#fluffuary 2022

1. Holding Hands!

For the first fluff-uary prompt I did my OG Hawke and Merrill. 😁

Because they are adorable.

Of all the weird alien mating customs Garrus had learned from Shepard, spooning had to be somewhere near the very top. It was cuddling, but ergonomic. To be honest, he found himself surprised that it was a human custom, taking how inherently turian it seemed. Hugging each other so closely, so efficiently saving up space by extension? It was shocking the turians hadn't come up with something like that.

Of course, having a bulky exoskeleton probably played a big part in the lack of spooning in turian society. It would probably be inefficient for two turians to cuddle like that — not to mention, very uncomfortable.

Garrus at least was in a position where that wasn't a problem. In fact, the way it worked out for him was actually quite nice. Shepard was soft all over, her entire body so incredibly silken under his touch, that pressing himself against her was anything but uncomfortable. When she held him, it felt as if he was about to melt into her. Not only was she soft, but also warm. Garrus leaned into that warmth and that softness, and his body relaxed in her embrace.

He felt safe.

Despite the incredible softness of her alien body, Shepard was not frail. She wasn't weak. There was a lot of strength under that thin, pinkish human skin, and if he pressed hard enough, he could feel the muscle underneath. For one so small and seemingly soft, she was also incredibly strong, and it was that strength, coupled with the warmth and softness of her body, that made Garrus feel so safe in her arms. Even if only for a while, he didn't need to be ready to fight. She would protect him.

He closed his eyes, pressing his head back against her, mindful not to poke her with his crest as he did. A soft sigh of contentment left his mouth when she only tightened her hold on him. Her all too many fingers danced over the plates on his chest and stomach as she deepened their embrace, pulling him even closer into the safety of her loving arms.

Honestly, Garrus had no idea what he'd ever done to deserve her.

AO3

Fandom: Zero Escape

Ship: Aoi/Light

CWs: Gender dysphoria

Trans Aoi propaganda

“Come on, Santa! The runway’s empty!”

“Where’s our jolliest model?”

Aoi scowled into the mirror. He’d already accepted that Akane would never let him live his choice of codename down, but who told Clover she was allowed to make fun of him, too? Maybe putting up with some light ribbing was the least he owed her for kidnapping her and all, but he would consider continuing to call him Santa a little too cheeky on her part.

Besides, he’d already indulged Clover enough by agreeing to do her stupid “fashion show.” It had sounded like harmless fun at first, a silly way to top off this little sibling sleepover. But now, alone in the bathroom with his dark thoughts and the look he was to model, it was all becoming a bit too serious.

There was a knock on the bathroom door with a familiar and musical cadence. “Are you decent?”

Fucking adorable. Respecting his privacy, as if Light could see him naked or if Aoi would care if he could. “Yeah, come in,” Aoi called out.

He didn’t turn to look at Light as he entered, but his boyfriend quickly made his presence known behind him in the mirror. Light was beset in a construction-site-orange denim hoodie with the sleeves torn off, baggy black cargo pants, a thick white infinity scarf and a rainbow headband. Aoi’s wardrobe was full of unique and meticulously hand-picked pieces that could be mixed and matched without fail – but apparently, only by their owner. Aoi could pull off dressing like an idiot. Not everybody could.

He smirked. “You look ridiculous.”

“And you look dashing, love.” Light flashed a smile full of playful sarcasm.

Aoi rolled his eyes and laughed, though luckily Light couldn’t see his grimace. It was just another of Light’s jokes, but… this one stung.

“Do I not own it?” said Light. He flashed a dramatic pose. “Surely you heard how loudly the girls cheered as I strutted for them.”

“How could I not? Akane can really screech when she wants to.”

“And now it’s your turn. Come, superstar. Your audience is anxious.”

Aoi shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know about this, babe,” he said.

“Oh? What’s the matter?”

