#It's like trying to climb a slippery incline | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years

Text

Stingray Merman (Kairius)

There is something about stingrays - or sea pancakes - that are very cute, so I wrote a stingray merman that was supposed to of been done during the month of May for Mermay! Oh well! Stingrays are very curious creatures, and so is this adorable boi. Enjoy!

Male monster x GN reader

A Curious Encounter

The storm had been troublesome, you had realised now: the dreary morning you had come out to walk along your beach was the proof that somethings were left in tatters; the storm of the season that had ruined everything in its path.

You walked through the dampened sands in your sneakers, a well-needed precaution you had decided in choosing carefully had the aftermath been calmer. The coastline had been strong in taking the storm for the entire night, but now, it was rather captivating seeing the wreckage.

You walked down from the short incline of rocks and descended further down to see the beach you had been coming to since you had been young. The shore was weak and fragile; debris and waste that had been swept ashore; a tragic sight indeed.

In the ruin, the shore was littered in aggregational carnage; the sea had brought forth some animals big and small, most of them lost to the wreckage. Your heart ached with those animals and creatures, had you been able to save them, you would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

The sand was troublesome in getting out of your shoes, but the feeling of it you didn’t mind really: had you the time, you would perhaps spend as much time helping to clear up with the locals, or even try and find some shells for your younger cousin, Evie - an avid and caring animal lover like you, she would’ve been overwhelmed at this all.

Let’s hope some of it had been cleared by the afternoon. I don’t think any child shall want to see this. You mourned drearily, moving off from the site as you moved away further to a secluded area - the area where the land dipped and gave you great access to the views of the sea, watching the water roar beneath you in its glory.

The rockpools had all sorts of creatures that you loved trying to find when you had been young, and you had taken Evie with you to find all sorts of things that had been washed up: a four-limbed starfish that made Evie squeal, part of an earring that you made a story of it belonging to a rich 17th pirate, shells of all colours and shapes.

You hopped along the rocks, carefully descending to where the cliffs reached high and the walls surrounded below if you wanted utter privacy or peace. Below, the waves crashed back and forth, as if angry for the loss of life too that had been taken. Carefully, you listened in, feeling how you calmed with being around the waters, in the blacked sands, watching the world go past around you-

There was a splashing sound that reverberated and bounced off not too close from you, too human that made you doubt it could be anyone out there. People came to this beach - there was no question about that - but it was way too early in the morning for visitors. No children or people came out here this early to explore - you had known this for years.

The splashing maintained, as if someone was trying to get out a bathtub and the water and spraying and going everywhere, swaying, it brought you to come closer, following the noise, bracing the walls as you found yourself coming into the clearing of where most of the largest rockpools where.

The walls were sable and solid matte in colour, shining off they cast the opposite colours of the gloomy sky above; the waters rippling and tranquil.

You scanned each pool from where you could see, believing that your hearing had made you hear something that couldn't be there, the waves tricking you. As you turned once more to leave, the sound came from behind you, coming from the furthest one from you; as if begging for you to come to investigate.

You were careful in trying not to fall in, the rock edges were slippery with matter and it made walking across with some trouble, but you had managed to get to the furthest pool, checking each one but finding nothing of importance.

The sound grew louder, almost frantic of hearing you coming closer until you were standing over the edge, staring back to the sharp outline of a creature frantically trying to pull themselves out.

Their back was towards you as if this creature hadn’t seen you there yet, frantically trying to flap out of the waters to get themselves free. An eagle ray was common here, but when did stingrays of any type have humanoid arms?

You watched with awe and shock as you watched the humanoid creature tried desperately to get out, gripping in might at the rocks, trying to haul their heavy lower part out of the shallow water. When you lingered long enough on where their figure was in the water, their stingray body merged with their lithe and ghostly human skin, their back dotted in whites and pale blues, a spine trailing down the middle of their back down to their tail and caudal fin.

You could see that the poor thing had its arms and fins were connected, meaning it had much more trouble trying to pull up compared to if their parts were not connected.

You hadn’t of meant to catch the creature off guard, but the sound of shock that had left your mouth had made the half-humanoid spin in the water to stare up at you, the most human pair of eyes staring back at you; utterly terrified.

The face resembled any man you had seen before, but the sides of their neck had slits that opened and gaped with every passing second that the two of you stared at one another. The stingray was male you could tell from the features: his short hair falling over his face, cobalt in colour and wavy in texture from either being out of the water or just natural, his eyes were large and wide, which held some curiosity as they looked you over; a blue hue that blended hazel in the inner ring.

With sharp cheekbones, pointed ears and a startling appearance, he was maybe the most beautiful creature you had ever seen before.

Your gawking had brought a pitiful cry to come from their lips, leaving your heart to ache even further for the seconds you watched him fail to break out his watery prison, backing as far as he could into the corner to get away from you.

“No, it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.” Your voice was soft and nurturing, trying to ease the merman into calming down and to make your presence less terrifying to him. He continued to stare up at you, his eyes taking you in, and you didn’t know whether he could understand you or not, but his beautiful haunting eyes made you believe he could.

His webbed fingers released the rocks he was holding onto for safety, his mouth opening and closing briefly.

“You... you won’t?” His voice was quiet and peaceful, softly he spoke with a tinge of an accent that you couldn’t put down were from, but he was still stunning nonetheless. You stared further, nodding your head. “Of course, I’ll try my best. I-- How did you get in here?”

It was a stupid question: of course, the storm swept him in, but your mind was doing somersaults and your words had gone to mush to form proper questions.

“The storm,” his voice wavered for a second, his eyes watery as if he was going to burst into tears any second, “the storm washed me here. I-I got too close to the shore, I was too curious, and it pulled me away.”

“Curious?” You asked.

“Curious, of the land.” He seemed ashamed by this, his soft porcelain skin tinged a blue in blush across his cheeks as he looked away timidly. “It’s okay, I’m going to get you out of here.” You promised with a reassuring smile.

His caudal barbed fin swayed with him and his demeanour and eyes lit up at your words, and suddenly, he was smiling! It was a sharp one too: broad as he beamed up to you, the sight so wonderful. “You will! You’ll help me?” His voice picked up in pace and pitch as he excitedly circled to come closer to you. Your cheeks flushed at the sight, so adorable you thought he looked, it was certainly a better sight than to see him woeful.

You squatted over the edge, looking over his appearance: he seemed waifish and skinny, with a visible ribcage that showed that he wasn’t very big for his kind. His skin in areas around his arms were bruised and reddened from perhaps trying to climb out, but he overall looked okay.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

The merman grinned broadly, happy that you had asked him, “It’s Kairius.” You told him yours, your name was whispered along the wind by his soft voice; delicately did he say your name with such tenderness.

Kairius - or Kai for short since you had difficulty pronouncing his name - was quick to show his intent curiosity in humans and you, as when you neared to come to the back of him, his agile fingers came up in a swift move, coming to wrap around your ankle delicately.

“Wow.” he murmured to himself, marvelling at your skin and legs, touching, stroking and prodding at areas you hadn’t ever seen before, your nervousness and timidness for being touched in that way almost got you toppling over with him. “Hey, careful!”

His skin on his fingers was clammy from the water, squidgy in texture and soft, but the feeling of his grip around you had loosened, as he gave a timid smile back to you. “Sorry, I just,” he corrected himself, his cheeks flushed, “humans are just so... pretty.”

Your blushed deepened as you caught Kai off with your nervous laughter. “You can check it out when I get you out of here, okay?” Kairius nodded enthusiastically, waiting for you to engage in your next plan.

Your thought was maybe having to use something to pull him out using a pulley system that you could wrap around his waist. But you didn’t have rope, and you were certain none was lying around.

You got an idea, unzipping your hoodie, feeling the immediate chill that had cast along your arms, your skin had raised with goosebumps from the sudden dip in the weather.

The bite was chilling, it sent chills down your spine, goosebumps rising from a horror movie along your skin and soon enough, it was terribly bitter. You hung the sleeve below to Kai, smiling down to him with a simple request. “Do you mind tying this around your waist?”

Kairius smiled and obliged, clever enough to wrap the sleeve about his waist, the sleeve was long enough to go around his waifish torso, the rest of it drooped behind him, his fist clenched around the ball to keep it taut to him.

You grabbed around the limp sleeve that dragged through the water surface, gently you pulled it up, holding it to you, beginning the process of pulling the merman out. The water splashed and waded through his body, his barbed fin wiggled wildly over the surface of the water when you pulled it close to you, feeling the material stretch and wear out. You prayed that it would rip too soon, or else you would have to start over with another plan.

The water sprayed everywhere and the gap between you, the ledge and him were not too far, but you had initially wondered how deep the water had been - or lack of depth at all. It looked more like a kiddy pool than one that could keep a long merman trapped.

There was a grunt that came from you, the higher you pulled and heaved the stingray merman up, closer and closer, his freedom was calling to him and the relief to have him out too was so close; you could almost taste it.

Your back was aching, your fingers burning with the familiar feeling to rope burn but you remained determined to get him out in one piece, regardless of having sore joints. He was very close to you now, and when you grabbed him yourself by the narrow part of his waist, you were surprised to feel at his ribs, his skin the feel of soft leather, sleek like a dolphin hide.

