#she asks how Gil is doing in extrication

[softquietsteadylove]

For the Agents AU, what if Gil was moved in different station for what he did? Or he would be working for a different boss temporarily (*whispering* a boss that is a rival of Thena on agent team or something and ON GILGAMESH, a boss that Thena would be jealous of🤫).

Gil visited her in the hospital and that's when he informed her that he was assigned to a new boss temporarily, but also assured her that he would be back on her team and will be always on her side. At first she was about to make a call to have him back on his agency (we all know she would never allow this) but Gil refused, he told her that he would be back to her in no time. She thanked him for protecting her and she wished him luck. And once he left her she was furious and I could imagine her throwing a tantrum of course having to know that he had been transferred to a supervisor who is a rival of hers, and he will be spending his time working for that boss.

Thank you!!! :3

Thena turned, sensing the presence in her doorway. "Hey."

"Hey," Gil smiled, although she could already feel something wasn't right. He seemed downtrodden, and he was hunched in on himself like a guilty kid. It was always an easy way to tell he had bad news.

"How did it go?" she asked as she sorted away the last of her things. She was finally cleared to come back to the office, although field work was another two weeks away. But at least she could find out how Gil's assessment hearing had gone.

"Well," he smiled and winced simultaneously, dragging himself inside her office with his go-bag slung over his shoulder. "I'm not fired."

"That's," she measured him with her eyes, tracking any indicator of what had him so uneasy, "good?"

"I'm not suspended either," he mumbled, "technically."

Thena set down the files she was trying to catch up on, pushing away anything that wasn't Gilgamesh. "Gil, what is it?"

"They're, uh," he looked down at his shoes, "transferring me."

"What?!"

"Temporarily," he was quick to amend, but it did nothing for the rapidly growing ache in her chest. "They're putting me in Minerva's unit for a month."

Minerva was a very competent, and bizarrely friendly, team leader who ran an aggressive extrication unit. They specialised in breaking in and retrieving, and every member needed to be nothing if not resilient.

"They're moving you to extrication?" Thena blinked as if he hadn't just told her that. She was still processing the 'Minerva' part.

He nodded, though, his mouth caught between a frown and a snarl. "I think they just want to know that I can behave if I'm on a tighter leash."

"And they think Minerva's leash will be tighter than mine," Thena assessed, to which Gil shrugged in reluctant agreement.

Gil shifted on his feet, no more comfortable with the position they were in than she. "Didn't you two come up in the ranks around the same time?"

Yes, she had worked with Minerva plenty before they became their own unit leads. Minerva was very warm in nature, very pleasant, but also exceedingly calm under duress. She had no temper to her, no buttons to push. In a lot of ways, she was a balance to Thena's own colder, more aggressive method of handling things.

The last time she spoke with Minerva they were both fighting to attain a certain Agent on their teams.

"It's just a month," Gil shrugged again, his voice going thin as a whisper. His throat was tight. "I'll be back before you know it."

Wrong; she was going to feel every second of his absence. Maybe it was a good thing she was being forced onto desk duty for two weeks. She would have more mind-numbing paperwork and less time to think about Gil working under Minerva.

"Hey," he moved around the side of her desk and closer to her. They had become closer naturally since their little rescue operation. And this was exactly why he was being transferred out from under her in the first place. He leaned his head down to hers, "one month."

"One month," she whispered back to him.

"Then I'll be right back here," he smiled, hoping to get one in return.

Thena made the effort--the attempt. It wasn't great, but he appreciated it all the same. "Right back here."

He leaned in, hand on her shoulder as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Where I belong."

"Where you belong," she repeated faintly as she felt him pull away. She held his eyes as he dragged himself back to the door. "One month--and not a second later."

He grinned at her, giving her a sharp nod (and a wink?). "Yes, Ma'am."

Thena waited until her office door was closed behind him. She counted to ten before picking up her thick stack of files and slapping them down on the desk and throwing herself into her chair. She breathed out a rough sigh, slapping the back of her head against her chair.

"This a bad time?"

"That door is closed for a reason."

Kingo walked in anyway, hands in his pockets. "So...Gil told you the news."

Thena toyed with her pen in her hand. "He should be grateful they didn't resign him to desk duty for a year."

"That doesn't mean extrication is the better answer though," Kingo raised his eyes to hers, "does it?"

She avoided looking at him. Kingo was a master of reading people, and she - somehow - was not exempt from that rule. She just didn't think Gil would like working in extrication. She didn't think it was a good fit for him, and it was never a smooth procedure to just insert a new team member into any specialty division.

Minerva had said she thought he'd be a great candidate. Thena had fought tooth and nail to have his application given to her instead.

"Well, I'm sure he'll like it in special ops," Minerva had smiled so blithely at her, not an ounce of malice in her petite little body. "I was looking forward to having such a handsome subordinate, though."

"Boss?"

"It doesn't matter what we think, Kingo," she muttered, finally. She tossed her pen onto her desk. "All that matters is that we all get through this next month."

Kingo pursed his lips, and she immediately knew he was about to say something borderline outrageous. "Are you worried about Gil working under Minerva? Or...are you worried about him being under-"

"Kingo!"

He snapped back physically, scrunching his shoulders and holding his hands up. "Don't mind me. Just...talking to myself."

She huffed; how was she supposed to endure Kingo without Gil to balance him out?

"Don't think like that, Boss," he grinned at her, as if he could read her disparaging thoughts right off of her. "I promise I'll be the perfect right hand. You won't even have time to miss the big guy!"

"Kingo-"

"You can count on me, Boss Lady!" he snapped his wrist in a crisp - and also mocking - salute before heading right out the door again.

Thena hung her head in her hands, groaning. She missed Gil already.

#Thenamesh Special Forces AU #Kingo immediately is like you can count on me Boss! #Thena: I can't read suddenly #but really Kingo knows how keenly she's going to feel Gil's absence #he knows what's going on with those two #obviously #and was the first one to see and hear how angry Gil was about the transfer in the first place #he's a worry wart over Thena even when he's on her team #the next month is going to be unbearable as far as Kingo is concerned #he's going to have hundreds of texts from Gil asking about if Thena is okay #all hours of the day #how is Thena doing? #is she okay? #has she eaten yet? I told you to remind her to eat every three hours #and don't let her stay too late #drag her out of her office if you have to #Kingo here like: YOU STILL WORK IN THE SAME OFFICE BUILDING ROMEO JUST TAKE THE ELEVATOR AND COME SEE HER #Minerva runs into Thena and makes light conversation #Thena definitely doesn't think about sawing her way out of the elevator to scale her way up the shaft to avoid her #she asks how Gil is doing in extrication #Minerva says he's doing well at least #Thena makes a light comment about him staying if he's happy there #Minerva: oh no darling all he talks about is getting back to you #Thena: ❤️❤️❤️

[ffxivimagines]

fidelity | Fic for DarthSuki

Thank you so much for your patience and support @darthsuki! I had a lovely time working with Samilen ^^

Ao3 Link

Rating: G 

Category: M/M

Applicable tags: Stormblood spoilers, RDM questline references, I went a little hard on the pining can you tell, mutual pining

Summary: Maybe Samilen shouldn't have read so heavily into X'rhun's many shows of affection, but maybe he could have stood to had a little more confidence as well. 

There is a letter waiting for him when Samilien slides onto a bar stool inside the Quicksand. Momodi smiles knowingly, sliding the folded paper across the counter toward him, and says, “Someone left a little somethin’ for you. I didn’t peek.” She finishes her sentence off with a wink. Honest to Menphina, a wink. 

