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Lessons

Joshua Rosfield x female reader Big ol' FF16 spoilers (though not endgame)

“My apologies for disturbing your meal, but would you entertain my company a moment?” You’d been too distracted at picking through today’s soup to hear Clive approach.  

Or at least you thought it was soup, maybe it was stew. Is there a proper difference? You just asked for whatever’s hot. The novelty of warm food in your stomach never seems to wear off.

“Of course – I’m pretty much finished anyway.” You reply, placing the spoon back in the bowl and gesture to the seat opposite. “How can I help?”

The Fire Dominant sits and smiles sheepishly, lacing his fingers together as he places his hands on the table.

“It has been brought to my attention that you are interested in learning your letters.”

“Oh…” You’re embarrassed that, somehow, it’s landed under Clive’s remit. You’d only confided in a handful of your fellow Cursebreakers - it had been necessary when you obviously couldn’t read reports that had come in, or send updates in return, and discussed the possibility of learning with Dorys on a handful of occasions but it had never seemed a good time. You’d arrived at the Hideaway a few months before Clive had, spending a brief period getting accustomed to a free life before you fell in with the Cursebreakers, wanting to assist fellow Bearers in having the same second chance you had been given. Your former master had been a traveling merchant and it had been either you defend him from fiends and bandits on the road, or he’d have no qualms leaving you as bait to gain him passage. After going under Tarja’s steady hand, your Brand had been removed and you’d been sent out with a blade. The past five years had been filled with re-establishing the new Hideaway and Cursebreaker responsibilities.

“I didn’t mean for it to be brought to you, Clive. It was just a passing comment…”

“I wish you had. You’ve toiled with the Cursebreakers for years for those to live on their own terms, and that should include learning letters, if they so wish.” He hesitates a moment, looking a little bashful. “I am afraid I have come with a somewhat selfish notion in my proposition.”

“What do you mean?” If he needed a Cursebreaker who could read, there were plenty on hand…

“I heard from Dorys that you didn’t seem particularly keen on sitting in with the children in Miss Shirleigh’s lessons, and I know that Harpocrates is often kept busy with research on other matters. However, I am aware of someone who is a fine scholar and suddenly finds themselves at a loss of what to do with their time.”

“Who?” You frown, trying to think of who else in the Hideaway would befit a title. One of Mid’s Engineers, perhaps?

“My brother – Joshua. He’s been prescribed a moon’s cycle of rest by Tarja and it is going to be difficult to get him to comply. I thought if he had something to focus on in his period of convalescence, it might at least keep him within the Hideaway, and help you fulfil your goal.”

“But if your brother is meant to be resting, he surely shouldn’t be attempting to tutor me.”

“Resting from anything physical – I assure you his mind remains at full health. Please, at least think about it. He is getting through the contents of our shelves at a fair pace, I think he’d enjoy acting the tutor.”

You hesitate. “Have you broached this idea with him?”

“Not yet. I thought it best to speak with you first.”

“I am not sure. It doesn’t feel the best time. I mean, with the growing number of aetherfloods and akashic…”

“You’ve done so much for the Hideaway over the years – please, allow yourself to be selfish. And, if you still struggle to do so, please do it as a favour to me. I would be in your debt.”

“All right. But see how your brother feels first. If he doesn’t want to, please don’t push it.”

 Clive grins.

--

You were nervous ahead of your first meeting with Joshua. Clive had offered his chambers as a makeshift classroom – Founder knows he was hardly in it – and he thought the two of you would appreciate the solitude it provided.

You knocked hesitantly on the doors before they were swiftly opened by a smiling Clive.

“Come in.”

The Phoenix is already sat at the solar’s desk – a bit more colour in his cheeks than there had been when you’d seen him limp past the mess, on his way up to the infirmary after their return from Kanver. The map that’s usually found spread across Clive’s desk is carefully folded away and instead blank parchments, ink pots and quills fill their place, and another chair has been sourced, sat the opposite side of the blonde.

Joshua gets to his feet with a charming smile, approaching you. He kneels swiftly, taking your hand and kissing the back of it in greeting. “My lady.”

“Joshua, did you not learn your lesson from Mid?” Clive laughs, noting your shocked expression as the blonde gets back to his feet and lets go of your hand.

“I cannot help it, Clive.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” You nod, trying to regain your composure. “And thank you, my lord, for agreeing to help me.”

“Not at all. And, please, call me Joshua.” He gestures for you to take the seat in front of the desk before looking to his brother. “Clive, if you’d be so kind…”

“Of course.” The outlaw nods, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your studies.”

The next few hours were spent with Joshua establishing how much you did know. Some letters were familiar, but your grasp on the full alphabet was patchy. Your penmanship needed attention – non-existent before this morning, truthfully - as he kindly helped position the quill between your fingers after enquiring as to your sword hand.

At noon, when your head had started to swim and your fingers cramped from copying out letters, there had been a hesitant knock at the door before Jote, the Phoenix’s attendant, entered, carrying a tray bearing a vial of medicine and some food.

“Your grace, forgive the interruption but it is time for your medicine,” she nods at the tray in her hands. “I also bid you do not overtire yourself with your tutoring.”

“Thank you, Jote. I assure you I am fine, but…” He pauses, watching you scribble out a poor attempt at the letter Q once more. “..I do believe that is probably enough for us to cover today, my student?”

“If that would be acceptable, m… Joshua.” You correct. “I do not wish to appear work shy.”

“Not at all. We have covered a fair amount this morning. Here,” he slides over some blank pieces of parchment, alongside your list of letters and another one with a single word on it. “Good tutors assign their students exercises. Practice your letters when you can, and try to say them aloud too. We can meet again tomorrow, if you’re available.”

You nod, “I can check in with Dorys and send word. Thank you.” You take up the papers in your hand, before pausing and pointing at the one with the single word upon it. “What’s this one?”

“That,” the Phoenix grins, charmingly, “is your name.”

--

More lessons pass, a little longer in nature as your hand adjusts, though a little spread out due to your Cursebreaker responsibilities. You’d been away two nights and word had been sent to Joshua for a lesson on your return.

You bid the blonde good morning before sitting down and retrieving a pile of papers from your pack with your other hand. “My apologies, I did complete the exercises whilst away, but we got caught in a storm and the parchment got a bit… soggy.” You slide the pitiful bundle of paper across the desk. It’s dried out now at least, but there’s patches of smudged ink on a few lines.

“I intended to re-do them before our lesson but, well…” You place your writing hand on the desk, revealing it to be bandaged up. “I can’t quite hold the quill. Tarja said it might be a few weeks before I could – sword hilt included, I must add. But I do hope this won’t hamper our lessons too badly.”

Joshua’s eyes widen and he takes your hand in gentle, inquisitive fingers. “What happened?”

“It was foolish of me. We were intercepting some Black Shields in Rosaria. I’d dropped my blade and one of theirs was aiming true for a Bearer. I panicked, I supposed, grabbed his blade with my hand and kicked him back.”

He winces at your tale. “May I take a look?”

“Erm, of course.” You watch as he deftly unwraps the bandage Tarja had re-wrapped this morning. Maybe he thought you were trying to get out of penmanship practice? He reaches your palm – black stitches hold the palm together, the cut thankfully clean rather than jagged.

“It looks painful.”

“I’ve had worse.” You reply, lightly. It’s true.

“I don’t know how much you have heard of the blessings the Phoenix provides.” He conjures a flame in his other hand, playing with it between his fingers. “One is the ability to heal, if you would permit me.”

“Oh, no.” You want to tug your hand back from his but slim fingers keep it firmly in place. “I would never ask that-”

“You haven’t, I have. May I? I would so like my favourite student to keep up her penmanship lessons.”

“Not if it causes you to suffer.”

“It won’t. Here.” He presses the flame into your palm and you brace yourself for a burn. A warm sensation envelopes your palm, like when you’ve warmed a blanket on the hearth in the ale hall, before an odd sort of feeling tickles over your palm. He removes his palm to reveal the line of thread Tarja had painstakingly sewed last night is free and not a mark remains on your palm.

“How does it feel?”

“Fine. But, Joshua, you’re meant to be resting, you shouldn’t have-“

“Do not fuss, please. It is my pleasure. I will, of course, let Tarja know of your miraculous recovery. Now,” he lets go of your hand at last, allowing you to pull it back and flex the fingers tenderly, and turns his attention back to the exercises you’d presented a few moments before. “You took these out with you?”

“Mm.” You nod, placing your hand back down in your lap before a thought crosses your mind. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked before I took them out of the Hideaway-”

“No, not at all.” The blonde chuckles. “They are yours to do with what you see fit. I am just surprised at the dedication to your studies.”

“I do not mean to waste your time. I know it’s not my finest work, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. I could re-do them now, I mean…”

“Relax. I can decipher these just fine, which means you can start on these, if your hand feels up to it. Try reading aloud as you copy, hm?” He slides over a new piece of parchment, filled with new words for the day.

You nod, eagerly, and pick up the quill.  

--

“We are not going to read all of those today, are we?” The pile is nearly up to Joshua’s shoulder on the desk.