“It’s your clothes.” Aoi turned back to the mirror, analyzing his unfamiliar outfit. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, ‘cause you always look fucking hot. But your clothes are all real feminine. It’s just because you’re slim, or whatever, and you like to wear fitted shit, and that’s great and all. But it makes me look like a chick.” He grumbled and undid another button on Light’s shirt to no avail. It was a grey silk dress shirt and it clung way too close to his skin. Even after the most expensive top surgery he could find, Aoi couldn’t help but see curves when any clothing was tight around his chest.

“Oh, Aoi… I had no idea,” said Light, placing a tender hand at Aoi’s back.

“If it were just you and Akane, yeah, I could do this for a laugh. But with Clover here… you haven’t told her, have you?”

Light shook his head. “No, Clover doesn’t know.” His hand trailed up Aoi’s back and towards his shoulder. “I promise she would never judge you, but if you’re really bothered by this, we can call the fashion show – is this my tie?”

“Huh?” Aoi turned his head, surprised by the non sequitur. Light was grasping the thin blue tie Aoi had draped around his shoulders, his head tilted down as if to look at it in disbelief. “Oh, yeah. What about it?”

“It’s untied.”

“Yeah, I tried to put it on like a scarf.”

Light grinned. “Oh, Aoi. Do you not know how to tie a tie?”

Aoi blushed. “No, duh. Who the hell would have taught me?”

“Your boyfriend, obviously.” Light gathered the strap of fabric in his hands and crossed his arms with determination. “I have an idea of how to turn this debacle around. Put your pajamas back on.”

Aoi didn’t have to be asked twice. He scrambled to get out of his constricting clothes, nearly tearing the zipper on his slacks in the process (thankfully he stopped himself in time – Light really liked those pants), and threw on what he’d been wearing before Clover got this hare-brained idea: a pair of sweatpants and a huge visual kei band T-shirt that went down to his knees. He didn’t love the way T-shirts looked on him usually, and this one was so big on him he looked like a toddler growing into his big boy clothes, but it was one of the only keepsakes of his father he had.

Once he was happy and masculine again, he turned to Light, who was holding the tie out straight, the thick end in his right hand. “Okay, what’s your big idea, genius?”

Light beckoned him forwards. “Stand with your back towards me,” he ordered. “I don’t know how to do this backwards.”

Aoi raised an eyebrow, but obliged.

“Now, are we facing the mirror? I want you to watch what I’m doing.”

They weren’t, but Aoi maneuvered them until they were. He stepped in front of the mirror to a much more pleasing view than what he’d been seeing previously. Light had his chin on Aoi’s shoulder, arms draped around him as he held the tie in the proper starting position around his neck. Their cheeks were grazing each other and Light almost had a glow about him. He didn’t mind having hair in his eyes most of the time, of course, but Aoi thought that maybe he should start wearing headbands more often – he was so handsome with his face unobstructed.

“This is a basic knot called the four-in-hand…”

He moved his hands slowly, painstakingly explaining every step he was taking. It was still too much for Aoi to take in in one sitting, but surely Light wouldn’t mind going through it again. Aoi hoped he wouldn’t, at least, because he couldn’t get enough of his boyfriend’s gentle hands dancing before him, looping and twisting the tie around them.

Light stepped back when he was finished, allowing Aoi to marvel at himself. For the first time in his life, he was wearing a tie. And he looked damn good in it. Yeah, it looked stupid as hell on top of an 80’s hair band T-shirt, but no one wore stupid quite as well as Aoi Kurashiki.

“How is that for blowing your sister’s mind?” said Light, clearly proud of himself.

“Hell yeah, it will,” replied Aoi. He turned to look at Light. “I don’t know how to thank you, man.”

Light smiled and took a step forwards. “You can thank me by letting me show you… perhaps the only downside to wearing a tie.”

“What’s that?”

