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teigo-the-explorer · 1 year

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Rocks and Rinthonians

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Request: Hi I’m a huge dr who fan and I love your work it’s possible do you think you could create a piece with the 11th doctor where they are on a planet fighting some Daleks and the reader gets injured but hides it until they are back at the Tardis where the reader collapses, then the doctor sees the blood and realized what’s happened and has to stitch her up. Thanks

Pairings: 11th doctor x reader

Warning: Typical Doctor Who Violence, angst, blood, and injuries

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

“Let’s go to a mining planet, he said! There are pretty rocks, he said!” You mocked.

The Doctor flashed you a glare. “It’s not my fault I didn’t know the planet was enslaved by Daleks!”

An explosion thundered nearby as scorching sparks flew in the air. Each spark reached out hoping to burn your skin. The Doctor quickly yanked you to the ground for cover.

“EXTERMINATE!” The robotic voice of the nearby Daleks loomed over you and the Doctor.

It was getting hard to focus on anything else besides that cold metallic voice. A unanimous voice you grew to know too well for your comfort.

The Doctor’s brown hair flopped around as he peeked over the edge of the container you two were hiding behind. He glanced around the room, listening for any trace of the Daleks amongst the chaos of the planet. You didn’t understand how he could focus on anything and everything else besides the threat of death.

You, on the other hand, were finding it hard to breathe as you closed your eyes and wished you had just stayed on the TARDIS and slept in just like you had promised yourself.

“Right,” The Doctor said as he crouched back down next to you. “Not long before we reach the control room…” The Doctor’s voice trailed off as he noticed your panicked state.

The next thing you knew his gentle hand was cupping your cheeks and his sparkling green eyes were staring right at yours. “We’re going to make it.” He comforted. His thumb trailed along your cheek as he raised his lips to kiss your forehead. “I’m going to grab your hand and then we’re going to run. I’m going to say some fancy words. We’ll stop the Daleks and save the day. How’s that sound?” He whispered against your skin.

You find the courage to nod your head.

“Good.” The Doctor smiled. Then he grabbed your hand. “Run!”

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

“Welcome to Rinth-678! One of the Rurn galaxy's greatest mining planets.” The Doctor spread his arms out as if presenting the planet to you.

Like most planets you visited, the view always left you speechless. Even after all the time you spent travelling with the strange man with an even stranger blue box, you never got used to the sight of a new planet. The Doctor had promised you rocks and rocks you got. Icy blue mountains peaked up far above the clouds. The sight reminded you of the glaciers you and the Doctor had visited back on earth except these ones towered over you. You were sure they were ten times larger than Mount Everest. A belief that was soon confirmed by the Doctor as he spewed facts and information about the planet. From the taste of the soil to the economy of the planet.

“The Rinthonians rely on their mining. An ounce of the ore could provide an entire ship with a whole year's worth of power!” The Doctor exclaimed as he led you around the planet like your own personal tour guide.

You spun around trying to take in as much of the landscape as you could before the Doctor practically dragged you to a nearby city. It didn’t take long before the two of you snuck off into the mining facility armed with the trusty psychic paper.

You always enjoyed seeing what the paper came up with each time its use would come in handy. This time you were Chief Mining Inspectors. Well, you were and the Doctor was your assistant. The Rinth planets believed in the superiority of the female sex. A treatment you were not quite used to back on Earth. Soon after, a guide was presented and then you and the Doctor were led straight to the source…and right into the hands of the Daleks.

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“Daleks. Daleks, DALEKS. You messed with the wrong Doctor–wait, no that doesn’t work,” The Doctor whipped his head over to where you stood in the control room.

“I think you’re looking for ‘the wrong man’,” You so graciously suggested.

The Doctor smiled and returned to glare at the Daleks. “What she said.”

“Enough,” The lead Dalek enunciated. “The Doctor and the companion will be exterminated!” Then a chorus of EXTERMINATE sang throughout the facility. One would think you were in a church with how commanding the phrase was.

“Ah, let me stop you right there. You see this?” The Doctor pointed to the console beside him. His sonic screwdriver was ready to release the signal.

The Daleks were silent as they eyed the Doctor carefully. “You cannot stop the Daleks!” The Daleks sang once more.

“See that’s where you’re wrong.”

“The Daleks can never be wrong!” The Dalek bellowed.

“Just shut up will you!” You barked at the Dalek who turned to look at you. Its electric blue eye narrowed in on you.

“You see, long ago when the power of the ore was discovered,” the Doctor explained, “The Rinthonians were smart, they knew that the power of the ore could get into the wrong hands, so what did they do…?” The Doctor turned to look at you as if he was a teacher calling on a student for an answer.

“...They created a safeguard?” You muttered.

“Exactly! Ten points to Hufflepuff! The Rinthonians, you know what they did, Daleks? They found a frequency that destroys the ore. It hit it at the core causing the ore to lose all sources of power. Brilliant people, the Rinthonians!”

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver and pressed a few buttons before pointing it back at the console. “In a few seconds, I will release the frequency, and with the boost of the sonic screwdriver, all the ore you have collected Daleks, all the ore on the planet will lose all power. The very power that keeps you and the other Daleks here alive. Boo ya!”

The Dalek began to quiver and shake. “EXTERMINATE!” It shouted just as the Doctor turned on the frequency.

It was hard to see what happened next. Sparks flew, lights went out, the Daleks screamed, and you fell to the floor. It hurt. You couldn’t tell if it was just going dark or if you were losing sight. You could only hear a loud ringing…Suddenly there was the Doctor. You could practically feel the worry dripping from his fingertips as he held your head in his hands.

“I’m fine…” You croaked as your senses came back to you.

Then you were enveloped in a hug. The Doctor was hugging you. Now everything seemed to move so fast. One minute you were in the control room of the facility and the next you and the Doctor were being paraded throughout the city like heroes. You smiled as the Rinthonians thanked you for freeing them from the Dalek’s control. Your smile grew tense as you felt something wet drip down your side. It hurt. Why was it hurting? Next thing you knew, you were back in the TARDIS.

Home. The TARDIS chirped and whirred to life the moment you and the Doctor stepped back into her safe confines. The Doctor was brushing off the dust and wiping away his sweat before flicking some controls. His mouth was moving, but you couldn’t hear his voice. Why couldn’t– The next thing you noticed were the black spots in your vision. Was the world always this swirly? You took a step forward falling flat into the darkness.

━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━

Then there was light. It was a piercing and painful light, but soon the colours came into view. Colours became shapes. Shapes became figures. You smiled as you saw a mop of floppy brown hair resting near your hands. You felt compelled to run your hands through the hair, so you did. It was softer than you could have ever imagined.

The Doctor sighed before shooting up in his seat next to your bed. His eyes were wide and alert as he looked over you. His view began to water when he saw your smile. Then he heard your voice. Oh, how he wished to take a picture and capture this moment forever. A moment that is never affected by time or space. A moment that never wilts like a rose or fades from view. This was forever. You were forever.

“Doctor?” You whispered. Your voice was dry and coarse.

The Doctor can’t control what happened next. He blamed it on the gleam in your eyes. You were alive. The flush in your cheeks said so. The breath in your lungs. He wished to breathe the same air as you. He wished to run his fingers over your cheeks. He wished to and so he did.

Your eyes widened as his lips met yours. You smiled against his lips as he kissed you. You couldn’t help but kiss back. Then he pulled back.

“Doctor?” You said again.

His forehead came to rest on yours. His nose brushed against your nose. The two of you shared the same breath–The same life.

“Don’t you ever do that again, my wonder girl.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, Star-boy.”

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Comment below if you would like to be added to the Doctor Who tag list!

Tag list: @bartokthealbinobat

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avinwrites · 11 months

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Glimmers of Gratitude || Norton x reader

Synopsis: You've become close with Norton Campbell despite his erratic behavior. On a particularly bad day, you have something that cheers him up!

Norton… scares you a little bit. He always has this distant, unpleasant look on his face, and while he isn’t directly mean to anyone, he seems annoyed at all times. Despite this, you’ve had good conversations with him. Mostly just pleasantries that happen to evolve into real discussions, such as asking him how his day has been and you end up talking about good and bad experiences for what feels like hours. You naturally get along with him, and you can both appreciate that. Occasionally, he’ll become distant towards you, almost out of nowhere. His temper is somewhat unpredictable, but you make it through with some effort on your part. Right now, however, he seems to be in one of his moods.

He hasn’t talked to you all morning. Even when you waved, sat next to him, asked him how he slept, nothing. You were going to keep at it, you get the feeling that he’s having a rough time and you want to help him through it, but you had to participate in a match. During this match, thankfully, you were left alone to decode. While moving from one cipher to another, you caught something shining on the ground, a very interesting looking rock. When you first pick it up, it’s unassuming, like a normal rock, but once you shine it in the light, you see specks of gold and green and yellow, that just leave you in awe. It reminds you of a certain pair of eyes.

When you get back from that match, without thinking, you go to knock on his door, eager to show him the acquisition you are oh so proud of. It takes him a long time to answer the door after you knock, so long that you think he’s elsewhere, but, slowly, the door creaks open to reveal Norton with horrid posture and eye bags as dark as his mental state. You look from his face to behind him for a short moment, debating with yourself whether or not to leave him alone, but you really can’t stand to see him in this kind of shape, and your will to make him feel better overpowers your dread of making him feel worse. You stand there, silent for an uncomfortable period of time.

“I wanted to ask you a question, but I get it if you aren’t in the mood to talk.” You start, having difficulty making eye contact with him.

Wordlessly, he opens his door wider to invite you in, shrugging in the process. From your pocket, you fish out the small, unassuming rock you found earlier, taking his hand and placing it gently on his palm.

“Look.” You tell him, shining a light on the rock to show him the dazzling sparkles deep within it. He watches with you, paying close attention as you show him all the interesting spots you found.

“You had a question?” He finally responds, whilst taking a closer look at your finding.

“Oh, right, I was going to ask you if you knew what it was.”

“Looks to me like Bornite.” He says, matter-of-factly. You weren’t expecting the quick answer. You watch as he closely inspects the mineral and continues. “It’s commonly found in copper mines, but it's not a rare ore. I used to see it a lot…” He trails off, lost in his thoughts once again.

You take a deep breath before taking his hands in yours. You’re determined to boost his spirits at least a little.

“I saw the gold and the green, and the way that it seemed to shine… the first thing that came to my mind was your eyes. Seeing them next to the rock… your eyes are prettier.” You pause before your attempt at flirtation, not knowing how he’ll take it.

At first, the silence was deafening. You feel like you just made a horrible mistake, like you had poked the ever-volatile bear, but after what felt like a long time, only a few seconds in reality, you notice the beginnings of a bright red spread across his face. He’s stunned. Then, he does the unexpected. He smiles at you.

“Thanks.” That soft grin widens slightly. His singular word seems to have more application than just one. As if to say: thanks for the compliment, thanks for the gift, thank you for noticing me, and thank you for your comfort.

“Anytime.” You reply with a smile of your own, reciprocating each appreciation with an acknowledgement of your own.