“No,” he smiles. “It is my fault – I was in the shelves earlier looking for some practice material and some wanted to share their favourite literature with you. This one is Clive’s suggestion.”

He lifts up a couple and picks up the book in question, placing it down in front of you.

“The Saint And The Sec… Sectary…?”

“Very good.” Joshua’s praise always makes your head feel warm. “It’s a play, so be wary that if Clive sees you reading this, he’ll probably make you run lines with him. He always plays Sir Crandell.”

“Oh, and what role did you perform?”

“I never made the cut, sadly. I could never remember my lines well enough and Clive would not let you keep a script in hand.” He smiles at the memory. “This, however, was my favourite.”

He takes a book off the top of the pile and holds it out in front of him for you to read.

“The Merry Moogle And Other Tales.” You frown, the title ringing a bell. “They read this to the children for bedtime stories.”

“Are you mocking my tastes?”

“No!” You look alarmed. “I-“

“I jest – forgive me. It truly is one of my favourites and is, in fact, the first book I read by myself. It is a selfish pick, really, I am looking forward to going through it again, if you’d be so kind?”

“I can try.” He pushes the book in your direction before getting to his feet and lifting his chair, walking around the desk and placing it besides you.

“I hope you don’t mind – reading upside down is something I have yet to master.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” You feel flushed, is it possible the Phoenix just emits heat wherever he goes? He leans in, flipping open the book.

“Excellent. Begin, when you’re ready.”

You nod, swallowing.

“There… once was a very merry… moogle…”

--

More lessons pass, growing longer in their duration. Dorys appears to have you on duties within the Hideaway rather than out, but you don’t complain. Clive has even had to chase the two out of his chambers twice to hold discussions, though he had immediately clocked the copy of The Saint And The Sectary on the desk the first time, regaling how he made a fine Sir Crandell in his youth. Joshua had rolled his eyes at that point, causing you to laugh and Clive looking a little bemused before he’d waved the two of you out.

Far too soon, though, Joshua’s convalescence is nearly at an end, alongside word that the Enterprise is mostly repaired and ready its return journey to Ash and the Mothercrystal that resides there. You’re nervous for all who will be boarding, but especially your dear tutor.

You’re sat side by side in Clive’s chambers once more, trying to ignore the fact that Joshua’s thigh is pressing up against your own, and you’ve just finished reading a passage from The History of Valisthea. Joshua admitted it was perhaps a little dry, but he wanted you to experience all sorts of genres in his lessons.

“I can’t help but notice that your confidence has increased tenfold in reading aloud and I do not think it is solely down to having me as your captive audience. Care to share your secret?”

You bite your lip in a smile. “I’ve been… I’ve been reading to Torgal.”

“Oh?” Joshua smiles adoringly at you, prompting you to continue.

“I was a little self-conscious of practicing in the bunks, but there’s a bit of decking that overhangs the lake that I’d taken to. He started to join me – I think to nap away from the children. He usually sleeps through it, but I see his ears twitch, sometimes a tail wag… Apologies, that sounds foolish now I’ve actually said it aloud.”

“Not at all. We’ve always thought Torgal a fine hound, and he proves it more every day.”

Joshua then leans over and reaches for a bit of parchment over the other side of the desk.

“Now, the true test is whether you can read my everyday handwriting,” Joshua teases, handing it over to you.

“You have fine penmanship.” The words he notes down for exercises are always clear and easy to read.

“That is just for our exercises together. I’m afraid I fell into bad habits on the road. Scrawls, more than anything.” He nods at the parchment. “Aloud, if you may.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, squinting a little at first at Joshua’s cursive.

“Forgive me for putting you to the test with my hand, but I am confident that you will meet this challenge as you have throughout our studies thus far. I must confess I have enjoyed our time together, and I am disappointed to see it come to an end.”

You look up from the parchment, wondering if this is the last time you’d ever be within each other’s company. “I’ll miss our lessons too, Joshua.”

“There’s a little more, on the back.”

“Oh.” You turn the parchment over and continue. “However, now we are no longer tutor and student, I would like to ask one thing that I will simply regret if I do not. May I… kiss you?”

You stare at the word again a moment, before looking up at him. “Did I read that right?”

“Do not doubt yourself now.” He says, softly, maintaining eye contact.

“Then my answer is yes, you may.”

He places a hand on your scarred cheek as he leans forward, his other arm slipping around your waist to bring you in closer before your lips meet. It’s clumsy, you know it’s clumsy – you’ve never kissed anyone before – but prove yourself a quick learner again, your tongue finding entrance into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

The two of you pull away after a moment and Joshua leans his forehead against yours, keeping you pulled in close.

“I am afraid I have failed as your tutor on this occasion, my darling.”

“How so?” You ask, quietly.

“I am unable to come up with a word to aptly describe the feeling in my heart at finally having you in my arms.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

--

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

--

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

--

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

--

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The the stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

--

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, and you are never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so verywelcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I do, I have some gifts.”                                                             

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

--

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Lessons

Joshua Rosfield x female reader Big ol' FF16 spoilers (though not endgame)

“My apologies for disturbing your meal, but would you entertain my company a moment?” You’d been too distracted at picking through today’s soup to hear Clive approach.  

Or at least you thought it was soup, maybe it was stew. Is there a proper difference? You just asked for whatever’s hot. The novelty of warm food in your stomach never seems to wear off.

“Of course – I’m pretty much finished anyway.” You reply, placing the spoon back in the bowl and gesture to the seat opposite. “How can I help?”

The Fire Dominant sits and smiles sheepishly, lacing his fingers together as he places his hands on the table.

“It has been brought to my attention that you are interested in learning your letters.”

“Oh…” You’re embarrassed that, somehow, it’s landed under Clive’s remit. You’d only confided in a handful of your fellow Cursebreakers - it had been necessary when you obviously couldn’t read reports that had come in, or send updates in return, and discussed the possibility of learning with Dorys on a handful of occasions but it had never seemed a good time. You’d arrived at the Hideaway a few months before Clive had, spending a brief period getting accustomed to a free life before you fell in with the Cursebreakers, wanting to assist fellow Bearers in having the same second chance you had been given. Your former master had been a traveling merchant and it had been either you defend him from fiends and bandits on the road, or he’d have no qualms leaving you as bait to gain him passage. After going under Tarja’s steady hand, your Brand had been removed and you’d been sent out with a blade. The past five years had been filled with re-establishing the new Hideaway and Cursebreaker responsibilities.

“I didn’t mean for it to be brought to you, Clive. It was just a passing comment…”

“I wish you had. You’ve toiled with the Cursebreakers for years for those to live on their own terms, and that should include learning letters, if they so wish.” He hesitates a moment, looking a little bashful. “I am afraid I have come with a somewhat selfish notion in my proposition.”

“What do you mean?” If he needed a Cursebreaker who could read, there were plenty on hand…

“I heard from Dorys that you didn’t seem particularly keen on sitting in with the children in Miss Shirleigh’s lessons, and I know that Harpocrates is often kept busy with research on other matters. However, I am aware of someone who is a fine scholar and suddenly finds themselves at a loss of what to do with their time.”

“Who?” You frown, trying to think of who else in the Hideaway would befit a title. One of Mid’s Engineers, perhaps?

“My brother – Joshua. He’s been prescribed a moon’s cycle of rest by Tarja and it is going to be difficult to get him to comply. I thought if he had something to focus on in his period of convalescence, it might at least keep him within the Hideaway, and help you fulfil your goal.”

“But if your brother is meant to be resting, he surely shouldn’t be attempting to tutor me.”

“Resting from anything physical – I assure you his mind remains at full health. Please, at least think about it. He is getting through the contents of our shelves at a fair pace, I think he’d enjoy acting the tutor.”

You hesitate. “Have you broached this idea with him?”

“Not yet. I thought it best to speak with you first.”

“I am not sure. It doesn’t feel the best time. I mean, with the growing number of aetherfloods and akashic…”

“You’ve done so much for the Hideaway over the years – please, allow yourself to be selfish. And, if you still struggle to do so, please do it as a favour to me. I would be in your debt.”

“All right. But see how your brother feels first. If he doesn’t want to, please don’t push it.”

 Clive grins.

--

You were nervous ahead of your first meeting with Joshua. Clive had offered his chambers as a makeshift classroom – Founder knows he was hardly in it – and he thought the two of you would appreciate the solitude it provided.

You knocked hesitantly on the doors before they were swiftly opened by a smiling Clive.

“Come in.”

The Phoenix is already sat at the solar’s desk – a bit more colour in his cheeks than there had been when you’d seen him limp past the mess, on his way up to the infirmary after their return from Kanver. The map that’s usually found spread across Clive’s desk is carefully folded away and instead blank parchments, ink pots and quills fill their place, and another chair has been sourced, sat the opposite side of the blonde.

Joshua gets to his feet with a charming smile, approaching you. He kneels swiftly, taking your hand and kissing the back of it in greeting. “My lady.”

“Joshua, did you not learn your lesson from Mid?” Clive laughs, noting your shocked expression as the blonde gets back to his feet and lets go of your hand.

“I cannot help it, Clive.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” You nod, trying to regain your composure. “And thank you, my lord, for agreeing to help me.”