You had gotten him out in one piece, but his skin was twitching, as if it was breathing on its own and had come to life, the skin had become twisted and withered, his flesh looked starved to the bone from being a few metres out of the water.

The most hideous noise came from his lips, the sound a dying animal would make when gasping for breath, a hoarse cry from the back of his throat that made you stop dead in your tracks, realising what was happening.

“Ah, crap.” You moved with clockwork precision, (or what you thought was that) moving backwards with him still in your arms, hurrying to the one place that could give him his freedom and save him truly.

The ledge off of the shoreline and cliff couldn’t be that high, could it?

There were no questions, only answers, it was surely not that high that it could kill him, but you didn’t know how his stingray body would react to falling from a height compared to a human who could dive off. You had seen humans jump off of this ledge countless times, not a merman.

There was no time to doubt, and with some heaving, the hesitation couldn’t wait, his heavy, long body was thrown over your shoulder, falling like a limp doll into the waters below; making your predictions carry over whether or not he would survive when his body hit the water.

There was a splash and a shudder from you, watching over the ledge to see any moment, anybody, and you waited, your heart doing flips - had I killed him truly? You had promised him his freedom and you had killed him all the same, like how humans could be cruel nonetheless, you had murdered one by accident.

You had hoped no one was around to see a giant man-size stingray falling from a height into the water below when you reached the caves below, running along to reach the edge of the cave mouth, watching on with the bubbles that rose through the opaque water.

The bubbles rose and rose, like ash in a rising volcano they spluttered and popped, growing in the many when finally there was a breach in the surface, the first thing you saw was the head of Kai, his beaming broad smile reaching ear to ear, as he gracefully swam with ease over to you. Thankfully, he didn’t look angry that you had dropped him into the water.

His swim was the equivalent to an Olympic swimmer doing the butterfly style but a lot better and more agile in fluidity, his arms moved as he glided through the water towards you until he was there, floating just inches from you.

“You saved me, thank you.” He was grinning so proudly and his smile was the prettiest thing you had seen, the blush had reddened on your cheeks at the sight, the merman drifting as if he had suddenly recalled something. “I’ll be back! I promise! Stay there!” And with that, the merman had disappeared within the murky waters of the black rush, vanishing like a ghost within the air.

You didn’t have to wait long for him to return once more, leaping out of the water to startle you not on purpose, his fins attached to his arms flapping, water going everywhere and dampening your shoes as he pulled himself to get support; a toothy grin still present on his face when he presented you his gift.

He pressed the shell into your palm and your eyes brightened up across your face at the sight: the inside was as if a rainbow and star had collided, its hue a stunning chrome spectrum of pinks, gold and blues - like stardust caught and stored for eternity.

“Do you like it?” Kairius leant closer into you, his eyes observing and drifting back and forth to your reaction and the shell. You nodded, “It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him, holding the shell close to you, “thank you.”

Kairius smiled broadly, pride obvious on his face when he relaxed beside you, the two of you caught in a conversation about your lives and cultures, amazed at his world below and how his story was incredible to hear.

You promised one another you would meet again, and you did almost every day: you had watched the beach be cleaned up since the storm, helping on days as much as you could when you weren’t busy, but they days had been spent in the little cave, sitting and waiting for your close friend.

This day he had come early to see you, and the promise you had given him those weeks ago couldn’t be broken: that was how you were found with him, Kai in-between your legs could’ve been such a sensual concept, but the true reasonings were much tender.

The water slipped through your jeans, even when you had rolled them up as far as you could, but it was cooling and gave you tranquillity with the lower part of your body submerged.

“Are you sure?” There was hesitation in his voice, his voice wavered, his blue eyes had dilated as he took you in, looking over your features to see if you were comfortable with what he was going to do.

“It’s fine, Kai,” you reassured him enthusiastically, and it had calmed him greatly that he knew you were okay with this. With a hesitant hand, it came up to the side of your face, and ever so gently, using the back of his fingers, traced and stroked the length of your cheek, done towards your chin; marvelling at your flesh.

His fingers were ever so careful, you watched up close how tentative and the look of concentration and marvel he had at looking over everything in such fine detail, to look at the differences between human and mer, and he had a willing participant.

His hand had been on the other side of the matte sable rock, trying to keep it steady close to you as his other hand had kept him occupied, his body jutting forward suddenly as if he had lost grip of it and had accidentally slipped. You knew that he would’ve been more likely to be clumsy to his joints and the fins connected, but you had known that you would’ve had to keep him upright.

Your legs instinctively came to wrap around his waist, steadying him before he could crash and knock his head either on the rock or knock heads with you, but his head had still stilled just inches from yours from the action, the realisation came to both of you, neither of you sure how to react.

“I only heard stories of humans,” Kai began, his Adam's apple bobbing with his words, “not many mer had gotten into contact with them, but the sons and daughters of Adam and Eve were much more comely than I had ever imagined.”

Your body gave an involuntary shudder that reacted positively to his words, your mouth agape as he continued to speak. “I had hoped that you had been able to take my gift and enjoy it, I wanted it to mean a lot to you in how you saw it-- how I saw you.”

“How do you see me, Kai?” Your heart was racing by now.

Kairius gave a loving smile, his fingers came to touch at your face once more, evaluating you, “I don’t just see you as a human, but as my mate.”

Mate. The word was an odd one to you, but the feeling that swelled in your chest was euphoric, it breathed anew in your body and blinded your soul. It was terrifyingly beautiful.

“Kai-” “-You don’t have to say yes, I know it is quite a lot. Us mer mate for life and a human and merman relationship is something I’m wary of the reaction my family and kind would have.” He looked to his skin, the flesh he was made up of, it brought his face to frown in disappointment; defeated.

“I’m sorry I put this on you-- I should go.” He went to move off, to leave, but you had already taken his hand back, gently putting it back to the side of your face, staring into his quizzical eyes. “You can’t leave yet, not without hearing what I think.”

His head tilted, eyes trained on you as you confessed, “Yes, I understand how it would be difficult for reactions, but… I would want to give it a try, to delve into the unknown - wouldn’t you?”

His face brightened, eyes so wide you were afraid they would bulge out of his head. Without any warning or hesitation, Kairius had lifted you up and out off the ledge and taken you into the water, spinning you around in his arms whilst you squealed, holding on for dear life!

“You say yes? That makes me so happy! Ooh, I can’t wait to show you the shells I found for you, they’re -- what colours do you like? I can ask my friends over their mates-”

You had silenced him with your lips, his words muffled against your own, his eyes widened in surprise before he had wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing you back. His lips were damp and cold, but they were soft and delicate, his kiss was tentative and caring.

When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face.

When you had pulled away, his face was blushed to the max, his face washed blue, looking as if he was down with hypothermia. He gave you a dreamy look, a small smile had adorned his face. You kissed at his skin, the smoothness against your lips was calming, peppering his face with hundreds of kisses.

“I think a shell will do, but don’t worry, you’re the best thing I could have in this world.”

#stingray merman #merman #merman oc #merman lover #mermaid au #merman x reader #merman x gn reader #monster x gn reader #gn reader x male monster #male monster #male monster x reader #exophilia #monster story #monster lover #monster exophilia #merman exophilia #stingray merman oc

407 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 4 years

Text

I loved writing this idea, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Thanks for requesting @jawline-of-steel !💛💛

You Wanted To Talk To Me?

Edgar Frog x reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

A/N: this is heavily referenced to my other series, Only Traitors Consort With The Damned, which you can find on the masterlist.

Masterlist

"Man, just talk to her." Alan rolls his eyes as they stumble through the training course together, wet mud slicking their trousers and shirt fronts, hair and clothes soaked through from the pelting rain, bodies trembling from how hard they've been working.

"Talk to who?" Edgar responds, playing dumb as they throw themselves at a climbing wall, chests smashing painfully into the solid surface.

Neither if them speak for a minute as they haul themselves upwards, cresting the wall with some difficulty as their leaden arms struggle to hold their weight, their muscles screaming in protest, though they both manage it. From the top, the rest of the course is visible, a few other cadets just ahead of them, each of the pairs released from the starting point in "waves" so that they can be timed. Both of the boys sigh out audibly as they take in the view, not taking too much time as they swiftly climb to their feet and leap from the top, reaching for the heavy ropes hanging from a structure across from them, the rough material grazing their hands painfully as they slip down it a little. Ignoring the discomfort, they swing their legs in time with the momentum of the rope and kick off it, landing on a far platform, rolling as they land, ending up face first in yet more dirt, signifying the beginning of a net crawl.

"You know who I mean, Edgar. (Y/n)! You should talk to her." Alan manages to explain, voice strained from the exertion required to pull his body through thick mud.

"Why should I talk to her?" Edgar grits out, hands scrabbling frantically in the filth as he struggles to pull himself through this particular obstacle, glad to see the end if it not far out of sight.

"Because it's very obvious that you like her."

"I don't like her." The response is almost automatic, a reflex designed to protect his real feelings about their fellow trainee.