Samilen… is not sure how he should feel about that. Momodi isn’t the sort to gossip (usually) but the way she’s watching him promises trouble. 

He takes the letter and opens it gingerly. The first thing he notices is the familiar pattern of X’rhun’s not-quite-cursive spelling out “To my dearest Samilen” like they were lovers and not just comrades (though the idea of being involved in that way is by no means a bad one). He tended to title nearly all his letters the same. The notable differences are simply where the comma is placed or what comes after the sappy opening line. 

In this case, the latter that follows is no less affectionate as it is urgent. They rarely correspond via paper means─while enjoyable to send and receive, they are easy to track and intercept─and receiving written correspondence is always a welcome surprise. The letter reads:

To my dearest Samilen, 

‘Tis a rare occasion I can write to you. I can only pray this letter finds you in good health and in better time. There have been more skirmishes with the Empire as of late and I have been sorely missing your presence at my side. Do write me a response if you are able.

Sincerely,

Rhun

The trouble with Garlemald is standard fare for the both of them, but what is not by any means standard is the scribbled footnote saying that a package should be arriving within a few days (or so X’rhun hopes). 

Momodi giggles behind her hand and asks, “An admirer, perhaps?”

Samilen is tempted to reply, but flounders. X’rhun is a comrade. A friend. Not an… admirer. He hasn't shown the slightest inclination that he views Samilen in that way, either. He settles for shaking his head. Momodi frowns. 

“A shame, that. You’re a lovely young man,” she says, disapproving of his apparent lack of prospects. “I’ll make sure you know when that package of yours arrives.”

Samilen excuses himself, tucking the letter into his pack, and tries very hard not to think of exactly why X’rhun is sending him a parcel. They are both affectionate in their own ways, but this can’t be meant in that way. X’rhun has given him things before (like the all-important Soulstone that allowed him to take up Red magic) but he really shouldn’t be reading this far into it. It would just serve to get his hopes up over nothing. 

With that thought in mind, Samilen goes about his day. He manages to successfully forget about the promised package until he prepares to check out of the inn and head out of Ul’dah. Momodi slides a parcel across the countertop before he can even hand her his room key and says, “That admirer of yours sent a little somethin’ extra, it looks like. Make sure to write back, Samilen! Leadin’ them on isn’t like you.”

He flusters, ears flattening close to his head. “It’s not like that,” he signs frantically.

“They sure don’t think so.”

He places his key on the counter with a pointed clack, counts out Gil for his stay, and takes the package under an arm before departing. Momodi calls after him, tone teasing, and he tries not to give her words any credence. He’s already on the airship and sat in a corner with his bag in his lap when he remembers that he never even opened the parcel currently making a menace of itself where it’s wedged between cuttings he’d collected from throughout Thanalan. He extricates it with care (little for the box itself and more for the phials it was sitting on top of) and simply stares. 

There, in X’rhun’s typical script, is a label that reads: To my dearest companion.

Samilen thinks he may have missed something. Multiple somethings. Like how they used to share drinks all too often and X’rhun’s hand would stray from his elbow to his waist. How he always signs things as Rhun in an all-too-intimate show of trust and affection. 

Affection that Samilen would still like to think is platonic, lest he drown in embarrassment. 

He feels his cheeks heat the longer he looks at the little parchment tag, so he tears apart the wrapping and hopes that the little voice inside his head saying that it is definitely a courtship gift will be proven wrong. The box inside is made of thin plywood sheets and left shut with a length of butcher’s twine. It isn’t much to look at, all told. It’s simply standard for things that might be damaged during a courier’s travels. Nothing more and nothing less. 

Samilen finds he is somehow disappointed. 

He unties the twine and lifts the lid. Inside is a pocketbook─the type he would expect to find in Gridania proper and not wherever X’rhun was camped out─with close-set type and a thick, cardstock cover. “A Horticulturist’s Guide to Ala Mhigan Flowers'' the title reads and maybe Samilen should have had more care when flipping through the pages because there are loose flower petals all over his lap, now. He picks them up delicately, cursing quietly when the airship lurches and he accidentally punctures the delicate surface of what he assumes to be the remnants of a carnation. He sweeps all the petals into the box and carefully continues flicking through the book. He gets to the second to last entry, careful of the myriad pressed flowers between the pages, when a small scribble catches his eye. 

X’rhun’s familiar scrawl fills up the margin. Samilen squints, reading his writing with some difficulty. The words are barely spaced and the looping script has become a curse where lines intersect and make nonsensical symbols instead of letters. He manages most of it, though. 

I hope you enjoy the gift. It would bring me great joy if this has managed to arrive safely into your care. Do take a moment to read the entry on this page. I think you’ll find it most enlightening. 

There, circled in blue ink, is a little section explaining the meaning of the plant in floriographer’s terms. Jonquil is something he recognizes. It’s resemblance to the daffodil is a point of constant contention for beginner botanists. It also… isn’t a flower he ever thought to look into for more than cultivation methods. He wishes he had, now, because it stands for desire─both toward someone but also to have that feeling reciprocated─and X’rhun had pointed it out very much on purpose. 

Samilen realizes with such sharp clarity it nearly hurts that he has been ignoring legitimate courtship attempts. Readily given company, trust with each other’s safety, tokens of affection, physical closeness, and letters titled and signed with ever-increasing intimacy. X’rhun has been courting him (him! By Menphina!) and wanted to know if he returned the feeling. 

He feels like he’s nearly buzzing by the time the airship lands and he disembarks. It’s a wonder he manages to not crash into anyone on his way home because all he can think of is that he wasn’t reading too much into gestures, but rather that he had been ignoring them. He sits down and pulls out a sheet of parchment the second he’s inside, nearly forgetting to close the door behind himself. He stares at it, unseeing, before realizing that he has to write on it in order to send a reply. 

How could he even title it? To X’rhun? Certainly not! Well, maybe. He had every other time they corresponded, but this felt different. He would be replying with the knowledge that it wasn’t just letters between friends. But, then again, X’rhun had been attempting to court him for many a month. He could respond the way he has before and address the unspoken question, but doing it through a letter also feels less than genuine, considering how recent of a realization it is. 

He settles for a request to meet and agonizes over how to word it. By the time the letter is written, folded, and appropriately labeled for delivery, Samilen thinks he may be making a mistake. The courier is already down the road, however, and it’s late enough he simply sorts out the cuttings in his bag so he can attend them come morning. He looks at the little book sitting innocuously next to the wrapped bits of plant and decides not to snuff his lamp. He has a lot more reading to do if he intends to respond in kind. 

When a reply arrives, it’s in the hands of a red-coated Seeker whose roguish smile barely manages to cover his nerves. “Is this the residence of a Samilen Jawantal? I have a letter for him.”