“Not at all. And, please, call me Joshua.” He gestures for you to take the seat in front of the desk before looking to his brother. “Clive, if you’d be so kind…”

“Of course.” The outlaw nods, heading towards the door. “Enjoy your studies.”

The next few hours were spent with Joshua establishing how much you did know. Some letters were familiar, but your grasp on the full alphabet was patchy. Your penmanship needed attention – non-existent before this morning, truthfully - as he kindly helped position the quill between your fingers after enquiring as to your sword hand.

At noon, when your head had started to swim and your fingers cramped from copying out letters, there had been a hesitant knock at the door before Jote, the Phoenix’s attendant, entered, carrying a tray bearing a vial of medicine and some food.

“Your grace, forgive the interruption but it is time for your medicine,” she nods at the tray in her hands. “I also bid you do not overtire yourself with your tutoring.”

“Thank you, Jote. I assure you I am fine, but…” He pauses, watching you scribble out a poor attempt at the letter Q once more. “..I do believe that is probably enough for us to cover today, my student?”

“If that would be acceptable, m… Joshua.” You correct. “I do not wish to appear work shy.”

“Not at all. We have covered a fair amount this morning. Here,” he slides over some blank pieces of parchment, alongside your list of letters and another one with a single word on it. “Good tutors assign their students exercises. Practice your letters when you can, and try to say them aloud too. We can meet again tomorrow, if you’re available.”

You nod, “I can check in with Dorys and send word. Thank you.” You take up the papers in your hand, before pausing and pointing at the one with the single word upon it. “What’s this one?”

“That,” the Phoenix grins, charmingly, “is your name.”

--

More lessons pass, a little longer in nature as your hand adjusts, though a little spread out due to your Cursebreaker responsibilities. You’d been away two nights and word had been sent to Joshua for a lesson on your return.

You bid the blonde good morning before sitting down and retrieving a pile of papers from your pack with your other hand. “My apologies, I did complete the exercises whilst away, but we got caught in a storm and the parchment got a bit… soggy.” You slide the pitiful bundle of paper across the desk. It’s dried out now at least, but there’s patches of smudged ink on a few lines.

“I intended to re-do them before our lesson but, well…” You place your writing hand on the desk, revealing it to be bandaged up. “I can’t quite hold the quill. Tarja said it might be a few weeks before I could – sword hilt included, I must add. But I do hope this won’t hamper our lessons too badly.”

Joshua’s eyes widen and he takes your hand in gentle, inquisitive fingers. “What happened?”

“It was foolish of me. We were intercepting some Black Shields in Rosaria. I’d dropped my blade and one of theirs was aiming true for a Bearer. I panicked, I supposed, grabbed his blade with my hand and kicked him back.”

He winces at your tale. “May I take a look?”

“Erm, of course.” You watch as he deftly unwraps the bandage Tarja had re-wrapped this morning. Maybe he thought you were trying to get out of penmanship practice? He reaches your palm – black stitches hold the palm together, the cut thankfully clean rather than jagged.

“It looks painful.”

“I’ve had worse.” You reply, lightly. It’s true.

“I don’t know how much you have heard of the blessings the Phoenix provides.” He conjures a flame in his other hand, playing with it between his fingers. “One is the ability to heal, if you would permit me.”

“Oh, no.” You want to tug your hand back from his but slim fingers keep it firmly in place. “I would never ask that-”

“You haven’t, I have. May I? I would so like my favourite student to keep up her penmanship lessons.”

“Not if it causes you to suffer.”

“It won’t. Here.” He presses the flame into your palm and you brace yourself for a burn. A warm sensation envelopes your palm, like when you’ve warmed a blanket on the hearth in the ale hall, before an odd sort of feeling tickles over your palm. He removes his palm to reveal the line of thread Tarja had painstakingly sewed last night is free and not a mark remains on your palm.

“How does it feel?”

“Fine. But, Joshua, you’re meant to be resting, you shouldn’t have-“

“Do not fuss, please. It is my pleasure. I will, of course, let Tarja know of your miraculous recovery. Now,” he lets go of your hand at last, allowing you to pull it back and flex the fingers tenderly, and turns his attention back to the exercises you’d presented a few moments before. “You took these out with you?”

“Mm.” You nod, placing your hand back down in your lap before a thought crosses your mind. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked before I took them out of the Hideaway-”

“No, not at all.” The blonde chuckles. “They are yours to do with what you see fit. I am just surprised at the dedication to your studies.”

“I do not mean to waste your time. I know it’s not my finest work, but I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. I could re-do them now, I mean…”

“Relax. I can decipher these just fine, which means you can start on these, if your hand feels up to it. Try reading aloud as you copy, hm?” He slides over a new piece of parchment, filled with new words for the day.

You nod, eagerly, and pick up the quill.  

--

“We are not going to read all of those today, are we?” The pile is nearly up to Joshua’s shoulder on the desk.

“No,” he smiles. “It is my fault – I was in the shelves earlier looking for some practice material and some wanted to share their favourite literature with you. This one is Clive’s suggestion.”

He lifts up a couple and picks up the book in question, placing it down in front of you.

“The Saint And The Sec… Sectary…?”

“Very good.” Joshua’s praise always makes your head feel warm. “It’s a play, so be wary that if Clive sees you reading this, he’ll probably make you run lines with him. He always plays Sir Crandell.”

“Oh, and what role did you perform?”

“I never made the cut, sadly. I could never remember my lines well enough and Clive would not let you keep a script in hand.” He smiles at the memory. “This, however, was my favourite.”

He takes a book off the top of the pile and holds it out in front of him for you to read.

“The Merry Moogle And Other Tales.” You frown, the title ringing a bell. “They read this to the children for bedtime stories.”

“Are you mocking my tastes?”

“No!” You look alarmed. “I-“

“I jest – forgive me. It truly is one of my favourites and is, in fact, the first book I read by myself. It is a selfish pick, really, I am looking forward to going through it again, if you’d be so kind?”

“I can try.” He pushes the book in your direction before getting to his feet and lifting his chair, walking around the desk and placing it besides you.

“I hope you don’t mind – reading upside down is something I have yet to master.”

“Oh, no. It’s fine.” You feel flushed, is it possible the Phoenix just emits heat wherever he goes? He leans in, flipping open the book.

“Excellent. Begin, when you’re ready.”

You nod, swallowing.

“There… once was a very merry… moogle…”

--

More lessons pass, growing longer in their duration. Dorys appears to have you on duties within the Hideaway rather than out, but you don’t complain. Clive has even had to chase the two out of his chambers twice to hold discussions, though he had immediately clocked the copy of The Saint And The Sectary on the desk the first time, regaling how he made a fine Sir Crandell in his youth. Joshua had rolled his eyes at that point, causing you to laugh and Clive looking a little bemused before he’d waved the two of you out.

Far too soon, though, Joshua’s convalescence is nearly at an end, alongside word that the Enterprise is mostly repaired and ready its return journey to Ash and the Mothercrystal that resides there. You’re nervous for all who will be boarding, but especially your dear tutor.

You’re sat side by side in Clive’s chambers once more, trying to ignore the fact that Joshua’s thigh is pressing up against your own, and you’ve just finished reading a passage from The History of Valisthea. Joshua admitted it was perhaps a little dry, but he wanted you to experience all sorts of genres in his lessons.

“I can’t help but notice that your confidence has increased tenfold in reading aloud and I do not think it is solely down to having me as your captive audience. Care to share your secret?”

You bite your lip in a smile. “I’ve been… I’ve been reading to Torgal.”

“Oh?” Joshua smiles adoringly at you, prompting you to continue.

“I was a little self-conscious of practicing in the bunks, but there’s a bit of decking that overhangs the lake that I’d taken to. He started to join me – I think to nap away from the children. He usually sleeps through it, but I see his ears twitch, sometimes a tail wag… Apologies, that sounds foolish now I’ve actually said it aloud.”

“Not at all. We’ve always thought Torgal a fine hound, and he proves it more every day.”

Joshua then leans over and reaches for a bit of parchment over the other side of the desk.

“Now, the true test is whether you can read my everyday handwriting,” Joshua teases, handing it over to you.

“You have fine penmanship.” The words he notes down for exercises are always clear and easy to read.

“That is just for our exercises together. I’m afraid I fell into bad habits on the road. Scrawls, more than anything.” He nods at the parchment. “Aloud, if you may.”

You wet your lips with your tongue, squinting a little at first at Joshua’s cursive.

“Forgive me for putting you to the test with my hand, but I am confident that you will meet this challenge as you have throughout our studies thus far. I must confess I have enjoyed our time together, and I am disappointed to see it come to an end.”

You look up from the parchment, wondering if this is the last time you’d ever be within each other’s company. “I’ll miss our lessons too, Joshua.”

“There’s a little more, on the back.”

“Oh.” You turn the parchment over and continue. “However, now we are no longer tutor and student, I would like to ask one thing that I will simply regret if I do not. May I… kiss you?”

You stare at the word again a moment, before looking up at him. “Did I read that right?”

“Do not doubt yourself now.” He says, softly, maintaining eye contact.

“Then my answer is yes, you may.”