In truth, Edgar had had a crush on the girl for a good few months, having been interested in her as soon as he first laid eyes on her, nearly six months ago, when he and his brother signed up for the SRS. Neither of them had ever really thought about taking their vampire hunting that seriously, but this all changed when the dark-clad Soldiers converged on Santa Carla, their hometown, a couple of years ago, hunting down one of their own, who was seen as a traitor. The hooded men had come into the comic shop searching for some help, only to be confused by the Frog's zealous attitude and rough introduction to the supernatural side of the town, swiftly recognising potential in them. When their Hunt was over, the result of which they never found out, the men returned to the shop, offering to enlist them in the training program as soon as they turned the correct age, stating that the minimum age for joining the SRS is sixteen. Now at that age, the Frog brothers were quick to travel to New Orleans, where they found the headquarters and signed up, completing the theory section with flying colours before they moved onto the physically demanding practical side: hunting.

When they first started this stage, the two of them were easily overshadowed by some of the others in the group, despite already having four kills under their belts (so to speak), their smaller stature allowing some of the larger, physically stronger cadets to overtake them in the rankings, though it was much to their surprise when they found out one of the best was a girl named (Y/n). With a pretty much unknown backstory, the sixteen year old girl had shown up many of the other cadets, holding her own in many of the harder exercises, showing off her aptitude for shooting and fighting, flooring some of the most muscular rookies training with them with ease. It was no wonder Edgar developed a crush on her.

"Frog! I do hope you intend on moving soon, or you'll be stuck on clearing duty for a week!" A senior officer snaps at him from somewhere to his left, drawing him from his brief lapse into his head.

"Yes, ma'am!" He shouts back, knowing how they hate to be ignored.

"Get a move on!"

Gritting his teeth, Edgar follows his brother out onto the next stage - a variety of elevated logs providing bridges across a swampy areas of ground. In the pouring rain the logs have already become waterlogged, making them slippery and dangerous.

Approaching one, he leaps up and grabs the end of it, quickly heaving himself onto the narrow stretch of wood, catching his balance before he steadily steps along it, going with the incline as much as possible, biting his lip as his feet slip a little on the wood. Nearing the end of the log, he locates the closest one to it and jumps to it, landing shakily on the lifted end, repeating the process until he has safely crossed it, catching up to his brother as they run the last few kilometres across the marshy land, breathing heavily in the pouring rain. The finish line comes into view, the posts signifying its presence only just visible through the rain, the flags topping them slapping wetly against the poles they are attached to, concealing the familiar insignia of the SRS from view.

With one last push, Edgar and Alan throw themselves over the finish line, trying not to collapse in exhaustion as they quickly stretch out their stiffening muscles, neither of them saying a word until they've caught their breath back, going to stand with the other cadets who have already finished it.

"One hour, fourteen minutes and forty-three seconds. Not bad, Frogs, not bad." The drillmaster informs them as they get close, the two of them brightening up slightly at the sound of that; it's a new personal best.

"Nice one, you two." A familiar voice congratulates them, the two of them turning to find (Y/n) standing there, a genuine smile on her features, mud striping her cheeks like war paint, most likely the result of her team mate getting a little over-zealous on one of the obstacles.

"Thanks." Alan smiles back, looking to Edgar as he struggles to reply.

"Err, yeah, thanks, you did really well, too." He finally manages, blushing as he looks away, suddenly feeling very hot.

"Thank you." She acknowledges, making eye contact briefly before turning away, going back to her team mate.

"You're smitten." Alan rolls his eyes, looking over at his brother in exasperation.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"Stop trying to hide it, Edgar, I'm your brother, I see all these things."

The drillmaster's words ring clearly in Edgar's head as he steps through the darkened corridors, making his way in and around broken furniture and piles of ceiling debris, his helmet limiting his vision greatly.

"Don't get caught off guard, or they'll have your ass for breakfast."

Of course, you'd hope that he was being metaphorical, but the cadets are all aware of one fact: he isn't. Not when they've all been tasked with clearing an abandoned hospital of the supernatural beings squatting there, particularly the wraithes and their carnivorous tendencies, most of which are to blame for the hospital's fall in the first place.

A piece of glass shattering behind him snaps him from his thoughts, the sound instilling a sense of fear into him as he slowly turns, freezing in place when he sees a shape in the hallway behind him. From where he is, he can't tell what it is, but he knows it won't hesitate to kill him, so he lifts the gun in his hands to shoulder level, cocking it gingerly, body shaking in fear. Aiming steadily, he let's the flashlight roam across the shape, only to let out a breath when he sees what, or rather who, it is.

"(Y/n)?!" He hisses out to her, surprised that she is in this part of the building.

"Edgar? Is that you?" Her voice floats back over to him, the cadet holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the bright light.

"Yeah, it's me. You found anything yet?" He responds, secretly pleased that she actually remembers his name.

"No. Have you?" She clarifies, coming over to him, her gun held comfortably over her abdomen as she stays prepared, ready to shoot anything dangerous.

"Not yet."

"That's good." She looks him in the eye, "I kinda wanted to talk to you, though this probably isn't the best time."

Edgar gazes at her, surprised at what she is saying, an eyebrow lifting under the visor of his protective helmet.

"You wanted to talk to me?" He asks, incredulous.

"Yeah, I do." She nods, looking away again, her fingers tapping nervously on the stock of the gun.

"What about?"

She is silent for a minute, before she takes a deep breath and responds, relaxing her shoulders as she tries to stay calm.

"I just wanted to tell you about how I feel about you. Edgar, I know this is weird because we don't really know each other, and you probably don't feel the same way, but I, well, I like you. A lot."

There is an awkward moment of quiet between us as he tries to figure out how to respond correctly.

"You...you like me?" He finally manages to ask, not quite believing what he heard before.

"Yeah, I do. I understand if you don't feel the same way, but I just thought you should know." (Y/n) explains, going to move past him, before he stops her with a hand on her arm.

"(Y/n), I've had a crush on you for the longest time, I just didn't know how to tell you." He informs her, waiting for a reaction.

"...really?"

"Yeah. Just ask my brother, he figured it out pretty quickly."

She smiles beneath her visor, clearly much happier now that the initial worry is over.

"I'm glad. Maybe when we get some free time, we could go on a date?" She suggests, adjusting her grip on the weapon.

Edgar smiles back at her.

"I'd like that."

#the lost boys #joel schumacher #vampire #Edgar frog #Alan frog #Edgar frog x reader #request #Edgar frog imagine

79 notes · View notes

timebird84 · 3 years

Text

🎄 PotO Advent Calendar 2020 🎄

By @pianomanblaine

December had never been Christine’s favourite month. She by far preferred April, with the twittering birds and the flowers starting to bloom, the sun finally showing its face again after another cold and dreary winter. Erik, on the other hand, had his own reasons for enjoying the winter months. Winter meant that the dark had already set in by late afternoon, allowing him to venture outside earlier without having to worry about his mask drawing too much attention. On top of that, this year’s winter was particularly harsh and cold, keeping most people inside their houses and leaving the streets of Paris as good as empty.

Christine didn’t really feel inclined to go out tonight either, but as Erik had been looking forward to taking his wife on a nice evening stroll for quite some time, she had agreed to leave the relative warmth of their underground home for a while. And so they made their way up, Christine wrapped in her warmest cloak, Erik’s arm draped firmly around her for extra warmth. However, when they finally emerged on the Rue Scribe, Erik’s excitement seemed to vanish as soon as he took in their surroundings. The street was completely deserted, not a single person in sight, which was easily explained by the thick blanket of snow covering the cobblestones.

‘Oh no. No no no no no,’ Erik groaned, turning around as if he suddenly couldn’t wait to return home.

‘Erik, what’s wrong?’ Christine asked. She gently pulled him back towards her by the sleeve of his coat. ‘It’s only a bit of snow. That doesn’t mean we have to go back immediately.’

‘It does, if I have anything to say about it,’ he grumbled, glaring at the snow as if it had somehow offended him. ‘Snow is slippery, and it makes this awful crunching sound when you step on it, and it slows you down to a snail-like pace, which is incredibly annoying if you actually want to get anything done.’

As Erik ranted on, Christine let go of his arm and carefully took a few steps onto the snow-covered street, watching the small foggy cloud that formed when she breathed out in the cold evening air. She was immediately reminded of the winters she had spent with her papa in Sweden when she was a child. When it snowed there, he used to take her out to go sledding and she would scream with delight as they sped down the hill, her papa chuckling in her ear as he held her close to him.

‘Are you quite finished complaining now?’ she asked Erik. ‘Because I’m actually enjoying myself and I would like to stay out here a little longer.’

‘But Christine, I truly can’t stand snow,’ he replied with a pout on his face that Christine found rather adorable, although he would most likely throw a fit if she ever called him adorable out loud.

When Erik turned around, presumably to head back the way they came, hoping she would give in and follow him, Christine bent down and scooped up a small heap of snow, pressing it into a ball. ‘We’ll see if I can’t change your mind about that,’ she mumbled to herself and threw the ball in Erik’s direction, aiming for his back but instead hitting him in the back of the head.

Erik froze and remained completely still for what felt like an eternity, and Christine began to panic. Maybe this was a mistake. She had only wanted to make him laugh, to help him see that snow could be fun too, but perhaps he couldn’t see the humour of it at all. Just as she was about to apologize, hoping she hadn’t angered him too much, he turned back towards her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

‘I’m afraid you’ll regret that, my dear,’ he said and before she even had time to react he was already aiming his own snowball at her, which narrowly missed her shoulder. Christine shrieked in surprise and ran further up the road, trying to create more distance between them before gathering up more snow. They chased each other up and down the empty street, both of them squealing with laughter as they tossed snow at each other. Christine had to admit that her husband seemed to hit his target more often than she did, but she wasn’t really surprised that the Opera Ghost turned out to be rather competitive even at something as simple as a snowball fight.