#FFXIV #ffxiv commissions #ffxiv commission #fanfic #Final Fantasy XIV #Final Fantasy 14 #ao3 link #writers on Ao3 #ao3fic #x'rhun tia #x'rhun #red mage wol #botanist wol #samilen jawantal #gift fic #commission #commissions #writing commissions #miqo'te #ffxiv miqo #miqo’te wol #moon keeper wol #moon keeper #fluff #pining #romance #flirting #floriography #stormblood #ffxiv stormblood

[starswornoaths]

Somewhere more Aery (1/2)

In which Serella earns the title <Well Meaning Dumbass>

Word count: 2315

Uthengentle had decided about ten minutes into waiting for news from Azys Lla that this was easily one of the worst experiences in his life. After nearly a full day of waiting before he heard news from Serella, he was certain that the madness of his panic would undo him entirely. Which was, perhaps, why he took the news of what happened to Estinien— vague though it may have been over linkpearl— as well as he had; comparatively, knowing that the group, sans the Azure Dragoon, was returning was better than the hours that had preceded that linkpearl call of knowing nothing. Still, even over the call it was clear his sister was hurting— more than just emotionally— and he could guess that few in the group were much better off for how trying the struggle would have no doubt been.

Though the group of adventurers had returned from Azys Lla having been successful in their mission to bring down the Archbishop and the Heaven’s Ward, neither Serella nor the rest had not gotten away from the encounter unscathed— though the Paladin’s wounds were unsurprisingly the worst of the bunch. Her injuries had been determined fairly serious but not lethal— she had been well enough to return to Ishgard under her own power and conscious, after all. She had been treated, ordered on bed rest, and left to sleep.

While the guilt still burned in Uthengentle’s chest that he couldn’t go with her, he was just glad that none of their number had died that day...even if there were darker implications for Estinien that they would need to address in the coming days. He’d been gladder still that Serella had been ordered on bed rest; he knew her well enough that she would not give herself a moment to breathe otherwise.

Still, his guilt made him productive: even if he was ordered not to use restorative magic (or really, any magic, given how tapped for aether he was at the moment,) Uthengentle was not idle, and readily ambled about as best he could gathering supplies and helping Gibrillont get the Warriors of Light situated in rooms and did his best to hide his smile as he heard the Lord Commander sound distinctly like he were clucking hither and thither like a concerned chicken as he attempted to negotiate with Serella, who had herself already fully devolved into Mother Hen before they had even landed and was overseeing everyone’s care.

Aymeric, despite himself being not without his own wounds and wear insisted that they could be treated at the chirurgeon’s ward; given they had just saved Ishgard and had more than proven themselves besides, it was the least that could be done for them, he’d said. They had waved him off; none among their number had been critically wounded, best to save the beds for those who needed it, Serella had replied with agreement from the group.

All the same, Uthengentle decided not to tell Serella that Aymeric had given her brother her gil back and paid for all of their rooms from his own coffers; he’d sneak it into her coinpurse later when she was asleep, and he’d play stupid at how it got there. Given how otherwise distracted she was, it was an easy lie to tell. One of the few lies Aymeric seemed fine enough to play along with.

Uthengentle had waited until Mjalle and Zephina were finished with examining and providing healing before checking in on each of them— and was glad to have started with Mjalle’s husband: a little worse for wear than some of the others who went but still functioning, Bryn sat upon his bed and very matter-of-factly explained in detail precisely how Estinien had come to be possessed by Nidhogg. Aymeric had listened with a clouded expression but thanked the Eorzean Azure Dragoon for his efforts. With his lance in hand the Xaela forced himself upright and pledged to the Lord Commander to fill the void Estinien’s absence had created for Ishgard until they could rescue him.

“Or grant him peace,” Aymeric had tried to say— and Uthengentle knew it was an attempt to assuage their guilt in the event that Estinien was well and truly lost.

“Which he will find when we rescue him.” Bryn replied before the Lord Commander could even finish the thought.

As his tone brokered no room for discussion, so it was that Aymeric merely nodded, thanked him and urged him to rest again, and moved on. Uthengentle, too, continued with him to check on those in their group; he was just as worried, given what they had gone up against.

Zephina declined to be visited, citing a need to be alone with her thoughts. Save for Serella, who stubbornly continued to sit at her alembic and distill draughts for her companions and feign at being fine, the remainder of their party had reassured them they were well, but would be turning in for the night. Understandable, given their exhaustion.

So it made Uthengentle wonder what had kept Serella up so long, given the extent of her own wounds. While she could still move under her own power, she was in obvious pain, her face a permanent grimace. Her eyes were dark with the shadow of Nidhogg dangling their friend in front of her. Doubtless she blamed herself.

“How fare you, my friend?” Aymeric asked before Uthengentle had even spoken up.

And, really, much as Uthengentle was rooting for him...he could stand to hide his heart just a little while her brother was standing right next to him, surely. Still, he didn’t comment; they were all mourning, no sense in shaking the hornet’s nest, as it were.

“Well enough,” Serella replied, though did not look up from her work, “just getting these finished. And you?”

“Well enough,” Aymeric returned the lie, and Uthengentle wasn’t entirely surprised that they left it there; no one really knew how to cope with all of this.

“Good,” she said, and her brother nearly jumped out of his skin when she added, “and you, Uthen?”

“A bit better,” the Warrior blurted, “but we came to check on you, not the other way ‘round, Ellie.”

“That’s kind of you both, truly.” With a sigh she gently tapped at her alembic to encourage the tincture she brewed to pour a bit quicker into the awaiting vial. “But I’m...functio—”

Neither of them had realized how severely burned her hand was— and she had likely forgotten, but when she reached to pick up the vial with her heavily bandaged left hand she immediately jerked it away with a hiss of pain. The vial nearly clattered to the ground but she managed to salvage it with an awkward elbow thrust out to stop its fall by trapping it against the side of the tabletop.

“Functioning?” Uthengentle said in a chiding tone, moving further into the room to help take the vial and set it on the table.

Barely biting back a curse, Serella grumbled but did not snip like he thought she might; pain, understandably, made grouches of them all, and she was no exception.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, and he knew she meant it, even if it came with the reluctance to admit that help was needed at all.

“Pray find your ease, Serella,” Aymeric spoke up, and when she turned to look at him Uthengentle wondered if she would try to fight him on it, too, “Halone knows you have more than earned it— and have need of it.”

“I’ll rest later.” She sighed and stood. “There’s too much to do, and—”

“And it can wait.” Aymeric said sternly, taking a decisive step toward her. “You must take what time you need to—” when he stepped on the leg still healing it buckled hard enough he staggered. Serella’s uninjured arm caught him, and his wide eyes found hers in alarm.

“You first.” She said after a pause, even as she did not move away.

Aymeric did not move to extricate himself either, and there was another moment before either of them said anything, though the tension was not a malicious one, Uthengentle realized. It was no battle of wills, no struggle to see which capitulates first. No, this was the both of them struggling to find what words would be enough for one another. Perhaps wondering how much would be too much to boot, knowing them as he did.

“I promise I will rest,” Aymeric said after taking a moment to steady himself, “so long as you swear to do the same.”

Silence hung heavy over the room, and Uthengentle almost swore he was in a painting for how still the figures in it were. For she did not move her hand on the Lord Commander’s arm, and he did not remove his searching gaze from her widened eyes. Uthengentle had a mind to speak up again when she removed her hand and demurred her gaze away.

“Alright,” she said, and took a step toward the bed, “I promise. I’ll rest.”

When she actively avoided both their eyes Uthengentle squinted in suspicion of her. For how awful she was at lying she might as well be a fae for how well she tended to twist promises she did not want to make so that she wasn’t technically lying, and though he had no proof Uthengentle strongly suspected she was up to something— or at least, would try to be.

Nonetheless, Serella did as promised, and Uthengentle stepped out of her way as she eased herself onto the bed and kicked off her boots. She sat there on the edge and made no move to lie down or burrow under the blankets— doubtless waiting for privacy to do so. If it weren’t for the fact that she was suddenly not keen on making eye contact, her brother might have just dismissed it as exhaustion.