He places a hand on your scarred cheek as he leans forward, his other arm slipping around your waist to bring you in closer before your lips meet. It’s clumsy, you know it’s clumsy – you’ve never kissed anyone before – but prove yourself a quick learner again, your tongue finding entrance into his mouth and deepening the kiss.

The two of you pull away after a moment and Joshua leans his forehead against yours, keeping you pulled in close.

“I am afraid I have failed as your tutor on this occasion, my darling.”

“How so?” You ask, quietly.

“I am unable to come up with a word to aptly describe the feeling in my heart at finally having you in my arms.”

--

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

Lemon Tarts

Clive Rosfield x female (Branded) reader Fluff, 5,828 words

“Come on, out of there, eh? I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – he’s introduced himself several times now – jokes with a half-hearted laugh.

He’s crouched down in front of the alcove where you’ve sequestered yourself, your body pressed right up in the corner, your head tucked in-between your knees to try and make yourself as small as possible.

Gav’s broad shoulders won’t permit him entry, his reach coming up short when he’d got down on his knees and put an arm in to catch your wrist to guide you back out – cursing himself under his breath when you’d flinched at his attempt.

Your master was harsh both in what he demanded in labour and how he treated you. However long ago, you’d decided it was better to not talk back and, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he’d bought you for your conversation skills - for what worth is there in anything a Branded has to say?

The days in his service were repetitive – just the faces around you would change as the curse wore away at their supposed worth. Two new Bearers had been acquired over a tenday ago, apparently tracked by a group of people calling themselves Cursebreakers when they broke into the barn where you all slept. They explained they were here to take all of you somewhere safe, to free you from your master, all whilst weapons hung from their hips.

They’d escorted you into a covered wagon in the early hours of the morning with a firm grip, before the three of you were transferred onto a skiff roped up at a small dock, tucked away off a beaten path. The boat set sail across the blighted waters of a lake, heading towards some sort of Fallen structure in the middle. From there, you were led up onto a dock and then into a goods lift, ascending up to a new fate. You had tried to keep your panic at bay on the wagon and skiff ride, swallowing down the anxiety that had churned in your stomach and threatened to come up your throat but the moment the lift reached the main deck, the fear of the unknown won and you ran without further thought.

You ran with an energy you didn’t know you still possessed, ducking around outstretched arms. You didn’t make it very far before your mind caught up with your legs - where could you even go now? You’re in the middle of a lake, you don’t know how to swim, you’re trapped.

Now that you’d ran from them, disobeyed their commands to stop, only punishment could follow. At least with your old master you knew what to expect for whatever he deemed as ill behaviour, despite your best attempts to fulfill his demands, and what to brace for when you failed.

The alcove had caught your eye – a gap between two wooden walls made of thick planks. You’d slipped in with more than a hope that you wouldn’t be spotted as you did, perhaps they’d think you’d jumped into the waters below and drowned.

Luck was not on your side – when had it ever been? - for as soon as you’d pressed yourself into the very back, a scarred face had appeared in the opening.

“You can’t stay in there forever.” Gav chides, stepping back to put his hands on his hips before his face falls. “Not that that’s a threat, like! I mean, it’s not… practical, is it? Especially when we’ve a lovely, warm bed with your name on it.”

Warm bed…?

It’s a trick.

Don’t be so stupid.

“Gav, what’s going on?” An almost amused voice draws the scout’s attention elsewhere and the man steps out of view, entering into a hushed conversation. You risk a look between your knees, seeing the railings and a bit of the sky beyond – dusk beginning to fall.

A few moments later, you hear the voice again – gravelly, but cautious and gentle. “Hello, my lady.”

The lack of sarcasm in their address of you – for who would call a Branded my lady –prompts you to peer between your knees. Another rather broad-shouldered man is knelt down on one knee - shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black leathers, the hilt of a great sword showing over his shoulder.

“My name’s Clive. Mayhaps I could have the pleasure of yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder, but Clive keeps his gaze on you. “Or ever - that’s what the others said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, like. Said they didn’t know her name, and not sure how long she’d been with him.”

“That’s all right. You don’t have to talk right now if you don’t want to, my lady. We just want to help, but we can’t help much whilst you’ve tucked yourself away here, can we?”

He waits for a few moments, testing the waters.

“We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you,” Clive presses on, tone still gentle and genuine. “And a very cosy bunk for you to rest in, where you won’t be disturbed. And food of course - I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Molly - she’s our cook - has made some exquisite lemon tarts for afters. You can have mine, if you like.”

Your mouth salivates at the prospect of hot food. It had been a while since your stomach felt content - yesterday’s meal had consisted of vegetable peelings after a poor day of harvest, shared with the chocobos…

It’s all too good to be true.

“I know you must be frightened – to be taken from everything you’ve known for so long, but you have my word that we wish only to help you.” He places his fist over his heart, hoping it would prove his sincerity. “Though I understand we cannot be helping by hovering over you like this, so I will leave you be to think on it a while, my lady.”

Clive gets to his feet with a soft grunt and takes a few steps away back over to where Gav was stood, shaking his head in defeat.

Gav sighs, wearily. “S’pose I could ask Bartram to knock the planks out at the side so we can get her out that way?”

“No.” Clive’s tone is firm. “Definitely not. I could see her body trembling – she’s terrified.”

“We can hardly leave her in there.”

“She just needs time – we can give her that. It’s not ideal, but she’s at least safe. If her health turns, I’ll consider more drastic action but patience is best for now.”

“Maybe she’d be more comfortable speaking with someone who’s Branded?” Gav muses, scratching the back of his head.

“Good idea, Gav.” Clive claps his on the shoulder with a heavy arm. “I’ll ask Molly if she can pop by with some stew – food and a friendly, familiar face might work wonders."

--

You don’t emerge later though, despite Molly’s best efforts. She gives you a bright smile and soft, encouraging words – a tale of how she was rescued, proudly demonstrating the brand on her cheek, what she does now at the Hideaway, and then offering the bowl of stew in her hand.

The aroma makes your mouth water and stomach ache. Molly carefully places it at the threshold, not wanting to encroach on your personal space. Says she’ll leave it there, alongside a waterskin, before she bids you well and disappears from view.

If you shuffled forward a little, perhaps stretched out your arm as far as it would go, the bowl would be in reach to drag back to eat.

You don’t, though.

You won’t.

It’s a trick.

--

Clive had made himself scarce, hoping Molly's presence would be more calming than his own, and left her with instructions that if you were to emerge, or engage in conversation, perhaps she could coax you into going to the infirmary next.

He busied himself in search of the seamstress, eventually finding her in the bunks, sorting through piles of material stored away in a cupboard.

“Hortense, do you have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods, turning to face him. “What can I do for you, Clive?” “I wondered if you had any spare blankets?”

“Oh, yes – I’m always working away on more as we grow our ranks!” Hortense beams, turning back to the cupboard. “I'm not surprised you asked – there must be quite the draft in those chambers of yours.”

“Ah, no - not for me. One of the rescued Bearers from today is a little shy, sequestered herself in an alcove in fright. I'm hoping she'll emerge before nightfall for food and to go to the infirmary, but I do not wish for her to catch a chill off the lake if she does not...”

“Oh, the poor mite!” Hortense frowns at the idea, but sets to thumbing through a pile of blankets in search of one in particular – a fleecy grey one in the end - and bundling it up in her arms before she hands it over to him. “Well, this one should keep her nice and cosy, it’s plenty thick enough. Tell me she is at least properly dressed, Clive.”

“The usual attire.” A polite way of saying the threadbare cloth shirts, trousers or dresses that Bearers were permitted by their masters, sans shoes as always. “I doubt she’ll accept any changes of clothing currently, but I am sure she’ll come round. We just need to be patient.”

“How could she not? Please, do let me know if there is anything else I can do.”

“This is plenty, I assure you.” He smiles, holding the blanket aloft in demonstration and leaves her to her work, heading the long way down to the Ale Hall to avoid the main deck. He spots Molly back in the kitchen behind the counter, looking forlorn.

“I’m sorry – I tried, I really did.” She scoops a generous portion of stew into a bowl and hands it off to an awaiting Bearer as she talks. “I told her my story and everything, but it’s almost like she’s frozen in place. I half-worried the curse had took her in front of my eyes. I left the stew - I hoped with some privacy she might eat without me there watching her.”

He places a large palm on her arm and give hers a sincere smile. “Thank you, Molly. I really appreciate you trying.”

“It’s nothing. Here”, she hands him the bowl of stew she’d just prepared. “Can’t forget yourself. And before you ask, yes, everyone else has been fed.”

Clive smiles, wryly, and takes the bowl with a grateful nod.

After he has had his fill, he heads out at the top of the steps, planning to keep his distance for a while longer up in the mess before an attempt to coax you out or gifting you the blanket. As his eyes cast over the alcove, he finds an unwelcome guest with their head and shoulders wedged firmly into the entrance.

“Torgal - away from there!” Clive snaps with a growl in his throat and the wolf hound instantly retreats to his master’s side with a whine and a tilt of his head, unsure as to what he's done.

He sighs, giving the beast a pat on the head. “I am sorry, boy, just... that bowl wasn’t for you – that was for our guest. I am afraid you may have scared her.”