“They make it much easier for me to do this.” With astonishing accuracy, Light reached forward and grabbed a fistful of tie, pulling Aoi in for a passionate kiss. Aoi brought his hands to the sides of Light’s face in surprise, but quickly melted into it as Light placed a second hand on the tie, locking them together even closer.

They were interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door. “Hello? Are you boys okay in there?” It was Akane.

fluffuary day 8: taking a nap together.

vague 6.0 spoilers in the sense of “they’re going somewhere cold (it’s garlemald)”

The temperature was dropping even with the airship’s insulation and the heat from the ceruleum engines leeching throughout the cabin. Hanami stepped out of the tiny powder room and tugged the sleeves of her woolen gambeson into place; with the rest of the night and most of the next morning to go until their landing there was no point in putting on all of her armor, but her underlayers were at least warm.

This airship was the largest by far in the fleet, though most of the room was given over to transporting the chocobos and the supplies for establishing camp. The spaces meant for human occupation were narrow and cramped, outfitted with benches and slim tables, and the bunks were stacked two high. In the dim light from the crystal lamps she could see the lumps that marked the sleeping Scions, disguised under piles of blankets and quilts; other than the creaking of her boots against the floorboards there was no sound, not even breathing, with the hum of the engines drowning everything else out. It was for the best since she’d only woken because of the chill to start with, but then they all knew she was the most susceptible to the cold. That was Thancred’s hair spilling out across a pillow, she thought as she passed, with Y’shtola curled up on the bed above him, and—

Alphinaud, half-upright with a book in his lap, and Alisaie beside him facedown on a crumpled topographical map, blankets kicked down to the end of the bunk.

Hanami heaved a silent sigh.

It took some doing to free the map from underneath Alisaie, but Hanami hadn’t spent her childhood pranking her sleeping siblings with nothing to show for it. Stealing the book from Alphinaud was comparatively easy, and with gentle nudges she managed to encourage him to lay down without waking him completely; he only grumbled and scratched his nose, reflexively clinging to Alisaie’s arm once he was horizontal.

"For the first time since I was a squire, I left my lover's home from a window."

"She exhaled deeply, eyes shut still. My great love, Ishgard, had towered before all other loves. Yet, it shrank as I watched her. I wanted her to feel just as the traveler had in his long voyage away from his ruined star. To feel safe, to feel that she had found it again. That she might stay in Ishgard forever, that this was enough. That this could be her home."

In the weeks after that night, I felt I'd made myself a fool once again. The fantasies I'd held about the contents of The Warrior of Light's heart seemed to be just that, a fantasy. The impolite visions I had conjured in my mind. The hope that I had created when she had only been kind to me, expecting that more would be a possibility. Welcomed by her, even! That I could know more than her strength, but her heart. To see her intimately, to see every shade of her. That she might want to know me not as a colleague, not just a friend.

Humiliated, I refused her meetings. In truth, I was quite busy. The work of raising a nascent republic was endless. Days of arid reports, contentious meetings. A nation that begged to be rebuilt from years of terror from the skies. The Firmament had been razed, due for the efforts of us all.

My contacts with the Eorzean alliance kept me apprised of the Scions' movements. Invited to Gridania, to Baelsar's Wall, and every engagement asked of me, I provided all I could. My presence, my blade, as many men as I could spare. Occasionally, whatever honesty I could offer. My insecurity standing among more seasoned leaders on the star's stage, my hope that my words carried to them as clearly as they had seemed in my mind.

Each time I held her attention, I wished I had been a wiser or a better man as I carried her off after the Grand Melee or as I begged permission for her courtship from House Fortemps. I would have understood that she was not mine. I wouldn't wince as she was spirited away to new lands, performing the same miracles for someone else. I saw these miracles with my own eyes for the first time, watching as she bore the new dawn of nations.

To my surprise, she continued her work in the Holy See amidst it all. I sent the most polite thanks as she worked, laying eyes on her efforts once she had finished. I did not dare allow myself the thought that her return was more than obligation, that she had some love of Ishgard that would drive the Saint of the Firmament to stay among us.