“Thank you,” Aymeric said with a hushed sigh, and Uthengentle wondered if he too had his suspicions about her honesty, “is there aught I might do to help?”

“Nah,” she answered— and surprised them both when she simply laid down. “I just...I just want to go somewhere more airy.”

The way she said ‘airy,’ made Uthengentle narrow his eyes even further, even if he couldn’t entirely place why.

“Need me to open a window for you?” The Warrior offered.

“Thanks, but no.” She turned to face the wall. “I’ll just...I’ll just try to sleep, thanks.”

With nothing else left to be said— she was, at least on the surface, fulfilling her promise, after all— the two of them bid her goodnight and left the room.

“I’ll try to keep an eye on her,” Uthengentle reassured Aymeric the moment they were stepped out of the hallway and back into the tavern proper.

A troubled expression crossed the Lord Commander’s face— and doubtless he wondered if Serella would break her promise.

“I thank you, truly— though I would still insist you also rest.”

“Don’t make me promise— I will break it.” Uthengentle deadpanned.

“I am aware.” Aymeric sighed. “I only hope she does not.”

The Lord Commander retired to his own office— already breaking his promise, Uthengentle noted to himself. Alone for how the others had more or less just retired for the night, he busied himself with collecting Serella’s battered and shredded armor for repairing while he stayed awake; in part to occupy himself but also to ensure that she didn’t go anywhere.

Some hours ticked by punctuated by the soft ting of his hammer working out some of the smaller dents in her armor— made for smoother smelting when he replaced the metal that was gouged out of it, and really he would rather not think about how that could have correlated to injury on its wearer, and he had lost all track of time when he felt his stomach protest its neglect and rumble.

Figuring now was as good a time as any for a break, he set his work aside and moved to the tavern to order food. In the midst of his order, he requested that it be doubled; knowing his sister as he did, she was likely still awake and could do with some comfort food, he reasoned.

Which was why when he knocked on her door and only silence answered, he was surprised— though not pleasantly so. Recalling the uneasiness he felt when Serella said she would be resting, he tested the knob; if she was asleep, he would just close the door again and leave her be—

A rumpled bed and her equipment still haphazardly tossed into a corner were the only signs there had ever been anyone there at all.

“I just want to go somewhere more airy,” she’d said— perhaps a walk, unlikely as it was, if the way his stomach sank told him anything.

“Uthengentle, have you seen Bryn?” He heard Mjalle ask him sleepily from the hallway. He slowly turned to face her as cold fear settled low in his stomach; the peculiar ways Bryn and Serella had spoken, the fact that they were now both conspicuously absent…he suspected there was a promise lying broken somewhere outside the city limits. The conjurer, still unaware of what may well be happening, rubbed at her eye as she stopped in front of him, “he’s not in bed. I thought maybe he came out—”

When her sleepy curiosity bade she look into Serella’s vacant room, he saw her have the same horrified realization he did. To her credit, she was more proactive about it, promising to hail the Lord Commander and ask around to see if they were maybe just out for a walk or something. It was more than what he could do, staring in mute horror into the empty space in front of him.

Because he was fairly certain that the Warrior of Light and Eorzean Azure Dragoon had made for the Aery.

#ffxiv #spoilers for heavensward #Serella Arcbane #Uthengentle Arcbane #Aymeric de Borel #Mjalle Soulcairne #Bryn Soulcairne #slowly adding more of the crew! #and emphasizing that Serella is a giant chaotic good golden retriever #pure of heart but dumb of ass #I am as ever your shield

[rachello344]

Min Jun x Seung Gil

I… am so sorry for how ridiculously long this has taken me.  I’ve been writing so many things at the same time that it just… fell through the cracks.  Thank you for being so patient with me!!

Seung-gil yawned and stretched, mindful of the arms around his waist and the face pressed against his chest.  He smiled, running a hand through Min-jun’s hair, messy with sleep but still soft to the touch.  He rubbed gently, chuckling when Min-jun made a soft noise, burrowing closer.

“Five more minutes,” he slurred.

Seung-gil kissed the top of his head.  “If you let me up, I can make you coffee.”

Min-jun’s arms tightened for a moment as he considered his options.  “But you’re so warm…”  Seung-gil nuzzled against his hair, waiting.  With a sigh, Min-jun reluctantly released him.  “Okay, go make me coffee.”

Seung-gil kissed his forehead, extricating himself smoothly before tucking Min-jun back in.  Seung-gil brushed his teeth and washed his face to wake himself up further.

The coffee drip was preset, but Min-jun was a disaster in the morning.  It was safer if Seung-gil poured it for him while he got started on breakfast.  They both had fairly strict diets, but Seung-gil refused to let Min-jun skip meals.

As he was cooking, he heard soft steps padding into the kitchen.  Areum sat beside him, her tail wagging.  She yawned.

“Good morning, Areum.  How is my favorite girl this morning?” He scratched behind her ears and under her chin.  She licked his hand, nuzzling into it.  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.  “Give me just a second and I’ll put out your breakfast, hm?”

As soon as he was done with the stove, he poured her morning portion into her bowl, giving another pat to her head as she tucked in.  That done, Seung-gil set the table with their breakfast and Min-jun’s coffee, turning the TV on to their favorite morning news program.

Min-jun sleepily stumbled out of their bedroom, eyes mostly closed.  Seung-gil smiled fondly as Min-jun sipped at his coffee.

“Olympian figure skaters were caught in a bit of a scandal last night,” the reporter declared, “as Canadian skater Jean-Jacques Leroy and Russian skater Yuri Plisetsky were caught kissing in a local club by several self-proclaimed Yuri’s Angels.”

Seung-gil felt his eyebrows raise.  Min-jun, still mostly asleep, looked over his shoulder briefly before turning back to his coffee.

“One young woman insisted that, while Leroy was a great skater, she refused to trust him with her son’s precious heart.  This led to what can only be described as a brawl between so-called J.J. Girls and the Yuri’s Angels.”

Seung-gil snorted.  “Idiots, the both of them.”

“Never date your coworkers,” Min-jun muttered.  “Too much drama.  Leroy should know better; he’s seen what happens.”

“They are a cute couple when they aren’t fighting like cats and dogs, though.”

Min-jun hummed his agreement.  Seung-gil glanced back at the TV to see what the next story would be about and was startled to see his own face.

“Is there a special woman in your life?” the reporter was asking.

“There is only one woman for me.  She is the most beautiful woman in the world–soft hair and intelligent blue eyes.  I love her more than anything.” The Seung-gil on TV said.

Min-jun laughed softly.  “Did you hear that, Areum?  Your papa told the whole world how much he loves you.”

Areum barked, her tail wagging, trotting over to get her morning pets from Min-jun.  Min-jun happily obliged, rubbing along the top of her nose.

“Eat,” Seung-gil reminded him.  “Your food will get cold.”

Min-jun rolled his eyes, but picked up his fork.  “Yes, dear.”

“After breakfast, you get to pick out my clothes for our date today.”  Min-jun’s eyes lit up.  Seung-gil was a fashion disaster, but that meant Min-jun got to play dress up whenever he wanted.

“You’ll wear anything I pick out?”

Seung-gil rolled his eyes.  “Within reason, yes.”

Min-jun bit his lip, assessing eyes trailing over every visible inch of him.  “We’re going to the aquarium still?”