Clive walks over and drops to a knee to peer within. His heart sinks to find your head tucked further between your knees than it had been previously, in addition to your body now trembling almost violently.

By the Founder, you must’ve thought he’d sent his beast to devour you.

“My lady, I am so very sorry that Torgal frightened you. He must’ve picked up the scent of the stew and followed it, mistaking it for his dinner. His sense of smell is unparalleled.”

Torgal barks as if in agreement, and you jump in place at the noise. Clive hushes the wolf with another pat on his head. “Sorry – he still acts like a puppy sometimes, but he is a very loyal friend of mine and he means you no harm. Allow me to fetch you something else to eat.”

He lays the bundled blanket down and pushes it forward, until it’s less than an arm’s length away from you.

“It gets a little cold on the deck in the evenings, my lady, but this should keep you warm until you feel comfortable enough to come inside. I’ll be back in a moment with some more food, and Torgal will keep away – I promise.”

He gets to his feet, picking up the bowl as he does and Torgal quickly follows behind at his heels as he heads back to the Ale Hall. Molly’s eyes widen in delight as he places the empty vessel on the counter, but Clive shakes his head.

“I’m afraid Torgal got to it first – licked it clean. Do we have any left?”

“Ah.” The cook’s face falls. “No, I’m afraid not – some of the Cursebreakers were feeling particularly hungry after their mission. But I do have bread, some cheese, apples and a lemon tart, though I had held that one back for you…”

“That all sounds wonderful. Please.”

Molly pulls out a cloth napkin from below the counter, placing the assortment of food together with a delicate hand. She ties the napkin in a knot to keep the bundle protected and hands it over.

“Thank you.” He looks down at the hound sat by his heels. “Torgal, why don’t you go and sit with Lady Charon?”

Torgal’s tail thumps against the wooden floorboards happily – Charon often has a bone waiting for him behind her counter in the evening.

“Good boy.”

Clive heads back towards the alcove with deliberate footsteps, wishing to announce his arrival. The blanket has not moved, still in the place where he left it. From what he can see in the evening light, your trembling has appeared to ease up from Torgal’s visit at least.

“I am afraid we have run out of stew, but Molly’s put together a selection of other things for you – including the lemon tart I mentioned earlier.” Clive places the bundle down carefully upon the blanket, before moving the waterskin besides it.

He waits a moment or two to see if you might lift your head before continuing, but it remains fixed in place.

“I think you might feel more at ease if you eat something, my lady, even if it’s just a little. I will leave you be and bid you a good night, with a sincere hope that you emerge anon.”

He gets back to his feet again, swallowing back down a sigh and, reluctantly, heads back into the warmth of the Ale Hall.

--

Clive finds himself restless later that night, tossing and turning before settling to stare up at the ceiling of his chambers. His mind is whirling with thoughts of what he needs to accomplish tomorrow, the missives he has yet to reply to, the Mothercrystals that still reside – though an opportune moment was still to present itself – the next lot of Cursebreakers who would be undertaking the removal of their Brands…

..and you, the scared Bearer, hiding in an alcove off the main deck.

He sits up with a huff and looks towards the balcony.

Fresh air – despite how drafty his chambers already are - will help, he thinks.

He gets out of bed, pulling on his earlier discarded trousers and boots to go with his night shirt and heads over to the balcony, stepping out into the cool night air.

The blighted lake waters are still and the moon casts a warm, white glow over the quiet deck. Clive takes a deep breath and then another, when something catches his eye down below - a lone figure heading across the boards on unsteady legs, towards the end of the dock.

You.

turns on his heel and hurries out of his chambers, his footsteps echoing around the Ale Hall as he descends both sets of stairs two at a time. He pulls the lever back to call the lift back up and waits, impatiently, when he sees the blanket and bundle of food he’d left earlier, pushed aside in front of the alcove.

He grabs the bundle as the lift reaches the dock and hurries inside, slamming down the lever and descending below, praying that he’s not too late.

--

You were sure you hadn’t heard anyone for hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon and stars had slowly started to emerge in the cloudless sky. Cautiously, you’d pushed the blanket forward, only enough so that if someone was lying in wait for you to emerge they would pounce.

Nothing.

You wait another while before you inch it forward again, a pause, then a little more until the entire blanket is now out of the alcove. Your hands are shaking as you pop your head out, just slightly, but the deck appears empty. After waiting another few moments, you crawl over to the railings to peer below. The skiff you’d arrived on is docked up at the end of the pier – an escape route. Without much further thought, you pull yourself up on unsteady legs and walk into the goods lift, pulling down the lever to descend.

You find yourself at the end of the dock, frozen in fear. What were you thinking? You don’t know how to sail. You don’t know how to swim either, so that’s also out of the question. Even if you could, you surely wouldn’t have the strength to swim across an entire lake.

You flex stiff fingers experimentally. Maybe you could muster up enough aether to conjure some wind – would that be enough to sail the skiff? You wished you’d paid more attention on the journey over…

You’re getting ahead of yourself. Where would you even go? The brand inked on your cheek made it so you’d never have a normal life, you stand out immediately in any crowd. If an imperial soldier caught you on your own, you’d be thrown into the cells…

..or even worse.

Maybe… Maybe you could go back to your master? Your stomach swirls again with anxiety at the thought. There would be a punishment, surely, but if you came back that would count for something, wouldn’t it?

Your thoughts are interrupted by pounding footsteps, your heartbeat soon matching their pace as you turn to see your pursuer. It’s the broad-shouldered man from earlier – Clive – hurrying up the dock with a look you can’t identify on his face and a bundle of cloth in his hand.

You take a step back as he gets closer, hurriedly followed by another, then another. There’s an apology on your tongue but the world suddenly jerks when there is no longer anything to stand on. You’ve stepped too far, ran out of dock-

There is a gust of warm wind and an arm wraps around your waist, pressing you close into an even warmer chest. Underfoot, you feel the boards of the dock again - Clive has stopped you from falling into the depths. He guides you forward another half a dozen strides before dropping his arm once he’s sure you’re a safe distance away from the edge and then takes further steps back himself.

“I apologise for touching you without your consent, my lady, but I could not let you fall into the water. Are you all right?”

You don’t take in his words at all - your legs giving up as you drop down on the deck with a thump.

“I’m s-sorry.” Your words are soft, but Clive hears them in the stillness of the night. “Please – I’ll…” You swallow back a sob – crying never helped, would only make punishments worse. “I’m sorry. Please… don’t hurt me. I’ll obey. I will.”

“I will never hurt you, my lady, nor will I ever command your obedience. This is my vow.” Clive responds, equally as soft, as he kneels down to match your eye-level. “I just wish to see you safe and well.”

He sounds sincere, which is unsettling. You realise he doesn’t have his sword, nor the hound at his heels. He’s not even properly dressed - leather trousers and an unlaced white shirt, overall softening his appearance.

Clive takes advantage of your silence to press on.

“Will you join me in a midnight feast?” He places the bundle of cloth down before him, swiftly undoing the knot all whilst you stare, trying to guess the trick.

“I used to sneak into my younger brother’s chambers with things I’d swiped from the kitchen. He was often ill and prescribed a rather bland diet, so I hoped a midnight feast of more appetizing fare might cheer him up.”

He busies himself laying out the food on the patterned cloth, a little further away from him than could be comfortable having to stretch out so far. There’s a few bread rolls, apples, biscuits and something that smells tantalizingly sweet.

“This,” Clive points out a round pastry in the middle, some sort of glazed curd on the top, “is Molly’s fabled lemon tart. The best in Valisthea, I assure you. Please – help yourself.”

He leans back, propping himself up with his elbows, again trying to give you space, and forces his gaze to the sky. The moon illuminates the side of his face as you keep your eyes fixed on him, revealing a mark you hadn’t noticed earlier that day - an almost familiar one.

It’s torture having the food laid out in front of you, the second time that day. You don’t know if you feel sick from hunger or from nerves, but your resolve finally cracks.

You reach out with a shaking hand, waiting for Clive to strike.

He keeps focused on the skies above, his hands firmly planted behind him.

You pick up the roll.

Still, he does not move.

You take a tentative bite and chew, whilst Clive stares up at the stars.

Slowly, but surely, you finish the entire roll. Be grateful – your master’s voice rings around your head.

“T-thank you.”

Clive moves his gaze from the skies to yours, a warm smile on his face. “No, thank you, my lady. This is all I want for you – all we want for you – to be safe and well-fed.”

You dig your nails into your palms. “Why?”

“Because Bearers do not deserve to be treated how they are – we should be able to live and die on our own terms.”

“We?”

He nods, sitting up and turning his head to the side, pushing back his hair a little to reveal the scar on his cheek.

“I was Branded once. Tarja – she’s our healer – removed it, only so I could travel Storm safely and help others escape their fate. The Cursebreakers have all had their Brands removed as well for the same reason.”

“No, they said it can’t be removed – the ink contains poison.” You don’t know where this tone of defiance has emerged from, but there is no flash of anger across Clive’s brow.

“It is risky to remove, yes, but not impossible. And we will not ask you to undertake such a risk – that would be your choice.” He adds, quickly, worried you may take it the wrong way.

