#otolin

[snakemoltsiren]

❤️ first kiss / realization

In her mind, their first first kiss is draped in shame. It was their first job. First job extended - when the Miqo'te who he'd been working with for however long before she'd met them had been snatched off the Ul'dah streets not long after they'd parted ways following their productive evening. They'd stolen something together. It was why they'd hired her. And it had gone off without a hitch, even though after she'd taken her payout and bid them farewell it had felt a little bittersweet. That tall, imposing but so quiet Highlander had snagged on her like a hangnail. No reason she could put her finger on really, but she hoped she'd see him again. Knew she wouldn't. And then... And then a knock on her door telling her that their missions erstwhile leader had been snatched right off of the streets. And did she want to make a bonus by helping to track him down. She'd set off at his side across the Thanalan wastes, still in her evening gown and high heeled shoes. And when they'd reached the hideout she'd hooked her arm through his to add a stumble to her gait, and when they'd come across a crew that the word 'shifty' had been created for, she'd wheeled around on him, her gaze quick and flashing trust me - please go with it - right before she'd kissed him. His breath had stalled between them but she didn't push it more than was needed for the show. Already felt something like guilt crawling across her skin like ants. Later she had apologized. For springing it on him. For not getting permission or at least warning him ahead of time. And he'd shaken his head and promised her it was fine. She'd believed him - of course. But she'd still carried the weight of that kiss for a decade, where it festered and chipped and rotted through the walls of her own fortitude. She locked it away in her mind but took it out on occasion to sneak remembering glances at. Sure as anything that it was all she'd ever have. A stolen, unwanted kiss. Related Piece - Surprise/Impulsive Kiss

[snakemoltsiren]

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

The bar was so crowded the only place they could sit was on the little rug-draped patch of floor near the fireplace. He'd ordered some kind of peach tea. This was one of the few placed they'd found with a good non-alcoholic drink selection so they kept coming back on their little weekly 'dates' (they weren't dates because they weren't dating, no matter what she wanted. She was happy - so happy - to be here as his friend. Her wanting didn't take away from that). Whatever drink she'd been sipping on had a stick of cinnamon poking out of it and it smoldered from having been lit on fire at some point. Gimmicky, but she had to admit it was good. It warmed her through to her core as much as the nearby fire warmed her chilly fingers. She forgot the fire when he picked up her hand, fingers completely engulfing hers. A grasp so familiar and easy that she had to smile at him, so miserably fond that she expected the Brass Blades to kick the door down and arrest her for weaponized affection. He leans over at some point and kisses her cheek. A fleeting peck that deepens her smile and makes her flush. She drinks more. Knows it means nothing beyond their friendship (which is enough - which is so much that she's so glad for). She can tell the evening is winding down. He'll walk her back to her apartment and bid her goodnight and tomorrow she'll see him at work and nothing will have changed except the depth of the yawning, yearning chasm in her chest will have increased. Still smiling she angles over to tuck a reciprocating kiss at the corner of his mouth. The tickle of his beard under her lips something she wants to burrow into but she keeps it light and brief before angling back. "Do you want to stay a little longer?" Her eyes meet his and she feels all other words lodge in her throat. His eyes are dark. The shallowness of his breaths splashing across her skin. She goes through so many emotions in such a brief span of time that none of them fully land. Again he closes that tiny distance between them. His lips touch familiar territory in her cheek and then ghost through new lands to alight against hers. And he kisses her. Properly. Soft and all to brief but intentional and purposeful. "Do -you- want to stay a little longer?" He murmurs in return, eyes on her lips and then on hers. The building whine of excitement in her mind goes blissfully, joyfully silent. She blinks at him. And she smiles. His fingers are still in hers and she squeezes them in lieu of rational thought. She thinks about the flavor of cinnamon and peaches. She'll be thinking about it for a long time.

Related: First Kiss/Realization

[snakemoltsiren]

… Oh, why don't you just take me Where I've never been before I know you want to hear me Catch my breath I love you 'til the end

[snakemoltsiren]

Your hands are cold...

[snakemoltsiren]

For Sev: 🟡 — doing or wearing something associated with the concept of “light”.

"I don't weigh anything to you, do I?"

"No. You are as light as a... a feather."