She was delighted to see how much he was enjoying himself. It seemed she had succeeded in her mission. For a moment she just stood there, taking in the child-like grin on his face. How long had it been, she wondered, since he had last been this joyful and carefree? Christine tried to imagine a younger Erik, running around with other children his age, all of them covered in snow, their cheeks glowing red both from excitement and the cold. The image was a very pleasant one, until she remembered that Erik had never had such a happy childhood.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice the snowball flying in her direction until it hit her square in the cheek.

‘Oh God, Christine, are you all right?’ Erik cried out, rushing towards her immediately, concern etched across the visible side of his face. ‘I’m so sorry, my love. Did I hurt you? Please tell me you’re not hurt.’ He ghosted his hands over her face anxiously, checking for injuries, but Christine was more than fine and she couldn’t help the peal of laughter that burst out of her. Erik looked quite affronted.

‘I’m sorry, darling, I’m not laughing at you,’ she assured him, turning her head slightly to kiss the hand that was cupping her cheek in apology. ‘It’s just… That was so much fun!’

A slow smile crept across his face. ‘Maybe snow isn’t so bad after all,’ he agreed.

They didn’t go out again in the following weeks, but Christine couldn’t stop thinking about that evening, remembering with fondness how much they had both enjoyed themselves and desperately hoping they would repeat the experience soon. She kept dropping hints to Erik, bringing up the topic of their little outing in the snow whenever she saw the opportunity, but Erik didn’t appear to pay much attention to it. In fact, he hardly seemed to be listening to her at all nowadays.

A few days after their snowball fight he had started acting very strange. He spent more and more time in his study, the door locked firmly behind him. He was often joined there by the Daroga, whose visits were suddenly much more numerous than they had been in the past. They would spend several hours in there doing God knows what, and every time Christine saw them emerge, Nadir would leave with nothing but a ‘good evening’ and a polite nod in her direction, and Erik would staunchly refuse to tell her what they had been discussing. In the end she stopped asking because she knew she would not receive a satisfactory answer anytime soon, and he stopped talking to her altogether.

One afternoon, when she had finally had enough of his continued silence and simply had to know what was going on, she decided to confront him. She found him standing at the front door, her cloak draped over his arm, and before she could even open her mouth to demand an explanation for his behaviour, he handed her the cloak and told her to dress warmly and follow him outside. Her first thought was to ask him why, but as asking questions had gotten her nowhere in the past, she settled for letting out a frustrated growl and doing as she was told.

A carriage was waiting for them on the Rue Scribe, their travelling trunk already loaded onto it. How was that possible? She hadn’t even seen him packing! Erik gestured for her to get in, and for a moment she considered throwing a tantrum, stomping her foot on the snow-covered stones and simply refusing to go anywhere until he told her what the meaning of all of this was. However, as stubborn as she could be, she knew Erik was just as tenacious and would not give in until she did what he told her to do. She climbed inside the carriage, but not before glaring at her husband with an expression that clearly said ‘if looks could kill, you would be dead right now’.

‘Erik, I am getting really tired of this,’ she sighed when he pulled the door closed behind him. ‘Tell me where we are going.’ She didn’t want to admit it, but his refusal to give her any information about his plans truly unnerved her.

‘Patience, my dear. You’ll see when we get there.’ The smirk on his face made it abundantly clear that he was enjoying this far too much for her liking.

They left the city behind, and as Christine hadn’t travelled outside of Paris much over the past few years, she lost all sense of where she was pretty quickly. The next few hours were spent in complete silence and she grew more and more anxious. What in heaven’s name was going on with Erik? He had never treated her like this, never ignored her as if her wishes and feelings were completely irrelevant. When she thought back to the very first time he had brought her to his lair underneath the opera, she remembered how even back then he had made her comfort his absolute priority. That had not changed after they were married. Until now. This was so unlike him and not having the slightest idea of what was causing this sudden change in behaviour made her sick with worry.

It was growing dark outside and the carriage was now driving through a forest, apparently leaving civilisation completely behind. By now, Christine was truly frightened and couldn’t stop the tears she had felt pricking her eyes for the past hour from spilling over any longer. When Erik heard her sniffling, he looked at her with panic in his eyes.

‘Darling, whatever is the matter?’ he asked, his hands reaching out to wipe away her tears, but she batted them away.

‘What’s the matter?’ she cried, not caring if she sounded hysterical. ‘It’s dark, we’re in the middle of the woods, you won’t tell me where we are going, and you have refused to talk to me for days! I’m your wife, Erik. I have the right to know what is going on, and I need you to tell me right now because you’re scaring me.’ Her soft sniffling had turned into full body-wracking sobs by now and this time she did not slap his hands when he pulled her towards him to comfort her.

‘Oh my dear, I am so sorry,’ he whispered soothingly as he let her cry on his shoulder. He started rubbing gentle circles on her back with one hand, something he often did when he was trying to calm her down, while he buried the other hand in her hair, which was more likely meant to calm himself down. Seeing her in distress always made him nervous, even more so when he knew that he was the one who caused it. ‘I never meant to frighten you, truly,’ he swore. ‘I simply wished to surprise you.’

‘Surprise me?’ She pulled away a little, wiping her cheeks dry, and looked at him incredulously. ‘By forcing me to come away with you and not telling me where we’re going or what’s going to happen next?’ How could he possibly think that was an appropriate way of surprising her?

He flinched at her words, and she realized he must be flashing back to the last time he had taken her away like that, after the disastrous performance of Don Juan Triumphant.

‘When you say it like that, it does sound like an idiotic idea,’ he admitted, rubbing his neck in a gesture of uneasiness. ‘You’re right of course, I should have talked to you. I am really sorry, my love, please forgive me.’ He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles, and glanced at her with a pleading look on his face. He sounded genuinely remorseful and Christine allowed herself to relax a little, although she wasn’t inclined to forgive him for what he had put her through just yet.

‘I still don’t understand. What exactly were you trying to surprise me with?’

The moment the question had left her lips, the carriage came to a halt.

‘Allow me to show you,’ he replied, throwing open the door and extending his hand to her in invitation. She only hesitated for a second before she took it and followed him out of the carriage. The snow underneath her feet made that crunching sound Erik had claimed to hate so much the last time they were outside. She took a deep breath, relishing the fresh night air entering her lungs.

Until now she had believed they were deep in the forest, surrounded by nothing but trees, but to her utter surprise she now found herself standing in front of a beautiful little cottage. There was smoke rising from the chimney, so the house must be inhabited. She had to admit she was curious to learn who was living here, so far removed from everything and everyone, no other houses to be seen for miles, but more than anything she was extremely confused.

‘Erik, what are we doing here? Whose house is this?’

He grinned somewhat sheepishly at her as he replied. ‘Mine.’

‘Now you’ve truly lost me,’ Christine said, gaping at him in bewilderment. ‘What do you mean, it’s yours? And if it’s yours, then who is living here? And if someone else is living here, then why are we here?’

Erik squeezed her hand to stop her from spewing out any more questions. ‘If you can stop talking for a minute, I’ll explain,’ he chuckled. ‘I acquired the house only a few weeks ago. Before that, it had been empty for a long time. I had always meant it as a surprise for you, I was just waiting for the right occasion to show it to you.’

Christine felt tears threatening to fall again, but this time, they were not tears of sadness or fear. Erik had wanted to surprise her, and so he had bought her a house? He really didn’t do anything halfway, did he?

‘I had the Daroga help me to move in some furniture. He has been here earlier, stocking the kitchen with food and other supplies for our stay, lighting the fire, and so on,’ he explained, gesturing towards the smoking chimney. ‘I asked him to leave shortly before we arrived.’ So that is what all the late night conversations with Nadir had been about then. She would have to thank the man in person next time she saw him.

‘You seemed to enjoy our last outing in the snow so much,’ he continued when Christine remained silent. ‘It made me want to take you out more often, but I wanted to make certain we wouldn’t be bothered by any other people around, so this seemed like the ideal solution.’

Christine was at a loss for words. How was it possible that this man who had grown up without ever knowing any kindness, who had been shown so much hate and contempt in his life, could still be so sweet and thoughtful? Admittedly, he could have gone about it all in a different way, but since it was very unlikely he had any experience with being surprised like this himself, she supposed she could forgive him his error of judgment.

‘Please say something, love,’ Erik begged. ‘Do you not like it? We can return to Paris immediately if you wish, but maybe I could show you inside fi-‘

Christine’s mouth was on his before he could finish his sentence, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. ‘It’s perfect, thank you,’ she whispered against his lips, ‘and I would love to see the inside.’

‘Your wish is my command,’ he murmured as he swept his giggling wife up in his arms and carried her across the threshold.

They stayed at the cottage in the woods for a couple of weeks, and it felt like absolute bliss to Christine. She got to spend more time outside over the course of the first few days than she had in the past couple of months and she savoured every second of it. Although Erik had never forbidden her from going outside, he was not particularly fond of going out during daylight hours himself, and she knew it made him uncomfortable when she left the house without him – she suspected a small part of him still believed that if she left, she would never return – so she had limited her excursions outside to a minimum. But now that she had the chance, she could not get enough of the fresh, crisp air of the forest.

