I really couldn't think of anything for today's prompt - except Tansui tramp stamp, as a joke. And then @roguelioness said it was not a question of if, but when and then I imagined how it would go. Definitely, surely, NOT canon. I am deeply sorry.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 282
Meryta Khatin x Tansui | non-canon future | humor
Rating: T. Swearing, Alisaie is a good friend
Stamp
“So – what do you think?”
The ink on his back is green, close to her skintone. It’s still red and raised, newly made. She ghosts her hand over it, not wanting to touch for fear of undue pain.
“It’s um. It’s pretty?”
Her name is etched almost delicately, flowing across his low back. If he’s shirtless, you’d be able to see it so far away.
“Meryta, I –”
She doesn’t know what to think, and she’s not sure what he’ll say next. She panics.
“Sorry, I need to – uh, step out. I’ll be right back!”
She flees, out the door and down the stairs, slapping the linkpearl in the groove under her horn.
“Alisaie? Alisaie are you there?”
“Hello, Meryta, what’s going on? Are you safe?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s just that – Tansui got a tattoo on his back.”
“And? What is it of? Something awful? “
“NO! that’s the problem, it’s my name!”
“That’s – nice?”
“It’s surrounded by little hearts!”
“Well, he clearly likes you.”
“I know. I knew already.”
“So – is there an issue?”
“Well, it’s just that – what If he tires of me? What if I tire of him? What if I die tomorrow? What if he wants me to get a matching one? What does it mean?”
Someone looks her way, and she realizes her voice has reached a frantic, high pitch. She breathes through her nose.
“Meryta. I’ve been trying to get you to leave him be for 2 years, I don’t think you’re tiring of him. Nor him of you.”
“I guess.”
“Maybe – maybe you should have this conversation about what it means with him?”
“Fuck.”
Alisaie burst out laughing, the connection fizzling with static.
Fortemps household dynamics fascinate me endlessly, so here is some barely grown-up Artoriel POV
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 359 | read on Ao3
Artoirel de Fortemps | pre-ARR
Rating: Teen. Character study, Ishgard society, Fortemps family, mention of infidelity (canonical), why is Artoirel the way he is? vague heavenwards spoilers
Third-rate
Artoirel de Fortemps doesn’t stop when he sees his little brother run past him, bloody nose and tears streaking down his face. He merely gets out of the way. Emmanellain doesn’t see him, his eyes on the ground as he rushes by. Probably running off to nanny, though he is far too big for that. Artoirel sneers, unbiddenly, and continues around the corner.
“Some third-rate knight he’ll be.”
“Third son, too.”
“More worthless than a bastard.”
This makes Artoirel pause. The statement is followed by raucous laughter. It would be unseemly to get in a fight over Haurchefant.
“Well, Haurchefant is a fine fellow.”
“For a bastard, aye.”
Someone snorts. “Don’t say that to his face. He trounced Delicrouxeus the other day. Mark my word, Count Fortemps will give him command of something.”
“Emond can’t even command his own dick.”
More laughter. Artoirel's ears burn. He bites his cheek. He cannot be unseemly. He needs to be above reproach. The Fury knows his brother isn’t going to be.
“Mayhap little Emmanellain is Halone’s punishment? A hapless idiot of a son.”
“Bet ol’ Edmont would have been happy with even another stick in the mud like Atoriel rather than Emmanellain.”
“If he kept himself true, he’d mayhap had a brave and personable trueborn son. They’d all be a third-rate House this way.”
His clenched fist hit the wall. Atoriel bites his cheek to keep from crying out. He cannot. His growth spurt done, he’d hardly get any taller, but he cannot take on three squires. He mustn’t.
“Kept himself pure – Haviellemont, you better learn that. I saw you with that wench in the Brume but two days ago.”
“And what were you doing there?”
The voices fade as Artoirel hurries away. He does not run. He is not his little brother. If only Emmanellain behaved proper, there would be no doubt about the honor of their house. He brings shame on them all. Artoirel reaches the fresh, crisp air. He cannot help his little brother’s follies. He simply must be a better example. Above reproach, the perfect heir. Father needs neither Haurchefant nor Emmanellain as long as Artoirel is peerless.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 227 | Read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin (wol) | ARR patches
Rating: Gen. Just chocobo feelings
Stable
Meryta leads Lucida, her chocobo, into the stables in Mor Dhona. The yellow bird chirps, and shakes her head when Meryta untacks her. She finds some gysahl greens and feeds her, then Meryta cleans and hangs the tack.