Maybe you could have said more; maybe you should have. But for now, just being in his presence, both smiling and happy, is enough. There would be plenty of time and opportunity to talk further, but right now, words aren’t needed when you can see his eyes, sparkling just for you.

#idv #idv x reader #identity v x reader #identity v #idv norton #norton campbell #norton campbell x reader #idv prospector #identity v norton #identity v prospector

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queen-dahlia · 7 months

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𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐎𝐤𝐚𝐲?

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

I want to apologize for one thing to the rabbit who became a child. // There is one thing I would like to apologize to the little rabbit who has become a child.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gilbert: "What are you doing here?"

Tough Guy: "Ah, I’m sure this has nothing to do with you, but stay back, you idiot!"

Gilbert: "What? It's creepy to stare at me."

Gilbert: "Can I crush your eyes?"

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

I thought I was being careful at the time, but I let out murderous intent.

The feeling of the baby rabbit trembling in my arms is still fresh in my mind.

Gilbert: "Emma, please."

Emma: "Wow, sparkles!"

Emma's little hands hold the suncatcher she just bought.

It was made from a collection of colorful gemstones, which scattered light around it through the sunlight.

Emma: "Are you sure?"

Gilbert: "Of course. I'm happy if the little rabbit is happy too.''

Emma: "Thank you. I will make it my treasure!"

Emma was so pleased with the "sparkles" that she wouldn't take her eyes off them.

It's not an uncommon commodity at ore festivals, but for Emma, it doesn't seem to matter. // It's not an uncommon item at an ore festival, but that doesn't seem to matter to Emma.

(You don't seem to be forcing yourself to be happy.)

(I hope that the scary memory from earlier will fade away soon...)

Gilbert: "Emma, there's a delicious sweet shop over there."

Emma: "Sweets!"

Gilbert: "Do you want some?"

Emma: "I want to eat!"

Gilbert: "Let's go, then."

I hold Emma's hand, still distracted by the suncatcher, and start walking away.

As I was about to head to the candy shop I wanted to visit, I felt a small resistance.

I stopped my steps and followed the gaze of those round eyes.

Before I knew it, she was staring at a small park in a corner of the city.

In a park that has only recently been developed using national funds,

Children about the same age as Emma are now playing happily.

(Is she… tempted to get in there?)

If it is an adult Emma, I would not let her get involved with people as much as possible because of jealousy, but I have no intention of tying her up as a child.

Perhaps it was because I had very different feelings about (little) Emma than I did about the adult Emma, but I was willing to be forgiving now.

Gilbert: "Go ahead."

Emma huffs as I let go of her hand. // When I let go of her hand, Emma gasped.

Emma: "What about Gil?"

Gilbert: "I'll wait here for you."

Emma: "Are you just waiting?"

Gilbert: "Then I'll watch the little rabbit play all day long."

Gilbert: "If you look like you’re having fun, I’m having fun too."

Emma: "…"

Emma's gaze keeps going back and forth between me and the park.

After making a pretense of hesitation, a small hand grasped my cold fingers.

Emma: "I knew it." // "As I thought."

Gilbert: "Why?"

Emma: "Because I wanted to be with Gil."

Gilbert: "It's written all over your face that you want to play with those kids."

Emma: "That's not true!"

Gilbert: "I know a liar when I see one."

Emma: "Then I'll play with Gil!"

Emma puffs out her cheeks and starts walking, pulling me by the hand.

The destination seemed to be in the park, and when I stopped in front of a swing, she asked me to sit down with her gaze.

Gilbert: "Maybe you'd have more fun playing with the other kids than me?"

Emma: "It's much more fun with Gil!"

(Did you care about me?)

(No, no matter how Emma is, she's still a child, so I can't believe that.)

When I give up and sit on the swing, Emma jumps onto my lap.

(... I can't help it.)

When I swung Emma slowly so she wouldn't fall, her innocent face blossomed. **

Emma: "Gil, more, more!"

Gilbert: "Emma has courage, doesn’t she?"

I kick the ground, thinking about my physical strength and trying to live up to expectations because I have been hoped for. // Since I was expected to, I tried to live up to her expectations and kicked the ground while thinking about my physical strength.

Although Emma was innocently enjoying herself, there was something smoldering in her chest.

══════════════════

Emma: "Sparkle... sparkle..."

Back at the Imperial Castle, Emma never gets tired of looking at the suncatchers.

I could even hear what sounded like singing and could tell what kind of mood she was in.

Gilbert: "Do you like it that much?"

When I sat down a little further away and asked, Emma turned around quickly.

Emma: "Yeah! It's so beautiful."

Emma: "And you know what, those sparkles... they're just like Gil's eyes!"

A small finger indicated a red gemstone that stood out among the suncatchers made of multiple gems.

(Speaking of...)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Emma: "But you know what sparkles the most?"

Gilbert: "Oh, isn't that a gem?"

Emma: "Nope!"

Emma: "Gil's red eye is the most sparkling and beautiful."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

I chuckle at the memory.

Gilbert: "I wonder if my eye sparkles that much."

Emma: "Yeah, it sparkles. But you know..."

Emma: "Sometimes the sparkle just disappears."

Gilbert: "Disappear?"

Emma nods, releases her hand from the suncatcher, and runs over on her little feet.

And then she tugged at my clothes and tilted my face as if listening to a secret conversation.

Emma: "You know, you know."

Emma: "When Gil isn't sparkling, he looks lonely."

little Emma is talking about Gil's eye here.

Gilbert: "…"

(... It's my first time hearing that.)

(Yeah, but... maybe it's the difference between keeping your eyes down or not.)

Adults and children alike always look up when Emma is around.

I can't take my eyes off Emma, and when the sunlight hits her, her eyes may seem to sparkle.

(But I don't really pay much attention to the others.)

Of course, it's not like I haven't seen it at all, but I'm not interested.

I've never been conscious of it, but I seem to spend more time with my eyes downcast.

(Emma, as a child, is really watching closely.)

As I admire her, Emma raises her hands up.

When I picked her up, she looked like she was in a "hold me" pose, but when I picked her up, her little hands grabbed the fluff (of the cape) firmly—

Emma: "See, it's still sparkling."

Emma: "Sparkling like jewels!"

Her innocent eyes peered into my face, and my cheeks unconsciously relaxed.

Gilbert: "... I see."

Gilbert: "Maybe the reason you didn't go to the other kids at the park is because I'm not sparkling anymore?"

Emma: "Yes. When Gil isn't sparkling, things get a little tight here.''

Emma indicated the chest by saying, 'here.'

(I didn't mean to restrict you, though.)

It is no different for child Emma and adult Emma to react to loneliness that has come out unconsciously.

Gilbert: "I'm sorry."

Emma: "…?"

Gilbert: "Hehe, it’s okay if you don’t understand."

Gilbert: "In return, gentle one, I'll tell you big brother's secret." // "In exchange, I will tell you big brother's secret, who is kind to you."

Emma's eyes light up in response to the word "secret."

(I think you're more sparkly than I am.)

Gilbert: "When big brother is sparkling, that's when he thinks, "I love you, little rabbit.""

Emma: "!"

Gilbert: "But don't tell anyone, because it's embarrassing."

Emma: "All right!"

Emma clings happily with a big smile on her face.

(You probably knew intuitively that I was a scary person in the back alley...)

(You still feel attached to me.)

Gilbert: "You're so cute… Please love me forever." // "You're so cute… You'll always love me."

Emma: "Yes! Gil, you'll always, always love me, too."

Gilbert: "Hmm, of course."

(I know my "likes" are not always good for you, but...)

That is not something I should say to the little baby rabbit.

Gilbert: "Don't forget your promise to big brother, okay?"

#サイバード #イケメン王子 #ギルベルト=フォン=オブシディアン #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince jp #ikepri jp #ikeprince translation #ikemen prince spoilers #ikeprince spoilers #ikepri spoilers #dahlia's bad translation

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slothgiirl · 1 year

Text

nesting (xiao x reader)

1.5k. established relationship. fluff. suggestive but nothing explicit.bird xiao traits tho i didnt lean hard enough into it i dont think so mb ill try again soon.

The first time it happens there’s frost on the ground when you wake up. You have to force the window open. The frost cracks. You wince, half expecting to have broken the window.

Cold air invades the already drafty flat at the top of Wangshu Inn.

You cross your arms over your chest. The cotton robe did little to protect from the start of the winter season. Snezhnaya did have a monopoly on snow. All too soon snow would cover the Liyue landscape. There were only a handful of snow days and the sun melted most of it away by noon, but you still shivered as the sun rose.

You strike the flint, restarting the fire in the wood stove. Xiao must have put it out accidentally. It was a common occurrence with his anemo fuelled comings and goings. You didn’t want to say anything, worried your lover would take it the wrong way. This was new. He’d only just asked you to move in with him.

You rub your hands together.

No, you would simply relight the fire.

Striking the flint again, you light the incense, dispelling any lingering demonic energies. The smell of herbs and resin was familiar by now. Xiao had taught you the ritual, the ancient Liyue words to recite, to keep yourself free of his taint.

You sigh.

You can see your breath.

The ink would have to be warmed for you to work.

You pull on your warmest trousers, think about purchasing some meters of wool from the Mondstadt traders to sew a warmer set, and set out a fresh new sheet of paper. Your calligraphy was well liked in Liyue Harbor. The smooth lines were auspicious for merchants most worried after Morax’s passing.

The ink was smooth liquid once more. Lately, your head has been filled with tales of Skybracer. You flip through your books, looking for a passage that speaks to you when a gust of wind enters the room atop Wangshu Inn.

“You’re back,” you smile, knowing it was Xiao. “I didn’t even feel you come in last night.”

“I did not want to disturb you,” your lover sets a knit blanket over your shoulders, “while I have little use for rest, I would not deprive you of sleep.” Xiao carefully places a flawless chunk of mystic ore on your desk. It sparkles in the early morning sun.

“It’s pretty.” You’d never use it to enhance anything. A gift from Xiao, you’d treasure it forever.

“The shine caught my eye,” Xiao admits, ducking his head down, “was your sleep undisturbed?” He worried his nightmares would leak into your dreams.

“I still think you could’ve woken me up.” You snort when he traces the marks on your collar bones. “We mortals can take naps Adeptus Xiao,” you tease, raking your fingers through his hair. “And I never mind when it’s you.”

Xiao scowls, “who else would it be?”

You kiss his jaw, “my alarm clock.” You set your work aside, focusing the sum of your attention on your lover. “Where did you get this,” you ask, feeling the heft of the cotton used, the intricate knit. All knits were intercrate when you’d given up on knitting entirely.

“Do you like it,” he asks softly, taking your hands in his.

“Mhm.” You plant a kiss against his brow.

“The surge in demonic activity in Cuijue Slope has coincided with an increase in temple offerings,” Xiao explains. “Given the change in weather. . .” he trails off.

“Are you staying long,” you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck, intent on keeping him to yourself. You had gone far in teaching Xiao the benefits of cuddling even if he didn’t need to sleep.

“No.” Xiao’s amber eyes met yours. He wraps his arm around your waist.