“Unless you want to do something else.”

Min-jun shook his head.  “No, just thinking about what we have in the closet.”

“Think while you eat,” Seung-gil said.  “We’re not leaving until you’ve finished your breakfast.”

Min-jun ate more quickly.  The moment he finished, he tugged Seung-gil out of his chair, pushing him back toward their bedroom.  Seung-gil laughed.

While Min-jun was busy rifling through their closet, Seung-gil stripped out of his pajama pants and changed his underwear.  That done, he lounged on their bed, watching Min-jun work.

Min-jun glanced back at him, his brow furrowing as he took in his state of undress.  He licked his lips, cheeks flushing.

“I thought you said I could pick out all of your clothes?” Min-jun stepped between his legs, one hand trailing down to his hip and snapping the elastic.

Seung-gil tilted his head.  “Am I wearing the wrong underwear?” he asked with feigned confusion.

Min-jun nodded.  “Yes.  I’m afraid you’ll have to take them off.  They simply won’t do.”  When Seung-gil pulled him in for a kiss, he came willingly, straddling his lap and running his fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to make us late,” Min-jun mumbled against his mouth.

“Oh no,” Seung-gil said, voice flat despite his smile.  “What a tragedy.”

“It will be,” but Min-jun was still kissing him.  “You’re going to look so hot today.  All those fans of yours are going to go insane with jealousy, imagining you with your special lady.”

“I’m sure Areum will be delighted to hear that,” Seung-gil teased.  “And how will my boyfriend feel?”

Min-jun pressed one last kiss to his lips.  “Delighted.  Now strip.  I was serious about the underwear.  Your pants are going to be too tight for this cut,” he said, snapping the elastic again.

Seung-gil laughed, but obligingly stripped.  “If you insist.”

Min-jun gave him a lingering look.  “I do.  Your ass is going to look amazing.”  Determined, he spun back around, pulling out a pair of tight black pants and a loose white shirt with a deep v.  He pulled out a pair of his own underwear, passing everything to Seung-gil.

As Seung-gil dressed, Min-jun sighed happily.  “You’re going to look so handsome under the blue lighting at the aquarium.”

“And what are you going to be wearing, dear?  Are we going to match?”

Min-jun gasped, spinning back to the closet.  “What am I going to wear?”  Seung-gil laughed, sitting back down to wait.  His boyfriend was so cute when he was flustered.

It was too bad they wouldn’t be able to hold hands on their date, but Seung-gil was looking forward to it anyway.  They’d always have more time to cuddle up together once they got home.

Seung-gil smiled, all fondness.

#yuri on ice #seung gil lee #my fic #thanks so much for asking! #it gave me an excuse to write a little bit of their domestic life together! #i hope you don't mind the low-key pliroy #also shout out to jojo aka Yuri's mom XD #bluebutterflyrose #Rachel Answers

[brawltogethernow]

Neutral Element - Cute Date Ideas: Dissect a Corpse!

A post on @greyskiesallclear’s blog suggested a “deuteragonist genderswap” of Girl Genius - Gil and Zeetha raised in each other’s places, Tarvek sacrificed to the Summoning Engine. And I was like *strokes chin* *really strokes chin* *reaches out and strokes someone else’s chin*.

Daily installments this week, then slower ones. Eventually everything will be collected polished up and chronological on AO3. For now, enjoy instances from along the timeline presented semirandomly. I’m not following the novels as a style guide for capitalizing terms &c., but may have a crisis of conviction and go back and edit everything at some point.

Installment Masterlist

Pairings: Agatha/Gil, slightest Agatha/Lars; Other characters: Zeetha; Length: 2k; Content notes: see the title ↑. Set right after this AU’s version of “Agatha’s Bad Plan”.

Previously in her adventures, Agatha was kidnapped by the baron who rules over the continent of Europe, befriended the baron’s son, a boisterous green-haired swordsman, discovered she was the lost heir to a family of infamous mad scientists, and then escaped with said son (and a talking cat) into the wastelands that dominate most of the continent. Undercover in a traveling circus, Agatha met the lost princess of a hidden city, an accomplished biologist and aeronaut, as she traveled across the wastes. ...Fair reader, why is it that I feel like you knew most of this already?

Agatha gets back into the blue blouse-and-peasant-skirt ensemble she was wearing that day (on loan from Pix) and packs a scant bag of supplies. She pats Krosp on the head and picks her way down from her wagon the first time the caravan collectively slows to turn a bend. She paces a short distance into the dark from the procession of vehicles, animals, and people, then puts her bag on the ground and kneels down to double check whether she has everything she may need.

“Sneaking out?” says Zag. He’s done that creepy thing where he sneaks up on her again, and Agatha, who tells herself she should be used to it by now, tries not to jump.

“I’m not going into Passholdt,” says Agatha. “…Probably,” she adds to be fair.

Zag stares at her consideringly, and she waits for him to admonish her. “You need backup?” he says instead.

Agatha smiles. This, this is why she let him come with her. “No. I mean, I think I’ll have some. And I know where the trouble is, so I think I should know how to avoid it.”

“You’ll have backup?” says Zag, looking at her expectantly.

Agatha responds with a rigid sheepish grin.

“…Uh huh,” says Zag finally, eyebrows quirking. “The wagons are going to pick up the pace again soon. How are you going to catch up?”

“I’ll handle that. I was looking at the maps Abner was planning with earlier, so I know the route.”

“That doesn’t really tackle the important part of the question.”

“Handled! Honest!”

“Your heroic escapades aren’t going to get you out of your morning run.”

Agatha groans.

Zag beams at her sadistically.

She stands up and picks her bag up to leave, and pauses, fidgeting. “I met someone who’s good at biology,” she says. “I’m just going to ask her for a second opinion.”

Zag furrows his forehead at her. “A spark? You met a spark in the Wastelands?”

Agatha waves her arms at the sleeping circus trundling by a few yards from them. “We met all these people in the Wastelands.”

Zag’s expression is still dubious for some reason. “Yeah, but…that’s not…” He breaks off, eyeing her and doing more things with his eyebrows.

“What?” she asks. “Why does everyone always stare at me!”

Zag rolls his eyes and sighs. “Oh, you,” he says, reaching out and ruffling her hair fondly.

“What?” demands Agatha. “Agh! Zagreus!”

He draws back his hand before she can catch it and enact revenge, grinning. “Well, don’t get yourself killed! I’ve put too much work into you, and we haven’t even started on swords yet.”

“Oh, god,” says Agatha.

 *

Gil is more amenable than she expected. She helps her find one of the things, and then she helps her take it apart.

 *

To Agatha’s surprise, Gil’s reaction to her visiting her camp in the middle of the night was not confusion or hostility, but to beam at her and go, “Oh, Agatha!” She looked so pleased, and Agatha’s heart warmed momentarily.

It takes them about an hour to trek to the bridge, collect the most intact corpse, and drag it enough of a distance away from the area to dispel both of their heebie-jeebies. They splay it out on a big, reasonably flat rock. The rock is reasonably flat because something sliced the top off of it: It’s lying upright about twenty meters away. They triple check the specimen for the vital signs of the living and the unquiet dead, and then make a Y-incision.

 *

It turns out that being allowed to get involved in dissection is disgusting. Agatha’s face feels like it’s acquired a permanently pursed expression. Gil wasn’t talking herself up: She’s examining the creature like an expert, not even blinking at the…mess. “Bone structure and musculature have both been radically altered,” she says, peering through a huge set of goggles. “But I think you’re right — this is baseline human.”

