Final fantasy x reader one shots

Joshua Rosfield

Whispers of Fate

The evening air is cool against your skin as you walk beside Joshua, the cobblestones of Rosaria's streets worn smooth beneath your feet. The castle looms behind you, its towers outlined in the fading light of dusk. You glance at Joshua, his features softened by the twilight, and feel that familiar flutter in your chest. It's a sensation you've learned to suppress, though it never fully leaves.

For years, you and Joshua have been close, bonded by shared experiences and a deep understanding of one another. There's a connection between you that goes beyond mere friendship, though neither of you has dared to put it into words. You've always been there for him, and he for you—each other's constant in the chaos of war and politics.

Today, however, something feels different. There's an underlying tension between you that hasn't been there before, a mutual awareness that things are shifting. You can feel it in the way his hand brushes against yours as you walk, the fleeting touches that linger a second too long.

You look over at him, his profile illuminated by the last rays of the setting sun. "Joshua," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "do you ever wonder how things might have been... if we had met under different circumstances?"

Joshua turns to you, his deep eyes catching the light, and for a moment, he seems to consider your words carefully. "I've thought about it," he admits, his voice low, almost hesitant. "But even if we had met under different stars, I think we would have found our way to each other. Some things are simply meant to be."

There's a warmth in his words, a depth of feeling that makes your heart race. But as quickly as the moment comes, it fades, replaced by the easy familiarity of friends who've shared too much to be anything else—at least, for now.

You don't press the conversation any further as you walk to the gates of the city, deciding instead to enjoy the silence, punctuated by the distant sounds of people retiring to their homes and the occasional call of a night bird. The two of you have been through enough to understand that sometimes, silence says more than words ever could.

A few days later, you find yourself in the gardens of Rosaria, sitting on a stone bench overlooking the fountains. Joshua is with you again, as he often is, a book in his lap. You've always admired the way his brow furrows in concentration when he's reading, the way he becomes so lost in the pages that the world around him seems to disappear. It's one of the little things about him that you cherish, though you'd never say it aloud.

"I was thinking," Joshua says suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts, "maybe we could take a ride tomorrow, just the two of us. There's a place I've been meaning to show you, a little ways outside the city. I think you'd like it."

Your pulse quickens at the thought of spending time alone with him, though you keep your excitement in check. "I'd love that," you reply, trying to sound casual.

Joshua gives you one of his rare, genuine smiles, and you feel your breath catch. "Then it's settled. We'll leave at first light."

The following day dawns crisp and clear, the kind of perfect morning that feels almost too good to be true. You meet Joshua by the stables, where two horses are saddled and ready. He's already mounted, looking more at ease than you've seen him in a while.

You ride side by side through the winding forest trails, the trees towering above like sentinels watching over your journey. The air is fresh, the scent of pine and earth filling your lungs. Every now and then, Joshua glances over at you, as if to make sure you're still there, still with him.

After an hour or so of riding, you arrive at a small clearing, where a crystal-clear lake stretches out before you. The water reflects the sky like a mirror, the surface undisturbed save for the occasional ripple from a fish beneath. Joshua dismounts first, offering his hand to help you down.