“Mm,” you smile, knowing you’d won. Then you kiss him, welcoming the warmth of his lips against yours.

You help Verr Goldet spread salt all along the ramp up to Wangshu Inn. The bags of salt were heavy and it was hard not to feel like a freeloader when you didn’t know the specifics of Xiao’s arrangement with the Innkeeper and her husband.

“There,” Verr Goldet wipes her hands on her apron, “that should do it.”

“I’d hate to fall from this far up,” you look over the railing. The frost took longer and longer to melt with each passing day.

“It’s a good thing the Traveler took up our commissions to fix the stairs,” the woman agrees. “Smiley Yanxiao made chicken and dumpling soup if you’d like a bowl.”

“You are too kind Auntie,” you address her warmly. Everything else felt too cold, this was the best form of address for her you decide on.

“Come now, you just helped me lug salt up and down five stories. That’s at least worth soup. It’d have to pay 10,000 mora for the adventure’s guild to do it.”

“Well,” you laugh, “when you put it that way.”

You have dinner with the staff of Wangshu Inn. It’s past midnight when you finally make your way up to your home. Your home with Xiao. You have to take a deep breath when you linger on that for too long, waiting outside your door because it was true and your heart felt like it wanted to explode from happiness. Your’s and Xiao’s home.

You step inside.

It wasn’t anything special. You doubted the most pious of Liyue imagined an Adeptus to reside in a studio cluttered with jars of ink, a tiny stove, and your clothes carelessly tossed into a pile on the trunk, and yet there Xiao was, fluffing up pillows on the bed in a simple act of domesticity that had you swooning. His spear was set against the wall, Yaksha mask on his belt and he was arranging the blankets that had seemingly appeared out of thin air.

“Hey,” you set your shoes by the door, changing into your house slippers. “have you been waiting long?”

Xiao shakes his head, focused on arranging the pillows. “I do not mind. My duties are solitary in nature.”

You feed more wood into the stove. The thing was well built, filling the room despite being the size of your night stand.

“Will you join me,” Xiao sits up in bed on his knees, red dusting his cheeks. He could be so bashful for an adeptus that regularly slayed demons. You loved the fact the he flustered easily even when he’d fucked you on the grass.

“I’d love to,” you hang up your jacket, “will you stay with me?”

He doesn’t answer right away, waiting for you to crawl into bed with him.

You discard your sweater and trousers, adding more to the pile on your trunk. Laundry day was fast approaching. “Do you want me to make you anything to eat?”

Xiao shakes his head. “There’s no need.”

You slide under the covers, sighing against the plush blankets. There were furs at the foot of the bed that your toes grazed when you stretched out. The pillow covers must be silk you think, tapping Xiao’s arm, “lay down with me.”

He lays down next to you, cupping your cheek with his hand. “I am glad you are here.”

“So will you stay?” There’s so much raw love and fondness for you in Xiao’s eyes as you stroke your hands over his chest, feeling up his muscular arms. You wanted nothing more than to feel his naked body against yours. You wanted Xiao, wanted to feel him inside you.

“Mm,” Xiao tips your chin back, kissing the side of your throat. “That was my intention when I asked you to lay with me.”

Your body flushes with heat. You doubt Xiao said the innuendo intentionally, but you don't care when he nips your bottom lip with his teeth.

You’re greedy.

You kiss him back readily, pulling his body flush against yours, canting your hips, rubbing against his leg shamelessly. You kiss him, stroking his tongue with yours.

Xiao leans back, all puffed up, pleased in a way that’s new to you.

You lay your head back, catching your breath, already thinking of new ways to entice him to lay with you. To fuck you. To make love to you, whatever so long as it meant having Xiao.

“That can’t be comfortable,” you pull on his gloves, “to sleep in,” you allude to his usual warrior’s gear.

“Your intentions are transparent,” Xiao huffs, sliding his thigh between your legs and you know that he’ll spend the next few hours making love to you.

You slip your hand under his shirt, “I love you.”

“As I love you,” he whispers softly against your cheek.

Xiao hangs crystal cores from the ceiling.

They twinkle in the night like your own private stars.

Xiao sets chunks of Cor Lapis and Noctilucous Jade on the windowsill as if jewelers didn’t pay a small fortune for raw gemstone this pristine. There’s slices of bright blue crystal chunk on the wall next to your line paintings that alchemists would covet for their potions.

But it doesn’t click for you until you leaf through a book on Dihua Marsh, painting abstract cranes for practice on brown recycled paper. It doesn’t click for you until you read the description on the finches and their nests that you remember what type of illuminated beast Xiao is.

#bird xiao #xiao x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #nesting #aka xiao basically going my so moved in and now i must make a nest worthy of them #i wanna say gender neutral but idk i think it can be femme coded

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ofduskanddreams · 9 months

Text

Pierce The Clouds

for @elucienweekofficial day 2: magic

A/N: I say this is "from the vault" because it's based on part of an old (no longer public) fic that I plan to rewrite if I ever have the time. I wasn't planning on posting anything today, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head so here we are :)

READ ON AO3 | RATED: E | CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE | 8.3k WORDS

When Lucien encounters trouble in the mortal lands, the bond draws Elain's shuttered power to the surface. Everyone knows that getting between a Fae and their injured mate is a death wish, but no one, not even Elain, knows just how far her magic is willing to go.

Lucien

He winnowed directly from the entrance of the Hewn City into his apartment in Velaris. He kicked off his shoes and fell back onto his bed, ignoring the slight cloud of dust that puffed up from the duvet on impact.

Two minutes, he told himself. Two minutes to close his eyes and soak in the blissful silence.

Lucien didn’t want to think about that meeting, it all made him too uneasy. Eris had mentioned nothing about a plan to kill Beron, he’d simply thanked Rhys again for hosting him for Winter Solstice again and made a snide comment about how unfortunate it was that Cassian—“that Illyrian brute” as Eris called him—didn’t let him within twenty feet of Nesta this year.

Rhys, looking as bored as ever, had signed his approval on a trade agreement between the Nightmares and Eris’s territory in Autumn: ore for agricultural products. Lucien and Rhys spoke mind-to-mind about how it was suspiciously mutually beneficial, but on paper, he could make no objections.

Dealing with Eris always left him unsettled, and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Growing up with his brothers, it was second nature to expect every good deed to have an equally bad counterpart. But with Eris, the shoe hadn’t dropped. Yet. That was the most unnerving thing, what would be the cost of centuries of Eris’s so-called generosity towards him?

With a groan, Lucien forced himself to get up and change. He grabbed the second bag in the line of pre-packed leather duffels lining the wall near the door. It was a system he had developed while working as Tamlin’s emissary. A bag of necessities and appropriate clothing for each of Prythian’s courts, spelled with simple enchantments to keep everything fresh and wrinkle-free. The bag in his hand, for the human lands, was newer than the others yet still worn and marked by a small white leather tag.

Rhys had suggested that Lucien take Eris’s news that all was quiet with Beron and Koschei to Vassa sooner rather than later. The knowing look in Rhys’s eyes made it clear he was offering Lucien an out from family dinner should he want it.

With a wave of his hand, Lucien put out the fire in his fireplace and winnowed to the woods outside the wards he’d placed on Vassa’s manor. The near evening light lacked any sparkle as it filtered through the dull green canopy above him. He was grateful to Rhys; he didn’t want to think about trying to face Elain right now, unsettled as he was. It was hard enough to play that politely distanced courtier for her on a good day.

Lucien was a patient male, he prided himself on his self-control but even he had his limits. Elain wasn’t happy. He felt it through their dulled bond, and his instincts screamed at him to do something about it but he couldn’t. Being around her made it even more obvious and equally more difficult to ignore. Elain acted like she was happy, and was probably unaware that he knew her true feelings. It wasn’t his place to say anything so he’d been distancing himself. It seemed to be what she wanted.

Lucien walked through the manor’s gates and immediately came face-to-face with a flustered Jurian.

Jurian braced a hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. “Impeccable…timing,” Jurian wheezed.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred in its socket, examining. The wards were fine. Nothing was on fire. There were no screams or clashing blades ringing through the air.

“What’s wrong?” he asked Jurian.

“I was just about to send for you,” Jurian began, leading him towards the manor doors. “A few minutes ago, I had a runner come saying that there was a fight on the border. Apparently some of Nolan’s men got into it with a unit of your Prythian Guard.”

“Fuck,” Lucien exhaled, dread simmering in his veins. “Any injuries? Casualties?”

Jurian shook his head as they entered the manor hall. “The poor kid only said one injury before passing out on my office floor.”

“We don’t know if they were human or Fae?” Lucien inquired, dropping his bag and taking out the spare dagger he kept there. He sheathed it next to the short sword he always carried on his right hip.

“No,” Jurian sighed. “Since it could be either, I think it’s best if we both go.”

Lucien nodded in grim agreement.

It took them half an hour’s hard riding to reach the second garrison of the Prythian Guard. The Guard had been one of Lucien’s better ideas, endorsed by Rhys to address Tamlin’s non-existent border security. It was a peacekeeping force made up of Fae representing every court to monitor the border where the wall once stood.

It would have been easy for Lucien to winnow himself and Jurian, but riding in alongside the former human general sent a better message in this situation that and outcomes, could easily escalate into a greater conflict. Riding was also a thrill Lucien had enjoyed for as long as he could remember. He didn’t understand why most High Fae avoided it.

The sun was setting when Lucien dismounted at the wooden gate and nodded to Jurian. He would continue on to Nolan’s outpost and figure out what he could. With both sides of the story, maybe the two of them could piece together what actually happened.

The guard standing watch—Winter Court if his fair hair, skin, and frosty eyes were a sign—opened the gate for Lucien with a deferential nod.

“They’re all in the main hall,” he said, taking the reins from Lucien.

As he crossed the dirt courtyard, Lucien tried his best not to jump to morbid conclusions. The likelihood of this sparking another human-fae war was slim. If he was being honest, he’d poured so much of himself into maintaining peace since the war with Hybern ended that any breach of it felt like a personal attack. He was glad that his magic was still drained from all the winnowing he’d done in the last day and a half. If it hadn’t been, sparks would fly from his fingertips.

The sight that met Lucien in the chamber was far from encouraging. The assembled grave-faced guards stepped aside in a wave of pewter gray to reveal a male laying on a table. For a sickening heartbeat the male’s golden hair looked like Tamlin’s, but as Lucien stepped closer, he saw gray hairs mingled with gold and speckled with blood.

Lucien had to grip the table to keep from falling to his knees, because the male taking wet, ragged breaths was Valin.

“Lucien,” a voice addressed him.

Lucien looked up from the table to find Bron, one of Tamlin’s former sentries standing beside him, the crest of a commander on his gray uniform.

“What happened?” Lucien seethed behind gritted teeth.

“Valin had his unit on their regular patrol when they came across a bunch of Nolan’s men, drunk. They were aggressive, trying to cross the border and hoping for revenge from the sound of it. The unit followed protocol and was working to disarm the group with minimal injury when Valin took a scatter-ash arrow to the chest. Under Valin’s orders, they didn’t retaliate and half of them escorted Nolan’s men back to their outpost while the rest brough Valin here.”