On one of their walks exploring the grounds surrounding the house, they stumbled upon a small lake. Since it had been freezing continually for a while now, the lake was completely frozen over and Christine jumped up and down in excitement remembering the ice skates she had noticed among the supplies that Nadir had brought for them. After testing if the ice was solid and strong enough to hold them, Erik reluctantly agreed to fetch the skates.

Erik had never ice skated before, but Christine had enough experience to guide him through his first steps onto the ice. Once he had managed to make his way onto the ice without falling over, she took his hand and slowly started skating around the edge of the lake. He had a look of utmost concentration on his face and held out his free arm to keep his balance, but managed to follow her without incident.

‘See, this is fun, isn’t it?’ Christine said after a few laps around the lake, and although his answering smile was still somewhat hesitant, he seemed to be growing more and more sure-footed. After another lap he felt confident enough to try it on his own. Christine let go of his hand and watched as he went off, his smile growing with every step, obviously satisfied at having mastered another skill. He must have gained a bit too much confidence, because the moment she took her eyes off him, she heard him cursing and looked back just in time to see him stumble and fall, landing flat on his bottom.

She sucked in a breath and grimaced in sympathy. She had fallen over enough times herself in the past to know how much that could hurt. He didn’t seem to be injured too badly though, as he struggled back on his feet within seconds, but the smile had been wiped off of his face. Christine hurried over to make sure he was okay, but she couldn’t convince him to stay on the ice any longer. He sulked all the way back to the cottage, muttering that he had hurt his wrist in the fall, but his mood lightened significantly when she promised to kiss it better.

Erik did not always join her outside. Sometimes the need to compose would simply grow too strong and he would withdraw to the piano in the music room (of course the cottage had a music room, he would probably have refused to stay in the house if it didn’t). On these occasions, Christine set out on her own, always promising not to stray too far away from the house, and by the time she returned, Erik often had a new piece of music to play for her.

Their evenings however were invariably spent together. Sometimes they would sing. ‘Being away from home should never be an excuse to neglect your voice, Christine, you need to keep it in shape,’ Erik never failed to remind her. Other times she would listen to Erik reading aloud from one of her favourite novels, letting his rich, seductive voice wash over her and lull her to sleep. But her favourite evenings were those they would just spend by the fire in companionable silence, Christine lying down on the couch with her head resting in her husband’s lap, his long fingers combing through her hair, which she loved so much that if she were a cat, she was sure she would be purring.

Sooner than she would have liked, the last day of their little winter holiday arrived. Erik had business at the Opera to attend to, but he promised her they would return before long. Christine was determined to make the most of their final moments here, and as they had woken up to find the earth covered in a fresh layer of snow, they decided to go out one last time and make a snowman together. The morning sped by, and as Christine stepped back to take in the final result, she burst out laughing when she noticed the uncanny resemblance their creation bore to Monsieur Firmin, one of the two fools who ran the Opera, as Erik described them. Now she understood why he had insisted on finding some twigs to give the snowman a moustache.

That night they decided to retire early, as the carriage would be there to pick them up early the next morning. Christine was changing into her nightgown while Erik added another log to the fire. She knew he did not do that for his own benefit, as he didn’t mind the cold much, but was thinking of her comfort, for which she was extremely grateful. It had been freezing outside and her fingers and toes had still not warmed up properly. She smiled gratefully at him, glad that he had already taken off his mask for the night so she could see his face as he gazed back at her lovingly. If his love for her could warm her physically, she would never be cold again.

Alas, that was wishful thinking. She shivered as she finished undressing and hurried to join Erik in bed, almost stumbling over her own feet in her haste to get under the covers. She sighed happily as she settled into his arms, rubbing her ice cold feet against his, causing him to yelp in indignation.

‘My love, even to my eternally cold skin, your little feet feel like icicles,’ he complained.

‘I know, I’m sorry darling,’ she replied, ‘but I simply haven’t managed to get warm all evening. My hands are still cold too.’ She placed her hands on his cheeks to prove her point.

He was prepared this time and flinched only slightly at her icy touch. He let her keep her hands there for a few seconds more before covering them with his own and bringing them to his mouth. ‘Allow me to warm them, then,’ he murmured, the sound of his voice sending shivers down her spine that had nothing at all to do with the temperature in the room. He began peppering her hands with kisses, starting at the tips of her fingers and making his way down over her palm to her wrist. He pressed a more lingering kiss there, caressing her skin with his lips, looking up at her with an expression that spoke both of adoration and desire.

Christine felt her mouth turn dry and pressed her arm a little closer to his mouth, unable to resist the sensation of his lips on her skin. She licked her lips unconsciously and noticed how his eyes immediately flickered to her mouth to follow the movement of her tongue.

‘You know what else feels cold?’ she whispered.

‘Do tell,’ he breathed against her skin, smirking at her, fully aware of the effect his touch had on her.

‘My lips. My lips are cold.’

‘Well then,’ he grinned, moving a hand to her waist to pull her closer, ‘I’ll simply have to warm them too.’

#PotO Advent Calendar #PotO #Phantom of the Opera #Door 10

56 notes · View notes

theseerasures · 4 years

Note

They try to smooth over things after everything melts, but explaining to the (mostly indifferent) subjects that their new queen has magical powers and had run away and now come back and that Arendelle was opening its borders after almost fifteen years of isolation is difficult work. Anna looks tired and the boy with her (Kristoff, Elsa remembers vaguely) looks tired, and Elsa feels tiredness clinging to her bones, so after a while she motions for Kai to take over and make their exit. (3)

As usual, Sven only gets a few steps up onto the crystalline staircase before his hooves slide him right back down.

“A few more weeks, buddy,” Kristoff says consolingly as he eases the grumbling reindeer back down to less slippery territory, “You’ll get your winter feet in no time.”

“I told you we should have packed his snowshoes,” Anna grouses, already halfway up herself, “But nooooo, it was all we don’t have time, Anna and it’s not even cold yet, Anna, and we’re going to the Forest and not the North Mountain, what are the odds–whoa!”

Elsa grabs her hand as she threatens to fall backward. “You don’t have to go up.”

“You don’t have to go up,” Anna fires back immediately, and then flushes a little at Elsa’s raised eyebrow. “I mean–obviously you have to go up, that’s the whole point of coming here. I only–”

“It’s okay,” Elsa reassures hastily, not bothering to let go and continuing to steady Anna as they make their way up to the Ice Palace’s main doors. “I know what you meant.”

It’s true; they could have gone back to Arendelle first and rested up before coming back here. But she needs to make this right, and she can, so why put it off? The sooner everyone’s restored and and back to normal, the better.

Olaf’s waiting for them when they finally get to the top. He looks uncharacteristically serious, but Elsa can understand why.

No sounds emerge from within the palace walls; everything is eerily silent.

“Should we…knock?” Olaf asks hesitantly.

“No need,” Elsa says, but she falters suddenly when she moves to push the doors open. When was the last time they were all here together? Kristoff makes pretty regular visits on the way to and from ice harvesting. She and Anna try to drop by when they have time, and of course Olaf tags along with any and all of them whenever he wants. But the last time they were all here at the same time might have been…

We were so close. We can be like that again.

Elsa brushes it aside. A memory from the ice, nothing more. It’s silly to dwell on all that now, when they’re coming back from another successful adventure. They won. They won again, and what they lost, she can easily bring back.

She’s here for a reason, and the sooner she finishes, the sooner everything can be finished. They can go back to their normal lives.

The door opens noiselessly at her push, and inside–

Anna gasps as Kristoff simultaneously bites out an explosive curse. Elsa barely registers either, too busy staring horrified at the countless piles of snow littered on the palace floor. It had been one thing to know what must have happened, or even feel it from the sudden hollow in her mind when she’d come back, but to see it all, here…

She always forgets how many of them there are, when she’s away. She always forgets how many she made, the number of lives tethered to hers.

“Elsa?” Anna’s concerned face looks blurry. “You don’t have to do this right now. We can–”

“I’m fine,” Elsa replies immediately, blinking hard so that her vision clears.

“You don’t look fine.” This time, Anna’s jaw sets when Elsa raises her eyebrow. “Well, you don’t! You’re all pale and your arm is busted and you have bruises everywhere and you have to be exhausted because I’m exhausted, and I didn’t even–”

She turns away abruptly, but not before Elsa catches that her eyes are suddenly wet.

Die. That’s what Anna had been about to say. Experimentally, Elsa brushes her fingertips with the pad of her thumb, feeling the sensation of soft flesh instead of slippery, hardening rime. She had died. Anna’s right to be upset–she has every right.

But she’s back now; that’s the important thing. Elsa reaches out to her sister, tipping Anna’s face gently upward so they can make eye contact. “I can do this,” she says firmly.

Anna sucks in a loud, noisy breath, and then nods. “Just don’t wear yourself out. Take breaks, or–or something.”

Kristoff clears his throat. “Can we…um. Help, in some way? I mean, some of them–” He winces. “Some of the piles kind of. Spilled into each other? What if we separate them, make it easier for you to…”

“No, it’s okay,” Elsa says, when it’s clear he’s not going to finish. There’s no confusing the snowgies for her. They might have been made accidentally, but her magic knows every flake that makes up their being. “I got it.”