“You remember Molly, who brought you the stew?” You nod. “There are many others like her who have chosen to keep their Brand, but it does not dictate their lives in the Hideaway. And until you can live the life you deserve to, one where that mark on your cheek will not make it unsafe for you to do so, I sincerely hope you will find a home here.”

“A home?”

“Mm. Safe, fed, and never need to use aether again, my…” He pauses in realization. “My apologies - may I request the pleasure of your name?”

You shake your head, feeling foolish. “It’s silly, but I… I don’t remember it. Such a simple thing to have forgotten, but master didn’t use it.”

Of course the bastard didn’t - Clive feels a frown forming, but restrains himself. “I am sure it will come back to you with time.”

His eyes fall upon the pastry in the following silence, wishing to change the subject and he picks it up, placing it on the flat on his palm and offering it out to you. “Please – have some more to eat.”

Clive has a shy smile on his lips, a genuine and sincere look in his eye. It is the kindest look someone has given you in all the time you can remember and with that, your fingers brush across his open palm as you take the offered treat.

It is small – only two bites – but it is the most wonderful thing you have ever tasted. The pastry is crisp, thin and sweet, whilst the lemon curd is tart, the flavours dancing over your tongue.

It makes you want to cry at such a simple pleasure that has been denied to you for so very long.

The moment of euphoria is interrupted as a particularly cold wind gusts across the lake and causes you to shiver, unconsciously pulling your limbs closer to your body to try and preserve heat.

“Thank you for trusting me, my lady. I cannot imagine how frightening and worrying it must be – I truly admire your bravery. May I be as bold to request you trust me once more this night?”

You nod – the tiniest jerk of your head down – but it’s a nod all the same.

“Would you allow me to escort you to the infirmary? It has warm and comfortable beds where you can rest - properly.”

The question makes your stomach squirm with anxiety – the food sitting too heavy now in your stomach, but one look into Clive’s eyes almost settles it entirely once more.

“And in the morning, if you feel up to it,” he clarifies, “our healer would like to give you a check-up, but you do not have to make a decision on that right now.”

“A-all right.”

“Wonderful.” He keeps his tone measured, quickly wrapping up the food in the cloth and securing the top with a knot before he gets to his feet and steps back as you get to yours. He gestures forward a moment, quickly second-guessing his actions with a frown.

“Mayhaps you would be more comfortable following me?”

A small nod again.

You can’t be backstabbed if you’re facing his back, after all.

“Of course. Follow me, please, my lady.” He bows ever so slightly, before turning and heading back up and along the dock.

Clive’s heart is pounding as he walks away, worried that you may take his retreat as a chance to take the skiff and sail away or plunge yourself into the lake, but he dare not look over his shoulder in fear of frightening you.

Instead, he strains to hear any footsteps bar his own.

It is only when he reaches the goods lift that he catches sight of you in his peripheral vision that he releases a breath. He’s sure to stand in the furthest corner besides the lever, only taking one look over his shoulder to confirm you were safely within the confines of the lift before he pulls down on the mechanism.

He walks along the main deck, up the stairs to the mess, past the long tables and the hunt board before he pauses at the bottom of the next set of stairs. “It’s just up here and to the left.”

He opens the door to the infirmary with measured strength – aware the other Bearers will be resting within. The first two beds are occupied by faces you recognize – the two you’d been rescued with – and there is a man sat by a desk. Clive nods to him in acknowledgement and heads towards the other side of the room, sectioned off by a large bit of fabric. Both cots back there are empty, so he walks over to the one closest to the window and pulls the blanket down, then stepping back to the other side of the room and gesturing you forward.

“Here.”

You hesitate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. The the stranger the other side of the curtain has unsettled you. It had been easy to forget about everyone else for a moment when it had just been Clive and you on the dock, but now you are inside… Who else would come when dawn broke?

Clive picks up on your hesitation, noting the way your eyes flit between the window and beyond the curtain, annoyed with himself he did not warn you of Rodiguez being on duty that night.

“If it would be all right with you, my lady, I would like to stay in order to make introductions in the morning with Tarja. But I will only do so if you are comfortable with me – I will set up a chair over there.” He points back the way you came, to the gap between the fabric and the wall.

“P-please.”

“Of course.” He nods, picking up a chair immediately from the side and moving it to where he had said. It is only then that you sit cautiously on the edge of the bed, slowly lifting your legs up and tugging the blanket up to your chin.

Clive settles himself on the chair – he has slept in far worse places, after all – and it is not long at all until sleep claims you.

--

Months pass. At first, your circle remains small – Clive and Molly at first, followed by Jill before you slowly begin to open up to those among the Hideaway. You will never forget the smile on Clive’s face when he introduced you to Torgal properly – the hound immediately rolling on his back, titling his head at you inquisitively as his master explained he wished for you to rub his fluffy belly.

You are still easily startled by loud noises, unexpected movement or when Gav swears out of excitement, and you are never the loudest in conversation, but everyone is so verywelcoming.

There is plenty to do, but there is no expectation of you to contribute unless you want to, especially as some among the ranks are too stiff from the curse. Jill and Hortense teach you how to sew, you spend a few days in the Backyard learning about the plants, Charon teaches you how to take a stock inventory, Gav tries to teach you how to drink a pint in record speed and, of course, Molly teaches you how to bake.

You are always first to greet new Bearers with a soft word and kind smile, telling them how scared you were, how you hid in the alcove on the deck…

Clive is often busy whilst in or out the Hideaway, but he always makes time for you, seeking out your company immediately after he has given Otto the latest, wanting to know what you’ve been up to before he’ll even speak of himself. He even picks up little trinkets that he thinks will make you smile – lined up on your windowsill in your bunk.

You knock gently on Clive’s chambers – his call for you to enter soon following. You hold the basket behind your back, a piece of cloth tucked over delicately over the contents within as you slide open the door. He is sat behind the writing desk, looking over a pile of missives, dressed in his usual leathers.

He raises his head and offers you the warmest smile, getting to his feet immediately in polite greeting. Seeing you always seemed to brighten his day – there was something about your smile that revitalized his spirits, a reminder of how far you’d come since that first day.

“My lady.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt your work.” You say, softly, sliding the door closed behind you.

“You are never an interruption. Please, sit.” He gestures towards the bench opposite his desk. “What can I do for you?”

“Before I do, I have some gifts.”                                                             

“Gifts?”

“Mm. For you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You shouldn’t have.”

You place the basket gently down on his desk, ignoring his comment. He pulls back the cloth to reveal a pile of six lemon tarts nestled within.

“Did you make these?”

“I did.” You nod, proudly. “Molly supervised, so they should be edible, at least.”

“They’ll be more than edible, I assure you.” He picks one up and bites into it, humming happily as he chews, the pastry melting on his tongue. “They are exquisite – truly.”

“Really?”

He feigns a pout at your question. “Have I ever lied to you?”

You shake your head with a shy smile.

“Then I would hardly start now.” He takes hold of you hand for a moment and squeezes. “Thank you.”

You bite your lip before continuing. “There’s… something else.”

“I am hardly deserving of this gift, my lady, let alone more-”

You interrupt him with a name – your name.

His eyes widen for a moment before he murmurs it back to you – sounding all the more wonderful on his tongue - and you nod, excitedly. You’d been reluctant to choose a new name, despite some suggestions. The inhabitants of the Hideaway had instead picked up on Clive’s term of address instead.

“I remembered, like you said.” You wring your fingers together. “Well, in a way. Tomes was reading a story to the children and there it was, after all this time.”

“It is a beautiful name – I am honoured to learn it.” He takes your hand with a bow, pressing a kiss against your knuckles and saying it once again.

When he releases your hand, you press a quick kiss against his stubbled, scarred cheek. “Thank you.”

Clive’s cheeks redden at your kiss, seemingly speechless for a moment. He smiles, almost bashfully, as he looks down at you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“May I give you something in return?”

“Clive,” you look down as you protest, feeling your own face warm under his gaze, “you’ve already given me plenty. You-” He inadvertently cuts you off as he tilts your chin up with two gentle fingers, determined to meet your gaze.

“You do not understand, my darling. I would love to give you so much more, if only you’d permit me.”

“Oh…”

Clive moves his hand to caress your Branded cheek with calloused fingers – worn from his time of handling his blade – but his touch has never felt so soft.

“May I?”

You nod.

Clive presses a kiss to your lips - gentle, chaste and far sweeter than any lemon tart.

--

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≡;-꒰ 𝑱𝑶𝑺𝑯𝑼𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑺𝑭𝑰𝑬𝑳𝑫 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑰𝒈𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ joshua rosfield x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni | kinktober '24 day 2

tags : pwp (without plot), but porn with feelings (declarations of love) … because it’s joshua, poetic words and prose (again… because it’s joshua), temperature play (fire), inappropriate use of magic, not very realistic in like any sense really (you have been warned), heavy petting, kissing, marking, nipple play, clit play, fingering, orgasm denial, but this is mostly sickly-sweet and soft, praise (lots and lots of it), use of pet names “my love” “my lady” “my darling”. lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 1.8k

an : a lot of liberties were taken with joshua’s usage of the phoenix’s powers here but…… it was about time i wrote for him hfajashjsd this is incredibly self-indulgent i wrote this 100% for me LMAO

taglist : @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @chemiru (SIGN UP HERE)

AO3 / KINKTOBER MASTERLIST / KO-FI JAR / COMMISSIONS

Where you decide to play with fire.