“I should have known the prospect of ordering people around would have drawn Valin out of retirement.” Lucien and Bron exchanged sad smiles. Valin was Andras’s older brother, had been the captain of Tamlin’s sentries since his father had ruled Spring. He retired a few decades after Lucien arrived in the court, to start a family when he found his mate. But they’d stayed friends, Lucien had visited often and written when he couldn’t.

“Talia should be here soon, I sent a winnower to her as soon as I saw him,” Bron spoke quietly.

“He won’t make it?”

Bron closed his eyes and shook his head. “Scatter-ash, it’s Nolan’s latest invention. The arrow heads and lower shafts are made of ash chips somehow melded together so they break into pieces if the arrow hits bone or is removed.”

Lucien’s elbows hit the table as he rested his head in his hands. The sound of running footsteps made him snap upright, just in time to see Talia burst through the doors. She froze, nostrils flaring as she scented her mate’s blood.

“Everybody back to your posts,” Lucien ordered softly, and the room cleared save for himself, Talia and Bron.

In the blink of an eye, Talia was standing beside her mate clutching his hand to her chest. Her translucent wings shivered as tears fell silently down her face.

The room was quiet, save for Valin’s jagged breaths that were slowing by the minute. Lucien and Bron stood together in mute vigil for their fallen friend and mentor as the sun sank beneath the horizon, coloring the room a somber shadow-blue. Lucien would never forget the moment Valin’s heart stopped and his soul crossed the Veil. Talia froze before she began shaking. Then she fell to her knees, hands clasped over her heart and screamed.

That scream of unearthly sorrow and rage and grief hit Lucien like a serrated blade to the gut. He saw Bron stagger as well under the weight of Talia’s pain as half of her soul was ripped out and cast to the void. Lucien had only read about what could happen following the death of one’s mate. He couldn’t stop himself from picturing Elain on that table, dead. The thought of that golden light in his chest winking out threatened the stability of Lucien’s knees.

The wail turned to a choked-off sob. He wished he could go to her, but there was no comfort he could give that would ease the force of her grief. Eventually the sobbing stopped and Talia slowly turned to them.

“Who?” she growled, rage blazing in her eyes.

“Talia, an off-duty human guard shot him,” Lucien spoke carefully with his hands outstretched, palms up in a gesture of peace. “I will meet with Lord Nolan in the morning and demand he turn over the man responsible. His judgment will be yours to give.”

Lucien looked to the side at Bron who gave an imperceptible nod before he stepped forward slowly.

Bron approached her as one might a spooked horse. All Fae knew there were few things as dangerous as a mate seeking retribution—instinct could spark a bloodlust in the most peaceful of souls. Once Lucien felt relatively sure that Talia would allow Bron to help her prepare her mate’s body for the pyre without killing him, he slipped out of the room and down a narrow hall to the guest officer’s quarters.

He wasn’t able to shake the smothering, bone-rending sadness he felt. He couldn’t bear the thought of what Talia must be going through; couldn’t stop his mind from reliving the night Jesminda’s life was stolen by his folly.

Lucien collapsed onto the small bed in the dark, cold room. He couldn’t staunch that gut-wrenching grief he’d buried so deep. He closed his eyes but immediately saw the light leaving Jes’s walnut eyes. When he heard the wet slice of a blade meeting bone, of her head hitting the stone, Lucien’s eyes flew open. He was drowning in grief too long ignored.

He jolted when there was a sharp tug behind his ribs, hard enough that his breath hitched.

Then there was a bright warmth blooming.

Lucien sat up, but no—he hadn’t accidentally started a fire. It happened rarely, when the nightmares were at their worst and he would wake to the acrid scent of burning fabrics.

An image of small hands buried in a white mane flying flashed in front of his mind's eye.

And then he was a youngling hiding in the kitchens while his mother baked apple crumble and he stole as many bites as he could.

Lucien lay back and let his head hit the pillow as he was surrounded by the colors of autumn, shrouded in a blanket of sunset and he felt peace.

It was Elain; he realized with no small amount of wonder. Elain must have sensed him.

All the hollow sadness was suddenly filled with a nervous amount of hope dashed with embarrassment. He was careful to keep his emotions to himself, had never slipped up like this before. Cauldron, she must have felt everything. The hope was a soft glow, Elain had never touched their bond before.

Jurian met him at the Garrison at dawn. From what he heard at Nolan’s outpost, it was exactly as Bron described. Nolan’s men claimed the fault lay with the Fae, but Jurian believed the guard had done everything by the parameters of the treaty.

Jurian agreed with Lucien’s plan to deliver Valin’s assailant to Talia. Then again, Jurian was one of the few humans with firsthand experience of what mates were capable of when truly motivated.

Lucien didn’t waste time setting out for the Nolan’s manor, assured that Jurian would inform Vassa of everything that had occurred. His magic was still somewhat drained so Lucien opted to ride again.

Recalling the memory from the previous night, Lucien smiled to himself. If Elain enjoyed riding, maybe he could ask her to accompany him some time.

Lucien dismounted when the manor’s gates were in sight, leaving the horse to graze on dew-dampened grass. He’d only come to Nolan’s manor on foot before, better to lessen the chances of aggravating anyone. The guards posted on the gate were two Lucien didn’t recognize. He stopped some twenty paces back, their loaded crossbows trained on him.

“Stay right where you are, Fae filth,” the shorter of the two guards called out. “Your kind isn’t welcome here.”

Lucien held both of his hands up, showing that he would make no move for his weapon.

“My name is Lucien Vanserra. I am an emissary, I mean no harm.” He choked on his family name but that was how the humans did it and he was here for the sake of peace. “I’ve been here several times before,” Lucien took a careful step forward. His gaze flicked between the short one and the one whose eyes were wide with fear. “Your commander knows me, he can verify my identity.”

“How do we know this isn’t just some magic trick?” the short one sneered.

Lucien took a calming breath, “I am here under the terms of the treaty between our peoples, that includes not using glamours to deceive you.” He took another careful step forward.

Only to be knocked back by a blinding pain near his heart. His ears rang, but he could hear the cadence of conversation.

“You idiot. Set the lord’s hounds on him, leave no evidence.”

Then there was a riot of barking. For half a second Lucien found himself back in Eris’s kennels, the hounds greeting him. But these were not those hounds.

Lucien felt several sets of teeth sink into his limbs. He couldn’t just stay here and die. That wasn’t right. It would hurt her. Elain.

Elain, the name clanged through him.

He needed a chance with Elain, with his mate.

Lucien reached deeply for whatever threads of dwindling magic he could grab and threw himself into the darkness, thinking of the first place that sprang into his mind.

He didn’t remember how he crawled up the steps and through the off-kilter door, but his eyes opened to stare down at the familiar black-and-white checkered marble floors. His eyes closed at the sound of talons clicking against the cracked stone that shifted to familiar footsteps as every thought eddied out of his head and the world bled black.

Tamlin

He scented Lucien long before he saw the male. Tamlin cursed the spark of hope that warmed him at the thought that Lucien might give him another chance. But then he neared the manor and scented Lucien's blood and red stained his vision. He ran.

There was too much blood—the wounds weren’t closing. Cauldron, were those bite marks? Tamlin’s heart was beating too quickly, his hands crimson-slicked as he gently turned Lucien onto his back to reveal the splintered shaft of an ash arrow embedded not a finger’s width from his heart. Tamlin quickly dragged a talon across his ankle; it stung and bled a drop before closing—not a nightmare then.

Fuck.

Tamlin forced himself to breathe. To think. He would lose no one else. There were no healers here anymore. No one was here. So he had to go where healers were. Where there were people who were better for Lucien than he was.

Never again, he told himself. I won’t lose him again.

Tamlin summoned the strength he often tried to forget and, with enough force that the ground rumbled, he spoke from his mind, projecting it far north.

Rhysand. I’m bringing Lucien to you. I mean no harm. He’s dying, he needs a Healer.

Tamlin gathered Lucien into his arms and winnowed. Lucien was the only thing he had left to lose.

Time seemed to slow as the darkness pressed upon him. The first rule of winnowing is to have a clear picture of your destination. Lucien had told him about Velaris before Tamlin had banned him from his court in anger. Centuries before that, lifetimes ago really, the heir of Night and the son of Spring had gotten drunk together. The memory of Rhys’s description was faded but better than nothing, so Tamlin held that image close.

Another image flashed before him, star-tinged—from Rhysand. A wrought-iron fence before the small yard of a home on a quiet street.

Then he was there, shoving aside that gate and bounding up the steps. The door opened for him and Tamlin barely noted the towering Illyrian wings he brushed past as he moved to lay Lucien down on the table. A gray-haired female stepped towards Lucien’s prone form and Tamlin bit back a snarl, at the same time the High Lord of Night’s hand came down on his shoulder.

Madja’s our best healer, she’ll do all she can, Rhysand spoke into his mind.

“It's a new kind of ash arrow. It breaks into shards when disturbed,” Tamlin explained, his long unused voice rasping. “He winnowed from the mortal lands to my manor with that much ash in him. I would have said it’s not possible, but he did it.”

Madja nodded to him and turned back to Lucien. “Sons of fire don’t burn out easily, this one still has a chance.”

Tamlin sagged with relief, then quickly straightened his spine. He’d already let these males see too much of him.

“Here,” Cassian grunted and shoved a glass of whiskey into Tamlin’s faintly trembling hands.

The reality of his situation came into sharp focus as the instinctive drive to protect his closest friend faded. He was in the Night Court. He didn’t exactly ask to come. They had every valid reason to hate him, especially Rhys and Feyre. Cauldron, they were the same reasons he hated himself. He could see Rhysand and Cassian exchanging a look that meant they were mind-speaking. Cassian… Rhysand’s General.

The gears turned. He was a High Lord who winnowed uninvited into another court’s territory. An action any laws of Prythian could construe as an act of war that. Tamlin swallowed the rest of his drink painfully.

There was only one way to guarantee this didn’t turn that direction.

So, Tamlin set down his glass and crossed the room to where Rhys stood. Pride be damned, he had already lost everything at this point. Tamlin took a deep breath and placed his right fist over his heart, speaking the ancient words: “I, Tamlin, High Lord of Spring, thank you for offering me aid in my time of need. As payment for this debt I will grant you, Rhysand, High Lord of Night, a boon. Please accept my gratitude.”

Faint clinks made by ash splinters landing in a metal basin punctuated the silence. Tamlin kept his eyes downcast at the red patterned rug until Rhysand held out a tattooed hand.

Tamlin clasped it with his own.

“I accept,” Rhysand responded, his expression guarded.

A shockwave of magic radiated through Velaris as the bargain inked itself across the High Lords’ wrists, setting the glasses rattling.

Then, the door to the townhouse swung open with such force that the little window in it shattered.

Elain Archeron burst into the room. Her half-feral eyes stopped on Lucien, then flitted to Tamlin as he stood and turned towards her. Her brown eyes turned to silver as she took in the blood staining Tamlin’s clothes.