I announced the construction of a housing district for adventurers out of gratitude for their labor, opening some time after the Firmament's completion. In the back of my mind, though I refused to spend time with the thought, I wished that she would come to claim land of her own.

--

I had stopped waiting for my messages, tracing the path from post-moogle to my desk. They arrived daily from across the Holy See, from representatives across the continent. They blended into the many days of my work. That is, until one package rested atop the many letters requesting my review. Post marked from Gyr Abania, a thick envelope. A small painting of Rhalgr's Reach, signed "Lua, Devouerer of Ale". Affixed to it, a green powder marked "Cactus Tea". A note on stained paper, grains of sand dripping from the creases as I unfolded it, "Happy Valentione's Day, Lua"

Promptly, I set aside my papers. I had told myself many moons ago that I could, that I would make time for her. As Lord Speaker and Lord Commander, I would somehow find the time. I left, scythe in hand to source the finest Coerthan tea leaves I could send in return.

--

She had received my tea leaves along with my best attempt at birch syrup. I fancied myself a fine cook until I tried my hand at something she had expertly crafted so many times before. She did work miracles with her hands.

She would return briefly to commune with Francel regarding the conclusion of their work on the Firmament, she would be back in Ishgard within a fortnight.

--

Her countenance had changed. Talkative as ever but with a more certain tone, her words meeting their mark sure as her fists. Tanned from the Gyr Abanian sun, body thinned from long days between meals but etched with new muscles from her hikes through the wilds described in her missive a fortnight past. Battling Warriors of Darkness, learning unfathomable truths of our star. She repeated one warrior's words to me, Ardbert was his name.

"We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still–still, it came to this! You of all people should understand!"

"I did. I thought I did. When I realized what they gave to travel to our star, to save their own. I don't fully understand, but the conviction in their eyes. Giving everything and realizing that they had lost despite all intention..." she trailed off, her own eyes losing conviction and glazing over as she meditated on Ardbert's words.

"Do you question the strength of your own campaign?"

"Often. For Ala Mhigo, for Doma, Garlemald has been a generations long tormentor. For me, it's new. Everything is new, I'm always learning some new horror that keeps Ala Mhigo from believing in liberation," she confided.

"I thank God for Lyse every day. I love seeing her passion, her willingness to wait for her people to meet it. She patiently works every day to show them what they can win, after everything they've lost. She makes me believe in it all myself."

She left me with many thoughts, but the newness of it all captured my mind. It encompassed many questions I'd left unasked in favor of others during her time in Ishgard.

"New? Was Garlemald not a threat to your own lands?" I strayed from the topic at hand, curiosity catching me.

"No," her body bristled as if she had already offered too much. "Aymeric, I..." her eyes cast down to the floor. "I'd like to show you something."

--

I followed her back to her quarters at House Fortemps. I had never seen it before, but I imagined that it looked the same as it ever had. Full of plush moogles, chocobos. Paintings of our closest friends, some of acquaintances I had made, others I had not, lined the walls. She made for a cupboard near the window, returning with arms full of orchestrion rolls. Her eyes searched mine as the orchestrion shuddered to life.

Brass instruments screamed harmonious joy, a husky voiced man in an accent resembling hers shouted with elation. I had never seen her like this. The peace that spread out on her face, from the freckles around her eyes to her lips. She swayed gently, eyes closed in the sea of horns and rhythm before she opened them once more. The freedom of the bard, uncontrollably jubilant. The sound reverberated in my chest, I could feel it all over just as his words promised.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Yes, it's unusual. Joyful." I struggled to describe it to her, I had never heard a combination of sounds like it before.

She lowered the volume and grabbed my hand as she walked towards her bed. Smoothing her skirt, she sat, urging me to join her. I obliged, aware of myself hot in the face. I felt out of place in my armor, cold steel in her rose scented room.