Agatha swallows her distaste and leans over it. “But are they people who have been altered, or just based on the template?”

Gil taps its hand against her (gloved) palm. “These weren’t grown in a vat; too inefficient.” She rotates a partly stripped joint. “And the wear on the bones is wrong. And I doubt they were imported — the alteration looks too recent, for one thing. And if they’re traveled here, they’d have left a swathe of destruction along the landscape. It’s not pretty, but — I’d say these are the townspeople.

Agatha exhales through her teeth. “So there’s nothing left to save.”

“Even if what did this didn’t get every citizen, Agatha…” Gil gestures at it. “Do you think you could survive camped out in a town swarming with these?”

“…No.”

Neither of them posits whether they could take on a town swarming with these. But Agatha feels better, knowing that Gil also wants to. She’s not that strange, not irrational to want to help.

“…Maybe some of them escaped,” she says.

“Maybe,” says Gil.

They stand there for a moment.

Gil cracks her shoulders. “Well, might as well finish examining this. If we figure more things out, maybe we could trace the source, or prepare the Baron’s people a little more.”

They dig in, and have barely started when they turn up the first oddity.

“What is this?” says Gil, extricating an object from the creature’s chest cavity.

The spiky shape is mostly decalcified shell, but is unmistakably the remains of a foreign biological structure. Whatever was inside the exoskeleton is mostly disintegrated, and it hangs floppy from her forceps.

Agatha pales, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, I think it’s a Wasp. They are revenants!”

“Rev —” Gil fumbles the tongs, horrified. “This is one of those things that turns people into mindless monsters? But — I didn’t think those did anything like this!” She gestures at the figure on the rock, its pulpy skin and twisted body.

“It must be some kind of new strain,” says Agatha, taking the forceps from her gingerly. “Master Payne was right. We have to report this. The Baron —” She shudders. “He isn’t very nice, but I know he doesn’t like Other tech.”

Gil bends back over the unnaturally lanky corpse and begins digging around, making little dissatisfied noises.

Agatha waves her hands around. “To develop something like this, you would definitely need access to the original versions of the slavers! Which means someone has a hive engine! Maybe even another new one! There was a new one on — in Beetleburg.”

(Wrist-deep in organ meat, Gil flashes a quick look at her and hums consideringly.)

Agatha waves her hands around, the urge to rant more anxious than mad. “It could mean anything!” she says. “It could be the start of another war! And I —”

Gil puts a hand on her wrist. To avoid touching anything that isn’t gloved with her gummy hands, Agatha realizes. “If this is something like that, breaking down how they work is even more important.”

Agatha makes a displeased but assenting sound, and leans in to help her strip it down.

After — long enough to give her a neck crick — Agatha pulls back and strips off her gloves. It’s gotten cooler as the night wears on, and the slick fluids on them are catching the cold. More importantly, she wants the better handheld light she brought from her pack, and she is not getting monster goo on it.

Gil has picked apart one of its eyeballs (yeuch) and is examining all the little parts, which doesn’t seem very precise, but then they are in the middle of a scrubby field. “Looks like they have improved night vision, but that makes them light-sensitive and decreases their vision overall. You said they rampaged when you shot at them? Was there a bright light?”

“Well, yes,” says Agatha, rummaging. She looks up. “But also a loud sound and, you know, it’s a death ray. It’s for zapping and burning things.”

Gil is staring at the skull. “I think they must navigate mostly by scent. You see this structuring here?”

Wait a second. “By scent?” says Agatha, having a hint of an inkling.

“Yeah, looks like,” says Gil, jabbing at something deformed and membranous. “Not really very efficient, but it’s effective enough.”

“Wait, says Agatha, “so —”

There’s a crack in the bushes behind them, and then they’re jumped by five Passholdt monsters.

 *

“SO IF THEORETICALLY WE DRAGGED ONE ACROSS THE COUNTRYSIDE, THEY COULD FOLLOW THE TRAIL THEN?!” shouts Agatha as they haul tail away from their rabid entourage.

“THAT SEEMS LIKE A SOLID HYPOTHESIS, YES,” shouts Gil, slicing at them with both arms as she tries to slash and run backwards at the same time.

 *

Agatha, as Zag so kindly reminded her, isn’t up to swords. They fall into a pattern: Gil keeps the monsters off of Agatha, and Agatha comes up with a plan to take them out and executes it. The amount of faith the other woman has in her strikes Agatha as faintly ridiculous, but there isn’t really time to argue.

Though the flailing of their gangling limbs and their tendency to crawl over each other makes them look like a bit of a mob, there are only about twenty mutated revenants on their tail. In the end, Agatha crushes them, all at once.

With a piece of a cliff.

She got the idea from their impromptu lab table.

She tugs Gil out of the way with a full-body hug — Gil is taller than her. They both go stumbling, there’s a ground-shaking boom, and then they’re both left, clutching at each other, standing in a silent expanse next to a new hillock. There’s a beat of silence. Their grips loosen.

“Woo!” whoops Agatha. “That was GREAT!” She grabs Gil by the leather straps and plants a kiss on her mouth, then spins around. “Did you see us?! We blew up a mountain! I blew up a mountain!”

“…What?” says Gil faintly.

The night air is chilly, but Agatha feels warm enough to power Mr. Tock. “And I didn’t even ruin my dress this time! Ha! Take that, insidious pattern of destruction!” …It’s still kind of the worse for wear from the explosion that evening, but there’s no new damage, anyway.

“You did, you did blow up a mountain,” says Gil, responses slightly delayed.

“Wow! Wow,” says Agatha, blood still singing with it. “We should do that more often!”

“…W-we should?” says Gil, who also seems flushed, and no wonder, what an adventure, ha!

“Definitely,” says Agatha.

“Guh,” says Gil.

 *

“…So! Can your flying machine outpace land-based travel?”

 *

Agatha spends most of the morning konked out in her wagon, for some reason.

“Geez, Z, maybe you should go a little easier on her,” says Lars.

Zag snorts, staring at his student judgingly.

“…If she’s been here, who was driving Baba Yaga earlier?”

“I think she might have made it drive itself now.”

“…Wow.”

Zag smirks at him. “Oh, yeah.”

“No! Not like — ! …I, uh, have to go. Perimeter to scout. Y-you know.”

Agatha, you broke the princess.

“Lars Falls in Love” happens as per normal canon. Yeah. Those are right on top of each other. IT’S OKAY, IT’S FINE, AGATHA IS PROBABLY POLYAMOROUS IT’S FINE.

In mythology Zagreus is either another name for Dionysus (Greek god of partying, cha cha cha!), or his own entity. In either case the story goes that a goddess took offense at his existence and tried to assassinate him in infancy (and succeeded: the common trait of stories including this name is Zagreus being torn to pieces), but his father absconded with him and restored him to life.

