what they are.

#wolgraha #wol x g'raha #ffxivfanfic #listen i hc this as taking place sometime during the first garlemald duty #i usually dont see angry raha but this prompt spoke to me and said make him mad #drabbles #sorry i fudged this so bad haha #blood mention #askprompt #ask #drabble #mine writing

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ievaxol · 2 years

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and weep the wind (psst its clickable)

“I know, warrior dear,” he responds, cutting her off. As if that would make the weight of what's unspoken go away. His pulse starts racing as her desperation feeds into his own and stokes a fire in him - the frenzy that comes with survival makes him grip her just a little tighter.

--

The warrior can have a little moment of letting their stress show, as a treat. --

SPOILERS UP TO LEVEL 85 OF 6.0 WOLGRAHA | AMBIGUOUS WOL | KISSIES

#wolgraha #wolnpc #ffxivfanfic #ffxiv #final fantasy xiv #uhhhh #hello tumblr my old friend #how tf #I HAVE MISSED YELLING IN THE TAGS #mine writing

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ievaxol · 3 years

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G’raha feels the weight of everything and finally snaps

my first completed fic in ages and the first time i dipped my toes into writing ffxiv and ofc its about g’raha tia

ambigious/self-insert WoL, hurt/comfort

#wolgraha #g'raha tia #ffxiv #ffxivfanfic #im not 100% about this fic but sometimes its better to just post and perish #rather than overthink #skrivartaggen #mine writing

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