(ft Otolin @fist-and-fury-xiv )

[dragons-ire]

𝕎𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕞 𝕙𝕒𝕝𝕗𝕨𝕒𝕪

𝕎𝕖 𝕔𝕒𝕟 𝕒𝕝𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤 𝕨𝕒𝕝𝕜 𝕒𝕨𝕒𝕪 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕓𝕝𝕖

𝕎𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕒𝕪 𝕒 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕚𝕗 𝕨𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥' 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕠

𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕥 𝕣𝕦𝕝𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕤𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖:

[snakemoltsiren]

FFXIVWrite 2022 - Prompt  27. Hail

They were, in truth, her favorite kind of days. When the weather was miserable, when there was no point in going outside - no point in getting out of bed at all, those were the best kinds of days. She cracked one eye opened, listening to rain falling on the rooftiles, couldn’t see the square of sunlight on the floor on account of it being too overcast. With a hum of bone-deep satisfaction she rolled over, wanting to spoon up against Otolin’s side only to find the mattress cold. The blankets carefully pulled up around her in his absence. A frown pulled her out of bed and she shuffled around in socked feet, brushing her teeth, washing her face, finally going upstairs with a grumble. Otolin sat at the small kitchen table, the window over the sink cracked open to let the smell of wet earth in. He looked up from his book when Severine made her appearance, smiling softly at her and immediately putting an arm out to invite her in. She wordlessly (maybe some grumbles) climbed into his lap, knees tucked up against his chest, lingering long enough to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth before ducking her head beneath his chin and sighing. His arms enveloped her, squeezing in soft reassurance before she heard the rustle of pages again. She dozed like that for half a bell, her breathing matching the steady rise and fall of Otolin’s chest. For a moment she was vaguely aware of the sounds outside changing. Something more insistent and sharp, her sensitive ears protesting the intensity. Picking up her head some she listened to the hail pelt down on the roof and against the windows. And then she shifted, lifting her chin to press her lips to Otolin’s throat. To the curve of his jaw. The corner of his mouth again, where she lingered until she could turn her body around with a minimum of squirming, sitting firmly in his lap with her legs bracketing his torso, feet dangling off the ground. All of that without disturbing his reading too much. “Let’s go back to bed.” She mumbled blearily, pressing kisses wherever her lips touched. Her hands rubbed softly against his sides, sliding up to give an encouraging pull to his sleeves. The book gets pressed against her back when he reaches down to pick her up, one hand tucked under her butt to hoist her effortlessly. She grins, smug and satisfied when he kisses her while getting to his feet. 

The sound of hail on the roof tiles chases them downstairs.

[snakemoltsiren]

FFXIVWrite 2022 - Prompt 17. Novel

She stares across the room at the man sitting by the window. She hardly knows him - not really - but she can’t deny the comfort and ease that settles into her bones when she enters the room and he’s there. When she looks up in the street and he’s hovering by her side. He always looks a little lost - something about the set of his brow, the little furrow between them. He smiles at her when she shuts the door behind her (the way his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, his mustache bristling a little over his lips) and lifts a hand in greeting. There’s food on the sideboard across the room, brought up from the kitchens below and she wanders over to peer at the offerings. The strap of the bag slung over her shoulder is starting to dig in so she idles her way over to his bed and drops the bag and then herself down onto the edge of the mattress. “Hopefully there’s something in here you’ll like.” She starts conversationally, feeling a weird lump congealing in the back of her throat as she starts pulling books out of the bag. Taking a moment to check each title she pitches some of them across the room to her own bed - dry histories, informative but far from entertaining. Her preferred reading material though she genuinely can’t ever explain why. The stack she creates next to her is of smaller volumes. Mostly paperbacks, a few hardbound with ragged corners and dogeared pages. He joins her on the other side of the bed, looking curiously at the growing pile. After a moment he picks one up, carefully opening the cover to read the first page. He blinks and turns the book over to read the back and she can see his cheeks darken as she digs out the last novel, resting it on the top of the stack. “This was everything I could find in my collection that I thought you might be interested in.” She says casually, rolling her shoulder a few times and smothering a smirky little smile. “I don’t really read them, but just looking at the other things you’ve read-” “These… this is good. Thank… thank you, Severine.” He ducks his head and she could swear she sees the tips of his ears blush. Cute. He’s cute. Damn it all. “Sure thing. Not a problem at all, you’re welcome.” She pats the top of the stack and stands up, stretching on her way back over to the food. “Maybe if there’s some you really like you could read them to me.” Instead of looking back at him she gives a shitty little grin to the food as she starts browsing a plate together. The immediate reply is the sound of several books hitting the ground, dropped by a fumbling hand. And she has to smother a laugh. The idea of Otolin primly reading some of the trashier romance novels in that stack is, genuinely, hilarious. And something she’d very much love to see.