She closes her eyes and concentrates. Feels the magic coursing through her, lifting the snow piles up from the floor. Feels their lives return and coalesce with the memory of all that had happened on the day they were born: the ecstasy of eating ice cream cake, the playful mischief of running across town, the dizzying joy of spending a day with Anna…

“Slush!” Elsa hears Olaf exclaim. “Oh, welcome back! And Sludge and Slide and Ansel and Flurry and Fridge and Powder and…”

Everyone back to normal. Not a snowflake out of place.

Elsa smiles. She opens her eyes–

And the world immediately tilts on its axis.

“Elsa?” she hears Anna say as her knees buckle and she sinks ungracefully to the floor, “Elsa!”

She’s never going to let me live this down, Elsa thinks, and then she passes out.

Heh, she thinks as she comes to again. Live this down. Live. See, because she–

“I’m sorry, is this funny?” A shrill voice demands from above.

Elsa opens her eyes to meet Anna’s outraged glare. “It’s not,” she says hastily. “Sorry. Are they all back? Is everyone okay?”

Anna stares blankly at her for a second, then crosses her arms. “Nope. Ansel has two heads now.”

“What?” She bolts upright, just barely avoiding a headlong collision with Kristoff, who’d also been peering down at her in concern. “How–”

Ansel grins up at her, very much still one-headed and bouncing on his little feet. “Oh, ha ha,” Elsa says sarcastically before moving to stand. “Okay. I think Marshmallow is–”

“Nope,” Anna says again as Kristoff firmly pushes Elsa right back down to the ice floor. “You’re gonna sit and rest for at least fifteen more minutes, then you can go fix Marshmallow.”

“Anna, I’m–”

“If you say you’re fine again I’m gonna clobber you with a stalactite. And I’ll make you replace it,” The mulish expression on Anna’s face falters, just a little. “Can you just–for me. Please?”

There’s no way to say no. “Alright,” Elsa says. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

Another hard, searching look, and then Anna nods. “I’m gonna go see what Olaf’s up to. Kristoff, you can keep an eye on her, right?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m not a child,” Elsa protests at the same time.

Her sister doesn’t even bother with a response, so she just slumps back into a more comfortable sitting position, grumbling.

“There, there,” Kristoff says perfunctorily. “Is the whole hair-in-your-eyes thing a required part of being a spirit?”

“I was trying to make it dry faster,” Elsa grouses, passing him a hair tie. She feels him getting to work immediately; first combing through the tangles, then moving into the braid. He doesn’t seem inclined to chat, so she stays silent too, trying to relax.

It’s been a while since she’s had time to stop and think. Even after all the excitement of the dam’s fall, racing back to Arendelle, racing back to the Forest, there had been news to bring, plans to discuss, apologies to make: a nonstop whirlwind of discussion and movement. This is the first time she’s been still in hours, the first time the world has been quiet, just the sound of breathing and the cold all around, everything in sight an icy blue…

“Elsa?” Kristoff’s hands have stilled.

She flinches, feeling sick all of a sudden–something about the blue hurts her eyes. That hadn’t always been true, had it? She’d built this place, but now she can barely stand to look; something about the color reminds her of–

Dive down deep into her sound…

“Here.” Something heavy falls across her shoulders.

Elsa blinks. It’s Kristoff’s big coat–the one he takes in case he gets caught outside in a storm. “I’m not cold.” She knows what cold feels like, now.

“It’s good to have pockets. And here…” He sticks his hand into one of the pockets. “You should eat something.”

“I can’t eat that,” Elsa protests. He’s offering her one of his emergency ration bars, and she’s heard him complain enough about Oaken’s extortionate prices for them. “Don’t they cost a fortune?”

“I’ll put it on the bill.” He rolls his eyes when she continues to hesitate. “Elsa. Just eat it, okay?”

The thought of food makes her queasier, so she plans to just take a few bites for the sake of politeness–but then the whole thing disappears down her stomach, embarrassingly quickly. “I…guess it has been a while. Thanks, Kristoff–I needed that.”

“You need a vacation,” Kristoff says, “Or at least a nap.”

She doesn’t want to think about sleeping right now, if just staying still makes her stomach plummet off a cliff. “Has it been fifteen minutes?”

“Maybe? Look, Elsa–”

“Thanks for the food,” Elsa repeats, getting up. She keeps the coat on; it does feel nice, even if it can’t make her warm. “I’m okay to go now.”

“Elsa…”

“I’ll nap when I’m done, I promise.” Promise me we do this together. She climbs out the staircase alone. Leans a little against the railing; everything feels spindly, like she’s on marionette strings.

The sight at the top of the steps brings her up short. Marshmallow is an enormous mound of ice and snow near the balcony doors. Had he climbed up to bellow for help in his last moments? Or had he just wanted to return, because here is where…here is…

I know we can figure this out together!

Stop. She slams that memory shut. Get it together.

Still, Elsa finds herself moving slowly, as if taking in the room for the first time. She’d done her best to fix it up after the Thaw, but it’s never been quite the same. If she looks carefully she can still see some faint scoring on the walls from the ice blasts and fired crossbow bolts, and the chandelier…

She’d never had the heart to replace it. It had been a needless extravagance in the first place; she should have known better.

Don’t be the monster they fear you are!

Enough philosophizing. Elsa closes her eyes and gets to work. She sinks into the emotions she’d felt that day: the exhilaration of the build, of cutting loose, letting herself be free for the first time…but there’s an odd resistance to the snow here, like her magic is reluctant against itself. Then again: Marshmallow is her largest creation to date, so perhaps that’s only natural; she pulls a little harder, sensing the snow rise and converge as she lets the memories wash over her–

I’m not leaving without you, Elsa!

The icy pit in her stomach explodes outward. She’s freezing again. No; she’s frozen everything. Arendelle is suffocating under her magic, under her–why had she run–stay away–get back–get back in the cage–

Something thuds onto the ground. Elsa’s eyes fly open of their own accord and blue is the only thing she sees. She’s trapped down here–there’s no way out; she’d thought she had mastered the ice and now she’s paying for it. Something roars in her ears–Grandfather’s sword cleaving bloodily down–why can’t I move–why can’t I stop–

me? The dome is lined with ice and the world is endless blue–spikes rising out of the ground–monster–she’d thought it was just magic but it’s her, it’s in her blood–blue like Anna’s eyes on the fjord, wide and blank and frozen solid–right after Elsa had struck her–right through the heart–right through the heart–ANNA–

“What’s going on up there? Marshmallow, stop yelling! Let me–Elsa?”

No. Nonononono. Anna’s here. She can’t–

“Please,” Elsa manages to push out. Stayawayhelpme she doesn’t remember the rest. Her teeth are chattering and she can’t breathe. “Please. Please.”

“Okay, I’m–I’m at the doorway, Elsa. See?” Anna waves. “And I won’t come any closer until you’re sure it’s fine. Right? We’ve done this before. We’ve got this. You’ve got this. It’s not even cold right now. Kristoff, can you–”

“Yeah,” he says immediately, appearing at Anna’s shoulder. “It’s, um. It’s a little chillier here than the rest of palace. I can feel it here, but–” he takes a few paces back, “–not here, and it’s not spreading or getting colder. The ice isn’t looking any different, so I’d say it can’t be more than a five degree dip, at most.”

“You heard it straight from the ice expert,” Anna says, “And it’s not snowing, even a little–you’re okay, Elsa. You’re not losing control. Everyone’s safe. You made them safe. You made this room, and–” her voice wobbles, but rights itself again, “–and sure, some bad stuff happened in it once, but it’s not happening now. And it won’t happen again. We won’t let it. All you have to do now is focus on calming down, okay?”

Elsa takes one sharp, tight breath, then another. Her vision is still marred by wavy lines, so she reaches out, tries to steady herself–

And hits something soft and cold. Marshmallow is looking down at her, his brows furrowed in concern. “Elsa?” he rumbles.

She sags into him, a wet, wounded sound tearing out of her mouth. “Marshmallow.”

“Good,” Anna says as Marshmallow picks her up carefully and sets her on his shoulder. “That’s–thanks, Marshmallow. We’ll count that as your first thing, Elsa. You got four more? What else can you see?”

Elsa opens her mouth, but the word freezes in her throat, because the only thing she can see–

“I got this!” Olaf sings, bouncing in with the snowgies trailing after him. “Hey, big little brother! Welcome back.”

“Olaf,” Elsa exhales, feeling the corners of her lips flick up minutely. The tightness in her chest relents, a little.

“That’s two,” he replies, nodding encouragingly. “And now you have all these guys, and I know you only have to do three more, but I read in a book that it’s damaging to the family structure to pick favorites, soooo…”

The snowgies beam at her in unison.

Elsa lets out a soft huff; not quite a laugh, not yet. Then she begins.

–

“AH-ah-AH-ah!”

Her hands jump involuntarily. Sven grunts at her–half concerned, half irritated as the carrot she’d been feeding him suddenly gets coated in a layer of frost.

“Show yourself! Right now!”

It’s Olaf. It’s just Olaf, still in the Ice Palace regaling his brothers about their latest adventure while the rest of them get ready to go.

Well. While Kristoff and Anna get them ready to go.

Elsa lets out an embarrassed chuckle, resisting the urge to fling the frozen carrot off the side of the mountain so no one can see it. “Sorry, Sven.”