#girl genius #i never thought i would write a genderswap #but apparently what it takes to make the trope interesting to me is to have differences be due to external forces rather than internal ones #and that are more specific than/don't boil down to 'the omnipresent scourge of sexism that weighs on us all' #strap in #ggne #fic #w

[softquietsteadylove]

Hi I've got 4 requests for Agents AU 'cuz damn it is so good, so I'll just leave it here and maybe you can consider writing it🤲

So for the first part here it is: I am craving for some rivalry here, some big jealousy, with a bit of friendly competition. So what if Thena and Minerva in one room. Just them reporting to their bosses. Minerva over-complimenting Gil and Thena seeing that moment as a competition, like a who knows Gil better so both of them started throwing compliment on how good Gil is and how good looking he is🤭 But their bosses suddenly asked if Minerva wants Gil to be on her team permanently. And we all know Thena lost it there, she complained that Gil is still under her team and they can't do that without her permission. But while Thena was talking Minerva barged in calmly that she wants (likes) Gil on her team and suddenly looked at Thena and said that she thinks Gil is considering it. So Thena was just shocked about it on how she felt something different when Minerva said that she "wants" (likes) Gil on her team and how Gil was considering it. And meeting dismissed.

"Thena!"

"Minerva."

"How is Gil?"

Thena looked up. They had both said it at the same time, and it irked her that Minerva was asking when she arguably got to see Gil more often than she did, now.

Minerva just smiled, though, "he never has lunch with us--I just assume he's going to eat with you."

Thena bristled. She was right, of course, she and Gil ate lunch together as often as they could since his transfer. He sometimes had something delicious and home cooked, but even when he didn't they could order out, or they could cobble together snacks from the vending machines for all they cared.

Thena was glad to have the time with him at all.

Minerva continued on, regardless of Thena's answer, or lack thereof. She smiled, "Gil is doing better in Extrication than I ever could have hoped!"

Was that so? Thena sighed, slumping in her chair as they waited for the Section Chief to get out of whatever other meeting he was attending before theirs.

"The team just loves him, but I suppose I don't have to tell you how charismatic he is."

No, she didn't. Thena's eyes flicked to the clock, which seemed to be mocking her with its lack of a seconds hand to show her how much time was really passing. She eyed the minutes hand, willing it to move even a centimetre.

"He really is so sweet and lovely," Minerva continued to compliment Gil, perfectly capable and willing to carry on the conversation by herself. "Such a dream come true."

For whom? Thena continued to attempt to ignore her old colleague. She had no real vitriolic dislike for Minerva, they simply didn't get along spectacularly well. Her chattiness didn't help things, either.

"I have half a mind to ask for his transfer to be made permanent."

"Well it isn't!" Thena snapped, although even then, Minerva lacked any real knee-jerk reaction to her. Thena tugged at her suit jacket and then the hem of her skirt, "Gil's transfer is on a temporary basis. That was the agreement."

"Unfortunately," Minerva sighed. "I thought he was rather starting to like-"

Thena's eyes flared but her impulse to stand from her chair was well timed with the entry of the Chief. She puffed through her nose, trying to compose herself, "sir."

"Agents, sit," he greeted/ordered as he sat behind the desk to face them. "I have already kept you waiting so let's keep this brief."

"Yes, sir," Minerva began with that same smile on her face. "I think the transfer of Agent Gilgamesh is going swimmingly!"

The Chief at least looked at Thena to corroborate whether or not that was true.

Thena looked down at her lap, "I am sorely lacking in management on my team, sir...but we've survived."

"He does seem to be doing well in Extrication, and the unit has even done a few operations with him in tow by now, hasn't it?"

"Yes, sir," Minerva beamed at the opportunity to sing more of Gil's praises. "Gil is such an asset!--I think to any team. And they think so too."

Thena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She did mutter, "my asset."

"He's a dream to have under me, sir," Minerva grinned.

Thena flinched in her seat. She could think Minerva was doing this on purpose, if she wasn't such an airhead. She glared over at her, but Minerva indeed wasn't looking at her at all, just sitting there smiling.

"Well," the Chief lazily flicked closed the files in front of him. "What if he were?--your asset, that is?"

"Sir?" Thena frowned, which he seemed to have anticipated based on the way he braced himself. "The transfer was temporary, and I only agreed to it on that basis."

"You agreed to it after the fact, Agent," the Chief 'reminded' her sternly. "The transfer was in fact punitive measures after a death occurred on an operation under the Agent's watch. The transfer is, in fact, to make sure he can still operate as an Agent at all."

Thena let out a slow breath. She wouldn't do anyone any favours by losing it now. "Yes, sir."

"And if the Agent is doing better in Extrication, then I don't see why I need to discuss this further."

Thena bit the inside of her lip.

"Well then," Minerva smiled and nodded to the Chief, "if that's-"

"What about Gil?"

Both other agents looked at her.

Thena cleared her throat, "should the choice not be Gilgamesh's, sir? He applied to Special Ops. He's been a member of the team and a supervisory agent for years in my command. I don't know if a transfer against his wishes is...the best move."

"Ah, yes, right," the Chief mumbled, only now reminded that Gil could make the decision for himself. "Well, arrange the meeting with him, Agent."

Thena blinked, "sir?"

"Ask him," the Chief barked at her. He stood and tugged at his decorated jacket, "and report back."

Thena gulped as the Chief decided for himself that their meeting was over, walking out briskly. Minerva stood and followed, brushing her hand over Thena's shoulder on her way out.

#Thenamesh Special Forces AU #pt 1 #okay we've got a few parts #so strap in #I tried to fit a good amount of your requests in! #I like the idea of Thena and Minerva being rivals #and I don't think Minerva means any harm #she just...gets under Thena's skin #I think Minerva really likes Thena and admires a lot about her #she just has a very positive attitude about things #and I think to contrast that Thena envies how relaxed and charismatic Minerva is #things have always come easily to her which annoys Thena #and this whole Gil debacle... #doesn't make that any easier #get ready for drama #and suffering :)

[softquietsteadylove]

For the 3rd part: The angst of most angst...Gil's mission didn't turned out good. Thena received an order to back-up Minerva's team and Thena's heart just fell but she didn't want to jump into conclusions. Kingo rushed into Thena's office, Thena didn't ask Kingo how the mission went, she asked him desperately with pain and guilt on how and where he (Gil) is. But Kingo didn't tell her anything. So Thena stubbornly ignored him, she prepared her equipments but Kingo said she is not going and finally revealed that Gil talked to him and asked him to take good care of her while he was away. Kingo felt something off but he still obeyed Gil, he also reminded Gil that he had made a promise to Thena, he must be back, he must comeback.

Thena had no time to breakdown, she felt guilty, she had to be strong for him. She desperately want to see him. Kingo knows that he can't change her mind and he just followed her as soon as she gears up.

"Okay, team, this is quick and dirty," Kingo briefed the team as they suited up in their protective gear. "Extrication's op ran into a bump in the road and they need our help. We're looking at minimum seven injured and possible two casualties. We don't know who, don't know if it's our own or not. We keep our eyes on the prize: we infiltrate, we take down, we save everyone we can."

"Sir!"

"Five minutes out!" Kingo sent off the rest of the team as their current second-in-command. He had to go get the boss.

"Thena?"

Thena was trembling. Her back was to her door, but Kingo could see her shoulders shaking, how tightly she was holding herself. Her weapon was sitting on her desk, not even holstered yet.

"Boss," Kingo tried again, stepping into her office and closing the door behind him. "Boss, we gotta go."

She nodded, clearing her throat. She tried to say something but all that came out was a positively pathetic whimper from the back of her throat.

"Hey," Kingo said gently, although it just seemed to make things worse. He rounded her desk, moving closer to his friend in her moment of weakness. He put a hand on her shoulder, alarmed to find that the shaking was actually much worse than it looked. "Hey, hey, come on."