“Mmh… ‘Shua…”

Your neck craned, leaning back into him. Wet, open-mouthed kisses trailed over your exposed skin, hot breath raising goosebumps in their wake… You were laid out open for him, without any choice but to allow him to fondle you as he wished.

…Yet, his touch was so gentle. 

With one arm splayed across your torso to keep you steady against him, the other caressed your naked body, roaming around your skin with feather-light touches as if to ease you into it. He knew exactly what you craved, exactly the sort of things to bring you the pleasure he had always known you deserved. Being cradled in his arms like this was more than you could wish for. You could feel vulnerable, but more than that, you felt… safe.

“How beautiful you are, my love,” he murmured.

His voice rang soft and comforting against your ear.

“A most heavenly demise; one that I would take, and gladly accept for my own. My darling, I could ravish you.”

Despite the moan that edged from your lips as his hand slid deftly between your thighs, his words brought upon you a certain sense of giddiness. Your head tilted back, and you laughed softly through your nose, eyes half-lidded to chase his lips for a kiss—naturally, it was one that he would never deny you of.

“Such words, ” you whispered with a playful roll of your eyes. Your own hand reached up to run through his locks, and when your eyes met, the sheer endearment that had settled in his features was enough to have you drawing a breath.

Again he nudged at you with the tip of his nose, ghosting a kiss, breathing out a laugh to match your own. When he spoke next, there was a teasing lilt to his voice—a grin that you would have heard, had you not been seeing it in front of you in that moment.

“ Ah, but were they not true, my lady, you know well that I wouldn’t have spoken.”

“Hmm? Then, by your words… You would spoil me for your own, Your Grace?”

He nuzzled against your cheek, thumbing the plush of your inner thigh.

“As I have, I will do.”

Simple words.

Simple, yet, from him, they proved enough. 

Your hand moved from his hair to his cheek, coaxing from him yet another kiss. This time, you allowed him to part your legs.

“And as I have ever done, I would surrender myself to you, body and soul,” you murmured. Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, the proximity of you both nearly as intoxicating as the anticipation of what he would give you. “You know that you have me, Joshua. It is I who should be thanking the heavens for the home that I have found in your heart.”

A slow breath fell from his lips, fingers dipping downwards to gather the slick between your folds. The sound of it—such obvious arousal as the squelch of your wetness became a noise that he was drawn to—caused your cheeks to flush. It was unimaginable to you how easily you had submitted to his touch, legs spreading wider, eyes drawn to the sight of his hand at your core. Unbecoming of a lady, one would think; yet Joshua would always call you otherwise.

“Perfect,” he sighed.

A word that he reserved always for you.

Yet even as he said that, the amusement in his voice didn’t quite seem to waver. 

“But you would dare to speak of my words when you could tell me such beautiful things?” he shook his head. “You are a vixen, my lady. I would scarcely be able to keep myself in check should you speak another word.”

Your breathing turned shallow.

His finger dragged upwards, spreading your slick all over your folds, before sliding back down to catch as much as you would leak. He circled your entrance, never quite pushing in, before repeating the motions and moving up once more.

Your clit was throbbing.

He would tease; he always would—lips pressed back against your ear, breath hot against your skin to have you shiver in his hold. He wouldn’t give you attention where you needed it the most, always keen on having you thrashing around in his arms before indulging.

For him to speak of such manners?

You could nearly scoff.

“Joshua, when have you ever?”

Your words were not a complaint, but a mere fact. 

He chuckled at that, a low rumble directly into your ear before darting his tongue out to give it a tentative lick.

“But, my love…”

His hand drew out from between your legs, trailing up over your abdomen in a mesmerizing yet excruciatingly slow motion. Your hips bucked, but to no avail; he would allow no chasing the very pleasure that he had almost just given you.

And then you saw it.

You felt it.

The way the tips of his fingers would glow bright like burning ember, heat emanating off of his hand and directly onto your body.

You gasped, your body arching upwards off of him.

“You like it.”

It was his statement that, this time, proved nothing but a fact.

Your lips parted as you drew in a shaky breath, watching as his hand moved across you.

The pain was there, undeniably—such raw heat was searing.

Yet, Joshua was gentle.

Sparks of his flames would skim all over your skin, hand never staying in one place, almost as if to cover you entirely with his heat—at least as much as he could. Everywhere he moved, his touch was hot, almost searing, sliding up and down every curve of your body. He left a trail behind, the heat of it bubbling a moan from your throat—a beautiful streak of red, nearly glowing against your flesh.

And every essence of him exuded warmth.

A warmth that you were comfortable with.

A warmth he knew you loved.

Perhaps, being with him had always amounted to that—the flames had never scared you. You thrived within them; the home that you had found burned brighter than you could have ever longed for, and there was nothing you would give to change it.

Now, too, was no exception.

“Joshua…” you gasped out his name, feeling both his hands at work on you this time, grasping your breasts, kneading the flesh in a way that made him sigh against the side of your cheek. And it was all the reply you would get before his thumbs rubbed against your hardened nubs, the heat from his touch making you jolt in surprise.

Slowly, as if to soothe, he turned his head to bring you into a tender kiss.

Velvet lips moved against yours in that loving manner that made you melt, your fingers slowly moving back into his hair as if to pull him closer to you— closer to you. Because when he kissed you like this, you wished that he would never stop. That time would stop. That this moment could last forever, and he would be with you.

It worked to distract you, his fingers never stopping. He toyed with your nipples—rubbed and pulled, circled around, just in that way he knew you liked best. He would smile into the kiss every time he swallowed a moan—he knew that he was rendering your breasts sensitive, and swollen, and used, yet he would keep pulling you back onto his lips, sweetly taking your mind off of that slight sting of pain you would feel from him.

And then his hand moved downwards.

This time he pulled away from the kiss, a satisfied smile ghosting his features as he shifted to rest on your shoulder in favor of watching.

Your breath hitched. 

You felt almost feverish, the rush of anticipation having you lightheaded until finally— finally—

“Joshua!”

A cry of his name left your lips as he dipped between your legs, easily making contact with your needy, dripping folds.

The sensation made you shudder.

His fingers slid again through your folds, barely brushing against your clit, allowing that glowing, red heat to radiate against it in a way that had your eyes squeezing shut.

“ Breathe, my love,” he whispered. “I have you. I always have you.”

There was a question in his movements.

His head raised to look at you, chaste kiss placed on your lips, hand lifting off of your mound tentatively.

A raspy moan of encouragement was all that you could offer to him, weakly nodding your head, but it was enough.

“That’s my good girl.”

He didn’t give you time to dwell on it any longer—

His fingers slipped inside you, heated touch dipping into your gummy walls, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“Oh!” you cried; a lack of coherency taking over your tongue as you tried, and failed, to properly sound out his name.

Your hands reached to grip at the sheets, at his body, anything —

Joshua continued to move his fingers.

In and out, in and out. Slowly; allowing you to get used to the sensation, yet fast enough to focus on the pleasure it brought. Soft whispers of sweet nothings into your ear had you arching your back, pushing your hips into his hand. He continued to thrust—matching your pace, curling upwards to hit that spot with an added intensity that had you gasping.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, voice almost sounding like a sigh. “Lift your hips, my love, just like that. Such a perfect, wonderful girl.”

Your lower lip trembled, tears pricking at your eyes. And the warm lamplight illuminating the room fluttered, and the added light from his flames projecting your silhouettes on the wall in a display of passion.

“J- Joshua…” 

You swallowed thickly, choking out a moan.

His thumb shifted to rub against your clit, side to side, a collective pace that matched his thrusts.

Always in the very way that pleasured you.

Always for you.

“Here, my lady?” he smiled as you continued to buck against him. “This spot, right here? Should I…”

Another cry from your lips, head shaking back and forth at your loss of proper words to convey.

The knot in your stomach coiled unbearably tightly, a final cry tearing free from your throat;

“Please, Your Grace, I’m—!”

His fingers pulled out, hand lifting, the glow of his flames dissipating into blue specks of aether that you knew all too well.

Nothing.

Only a gasp.

Your eyes widened and your hips bucked up, walls clenching around nothing as you cried out in protest.

“Joshua!”

You turned to him, aghast, continuing the rhythmic flutter of your cunt as the feeling of your orgasm quickly faded away.

And he smiled.

Still with the audacity to be soft, still with the audacity to look so endearing, he gently pushed you down onto the bed, figure looming over you as you caught your breath.

“Please, my darling, I said I would ravish you, did I not?”

He looked pleased with himself, his voice a melodious hum.

Yet his head lowered, resting against yours. You could feel the flutter of his eyelashes—a different form of a kiss, you recalled. And it was one that he would often use with you to provide comfort.

“You are a tease, Lord Rosfield!” you huffed.

He nuzzled your nose with a soft laugh.