Her rage was an aura shimmering at the edges of her. She winnowed across the room in a blink, appearing in front of Tamlin and slamming him back into the wall. Her forearm pushed into his throat. She growled, each word dripping with the promise of blood: “What. Happened. To. My. Mate.”

Elain

This wasn’t right. Elain looked around at the bare-boned trees shivering dark against a faded sky.

She was in Velaris. She was staring at a rosebush. There were clippers in her hand.

But when Elain looked down, there were no clippers, and the air was colder and dulled. It took a moment for recognition to set in—she recognized these woods, that far-off stone wall with its grotesque iron gate.

She shouldn’t be here.

Couldn’t be.

That was Lord Nolan’s manor, but she was in Velaris. Feyre and Nyx and Cerridwen were playing on the other side of the gardens. She was listening to them moments ago.

But this world was silent.

She realized it was a vision when her feet began moving against her will.

Suddenly, she stood before the gates staring at two guards in Graysen’s father’s colors. But the vision shattered, cracking and falling like the shards of a mirror.

And then Elain was curled up on the grass of her garden with a searing white pain in her chest. Feyre was screaming.

The world was shaking—no, that was her, shaking. Being shook.

“...lain. Elain, please open your eyes,” Feyre’s voice pleaded.

Elain slowly obeyed, squinting and blinking and trying to adjust to the brightness of the sun above her. It was hard to do anything with the memory of that pain echoing across her skin.

“I…” Elain’s voice cracked, her mind still reeling. “I had a vision, I’m fine,” she said weakly as she let Feyre help her sit up.

Elain realized her mistake when she saw how wide Feyre’s eyes had grown.

“You had… a vision?” Feyre parsed out the words on her tongue, piecing together her elder sister’s lies of the past year and a half. “Elain,” Feyre said with an equal amount of shame and reproach. She took a deep breath, then said more gently, “Let’s get you inside, okay?”

Was this the moment when the world crashed down around her feet? This lie, her secret, no doubt already reaching the minds of the inner circle via Rhys. Because this changed everything. That was part of the reason Elain had hidden it.

Elain nodded and let Feyre tug her to her feet.

She wasn’t dumb, though it made life easier when people thought she was. While the others thought she only read books on flowers or the romances Nesta pawned off on her, Elain had done her research. She knew Clotho had a personal weakness for lemon tarts and that the female was happy to offer her the sanctuary of the Library beneath the House of the Wind regardless of the unseemly times of day she showed up.

Elain knew how rare Seers were. She knew how they were coveted by High Lords and Kings, wooed and worshiped until they were locked up or literally chained to a wall in one case. It was a terrible power, she’d never understood….

Why, in those frozen depths of the Cauldron, when the Mother had examined her soul and somehow found her ‘worthy,’ had she cursed Elain with this ‘gift’ that often drove its bearers to madness?

Yes, the Mother’s gift included many other things Elain didn’t understand, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to be a Seer, didn’t want to live with the constant threat of her mind being violated by the past or future. She didn’t want to deal with the burden of trying to unravel all those damned riddles her sight enjoyed laying at her feet.

Swallowing her anxiety down, Elain let Feyre lead her into the house and press a cup of tea into her hands. But that pain was still throbbing—enough to make her feel lightheaded. Elain couldn’t shake off the small voice screaming “something is wrong.”

And then it clicked into place. Lucien. She’d been sensing him through the bond more recently. That must have been his pain. Which meant something had gone terribly wrong… Nolan’s manor. That vision had been of Lucien, or at least what had happened to him.

“Elain, what can I do?” Feyre’s question broke the clamor of her thoughts.

Mate. Protect him. Save him. That inner voice commanded with so much dominance Elain almost leapt off of the settee despite herself.

She couldn’t deny what she saw, what she was feeling. But something stopped her from voicing all of it to her sister.

“I… I think I would like to lie down for a while, if that’s alright,” she answered Feyre in that soft small voice everyone thought was her only one.

Elain lost herself in thought while she allowed Feyre to lead her up to her room. She didn’t understand this thing writhing within her, this bond. Lucien was a stranger. Yet, even as a stranger Elain didn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone—she wanted to help, to soothe, to heal. Those had always been her core intentions. Even before she nearly drowned in the Cauldron and somehow emerged with the gifts of the Mother that made those instincts stronger.

She hadn’t realized it until that fateful day, nearly a year ago when Nesta had sacrificed her magic to save Nyx, Feyre and Rhys. That was when that shimmering well of power sparked. While Nesta had laid herself across Feyre’s ashen form, Elain had dived into that inner abyss—had begged the Mother to let Nesta stay, to see that Nesta’s heart wasn’t owned by the Cauldron’s icy void, that Nesta was just trying to protect everyone, that Nesta deserved to live.

Thankfully, the Mother had listened. Elain had mentioned nothing about that day. She scarcely dared think about it. Nesta would have died if the Mother hadn’t intervened. It was only the second time Elain had ever let that power fill her veins, to sever the Cauldron’s grip of Nesta’s soul—to keep it from killing her. The first had been during the war when she’d somehow winnowed and found her hand clenched tight around Truth-Teller, buried in the King of Hybern’s neck.

Feyre drew the curtains shut while Elain sat on the edge of her bed.

Please leave, Elain hoped as Feyre turned towards her in the dim faelight.

“Do you want to be alone?” her sister asked.

“I think I’ll sleep for a while.” Elain pasted on an encouraging smile.

Save him. Save him. Don’t let it fade. The voice chanted.

As soon as the door shut behind Feyre, Elain moved: out to the balcony, down the trellis of ivy. She knew the way with her eyes closed. She’d spent many sleepless nights watching the Sidra drift by or scanning dusty tomes for answers that didn’t exist.

Elain’s slippered feet hit the frostbitten earth, the voice growing louder. She was tired of fighting it so, for the third time, Elain gave up. She let that shimmering light rise to the surface, allowed that voice to guide her steps. When she reached inside for that golden ribbon she knew would lead her to Lucien, she fell to her knees in the dead grass.

No.

There wasn’t a ribbon. There were only ragged threads. Elain focused her hearing, no matter where he went she could hear it. His heartbeat was there, but it was too slow.

No.

Save him. Save him. Protect. Defend.

Elain let that unknown power force her shaking legs to stand. She could question all of this when she knew Lucien was safe. She’d already broken character, let Feyre see the truth. Pretense was irrelevant now. It was the least she could do after all, for the male whom had saved her countless times without knowing it.

She took a step forward, letting that power fill her vision as darkness pressed in on all sides and then she was standing outside of the townhouse. She’d winnowed again, somehow. Elain would worry about that another time.

The air smelled strange. She could scent Lucien, closely mingled with another of stale flowers and rain and… blood. Icy dread sluiced through her veins at the realization it was Lucien’s blood. All Elain saw was red and light. She felt a pulse of magic, heard a faint shatter of glass.

Mate. Save him. Protect him.

There was Madja, staring blankly at her, bent over Lucien’s body—he was unconscious and covered in drying blood.

“Mate. Protect,” was the last thing Elain remembered hearing before her power consumed her completely.

Elain woke to the sound of hushed voices. She was lying on a hard surface.

“Was knocking her out really necessary?” Nesta quietly snarled.

“I didn’t ‘knock her out,’ I put her to sleep,” Rhys’s voice was calm yet equally hushed. “She wasn’t herself, Nesta. I didn’t want her to hurt anyone or hurt herself.”

“I thought she didn’t have magic anymore,” Cassian said.

“Well, I knew something was still there,” Amren sounded smug.

Elain cracked an eye open, just enough to get a blurry image of the scene. Feyre was slowly shaking her head, looking at the floor. They were still in the townhouse. Her head felt like someone had split her skull with a hammer and chisel.

“I found her unconscious in the garden this afternoon. I couldn’t get into her mind but when she woke up, she said she’d had a vision. I don’t know if it’s happened before, or if she’s aware of this power,” Feyre murmured.

“How long will she be asleep?” Nesta asked, concerned.

“She’s already awake,” a deep voice like honey rumbled from directly behind her, though it sounded strained.

Elain bolted upright, scrambled off the table and nearly head-butted the wall as the room swayed beneath her feet. Her fingertips dug into the molded oak paneling but then Nesta’s hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. One of those hands moved to her cheek as Nesta turned her face to examine it. Elain shook off Nesta’s hand and turned back to look at the wide dining table where Lucien lay, his hair a sanguine red against a blue pillow.

She took a shaky step toward him before she stopped herself, ignoring that voice demanding she run to him and make sure he’s okay.

“Lucien,” she breathed. Her throat felt raw, like she had been screaming. She swallowed, painfully. “Are… are you going to be alright?”

“Right as rain, Lady,” he said with a smirk that twisted into a grimace as he coughed

Liar.

“He’ll be perfectly healed in a few days,” Madja explained from a chair by the fire. “He’s lucky he got here when he did, a few more minutes and some of those splinters would have reached his heart.”

“How do you feel, Elain?” Nesta asked softly, holding Elain’s elbow.

“I’m fine Nesta.” Elain’s words were clipped. She hated this feeling, that dark gap in her memory.

Lucien coughed again, “She’s about thirty seconds from passing out if her heartbeat—cough—doesn’t slow and she has one of the worst burnout headaches I’ve ever felt.” His voice grew progressively quieter as he spoke.

Elain rapidly snapped up her mental shields, but the exertion made her stumble.

Nesta gently shoved her down into an overstuffed armchair and forced a cup of water into her hand, gray eyes gleaming like daggers as she demanded Elain to drink.

Madja shuffled over and placed a wrinkled hand on Elain’s shoulder, the pounding in her head subsided but didn’t disappear.

Feyre sat down on the ottoman in front of her chair. “Elain, can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?”

Elain looked around the room. Lucien was now half sitting, propped up on a bunch of pillows. Nesta stood behind her chair, Cassian close to her side. Amren perched on an arm of the sofa where Rhys and Madja sat, behind Feyre. Azriel stood near the arched opening to the dining room, his shadows blending into the darkness behind him. What did she remember? What did she want to remember?

Elain knew she should handle this carefully, that she could play it right and keep things mostly the way they were before. But her head was so foggy, everything about her felt sluggish. What she remembered after she left her room were flashes, nothing coherent. Elain remembered the pain on Feyre’s face in the garden, when she’d suspected Elain had been lying.

Pain. She was in pain. Lucien was in pain. There was too much of it. Elain was tired. So very, very tired of pain. Elain took a deep breath and spoke.

“Earlier, I had a… vision.” She tucked her hand beneath her thighs to stop herself from wringing her fingers. “I saw the gates of Lord Nolan’s manor.” She forced her gaze to meet Lucien’s, “I felt those guards shoot you.”

Her eyes closed as her voice cracked. She couldn’t look at him without that voice chanting all the things she should do to those guards. Elain took a deep breath, “I felt your pain, that’s how I knew it was you. I feel nothing in my visions.” Unless they are about you, she finished in her head.