She goes back to the stall, and rests her forehead against Lucida’s feathers. The bird gently touches her beak against her horn, making her smile. So much is happening. A Royal banquet, a new alliance with the reclusive nation of Ishgard. It’s very much over her head, but she hopes she doesn’t make a fool of herself and the Scions.
Lucida chirps and bonks her again.
“I got it, I got it.”
She finds an apple in her pouch, and a handful gysahl more. She remembers when they first were introduced in Bentbranch Meadows, what now feels so long ago. Meryta was unaccustomed to chocobo, used to the horses of the Steppe and deeply suspicious of the long legged birds. Lucida won her over, though, her demeanor sweet - as long as treats are on the horizon. Meryta checks her legs and claws. Everything looks fine.
“You be good here, while I’m in Ul’dah. We’re travelling by aetheryte. No need to arrive dusty for the fancy banquet.”
Hopefully everything will go smoothly, and she won’t have to say much. Lucida will be fed and happy here in the meantime.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 258 | Read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin | pre-ARR
Rating: Gen. Background story, the beginning, overconfidence of youth
Horizon
It feels incredibly awful to sneak away in the middle of the night. Her sisters and her fathers sleeping, Meryta pauses at the door. She can hear Dad snore, the way he always does when he’s in deep sleep. She steels herself. It has to be now, or she’ll be stuck here forever, hunting goats and rabbits and maybe a marid if she’s lucky.
She’s planned this. She has food and her bow and a spare set of clothes even. A simple don’t worry note left on the kitchen table. She will show them, away from her Father’s forbidding just about everything, and her Dad’s you’re not yet ready.
Meryta Khatayin slips out the door of her childhood home, and down the slope of the familiar mountain, down towards the grasslands below. Nhaama’s light guides her path, and she has no issue finding her way along the rocky path.
It’s dawn when she reaches the grasslands, when she turns away from the path to the herds. The Steppe is vast, and it will not be easy to find her. It’s not as she has a plan, but she can’t stay on the Steppe. The Nadaam is over and besides they’d find here there. She’ll find some way to test her meddle, even if she has to leave the Steppe. She’s not afraid. She’s not afraid.
The sun rises and Meryta looks towards the horizon, pinks and golds coloring everything in Azim’s light.
It’s her time. She’ll be a great warrior, nothing and no one can hold her back.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 261 | read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin x Tansui | ENW start
Rating: Gen. Reflection, enwalker intro spoilers.
Steer
The journey to Sharlayan seems endless. The water is beautiful, and the weather has been mild so far, making an easy journey. Just very long.
Meryta walks the deck, stretching her legs and her tail and her arms. There’s no real way to train, swinging and leaping with a katana or trying to fire arrows is bound to end in disaster. Not to mention doing magic. The small, green carbuncle following her is the best she can do, along with the moving and stretching.
Estinien has a similar problem. One leap from the top mast to the bow, and the captain quite strongly forbade any more of that. She’s not sure how he deals, but Meryta is wandering the deck restlessly.
Speaking of the captain, he’s at the helm, steering the ship with hands on the wheel. Not a wheel – she keeps forgetting what it’s called. It doesn’t matter. Instead, she thinks of a much smaller boat, steered by a confident hand on the rudder, winds in the single colorful sail.
She misses Tansui. This journey too far, and it takes her further and further away from him. Surely Sharlayan will have an aetheryte, and once attuned she’ll be able to go to him, the cost doesn’t matter to her.
Except that the Telophoroi don’t lie idle, and as usual time is of the essence. She sighs and closes her eyes. The sea doesn’t quite smell the same, but it’s close. She thinks of Tansui’s hands again. Calloused and confident and too far away. It will have to do for now.