“Only because I couldn’t possibly be done with you yet.”

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

Joshua sought comfort in you…

(joshua rosfield x reader)

fluff

summary: Joshua had a nightmare and went to you for comfort…

—

The moonlight seeped through the open window, curtains blowing gently in the night wind. You laid awake yet again, you could never sleep.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you gazed at the moon which shone so bright outside. A quiet night, but peaceful.

Knock, Knock, Knock

Three quiet knocks placed themselves at your door, as if the person knocking was doing so cautiously. Confused you sat up, removing the covers.

At this hour?

You thought as your feet placed on the floor. With a few strides you arrived at the door, taking a deep breath as if you were preparing for the worst. You always seemed to do that.

You grabbed onto the cold, metal door knob and gently turned it.

“…Joshua?”

You spoke confused yet softly, your eyes landing upon familiar blue ones.

“…My lady, forgive me for the disturbance.”

Joshua appeared nervous, almost like he was ashamed.

“No no, it’s alright I hadn’t slept yet.”

You gave him a soft reassuring smile. You felt the need to calm his nerves, even though you doubted your ability to do so.

The soft spoken man gave you a sheepish smile.

“If you do not mind…”

Joshua fidgeted his fingers, though hard to notice you did immediately.

“May I enter, my lady?”

His voice and expression were hesitant, he was afraid of your rejection.

With a soft reassuring smile you nodded and opened the door wider for him to enter.

He nodded in return, a small thank you escaping the young lord’s lips.

The small click of the door shutting and locking, the gentle flap of the curtains, the synchronic breathing of the two became the only sounds.

A comfortable silence fallen upon the two. The lord’s uncommon awkward gaze looking to the side.

“Is everything alright Joshua?”

Your soft voice broke the silence, making his eyes fall upon yours. You could swear you noticed a hint of red on his ears, but maybe it was the lighting playing tricks on you.

“You were gone…I had lost you…”

A sudden pained voice emitted from Joshua. This had caused you to inch forward towards him.

Before you could speak he had started again, “I-…I cannot…”

Your eyes widened slightly as you noticed the young lord getting choked up.

“oh Joshua…”

You reached forward, wrapping your arms around him in a protective embrace.

“You could never lose me Joshua…I will not stray, ever.”

You reassured him, gently caressing his hair.

“My apologies…”

His voice ached with unshed tears.

“You have nothing to be sorry for…”

Joshua’s head dipped and buried itself into the crook of your neck. A wet spot formed which practically broke your heart.

“I love you, I will stand by your side for as long as you’ll have me, my lord.”

A soft kiss planted onto the side of his head, your touch soothing him.

“I love you too, more than anything”

—

•a/n•

First post on here !! I’ll be posting more though it will most likely be inconsistent. I’m not really that good of a writer sadly, but I do enjoy it very much soo. I hope you enjoyed this and I shall write more when I can !! :) btw not proofread (I couldn’t be bothered)

This does take place in the hideaway. I didn’t include background much since it was a short fluff :))

Reunited at last…

(Joshua Rosfield x reader)

fluff?

summary: Joshua searched for you, the dominant of Leviathan, his love.

—

Joshua had travelled to a distant village, one where the dominant of leviathan was said to be spotted.

could it be…? this time…

Joshua only hoped. After all the leads he had followed to no avail, he was growing tired. He was losing hope…but no he couldn’t give up, not ever.

If there was even a tiny chance he could see his love again, he would take it.

He had been searching secretly in the shadows through the village, still he couldn’t find a thing. Finally he had ended up in a secluded spot, somewhere by the shore.

A defeated sigh escaped his lips.

could this be it? would he never find his love again?

“Don’t take another step.”

Your sharp tone caught the man off guard. The side of your sword aligned with his neck.

You weren’t stupid, you had noticed the unfamiliar presence snooping around.

“m-my lady…please-“

The young lord tensed up as your angry tone cut him off.

“Who are you and what do you want?!”

Your gaze burned through the back of his head.

“You mistake me my lady!”

He spoke nervously his hands up in surrender even though his back was faced to you.

“Then speak.”

A sigh of relief escaped the man as you lowered your sword. He finally turned to face you…

no…no…no…it couldn’t be? it can’t be…?

Your cold composure faltered, eyes widening at the sight of him.

His eyes softened, a warm smile appearing on his lips.

“it truly is you…”

Joshua breathed, “When I heard word of the dominant of Leviathan…I knew…I knew it would be you…”

You felt as if your world had regained color, as if your will had returned.

“Joshua…”

You let out a shakey exhale. You hadn’t even noticed how much you were shaking, the sword gripped in your hand suddenly fell to the floor. A loud clang echoed which soon mixed with your footsteps, you ran to his arms.

The familiar scent hit you has your arms tightened around him.

“…I thought i’d never see you again.”

His soft voice spoke into you as he held you closely. He kissed the top of your head.

You tried to respond, but only got choked up. Your arms tightened around him and you buried your face into his neck.

You felt alive again…

•a/n•

not proofread again i’m too lazy.

By your side I shall remain…

Joshua x Female Reader

fluff

summary: Joshua attempts to comfort you on your period…

a/n: sadly my period JUST started so instead of sulking i’m writing !! this was written in haste so forgive me if it’s not all that. not proof read again, i’m in too much pain to care.

—

You laid, curled up in a ball at your chambers in the hideaway. Your arms were pressed tightly against your stomach. Low groans escaping your lips ever so often. You had only hoped they would end, but no these period cramps never did.

It was the first day of your period and you were stuck in your quarters, balled up on your bed. You hadn’t left your room all morning, which was not common for you. The others figured you were still resting, even though you almost never slept in.

You were always a strong warrior, not one to waste any time. Always the first one up and ready. Not many focused on your lack of presence, but Joshua.

He had contemplated checking on you, but his nerves had gotten the best of him. He stood leaning against the railing of the deck, pondering.

“Is something bothering you, Joshua?”

A voice emitted from behind Joshua, making him turn.

“hm…I’m simply lost in thought.”

Joshua gave a soft reassuring smile, which the man chuckled at.

“If you are so concerned, you can go check up on her.”

“Clive…i-it’s not…”

A light pink tint appeared on Joshua’s cheeks from his brother’s words. Of course he could figure out what was wrong.

A light chuckle left Clive as he watched Joshua’s reaction.

“There’s no point in losing your mind over something so simple, go see her.”

Clive nudged Joshua as he gave a knowing smirk, to which Joshua sighed at, he couldn’t deny his brother’s words.

“I…suppose you are right…”

Joshua nervously admitted, what was the harm

in going to check up on you?

Clive lightly pushed Joshua, as if he wanted to hurry him.

“Yes, yes I’m going!”

Joshua jokingly rolled his eyes, and began to walk in the direction of your quarters. He couldn’t help but nervously fidget as he did.

Why was he so nervous…it’s not like this was the first time he’d be in your chambers…

Joshua made his way to your room, when he finally did he hesitated. Taking a deep breath he raised his hand to knock.

Knock, Knock, Knock

Three knocks was heard from your door, to which you groaned. You didn’t want to get up and open the door, actually you didn’t want to move at all.

Reluctantly you raised your voice, “Who is it?” you called out in a tired tone.

“My lady, it’s Joshua. I only wanted to check up on you, if you wish for me to leave I shall.”

The moment you heard Joshua’s voice you recognized it, you hurriedly sat up.

shit.

You didn’t want him to see you like this. All curled up in pain, you seemed a mess, weak. You felt pathetic.

Nonetheless you stood up, hurried to the door and opened it. You always wanted to be around him, your condition wasn’t going to stop that.

“Joshua,” You breathed and gave him a soft weak smile.

“is something the matter?”

Joshua asked, immediately noticing your weariness.

You didn’t say anything instead suddenly hugged him, burying your head in his chest. He hesitated, only out of surprise. His arms wrapped around you in a gentle warm embrace.

“My lady, are you alright?”

He spoke softly, his voice like a warm blanket.

“Can you just…stay with me?”

You requested hesitantly, as if you were afraid of his rejection.

“Of course, anything you wish…”

Joshua spoke, a warm smile on his lips. You looked up at him, getting comforted just by the sight of him. You noticed quickly how Joshua’s face was completely red, he was a blushing mess.

A quiet chuckle left your mouth as you gently pulled away from him, your hand taking hold of his. You pulled him into the room, closing the door behind him.

“Will you lay with me?”

You asked him, though you were partially toying with him, you could tell how flustered he already was.

He only nodded, too embarrassed to say yes. His reaction made you laugh as you pulled him closer to you, so you both could get on bed.

As you laid down he followed, wrapping his arms around you in an almost protective embrace. Your stomach was pressed up against his, you held onto him like he was your lifeline.

“Thank you Joshua, for being here.”

You muttered quietly into his chest. A gentle kiss was planted onto your head.

“You need not thank me, I will always be here…”

You hummed silently in response, cuddling him as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Are you in pain?”

His voice quietly asked.

“mm…It’s just…my period.”

You groaned, he gently caressed your back.

“You being here…is more than enough.”

You left a gentle kiss on his chest, snuggling deeper.

“Then know this, I shall always be by your side.”