“I remember Feyre taking me up to my room. I remember leaving as soon as she left. I… I just couldn’t let anyone be in that kind of pain when I knew there was something I could do to help. When I tried to find you the bond—it was fading. I panicked, I could sense you were close to death.” Elain swiped an errant tear from her cheek. She shouldn’t be crying over a stranger.

“That thing, that voice panicked and I could feel a sort of light, a power inside me and it wanted to get out. I could barely think straight so I let it—it felt like my best chance to find him. After that, it's just fragments. I remember standing outside of the townhouse. I remember it smelled wrong, like rain and dying flowers and Lucien’s blood.”

Elain noticed Feyre’s nostrils flare, then her whole body went rigid and her face paled. She stiffly nodded for Elain to continue but her eyes glazed over slightly.

“That’s really all I can remember.” Elain looked to the dancing flames behind the grate.

The silence in the room was broken when Rhys spoke a name, “Mor?”

Morrigan winced as she stepped out of Azriel’s shadows. “That's all she remembers,” she said Rhys.

Fuck. They used Mor? Was their distrust in her truly so immense? It hurt, more than Elain expected it would. Not that she could really blame them. Lucien looked shocked, but it seemed the others were aware. Mor, at least, had the decency to look apologetic.

Feyre moved off of the ottoman to sit on Rhys’s lap. Her color was better, whatever they’d spoken about mind-to-mind had worked. Rhys cleared his throat, “Well, let me show you all what I remember.”

Elain was grateful she was sitting down or she might have fainted as Rhys’s experience of events played through everyone’s minds, stopping on an image of her pinning Tamlin against the wall by his throat.

“Fascinating,” Amren mused. She cocked her head, those unholy steel eyes flitting between Elain and Nesta, analyzing them as if they were one of her many puzzles.

Elain’s mind was still trying to catch up with everything Rhys had revealed when she felt a sharp spike of self-loathing. She looked over to Lucien who wore a haunted expression.

“Stop that!” Elain hissed at him.

Lucien’s russet and gold gaze turned sharply on her and Elain clapped a hand over her mouth, felt her eyes widen.

“Sorry I just… none of this was your fault Lucien,” she stammered, warmth rising to her cheeks.

“No, that’s not… never mind. You’re right,” his words were stilted.

Elain noticed the others glancing between them, their faces betraying an odd mix of confusion and amusement.

Before she had time to respond, Nesta snickered “You—you really…. Honestly, I’m jealous.”

Elain was confused.

Nesta sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Just—the next time you nail Tamlin’s balls to the wall—wait for me.”

Feyre snorted softly.

Slowly, Elain turned to Rhys. “I…. Oh Gods… I attacked a High Lord… did I start a war?”

She held no sympathy for Tamlin, but Prythian was still recovering from the last war.

Rhys shook his head with a gentle smile. He asked Lucien, “Are you feeling well enough to head to the River House?”

Lucien nodded once.

“Right then, we will continue this discussion after we’ve all had something to eat,” Rhys concluded.

Cassian mumbled “about damn time,” as he and Nesta made their way outside.

Amren held her hand out expectantly to Azriel who rolled his eyes before winnowing away with the tiny ancient one in tow.

Rhys slung and arm around Lucien’s broad shoulders as he helped him stand. Elain was momentarily stunned because Lucien was taller than Rhys when she saw them side by side. No, that was a dumb thing to realize and why now…. Elain blinked a few times to clear her head.

Feyre and Mor were looking at her, waiting. Elain looked back at Lucien and Rhys, the latter now looking at her in silent question.

She slowly rose to her feet, pleasantly surprised to find her legs steady. Elain took a step towards Feyre but the disquiet in her gut increased and she hesitated.

“I’ll go with Lucien and Rhys,” she found herself saying. The nervous energy settled a bit more with each step towards them.

She didn’t even attempt to decipher the meaning in Rhys’s knowing gaze. Elain took his arm, and they winnowed to the lawn of the River House. Cassian was waiting for them by the door, taking over as Lucien’s support and disappearing into the house. Elain made to follow them but Rhys gently stopped her.

“What?” Elain cocked her head at the High Lord of Night. For that definitely was not the expression of her smartass brother-in-law.

“I will allow you into this house if you swear to do no harm to my mate, my son, or any other members of my inner circle or guests of my household.” Rhys’s voice was the deep cold of a midwinter’s night.

Elain took a step back, eyes stinging. Did Rhys really think she would hurt her sisters, hurt Nyx?

His expression softened slightly, “The vow is a formality, Elain. I don’t think you would intentionally harm anyone but you… you weren’t yourself this morning. It will give you peace of mind as well, a guarantee that no one you care about would get hurt if you lost control again.”

That would be true, she supposed.

A part of her bristled at the ultimatum, that Rhys—the champion of choices—didn’t give her one. Another part of her was grateful, she didn’t trust herself. Hadn’t since she’d come out of the Cauldron. She’d buried her powers so deep because they scared her—that potential loss of control was absolutely terrifying.

“I swear to do no harm to my sisters, my nephew, or any members of the inner circle or guests of your household,” Elain repeated as she held out her hand.

Elain didn’t realize she was freezing until Rhys’s hand wrapped around hers, the warmth and the zing of magic pulsing through the air gave her goosebumps. She looked at their clasped hands and saw a tiny star tattooed on the inside of her right wrist. It was… cute.

Elain paid little attention to anything during dinner. Thankfully, everyone seemed happy to carry on their conversations without her. She wasn’t surprised, they normally were. She downed her first glass of wine and spent an hour picking at her food. Elain was grateful to be sitting next to Mor. In quiet solidarity, Mor kept pace with Elain. When the meal ended the two of them had finished a bottle.

She followed the others through to the sitting room, every sense softer—and she was delightfully warm. The events of the day felt less world-shattering. Elain’s mind was still drifting when Rhys called for everyone’s attention. Only then did the room come into focus. Amren, Feyre, and Nesta were giving her odd looks. She glanced down to see if she’d accidentally spilled wine on her dress only to meet Lucien’s russet-gold stare, not a foot below her.

Elain wished the floors would open up and swallow her. Apparently while her mind had wandered, her feet had carried her to stand halfway behind the chair where Lucien sat near the fire.

Good. He is still healing, watch over him, the voice said.

Elain almost jumped at the sound, it hadn't spoken in hours.

To move away now, after everyone else had settled would be even more awkward, so Elain stayed.

It’s just the bond. Just my instincts — it means nothing. They all know that, she talked herself down before she could feel too flustered.

“Alright Amren,” Rhys said coolly, holding his palm out in an invitation to speak.

Elain’s heart jumped into her throat. She felt like a child again, waiting for her mother’s tongue-lashing.

Would they ship her away like Nesta, or worse? At least Nesta hadn’t tricked everyone. She’d lied, but the lies were obvious. Elain had manipulated her family’s goodwill against them, for her own selfish comfort. She knew her powers could make a profound difference in the world… if she could bear to face them.

She wasn’t like her sisters. She wasn’t a warrior; she didn’t want to lead people; she didn’t even want to be here half of the time. Elain missed being human, she missed the life Hybern and the Cauldron had stolen from her. She didn’t want this power in her veins so she’d done her best to ignore its existence.

Amren looked at Elain, her bobbed hair swaying as her head again tilted to the side, assessing. “This isn’t the first time. Is it, girl?”

“No,” Elain hated how meek her voice sounded.

“Well?” Amren motioned for her to elaborate.

Elain took a deep breath that did nothing to steady her so she gripped the back of the chair, low enough that no one could see how weak she was. Feyre had no trouble commanding a room of faeries who hated her, but Elain was not her sister.

“I… um.” Elain stuttered.

Lucien shifted in front of her, crossing his arms and her breath hitched when she felt warm fingers brush against hers. The contact grounded her.

She swallowed and spoke. “The first time was during the war. I was pacing in camp when I saw Nesta’s blast. Felt it. I could sense something beneath my skin, like I was burning from the inside.”

“I knew something bad was happening, could feel it in my bones. And then I heard a voice, your voice.” Elain looked at her little sister. “You begged me to save them.”

“I begged the Cauldron to save them,” Feyre explained. “How did you hear that?”

“The Cauldron and its power answer to ultimately to her, at least in this world. She knew you needed help,” Elain replied.

“Her?” Feyre asked.

“This world?” Rhys spoke at the same moment as his mate.

Elain blushed, she definitely said too much.

“Don’t get distracted, girl,” Amren chided.

Elain nodded and continued, “Well, I don’t know what I did. I just… let go. Let the light burn. And the next thing I can remember is my hand covered in blood holding Truth-Teller’s hilt in that King’s neck. I don’t know how I got there. I panicked when I realized what was happening—what I did. And well, Nesta took over then.”

Lucien’s fingers twitched against hers, the slight touch doing more to comfort her than was logical.

“The second time was different, internal. It was when Nyx was born,” Elain explained. Everyone in the room sat up a little straighter at that.

“What I saw,” Cassian blurted out, “that was you? You stopped the Cauldron from taking all of Nesta’s power.”

“Not exactly me, but yes. I… well, it’s hard to explain since I don’t really understand it.” Elain paused, she really didn’t know if this would make any sense.

“Just tell us as best as you can,” Lucien spoke for the first time since they’d gathered.

“Well Nesta, remember the terms of your bargain? I’d seen what would happen, only I didn’t realize what the vision meant until you first said ‘I give it all back.’ The vision was a phrase: one life for three, moonlit death, what a bargain.”

Elain saw Cassian stiffen as the meaning of the words hit him, he drew his wing closer around Nesta.

“Nesta, when you told the Cauldron you would ‘give it all back,’ you bargained away your life. I couldn’t let that happen so I reached out—reached down maybe, into the power. It’s kind of like a well right, so I dove to the bottom—to the heart, the source.”

“The source?” Amren prompted skeptically.

“The Mother,” Elain replied.

Amren’s gray eyes went wide.

“The Mother,” Elain continued, her voice more confident now, “is the only thing who can truly influence the Cauldron. She gave the Cauldron purpose when she created this world, the Cauldron loves her because of it.”

“What does the Mother have to do with Nesta’s bargain? How do you have a connection to her?” Feyre asked.

“Well,” Elain swallowed, trying to ignore terror brought on by the memories of that day in Hybern. She hadn’t realized her eyes had squeezed shut until another faint brush of Lucien’s fingers made her open them.

“When I went into the Cauldron,” Elain stared into the fire, “I was drifting for a long time until the Mother’s hand took hold of me. She said something about being pure of heart and told me the Cauldron would bless me with great gifts. And that she would always walk beside me.

“When I met her again, trying to save Nesta’s life from that bargain, I offered her anything she wanted as long as she made the Cauldron alter your bargain to let you live, to let you all live. She made me vow I would never seek to rid myself of my powers. I don’t know how much you all know about Seers, but it’s usually a cursed gift. They lose their sanity or become slaves and prisoners, often both. The Mother knew I didn’t want that. She knew it would be harder to keep the gifts than trade them for you. And well, here we are.”

The typically loud group of Fae were silent.