“No apologizing for another hour!” Anna calls out from behind the stack of blankets they now have to pile back onto the sled. “Kristoff, we’re starting the clock again.”

“I was saying sorry to Sven,” she protests, watching her sister huff and puff over the repacking process. “Are you sure I can’t–”

“Nope,” Kristoff says at the same time Anna says “Nothing productive for you for another day. Another week, maybe.”

Even Sven’s gentle headbutt feels rather pointed. “That’s absurd. I can–”

“Someone still wants to be smothered in blankets,” Anna singsongs.

“Anna–”

“Elsa! We did it. We won. We saved like, a ton of people, and you did maybe eighty percent of it by yourself, so will you just stay still for one whole second and appreciate that–”

“We live!” Marshmallow’s roar rings out of the Ice Palace and takes them all by surprise. “We live!” He shouts again joyously, the being she’d made out of misery and fear.

“Yeah.” Anna’s voice sounds small in its wake. “That.”

Elsa lets out a slow, deep sigh, and lets herself slump down against Sven. “It wasn’t eighty percent,” she mumbles into his flank.

A rumbling laugh, coming from the Ice Palace. Marshmallow again: “Good story! Good story, Olaf.”

“It wasn’t,” she repeats, not sure why she’s insisting the point when no one’s even arguing with her. She’d been trying to sound flippant, but now…now she just feels wrung out. Some Fifth Spirit. “You freed the forest, Anna. I didn’t–I just–it didn’t feel good. I don’t…”

She’s so tired.

Anna’s arms wrap around her. “That’s okay,” she says, pressing a firm kiss on the top of Elsa’s head. “You’re okay, Elsa. We’ve got you.”

Kristoff’s hand touches her waist a moment later, carefully enough that she doesn’t startle, gently guiding her to a position where she can be nestled in between all of them.

She doesn’t need to do anything but let herself be moved. Elsa closes her eyes, and leans into their embrace.

–

“Okay,” she says fifteen minutes later, “Just one more thing–”

“Absolutely not,” Anna orders as Kristoff says, “Sven, sit on her.”

#counterpunches #elsa: if i keep my body moving and my mind occupied at all times i will avoid falling into a bottomless pit of despair #L A S T O N E it is finished #disney #helen writes

112 notes · View notes

boykisserbuckley · 4 years

Note

hi!! can i request buck + drowning??👀

I’ll preface this by saying I know nothing about the LA river, or LA, or how drowning works?? But I hope you like it anyway :)

It’s the end of a late shift, there’s a steady rain drumming down on the roof of Eddie’s truck, and the windshield wipers are working overtime. Buck’s humming along quietly to some catchy pop song, tapping his fingers against his knee in time with the beat. Normally, Eddie wouldn’t have enjoyed a drive home in a storm, but it’s better when he’s not alone—tonight, he’s got his best friend in the passenger seat and the radio on low. The truck is warm. It’s nice.

The drive isn’t long, but Buck had insisted on sleeping at his own apartment for once, so Eddie is taking the long way home to drop him off. Buck hasn’t spoken since they left the station, but given how draining their shift had been, Eddie’s not surprised. They’re left sitting in a comfortable almost-silence, letting the rain and the music wash over them.

Until, as Eddie goes to make a turn, Buck suddenly straightens in his seat. His tapping stops and he peers out the window, like he’s trying to make out something through the storm. Eddie frowns, shooting him a glance.

“Buck?” he prompts, confused by Buck’s sudden focus.

“Pull over,” Buck says.

“What? Why?”

“Pull over!” Buck repeats sharply. Eddie obediently slows, startled by the force in Buck’s tone, and pulls the truck to a stop next to the curb.

“What the hell, man?” he questions. He turns to fix Buck with a glare, but the other man isn’t looking at him.

“I think there’s someone down by the river,” Buck explains, already unbuckling and making to open the door.

“In this weather?” Eddie says. He doesn’t particularly relish the idea of getting out in the rain, but he knows what Buck is probably thinking—this much rain is likely to cause the river to swell, and it’s dangerous. Whoever is out there might need some help. Or at the very least, someone to tell them how idiotic it is to be out in this storm.

Buck hops out before Eddie even manages to cut the engine. Eddie mutters a curse and follows. They’re both drenched in seconds, but neither of them turns to go back to the truck. Even if he’s wet and miserable, Eddie knows he could never leave another person out here if they might need his help.

“Hey!” Buck calls as they near the river’s concrete banks, voice loud enough to cut through the thrum of the rain. “Hey! Are you alright? You shouldn’t be out here!”

Eddie holds up a hand to shield his eyes, squinting into the dark. He can make out, just barely, the figure that Buck must’ve seen. As they draw closer, the familiar thrill of adrenaline courses over him like a wave—because out there, clinging desperately to the wet, slanting concrete, is a kid. Can’t be a day over fifteen, if Eddie’s guessing right, and he looks scared.

He must call something back because Eddie can see his mouth moving, but it gets lost to the storm.

“Eddie,” Buck says, eyes wide as he glances over, “we’ve gotta get down there, if he slips—”

Buck doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Eddie can see what he means. The water is running in rivulets down the banks, and the river swells higher every second; if the kid goes in, they might not get him out.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “yeah, just be careful.”

They tap knuckles the way they always do before a call, and then Buck starts inching downwards. Eddie follows, arms splayed to keep his balance. The incline isn’t steep, but it’s slippery with the water, and the angle makes it hard to stay upright. No wonder the kid was having trouble.

Buck reaches the kid first. He shuffles down until he’s at his side, hands out in a placating manner. The kid has barely shifted since they arrived, and he’s shivering. From fear or from cold, Eddie can’t tell. The rain is freezing.

“We’re firefighters with the LAFD,” Buck is explaining, when Eddie makes it down the rest of the way. “We’ll help you get back up safe and sound, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

The kid nods, but his eyes are wide with panic. Eddie can't help but notice that he's looking resolutely anywhere but at the water that's rushing below him, steadily climbing.

"What's your name?" Eddie asks, edging down a little farther.

"Andrew," the kid responds. After a moment's hesitation, he adds, "I– I can't swim."

Eddie's gaze flicks to Buck's, just briefly, dread pooling in his stomach. A part of him wants to know what the hell this kid thought he was doing, going anywhere near the river by himself if he can't swim—another part knows that the reasoning doesn't matter. What matters is that Eddie gets him home safe.

"Okay," he says, "Here's what we're gonna do, Andrew. I’ll take your hand, and my friend here, Buck, he's going to get behind you, alright?"

Eddie catches Buck's nod out of the corner of his eye, and sees him shuffle into position.

"I know you're scared, but he'll make sure you don't go anywhere near the water. Okay?" Eddie smiles, hoping that it comes across as reassuring. Andrew blows out a breath, fingers still tight against the concrete.

"Okay," he says. It's quiet enough that Eddie can barely hear him past the roar of the storm, still raging around them, but he catches it.

"Come on, then," Eddie says, stretching out a hand. He braces himself against the canal wall with the other, making sure he doesn't tilt forwards with Andrew's added weight and send them both into the river.

It takes them a moment of coaxing and gentle reassurance, but they eventually manage to convince Andrew to let go and reach for Eddie’s hand. Slowly, slowly, they start back up the slope, moving carefully.

They're barely a foot from the top of the bank when everything goes sideways. Andrew's foot slides on the slick stone, right out from under him. Eddie tightens his grip immediately so the kid's hand won't slip from his, and he latches on to the upper lip of the concrete basin with his other hand, barely managing to keep his own footing.

Andrew scrambles to catch himself and kicks out in desperation, one foot managing to hit Buck in the jaw, where he's still poised below. Eddie watches—almost as if it's in slow-motion—as Buck loses his balance, stumbles, and goes down hard. He yelps when his head clips the concrete, and then he’s sliding, clearly disoriented.

“Buck!” Eddie cries in surprise, and then he’s moving faster than he thought he could; he yanks Andrew upwards, pulling both of them back to their feet and over the edge onto flat ground.

“Call 9-1-1,” he instructs, shoving his phone into the kid’s hand. Just in case.

He whips back around, reaching for Buck before he’s even halfway down the slope. He’d hit his head, but otherwise isn’t hurt, and if Eddie can get to him before he hits the water—

But he’s too late. In the split second that Eddie had his back turned to take care of the kid, Buck had tumbled farther, unable to get a grip on the wet rock. Eddie’s hand brushes his, just barely, before the water catches him and drags him the rest of the way down.

Eddie dives in after him without a second thought. Buck is normally a strong swimmer, but the water is high and moving fast, and on top of that he’s got a head wound. There’s no way this ends well for him.

The force of the current takes him by surprise, threatening to take him under too. It’s dark and it’s pouring and he can barely see a thing but he clings to the canal wall long enough to spot Buck, a ways down, coming up spluttering. He’s clearly trying to swim, but he can’t quite get his limbs to cooperate, and he keeps dipping back under.

Eddie pushes off and swims for him, fighting the current. It batters him, hard and fast, and he hasn’t seen Buck pop up again.

He pushes further forward, sweeping through the water for something, anything. Panic tugs at his heart, climbs into his throat, nearly enough to choke him, and then—his hand knocks into what feels like an arm, and he latches on before the river can tug them apart again. He drags upwards with all the strength he still has, until Buck breaks the surface.