I was halfway done with this, so I decided to finish it despite the event being officially over. Timeline wise this is set post Shadowbringers, but only has Stormblood spoilers. Paladin job quest spoilers too, if you're technical
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 885 | read on Ao3
Tansui & various confederate pirates, background Meryta Khatin (wol) x Tansui | Shadowbringers patches | romance
Rating: Teen. Tansui is deeply in love, he's really in it now, friendship, flirting, pirate headcanons, alcohol mention, alluding to sex
Taken
Tansui likes these evenings, food and music and comfort. It’s a reminder that they’re not just scraping by, but thriving. Conversation tonight has been lively, the sake plentiful. He has indulged in both, the latter mostly with Raowul and some of his friends, who’s been with the Confederacy for a while - but despite that Tansui doesn’t know him well. He’s Eorzean, the increase in travel and trade with a freed Doma bringing both profits and people. There’s always someone running from something.
They’ve traded banter and stories easily enough, Raowul telling an audacious story of the time he was a merchant in Ul’dah. It is, probably, vastly exaggerated, but that hardly matter.
“… and the next thing I know, the blasted Sultansworn shows up! I have been informed your wares are a danger to the Sultanate – or some such nonsense. He looks so boring while going on, so I just smiled and nodded, you know – “
“What’s a Sultansworn?” Reisha asks.
“They’re sworn to protect the Sultana, and take their job very seriously.”
“Like the seikugami?” Tansui asks. He’s been getting sour looks enough once or twice he dared to set foot in Kugane, before making a quick exit.
“They’re not really supposed to involve themselves unless it’s like – the Sultana’s life that’s in danger and some such, the Brass Blades are the ones supposed to keep general order. But this guy – so full of himself in his shiny armor, decided my hair tonics were poison.”
Raowul grins, and briefly places a hand conspiratorially on Tansui’s thigh before he lets it slide off again.
“Go on,” Tansui says. The attention and the company is nice; friends and acquaintances and the sake warming his belly. Raowul has broad thighs and solid chest, and seems to enjoy himself. There’s no harm in letting him.
“Well, at this point there was naught to do but fight or flee – and fighting wouldn’t have done me much except ending up dead.” The pirates around him makes sounds of assents, they all know there’s little reason for dumb bravery if you can save your skin. Raowul drinks again, smiling at his audience. “Behind me – a wall. In front of me – a bulwark of a man, his ego even wider than his shoulders. I did the only thing I could do – first I threw the alleged poison in his face – truly I swear it was harmless – then I dodged sideways into another stall. It happened to be a cloth merchant, and I swiped his samples off his tables, and threw them behind me before I hightailed down the street. The Sultansworn set after me, elixir running down his face and wrapped in silk fabrics streaming behind him. It was quite a sight.”
“Did you escape?” Ishi asks, his ears twitching forward with excitement.
“Of course.” The confidence is rolling from Raowul, his chest puffed and grin wide. “I ran all the way to the Silver Bazaar, and found passage on the first ship there. Never set foot in Ul’dah since.”
“That’s quite the story, Raowul.”
“I have more, and I’m sure you all have just as exciting things to regale, if not more exciting.” He’s addressing them all, but looking straight at Tansui. “Or perhaps you’ll prefer to tell in private. Maybe go over what must be an impressive training regimen.” Raowul eyes travel down Tansui’s body in a brazen way that’s impossible to misunderstand.
“I’m flattered Raowul, but I’m taken.” Raowul is attractive and nice, but he’s not interested. He can’t help the happiness in his voice, nor the smile on his lips. He made a promise, and so did Meryta. She is his. “But everyone has to show up for training in the Coral Court at some point,” he adds.
“You say that, but I don’t see no one.” Raowul makes a point of looking around, slight smirk on his face.
“Well, I’m –”
“Tansui is fucking the Warrior of Light, don’t you know?” Reisha interrupts.
“The Champion of Eorzea?” Raowul’s eyebrows climb up his face. Tansui feels quite smug.
“Quite loudly and vigorously, I may add,” Ishi chimes in.
Tansui flushes with pride and embarrassment. She’s into him, and he’s not going to apologize for that.
“Mayhap I just know how to satisfy my lovers, Ishi.”
“There’s no doubt when she’s here, that’s for sure. No rest for anyone.” He laughs and downs another cup of sake, his tail wagging with mirth.