“If you don’t believe me, that bargain is inked in gold on my spine,” Elain shrugged, trying to lighten the mood, her gaze still fixed on the fire. She could have sworn she saw a forest in the flames, a fox running between the trees. Then again, she’d had a lot of wine.

This world was bizarre, magic didn’t follow logic or reason. Compared to some stories she’d heard from this group—this might not even be the strangest. She felt light. Freer than she had felt for many years.

“Elain—” Nesta’s cracking voice drew Elain’s gaze. “You saved me. Twice. You saved Cassian’s life, too.”

“Considering how many times you’ve saved me over the years, Nesta, it was the least I could do to pay you back.”

Elain took a deep breath and addressed the room, breaking contact with Lucien and stepping away from the chair. “I’m sorry for keeping this all to myself. What I’ve told you all tonight is just a fraction. I was terrified—am terrified by all of this. It was too overwhelming, so I shut it all out. I know it was selfish. I’m sorry that I lied to you all, that I abused your kindness to shield myself from having to deal with any of it.”

Elain kept her eyes on the floor, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.

Nesta’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing. Feyre’s arms wound around both of them a second later. Warm tears tracked down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you couldn’t talk to me about any of this,” Feyre mumbled into Elain’s shoulder. “I hate that you’ve been dealing with this by yourself.”

“If anyone was selfish, it was me,” Nesta sniffed. “You were right that time at the River House. I was too consumed by my shit to realize you were going through it too, that you needed someone just as much as I did.”

Elain pulled away when it got hard to breathe, wiping the tears from her eyes and grinning at her sisters. Rhys cleared his throat. Elain saw Cassian wipe away a few tears of his own. She didn’t know why but she turned back toward Lucien.

He was smiling at her, his russet eye held a mix of wonder and pride. It was like Elain had spent the last three years under the clouds. Finally explaining part of what had been haunting her had revealed scraps of blue sky, but that one look from Lucien banished the rest. Like that smile was the sweetest ray of sunlight to ever shine. And maybe it would be okay.

tagging: @ablogofbipanic @damedechance @octobers-veryown @panicatthenightcourt @moonpatroclus @vulpes-fennec @krem-does-stuff @areyoudreaminof @spell-cleavers @fieldofdaisiies @foundress0fnothing @kingofsummer93

#elucienweek2023 #elucien #elucien fanfiction #elucien fanfic #pro elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #elain x lucien #lucien x elain

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endclover · 10 months

Text

Loyalty - Chapter 1

Doublelife!Xisuma x Reader

1,525 words, 8,115 characters

《Loading world》

You spawn into a fresh world, free from sin of mankind.

In the world that you awoke in, it was almost unbelievable that it was soon to be filled with blood and cruelty.

This death game was worse than used to be. Death is even more inevitable now that every player is paired up with someone.

Soulmates shared a life.

Pain and agony, life and happiness. You had to endure whichever of those they go through.

The hardest part of it all was that you have no say in whoever becomes your soulmate.

Your 3 life, all depends on fate.

The first thing you did when you spawn in was to get tools and adventure to find the perfect place to settle and to potentially find your partner.

You arrive at the mountains to find easy to get ores and resources on the surface, there you find a group of people; Grian, Scott, and BigB.

"Oh [reader]'s here" Scott announces.

"Hey everyone! Watcha'll up to?" You wave.

You smile at Scott who gives you a few melons to regenerate your lost hearts, which admittedly was not the doing of your soulmate but rather your own clumsiness.

Behind an amused BigB was Grian, taunting a goat, which made you chuckle a bit.

"Hey Grian! Having fun?" You greet him.

"No, I keep on getting bad horns, I have like 3 of 'em already" he answered, eyes still focused on the goat that's about to charge at him.

Soon enough, the goat ran to attack but banged his head against the wall instead.

"Finally! Let's see if this is want good" the bird said. He picked up the horn and blew it, a loud call resonated across the land.

"Honestly Grian we should spend our time on something more meaningful" sighed Scott.

"This is meaningful!" He argued.

While the two exchanged a few more words, you start crafting up some tools.

"So, found your someone yet?" Scott started.

"Not quite, I am kinda glad with whoever i have though they havent been talking as much damage."

"Safe to say it's not Jim then." you both giggle

"right! Wanna see if we're paired up?" You ask him

With sparkles in your eyes you give him a light hit, and to no surprise you dont receive damage.

"Ah what a bummer." You mumble.

His wish was granted.

A few blocks away from you, a bird was waching. While having your moment with Scott, he was pleading whoever so hard for you to not be with Scott, but rather him.

This was it, he was about to find his soulmate, his other half.

"By any chance [reader], have you been taking alot of damage?" He asked.

"I'd say I've took plenty."

It was hard to hide the smile on his face, and your words only proved his prediction.

"Let's try!" Grian beamed.

He had his hopes up, surely it was him you're meant to be with!

You give Grian a light tap and

...

Nothing.

"Ah." His disappointment reached his voice.

"Well, that's tragic"

You sighed and instead of adding to the upsetting scenario, you opted to comfort him seeing as his wings drooped down.

"Hm, you should cheer up! Not having me as your soulmate probably means you'll get to live a little longer."

"This was heartbreaking."

You chuckle at his joke.

~❁

After a while of adventuring and checking out the surroundings you settle by the jungle near the plains. You set up camp but didnt make it too permanent as theres a huge chance you'd have to move... choosing a very flammable area wasnt the brightest idea.

You make a small hut (better not be a dirt one) and put all your belongings in the chest but keeping all your valuables with you.

It was a cozy little house, a bed, furnace, crafting table and a chest monster was enough for you to call it a home.

~❁

It's been a moment since you last saw sunlight.

Well below the ground you were, in a cramped cave that was crawling with monsters.

But it was well worth it, you thought, as you mine your first vein of diamonds.

You were getting ready to head back up to the surface as you were getting tired of the darkness and constant jumpscares from the countless amounts of mobs you encountered.

You've had a few too many close calls with creepers, hah I wonder how your soulmate is dealing with the constant loss of hearts.

with your goodies ready to be crafted, you start heading back up. However, as annoying as it may be it was dusk when you reached the grassy plains.

It wouldve been the better and more wise decision to let the night go before going back to your house but you were getting impatient and very tired so you decided to make a run for it.

With your nearly broken sword and crappy armour you swiftly dash across the trees in hopes of not encountering any deadly hitches along the way.

But my oh my the world must hate you alot, to your right behind foliage was a skeleton who started shooting at you while behind you was an ever growing hoard of zombies. And of course will be forget that enderman who you swear you never even looked at yet it still after your precious life.

You had no choice but to keep running, despite the weariness of your body you still managed to carry all the resources from your mining trip.

Thankfully your soulmate was better at keeping your heart up, so despite taking constant damage, you keep on regenerating hearts.

As you were praying your partner wouldnt absolutely despise you for losing so much hearts you hear something, or rather someone but it was a bit inaudible.

Dawn was quickly approaching you realized, you grasp your sword and slashed in all and any directions, you really should've crafted up a better sword while you were down there.

You found yourself in quite a predicament, you were in the jungle and every direction you head there seem to be more and more mobs your way.

You regret thinking you can take on zombies, creepers, and a few skeletons with an iron sword.

You clutched your sword that was about to shatter any moment as you walked backwards 'til you could barely move anymore.

Hearts werent regenerating anymore and you were starting to lose hope when you heard a voice.

"Need a hand?" He said.

"Very much." You hastily replied.

"Attack on 3. 1...2-"

"This is a bad idea."

"..3"

Everything right after felt like a blur. It was purely an adrenaline rush, only when a creeper behind you hissed you regained your senses.

You observe as Xisuma swung his sword at the last 2 zombies as they disintegrated into thin air.

He and you both didnt fail to notice the way you simultaneously took damage when the creeper behind you exploded, leaving you on 3 hearts.

After the initial panic you two had over the low hearts, you both started to calm down and feel fatigue after the adrenaline wore off.

He handed you some food and chuckled.

"So it's you huh"

"Yep, its me who you'll be stuck with" you giggled.

"I'll be more than glad to be stuck with you." He teased.

~❁

"So, [reader] where shall we build our home?" Xisuma asked.

You and Xisuma were walking across the map to return to both of your camps to retrive anything of value, and while doing so you conversed with him quite a bit

Seems like you'll get along just fine.

He was your type of guy, kind but still had that bit of sass on him... You'll have to admit he's also kinda cute.

Through your chitchats you explained the reasons you kept on taking damage, including that one time you tried getting a horn of your own but ended up getting hit by the goat and when Pearl tried showing you her new moves with an axe. She's very unhinged.

You had a good laugh about it and he also shared some stories.

Even gossiping about how bdubs and impulse act like a married couple on a honeymoon.

"I'm not sure, maybe somewhere on the north, havent seen any bases there."you replied while struggling to climb the hills.

Xisuma reached his hand out to you and you gladly took it "By the world border, in the corner of the map might be a good idea."

Soon enough, you reach the place you're planning to settle in. It was a quiet area but some people's bases can still be seen from a distance.

Xisuma built a tent out of wool and planks to settle in for the night while you gathered up a few seeds to make a farm.

"I wouldn't say this is a good build but I did just fine." He commented on his own build.

"Looks better than what I can put together on most days."

A/n: well folks this is where this chapter ends. this was a pretty drawn out process, finals is approaching so I dont know when chapter 2 is going to be posted.

After finishing up the temporary tents, X decided it was best if you both interacted with others, to find allies.

On the bright side, I'm about to have lots of free time with school nearing end.

#double life #double life grian #grian life series #x reader #hermitcraft #mcyt #mcytblr #the life series #xisuma #minecraft #xisumavoid #hermitcraft x reader #xisuma void x reader #xisuma x reader

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firefirefruit · 3 months

Text

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirteen

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirteen: A Line in the Sand

“Don’t expect me to fix anything else,” you say, crossing your arms. “After these three, I owe you nothing.”

Zoro, unfazed by your remark, watches the crew bustling around, moving your workshop contents onto the Sunny. As he steps on board with a case containing your meticulous work, vials of melted metals cradling the essence of his swords, he glances at you, his words carrying an air of detachment.

"Do what you want, I couldn't care less." His gaze lingers on your face for a moment before he turns away, striding off to find a suitable spot for your tools.

“THIS IS SO COOL!” Usopp yells, yanking out a pistol from the box he’s carrying. He aims the empty mock piece at the reindeer. “Chopper, play dead!”

“I’m not a dog!” Chopper shouts vexedly in his heavy point transformation, dragging a carton of metal ores on his back.

Meanwhile, Franky’s grinning on the Sunny, going through all of the transported items the others are constantly bringing in like a hyperactive child.

“Oh man, you’re an artist,” Franky gushes as he rifles through each and every one of your boxes. Suddenly, his arm plunges into your inventory, gently scrambling around to not dent your work and manages to whip out a crazy-looking lightsabre. “Woah, what is this?!”

Franky swings the beam around excitedly, attracting Usopp, Brook, Luffy and Chopper’s wild attention.

“A LASER?!” Chopper bubbles wildly, repeatedly hopping into the air to get a better look at the weapon.