"Kingo," she managed to whisper as she tried desperately to get a hold of herself. But her throat was so tight her neck was straining to keep her breath in her lungs. She was holding her arms so tightly they would probably bruise. She sniffled, "Gil-"

"We haven't heard anything new," Kingo told her exactly what she needed to know. It was true; they had heard there were casualties, and that their line of communication had dropped with the Extrication team. He didn't know any more than that.

"I-I c-can't-" Thena gasped, trying so, so hard to rein in her control of herself. He had never seen her like this.

"Okay," he whispered, pulling her against him completely. It wouldn't surprise him if she gave him hell for it later, but it was now, and she needed it now. He rubbed her back as she pressed her face into his shoulder, "let it out, Boss."

Thena gripped his shoulder and let out a positively grievous wail.

Kingo felt shaken. He had never seen Thena like this, or felt pain radiating from her to this degree. Not even when Gil first got taken away from her was she like this. He patted her shoulder in a poor attempt at optimism, "it'll...be okay."

She pulled away, swiping at her cheeks rather angrily, "don't bullshit me."

He let out a laugh, only because he didn't know what else he could do. He moved to swipe away a few more tears of hers, only for his hand to get slapped away. At least she was feeling more herself, "sorry, Boss."

Thena cleared her throat, "this is...I wasn't... "

"Hey, I'm scared for Gil too," Kingo shrugged, easily excusing the perfectly human display from his usually statuesque boss. He tilted his head at her, "maybe not the way you are, but-"

Thena glared at him, but he shrugged again. She sighed; he always had been oddly talented at seeing through people, including her. Although he had to concede that the only one better at reading her than him, was Gil.

"He asked me to take care of you," Kingo muttered, which brought more of her distress to the surface again. "He worries about you; not being here, and all."

Thena sighed, although even that was shaky. She licked her lips and looked at him, "he promised."

He promised to come back to her; he always promised that.

"He'll be okay, Thena," he said more softly. "You know Gil. He's strong, he's tough, he knows what he's doing. I'm sure he'll have things under control by the time we get there."

Thena swallowed, nodding and blinking away the last of her tears. "Two minutes."

Kingo smiled; no one was tougher than the Goddess of War. She was tough, she was baddass, she was fierce. She had survived getting taken by the enemy and tortured for information. She had directed mission after mission of some of the most high risk ops. She regularly had to face down sending the man she loved into dangerous situations. "Two minutes."

"Two minutes," she repeated, finally reaching for her weapon to clip it to her belt.

Kingo eyed the lovingly wrapped lunchbox before she took it and carefully deposited it into her desk drawer.

#Thenamesh Special Forces AU #pt 3 #we're getting there! #I really love the relationship Thena has with Kingo #not just in general but especially in this one #I think he really gets her #he understands why she is the way she is and why she does what she does #he's good at reading people #which is why he and his salad are so tired #being stuck witnessing Gil and Thena love each other silently #and sometimes it's not even silent #but you know #he watched Thena look at her phone constantly #wait on every text just in case it was Gil #he got texts from Gil at all hours about how Thena was doing #all while stuck in the middle of these two lovebirds #and their romeo-juliet shtick

[softquietsteadylove]

For the 2nd part: The angst starts here...Gil visiting and also brought some lunch for them but Thena just give him a cold shoulder. But he couldn't figure out why and she's all snappy and sarcastic suddenly saying that she thinks he's liking his new team now to be considering to be there permanently. And Gil addressed it calmly that he never considered it and he wanted to be back immediately on her team. But she just asked him to leave even though she doesn't want him to.

What Thena didn't know is Gil was there to talk to her before leaving for a mission, a mission that is very risky and dangerous but he never got to tell it to Thena.

"Boss?"

Gil stepped into Thena's hurricane of an office. She always kept it neat, although sometimes if he opened up her desk drawers they would be an absolute disaster. But currently she had files sitting everywhere, some open, some closed, some jamming her paper shredder.

It wasn't like her to be so out of sorts.

"Thena?" he tried again, stepping in and pulling the door closed behind him. He set down the lunch he brought her on the desk.

"Not now."

He frowned at the sharp tone of her voice. It wasn't like her to be snappy. Cold, sure--terrifying, to some. But she wasn't usually like this with him. "You okay?"

She finally turned to look at him, but she seemed...angry. Not necessarily pissed off, but...annoyed? There was a mix of a few things in those stunning eyes of hers.

Gil sighed as he adjusted his bag strap on his shoulder. He knew she had a meeting with the brass, and he was sure his transfer had come up as a topic. But he wasn't allowed to ask directly about it until his probation was up. "Did things go well?"

"Ask Minerva."

Gil raised a brow at that. Thena was many things, but petty?--no. Passive-aggressive wasn't really the Goddess of War's style.

"She was singing your praises," Thena finally said more than a few words to him, although she still seemed agitated. She slapped some files down on her desk. "Thinks you're really liking Extrication."

"Like is probably a strong word," he shrugged. He hadn't screwed anything up, yet. Not that he did much of anything other than follow orders and fill out paperwork.

"Really?" Thena examined him in a way that made him feel like they were strangers. "She's quite in favour of your transfer being permanent."

"What?" Gil leaned forward on her desk as well, matching her rather combative stance. "No one brought that up to me."

Thena looked like she was about to say something but bit down on the inside of her lip. She looked down at her desk, her ponytail falling over her shoulder. "It was a surprise to me too."

Gil melted a little. She seemed so...downtrodden. He had asked Kingo at length how she was doing since he had been transferred. Kingo was certainly at his wit's end about it, but he still obliged him and told him every time Thena had a bad day, or tried to stay late in the office, or forgot to eat lunch.

"Is it-" Thena started and the paused, dropping her rigid posture until she was all but slouching. She looked down at the desk, "is that something you want?"

No. No, he wanted to be back in Special Ops--he wanted to be with her, again. "No, and I didn't think-"

"Well, Minerva thinks," Thena cut him off, and he could feel herself trying to saw off the feelings of hers he was getting too close to discovering. "And the Chief thinks so, too."

"Well, I don't care what they think," Gil said gently, trying to get a look at that face that brought him more peace than he thought possible in a line of work like this one. She avoided his eyes. "I want to be here."

"Gil," Thena looked up, again seeming on the brink of something before swallowing it. And it seemed like a big pill to swallow. "I...I'm sorry, I can't do lunch today."

"Oh," he blinked, deflating some. He reached slowly for the lunch he had brought her before pulling his hand back. Maybe she would eat it once she sorted out whatever had her so mad.

She turned again, shaking her head and drawing her shoulders up. She swiped at something on her face before rifling through her files again, "later?"

"Uh," he gulped, looking down at his phone, "yeah. Yeah--later."

"Hm."

He walked out of her office slowly, hoping to get another look from her. But she was focused in front of her. He closed the door again just as quietly.

Gil, you on your way?

He sighed. The operation was big; high risk and high reward. It was so big that even he was being dragged into it, minimal experience and everything.

I'll be there.

#Thenamesh Special Forces AU #pt 2 #I hope you like it! #I know you might have imagined something a little different #but these two #they know each other #and I think they would still be civil even with emotions running high #or maybe I'm just soft hearted #but I still promised you some drama and some angst! #Thena is already putting some distance between herself and what's going on #because if she clings to Gil and he still gets taken away #it will break something inside of her #they have been having lunch together when at all possible #not that it's that often but it still happened #and even when it couldn't #he was texting Kingo 24/7 about how Thena was doing #Kingo had to silence Gil's notifications on his phone