“What a shame to be missing out, then,” Raowul says, backing down completely. There’s something other than disappointment in his eyes, awe or disbelief maybe. Tansui doesn’t care. He knows she will be back and he’s quite happy to claim her interest, and to be claimed in return. To have her close, his arms around her. Kissing the freckles on her shoulders. Her tail sliding close, the way she moans when he tugs on it –
“See he’s got that look on his face again,” Reisha says. Did he miss something? He feels hot, too much sake.
“I better turn in,” he says, and gets up, nodding at his comrades. Better to retreat before his pride turns to embarrassment.
“Not just taken, but smitten, I say,” Ishi mumbles behind him.
“Well, what about you, Ishi?”
He leaves them to it, he thoughts already back to his longing.
Scholar is not really a job I do, so I like to think she never really picked it up. Yet at least.
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 371 | Read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin & Alka Zolka | Heavensward time | sch quest intro
Rating: Gen. Struggle with studying, mild HW spoilers, sch quest intro spoilers
Reticent
Meryta is studying. Or at least pretending to be, trying to make sense of something without Alphinaud’s need to explain or the general distractions of the Fortemps Manor. Like Emmanellain.
She sighs, and flips the page. It’s diagrams doesn’t make more sense than the ones on the previous page, and the text is incredible tiny. She can summon a carbuncle just fine, and channel her aether to attack without the diagrams. Once she does it, it just works. Learning from a book feels like nonsense.
“You! You there!”
A lalafel marauder with a determined look on his face marches towards her. She panics briefly – though nominally cleared of the Sultana’s murder, perhaps he’s here to arrest her. Can she petition with Merlwyb? She can’t attack here in the Wench.
“You’re an Arcanist right? The one from the guild Murie recommended.”
“Um, I guess?”
She recalls Murie did say something of the marauders being in need of some researcher. Truth be told, she’s more likely to go there to swing a big axe around, that looks fun. A lot more fun than trying to understand these void cursed diagrams.
“Good. I’m Alka, Alka Zolka. I realize that it’s a little unusual for a marauder to strike up an interest in research, but I promise you this will be worth it. See, the ancient Nymerians…”
Alka goes on, and Meryta thinks she can handle his axe quite easily. It is made for a lalafel, of course. She doesn’t need to use an axe, preferring the precision and agility of the katana, but it’s still an interesting thought.
“I don’t need to learn any more healing,” she says, interrupting the overeager Alka. She winces, and feels bad for her rudeness, but the tiny letters have already given her a headache, and her astrologian training lets her channel aether into curing, with naught but a pack of card and the stars above.
“I see.” Alka’s expression sours, but he picks up his enthusiasm again. “Murie was most certain, so give it a thought. I will be there. Or it may pass you by, if another candidate approaches! Good day!”
He marches away. Meryta snaps her book shut, and sinks her forehead to rest on it.
Just some opportunistic fun between them. Again. At this point Meryta has been by a few times during business with Doma and/or the Four Lords Trials
Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 1005 | Read on Ao3
Meryta Khatin x Tansui | Stormblood patches | smut
Rating: Explicit. Sexual content, desire and need, hurried sex, wall sex, fingering, hand job, feelings what feelings, Rasho is a good friend, very mild Four Lords spoilers
Tempest
This time, Meryta is the one who grabs him when she finds him, her hand firmly in his as she pulls him away from his vantage point. He was not doing anything of import, he is but waiting for Rasho to show. Meryta’s hand is small in his, and her firm grip brooks no argument. Her hair is unruly and her eyes bright, and he comes willingly.
As soon as they’re inside his apartment, she pushes him against the wall, and pulls him down for a kiss. Want courses through him when she bites his lips. His hands find themselves at her waist, pulling her close. She’s irresistible.
Meryta’s hands are warm on his shoulders, as she pushes his haori off them. It slides to the floor and he has already forgotten about it, her hands strong and rough om him, touching him everywhere wildly. He groans and his cock twitches. She’s a fierce warrior on a mission. Who is he to stop her?