Brook accidentally singes a part of his hair by leaning in too much, immediately emitting a worried yelp. "YO-HO! Even I'm not immune to its strength."

The aggressively blue laser beam glares wildly against all five of the fanboys' faces as they huddle around in a circle. You laugh a little, seeing them as a resemblance of animals poking a stick at an unidentified object.

“Raya, can I have it? I’ll take good care of it, I promise. Can I? Please?” Luffy pouts pleadingly at you, eyes sparkling with mischievous wonder. Nami gives him a side eye as she boards the deck, heaving a heavy container in her arms.

“Absolutely not,” she dismisses. “Remember the last time you used one of Franky’s beams?”

Luffy blinks at her innocently. “What’s the big deal? I only burnt half the island.”

Everyone turns around and stares at the other side of the island. A row of singed corpses of trees lay morose on the blackened sand.

“Luffy…”

“Ah, keep it, it’s only a draft anyway. But who gets to keep it…? Well, that’s up to you.” You devilishly flutter your eyes, placing a hand on your hip.

Usopp grunts, tugging helplessly at the handle from Franky’s stubborn hands. “Competition it is!”

“Can you lot talk about that later? We got stuff to move,” Sanji grumbles, giving them a dirty look; but as his eyes slowly flicker onto to yours, a big smile spreads across his face like butter on hot toast, his hot face steaming into heart-shaped swirls of love. “Our lovely Raya-san is relying on us <3”

Robin smiles, as a flutter of hands rolls through from the cave and downhill to the deck. Her eyes beam brightly as she looms over the gathering crowd, taking in the view of your weapon. “I wonder how many people you can cut with that simultaneously.”

Usopp stares at her. “I don’t feel safe when I’m around you.”

Sanji swoons, twirling around you and Robin, and shoots his hand up in the air. “I vote for Robin-chan to possess the weapon!”

“Declined.” The four boys wave their hands dismissively, turning their backs to Sanji.

Franky beams at you, placing a metallic arm over your shoulder. “Besides all a' that, our SUPER weapons master needs to keep her assembly goin’! I gotcha, Raya. Gimme a few hours.”

“Hey, no fair! You’re trying to win her over!” Chopper glares.

“Whad’ya say? Can’t hear you, Chops. Got things to do,” Franky says, already on the other side of the ship. He waves a hand in the air. “You won’t be disappointed, Raya~”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. Are you stupid for joining their crew, or was this a somewhat reasonable decision? You can’t tell just yet.

As you rest your head against the wall, your eyes apathetically trace over the shapes of clouds. A twang of guilt reverberates inside you, almost like someone’s pulled the strings to your fragile insides out of spite.

You can’t help but feel like you’re awful. You’re awful for laughing - for smiling and feeling joy as if your dearest family member’s life isn’t hanging in the balance. Should you even be allowed the possibility to feel anything other than sadness and anger right now? Are you unfeeling for being able to?

Gramps' logbook, your precious memento, rests within the folds of your pocket, the heaviness of his novel-laden words filling your chest. Your fingers scatter across its leather surface, caressing it as if his soul lies within those yellowed pages. You trace the familiar curves of your grandfather's handwriting, your heart sinking.

And it hits you: you’re joining the crew of the man who let your gramps be kidnapped.

The way he just stood on top of that house and watched as your Gramps mercilessly took ruthless beatings, over and over again. Watching as the ink dragged his fragile, paralysed body into slime, consuming him whole. The memories start flooding in, the wide, squishy eyes of the sentient taking his whole form into its peripheral.

It kills you. The realisation hits you that you gave your complete trust to a man who was more than capable of saving your guardian and he simply refused to do so. He sat there and took it in. All of it.

Strength, the old man’s voice whispers into you. A whoosh of heavy wind brushes your cheek as a delicate reminder of him. Have strength, child.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the Thousand Sunny, Franky emerges from his little workshop cave with an enthusiastic grin. A dirty rag slung over his shoulder, a pencil tucked behind his ear, he gestures proudly toward the revamped space.

"Wanna see, Ray? It’s all done.” Franky smiles cheekily as if he’s bursting trying to hold onto his little secret.

You lean away from the wall, offering him a strained grin. “Totally. Time to show me your skills, Franks.”

The workshop is ingeniously integrated into the newly upgraded and expanded crow's nest, seamlessly extending its structure. On one half lies the gym, now revamped and full of equipment, while the other half unfolds into an expansive space of metalwork. Its spacious design accommodates a variety of workstations, each adorned with gleaming tools and metallic wonders. The ceiling, a marvel of engineering, forms a domed structure entirely composed of windows, providing a breathtaking panoramic view of the night sky.

You step into the workshop, feeling the cool metal floor beneath your feet; the familiar smell of fresh wood and the tang of metal engulf you, making your heart burst with joy. Franky follows you in, his eyes eagerly scanning your expressions.

Franky, always one for grand gestures, hits a switch, and sleek metallic blinds glide up to the centre point of the dome with a graceful motion, forming a private enclave.

“And if you both need a lil’ peace and quiet….” Franky grins while flicking the second switch.

Another option presents itself – the odd partition between the workshop and the gym transforms into a thick wall of sound-proof glass.

“Or if there’s any…bad vibes goin’ on in here…” Franky spins to the third switch, fingers already on the job.

In an instant, the glass pane immediately flips into a solid metal wall. The crew gazes in awe at this spectacle, and Usopp, in particular, is on the verge of drooling with sheer amazement on the floor.

“Franky, why here?” Zoro frowns, staring longingly at his poor gym.

Franky grins, flexing his biceps as he responds. “Crafters work best under natural light, buddy! Our Crow’s Nest offers 360-degree light, in all directions, from every angle. Besides, I’ve expanded the gym to almost twice its original size to make up for it, did ya see? It's a whole new training ground now!”

Zoro crosses his arms, eyeing the newly expanded gym area and then glancing back at the workshop. His frown deepens for a moment, but then he grumbles, "Better be worth it. Don’t want anyone interrupting my training."

Franky laughs heartily, clapping Zoro on the back. "Don't you worry, man! Your workouts’ll be undisturbed, and now Raya's got the perfect space for her work."

Zoro mutters something under his breath, a mix of scepticism and acceptance, and then heads towards the expanded gym to inspect the changes.

The equipment held within your side of the Crow’s Nest is a fusion of practicality and artistic flair. Sturdy anvils are strategically placed, ready to endure the forging of blades and crafting of intricate designs. The workbenches, sleek and polished, offer ample space for organising your tools and materials. The entire space is ingeniously soundproofed, ensuring that the clinks and clangs of your work won't disturb the tranquillity of the crew's quarters.

Nami gasps as she takes the whole space in, turning to different areas with amazement. “This is beautiful!”

Luffy runs inside and plops himself on one of the stools. “Chopper, my right-hand man, hand me some metal!”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Chopper says as he pretends to offer Luffy materials.

Zoro snaps his head around and raises his eyebrows from his side of the Crow’s Nest. “Right-hand man?”

“And look - you’ve got tons of space,” Franky says, showcasing the various workstations he has meticulously arranged.

A designated area for the vials of melted metals, a specialised section for assembling and testing your inventions, and racks filled with neatly organised tools. The walls are adorned with the posters he found in one of your moving-in boxes, adding a little touch of home to its interior, as well as a bunch of some playful doodles from the crew members.

As you move around the workshop, inspecting the meticulously arranged workstations and the various tools at your disposal, there's an undeniable sense of awe at Franky's craftsmanship. The fusion of his genius flair composed as a tangible product of your workshop is beyond your expectations, and you can't help but feel love for the dedicated space.

However, the beauty of the studio is somewhat overshadowed by the realization that you'll be sharing this closed space with Zoro. Every clang of metal, every creak of the floor, and every breath will feel like a reminder of his presence. The panoramic view that was initially breathtaking now seems slightly tarnished as you look from across the room, the gym resting in your peripheral as a stain.

You find yourself trying to focus on the positives, appreciating the thoughtfulness of Franky's gesture. Still, the irritation persists as you contemplate having to navigate your space with someone you'd rather not be around. You purse your lips slightly, mentally preparing yourself to coexist in this shared workspace.

“How come Usopp Factory doesn’t have any windows?” Usopp grumbles, side-eyeing Franky. Consequently, he receives a slap on the head from Nami, who hisses at him to be nice.

“So?” Franky turns to you, his eyes wide, growing more and more nervous with every moment of your prolonged silence. “What do you think, Raya? I can absolutely change the parts that you don’t—”

“Franky. You shouldn’t have,” you breathe out, a sense of admiration and fondness for the space bubbling up in your chest. Your eyes glimmer, taking everything in like a gasp of fresh air. “This is a crafter’s dream.”

“I know what a workshop means to people like us,” Franky gushes, blushing immensely at your gratifying reaction.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the sea, of fresh wood and sawdust, and the metallic tang of the workshop before turning to your fellow colleague.

“Thank you.” You grin brightly, gently punching his shoulder. “This is exactly what I need, Franks.”

Franky returns the punch, a broad grin on his face. “Then get unpacking already!”

You roll your eyes at him with a small smile, watching him aggressively gather the rest up in his massive metallic arms, to then rugby tackle them all out of the studio. With a couple of objecting yells, your door slams with a thud and all you hear left is the muffle of their complaints.

With a heavy exhale, your weight slams down on one of the stools, its impact reverberating through the entire workshop, echoing and echoing into the flush edges of the room.

In the midst of the ensuing silence, a realization strikes – you're not the sole occupant of this expansive space. Across the distance, your eyes lock onto a familiar grey eye and a soft white scar.

Despite the palpable awkwardness, Zoro remains a silent observer. His gaze meets yours, and even as you shoot him an unimpressed look, he stands there stoically, seemingly unaffected by the tension that fills the workshop.

"I..." Zoro begins, his voice low, "I didn't want it to turn out like this." The words hang in the air, the weight of their meaning palpable. His gaze is sincere, a glimpse of regret.

You meet Zoro's gaze with an unyielding and narrowed expression, your eyes conveying a mixture of emotions — frustration, hurt, and a determination not to be swayed by his words.

The silence hangs heavy in the air, pregnant with unspoken hatred.

His grey eye steely gazes at you, but you've already decided to shield yourself from the vulnerability his words might expose.

“Listen—” Zoro starts, pushing himself away from the wall.

Without waiting for him to finish, you turn away and stride purposefully towards the switch that Franky had installed for situations exactly like this. The tension in the room becomes palpable as your fingers deliberately flick the switch upwards.

The metallic wall, a masterpiece of engineering, responds to your command; slowly, deliberately, it ascends from the middle partition of the room. The sound of its movement resonates through the workshop, drowning out any potential words Zoro might throw out.

Zoro's eyes — chilled steel, intense, a reflection of the mutual irritation that charges the air — are the last thing you see before the ascending barrier closes in. As the partition completes its ascent, there's a visceral shudder, a palpable severance of the connection between you and him - and yet, it's not so easily shrugged off.

Because you know his presence is still there. You know he's stood on the other side, staring at the same wall as you are; simply, your newly issued armour is but a fragile facade of protection, a delusion of control.

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