"And with a voice like Ella's ringing out, there's no way the band could lose"

--

She told me her story. Waking alone in the Gridanian forest, learning the ways of a land she had never laid eyes on before. She shared her regret for words left unspoken before she lost the time, her growing attachment to me, her fear that she had offended me in some way. My voice failed me. I whispered that she hadn't, that she could never.

Delighted in her candor, I listened as she told me her most hidden secrets. The strange device given to Cid, the images of people she might have loved. The books I had seen her guard so fiercely, loved to thinning and dog eared pages. That she, like the traveler she read about so often, felt adrift. That her time among us had been a welcome anchor, that her return time and time again bound her to reality.

We talked for hours, the sun disappeared without my notice. Every thought unsaid between us, laughed quietly into the night. She revealed to me that she had never finished her most treasured book, afraid of damaging the worn paper stuck together by rain. I flipped through the available pages, admiring the delicately painted images. I felt her hesitation as I offered to try. With our hands, we gently pulled the pages apart. I read it aloud to her, throwing my voice as I played the collection of characters.

“I stood looking over my damaged home and tried to forget the sweetness of life on earth.”

She hitched her breath as we neared the end,

"I remember damage. And escape. Then...adrift in a stranger's galaxy for a long time."

I asked if she was ready, if she wanted to hear how it ended. She nodded, closing her eyes.

"But I'm safe now. I found it again. My home."

She exhaled deeply, eyes shut still. My great love, Ishgard, had towered before all other loves. Yet, it shrank as I watched her. I wanted her to feel just as the traveler had in his long voyage away from his ruined star. To feel safe, to feel that she had found it again. That she might stay in Ishgard forever, that this was enough. That this could be her home.

--

I released her fingers, intertwined with mine, to hold her face, hot in my hands. I took note of every freckle, every scar. She kissed my hands, pulling me down with her onto the bed. She let me know her in wordless ways, ways I'd shamed myself for dreaming of.

My doubts over the many moons that passed between our dinner and that afternoon faded. My fear of impropriety, my fear of misunderstood kindness. Her hands unclasping each piece of my armor, she traced my scars. She inhaled swiftly, knowing what some meant and worrying for the story of others. I asked if she had ever taken a lover before.

"Not that I remember. Not here, not yet."

I kissed every ilm of her body, praying that I would be the very last.

--

For the first time since I was a squire, I left my lover's home from a window. House Fortemps had stirred with the rising sun as I held the Warrior of Light, breathing softly into my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair as she awoke to a knock, her body jolting out of a peaceful slumber. Spying the height of the sun in the sky, I realized was late for a meeting at the Congregation, struggling to remember where my small clothes landed. Before I could reach them, I felt Lua's hand press my head under her sheets as the persistent knock gave way to a visitor.

Muffled against the fabric and my own breathing, I heard the orchestrion playing the same tunes from the evening before. A voice, Emmanellain's voice. For a mercy, she swiftly shooed him away, begging for her privacy as she held a pillow to her bare chest. As the door closed, she pulled the sheets from my head.

--

I climbed halfway out of the window, leaning for one last kiss. Another. Three more. I dropped into the garden, pieces of my partially unbuckled armor hanging off of my body.

--

Another kiss, stolen in the moments before her ship left for the East. I tried to control my gait, swaggering from the Congregation down the steps to the aetherite plaza, breaking into a run once I'd reached Limsa Lominsa. Running, as fast as I could, to the docks. If I ever see the man again, I would apologize to the fisherman who accosted me for scaring away his quarry.

Her hands found me, pulling me into a small room. A mop rubbed against the back of my head in the darkness. She leapt into my arms, one kiss finding my face, another my neck. She pressed a new orchestrion roll into my hands then unlocked the door to disappear into the salty wind. The horn bellowed impatiently as she ran for the boat, straightening her clothes, brushing her hair out of her face and into a braid.

The dust never settles for the Warrior of Light. For each war won, another looms in the distance. Wiser and better, I see that now.