She kisses his jaw, his collarbone, his chest, the tips of her horns scraping against his skin. Soft and hard, it almost makes him falter where he’s desperately trying to undo the complicated armor and coat. He needs his hands on her skin. The armor bits clatter to the floor. She flicks her tongue across his nipple. Tansui groans and throws his head back, a bolt of lust surging down his body. She looks up at him, mirth in her eyes, before she dives back, lips on his other nipple.
He refocuses, his hands seeking her skin, opening her coat and finding her round breasts, perfect and soft in his hands. He flicks his thumbs over her nipples, making her moan. He does it again, and she retaliates, biting his chest, his nipples. He wants more, roaming a hand over her skin, finding her scales, caressing the roughness. He pulls on her clothes again, and she frees one arm, and grips his hand.
“Tansui.” His name on her lips, making him harder, his cock straining against his pants.
She moves his hand for him, down her belly and beneath the waistline of her pants. He complies, seeking the wet heat beneath her mound. Momentarily occupied by caressing and teasing her, the small gasps escaping her lips as she tilts her hips towards his hand, he’s surprised when her lips return to his chest. He doesn’t quite yelp when she bites down on his nipple, his own hips jerking forward.
“I need you, please –”
“Meryta, let me – “
He concentrates, and plays with her clit and slides two fingers into her, wet and hot and soft. The angle is awkward, but he doesn’t want to leave her wanting, the slick of her urgency covering his hand. His other hand finds her breast, toying with a nipple, flicking, squeezing, delighting in every sound she makes. Focused on her, he doesn’t notice her hand sliding into his pants until she has it wrapped around his cock, pumping firmly. He groans, the sound pulled from him uncontrollably. They both move their hands, their hips, desperately into each other, seeking and giving pleasure.
Meryta breaks first, quivering around him, gasping and biting down hard on chest. Her pleasure in his arms and the sting of her teeth goes straight to his cock. Her grip momentarily slackens and then tightens, her hand fast, friction and lust and heat, until he comes apart too, his own pleasure running through him.
Panting, they both tumble to the floor, a tangle of limbs and half-shed clothes.
“Hello, Meryta,” he says.
“Hi,” she grins, and flushes and looks away, trying to undo a strap stuck around her leg. “Umm, I – I hope, well –”
She fumbles over her words, looking young and bashful all of a sudden. His mind briefly wonders how young she is, but he dismisses it. Old enough to slay primals, and old enough to burst into his home like a tempest, having him against the wall.
“Not to worry,” he says, gently taking her hand in his. He kisses it, and unbuckles the strap for her. “Feel free to barge in any time.”
“Any time?”
The mirth is back in her eyes, confidence in her words though her cheeks are still delightfully flushed. Well, there might be another reason for that.
“You hardly seemed to need an engraved invitation, now did you.”
“Mayhap I should ask for one the next time.”
He laughs, and rolls her on top of him, kissing her soundly. “No need. It’s a delight to see you, Meryta. What brought you out here this time?”
“A fight – it was a good one, though I’d hoped it hadn’t been needed. It’s a long story of auspices and legends.”
“Are you staying?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t. Sorry, I don’t have much time.”
“A story for later, then.”
He kisses her again, silencing any more apologies. He likes when she stays, and he hopes one time more than happenstance will bring her by, but for now he’s content she takes what time she has to make her way here. Taking time for them to delight in each other’s bodies.
-
“You’re late,” Rasho says, later, when Tansui makes his way up to him.
“Sorry –” he grins, because he’s not actually sorry, “Meryta stopped by.”
Rasho’s eyes glance at his chest. “I see.”
Tansui considers drawing his haori closer around him, but he has nothing to hide from Rasho. From anyone, really. He grins wider, proudly letting the garment fall more open. She marked him alright, and he has no objections.
“Had fun, then?” Rasho asks.
“Indeed.”
His friend looks at him, taking in his confident words and stance. “Be careful, Tansui.”
“It’s just a bit of fun,” Tansui says. He’s enjoying what they have, wild and free. That’s all there is. And he’s getting tired of Rasho’s worries.
Rasho narrows his eyes, but ignores Tansui’s biting tone. He hums and pulls out his abacus.
“Let’s go over the profits, then” he says, “before you get distracted again.”