His head lolls, and he stays limp in Eddie’s hold. It takes Eddie a moment longer than it should to realize he’s not breathing.

He’s not—he’s not breathing. Eddie blanks. His body moves on autopilot, struggling against the pull of the water to get both of them to shore. He doesn’t know how far down they’ve been swept by now, how far they are from the truck or from Andrew, but it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters, the only thing that’s ever mattered, is saving Buck.

Eddie’s hand meets concrete again, and he scrabbles for a moment before he gets a grip. He scrapes his palms open on the stone but he manages, somehow, to drag both himself and Buck up out of the river onto the slope. He doesn’t waste any time trying to get to flat ground, not when Buck is turning bluer by the second. Eddie flips him onto his back and starts compressions, bracing himself against the awkward angle.

“Come on, Buck, come on,” Eddie whispers, barely able to hear himself over the rain and his own breathing.

Buck’s forehead is bleeding. If—no. When he wakes, Eddie knows it’ll drip into his eyes. He wants to reach up, wipe it away, but he doesn’t dare stop what he’s doing. He can’t stop, not until Buck starts breathing again, not until he opens those gorgeous blue eyes and shows Eddie that he’s okay. He can’t go out like this. Eddie won’t let him.

“C’mon, you massive idiot,” Eddie hisses, frustrated nearly to tears, “Breathe!”

He slams his palms into Buck’s chest again, harder, feels a rib give way under with the force of it. And then suddenly, miraculously, Buck breathes. He jerks and coughs, trying to expel whatever disgusting river water is lodged in his lungs. What feels like an eternity later, Buck flops onto his back again, exhausted but breathing. He’s breathing. That’s all that matters.

“...Eddie,” Buck rasps, his eyes fluttering open. They’re glassy and unfocused, and he’s having a hard time tracking, but Eddie has never been happier to see them in his life. He heaves a sigh of relief—though it comes out sounding more like a half-aborted sob—and finally reaches up to swipe away the drop of blood leaking into Buck’s eyebrow.

“You’re okay,” he says, and he can’t help it. He leans forward, fully aware that he’s crying now, and rests his forehead against Buck’s. “You’re okay.”

They’re still sprawled out awkwardly at an angle, half on top of each other, breathing hard. Buck’s hand, trembling and cold, finds his and squeezes lightly. Sirens wail in the distance.

Buck agrees, voice rough and quiet, “I’m okay.”

also on AO3

(buy me a coffee?)

#hurt/comfort bingo #hurt evan buckley #911 fic #drowning #buckleyevan #bisexualbuck #firefighter-buckley-diaz #idk what y'all track but i tried to tag u #karenwilson #maysgrant #stiilesstilinski #b!writes

133 notes · View notes

midnightprelude · 3 years

Text

@oftachancer and I put together another piece for @14daysdalovers!

Pairing: Cassandra x F!Lavellan Rating: T Summary: Of course her first meeting with Cassandra's family would involve Lyanna Lavellan, three months pregnant, scaling the face of a wall. It was only natural.Not that she wasn't up for the challenge, but she had hoped not to meet Anthony Pentaghast while she was red-faced and sweating. Oh well. Read here on on AO3!

“I already like you better than the last four,” Anthony grinned, managing the ropes of Cassandra’s safety harness as she climbed higher. “I doubt any of them would have made it past the first incline, even before… How many months along are you now?”

“Three,” she sniffed. Did she look that large already? Creators, she felt like it. “I’m tenacious.” Her muscles burned and her shin smarted where she’d smashed against a foothold, but she had made it to the top of the ledge where Cassandra’s brother was beaming. As gorgeous as his sister, sculpted muscle from head to toe, his tee shirt clinging to his chest like- She dropped her gaze to where Cassandra was scaling, smiling down at her when she chanced to look up. “I’m glad, for your sake, you didn’t try to tell me I couldn’t.”

He was quicker to laugh than his sister, tiny lines about his eyes showing that he did so often. “I’d have missed all the swearing. What a shame that would have been.”

“Would you, now?” Lyanna smirked, adjusting her harness now that she was again on solid ground. She caught her hand traveling reflexively towards her belly and stretched it over her head. “I’m sure you would’ve heard a few curses if you attempted to stop me.”

“I know better. I couldn’t prevent Cassie from standing in her saddle. I can’t stop any woman from doing anything.”

“She’s taught you well, then.” Lyanna rolled her eyes on a chuckle. “Cassie, hm?”

“Yes.” Anthony checked the lines. “To both.” He glanced at her with a wry smile. “I’ll admit, when she told me she was seeing a ‘Lyanna’, I had a different image in my mind. Claw-nails and leopard print and high heels.”

“Not a pregnant elf?” Lyanna quirked a brow. “What about my name makes you think of claws and heels, do tell?”

“I guess I was thinking of most of the other power suits in our firm. Lots of claws and heels.” He grinned. “She said you were a red head and it got me thinking of- Well. Anyway. You seem a decent sort.”

“Got a thing for redheads, is it? I’ll have to let Cassie know.”

“Trust me, she knows,” he chuckled. “We mostly only had each other for a long time; it’s possible we know too much about each other. Do you have siblings?”

“No, but I’ve got quite a few cousins, and one in particular who knows much more than he probably should. He’s in a band. Catharsis? They’ve been in the news lately.”

“Yes! The instigators .” Anthony grinned. “I do love when flames are fanned. Powerful people do such ridiculous things to try and put them out, and leave themselves open to all sorts of interesting case law.”

“She said you’d say something like that,” Lyanna smirked, taking a swig from a bottle of water. Creators, she was going to be sore. “That you like hunting dragons. Would you take on the Imperium, if you had a case?”

“If I thought one could be won, certainly. So far, they’ve been cagey, but I see their sweat beginning to make the pavement slippery. It’s only a matter of time.” Anthony smiled lazily, flashing white teeth in a sharp smile. “But that’s business and I promised my little sister that I would take the afternoon off.”

“And she’s getting closer and closer to earshot, so we’d best watch ourselves.” Lyanna chuckled, leaning against the fake wall of rock behind them that extended nearly up to the ceiling. “Wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Maker, no!” Anthony winked at her. “She might cut me off from the borscht. Had she made you her borscht? It’s exactly as mother used to make it. I’ve no idea how she manages. We have the exact same recipe.”

“She has.” A few times, in fact. “Folate is good for the babies, she says. Makes the kitchen look a bit like a murder scene with all the beets, but there’s hardly any denying her when she puts her mind to something. She made four gallons, once, and sent a good portion home with me. Cassandra is under the impression I don’t eat nearly enough.”

“She likes to take care of people. It’s easier to let her.” He smiled fondly down the rock face where his sister was dangling from her fingertips, searching for a toehold. “It sounds as though you’ve figured that out.”

“Took some time.” Heat rose to Lyanna’s cheeks. She hadn’t wanted to be cared for; she’d been alone and independent for so long that she hardly knew how to accept Cassandra’s offerings without distrust and scorn. Nobody was that selfless. Except, amazingly, Cassandra Pentaghast. “But I did. Yes. She does have that quality.”

“She never knew our parents, you know,” he said thoughtfully. “Not really. But she’s far more like them than she has a right to be. She’s a good kid.” He glanced at her, lifting a brow, seeing too much. “You get that, too. I like you.”

“Do I get a badge?” Lyanna tilted her head to the side. “Or a stamp? ‘Free to date Cassandra Pentaghast.’ I’ll stick it to my laptop so there’s no confusion.”

“Unfortunately not. Just my appreciation that you seem to see her as she is.” He shrugged. “Should I dislike you on principle?”

“I was under the impression that elder brothers tend to be very protective of their younger sisters’ hearts.” Lyanna sniffed, smiling slightly. She had been a trifle worried about his acceptance and had told Cassandra as much, but she’d waved it off. ‘Anthony is Anthony; he only cares that I’m happy. I very much am.’ “I’m relieved you think so. Did she tell you she carried me out of a construction site? I was more annoyed that I couldn’t walk on my own than grateful at first; I was certain she wanted something from me.”

Anthony chuckled. “She didn’t, but that sounds like her; I’ll have to pry the tale from her now.” He looked over the ledge. “Almost there!” he called encouragingly and received a disgruntled huff in reply. “Unless you want to tell me,” he glanced at Lyanna with a quick grin. “It’ll probably be a better story coming from you.”

“Oh, I’d rather not recount that particular tale.” Heat flooded Lyanna’s cheeks. An embarrassing tumble into a construction site she’d been protesting, followed by a broken ankle and a positive pregnancy test from a fling. “I’m sure she’d do it justice.” Cassandra was nearly at the top of the climb, thank the Creators; hopefully she’d arrive before Lyanna was dragged into a retelling.

Anthony quirked a brow at her, smiling lazily. “As you will.”

Cassandra puffed her cheeks, dragging herself up the last inches and pulling herself to sprawl on the mid-point landing at their feet. She reached for Lyanna’s fingers, brushing them with her own, dusting chalk between them.

Lyanna laughed, helping her up and wrapping her arms around Cassandra’s waist. “For a moment there, you looked like you very much wanted to toss us off the ledge! Congratulations.” She kissed Cassandra’s cheek, smiling against her skin. “I missed you.”

Spectacular: the feel of her cheek curving in an answering grin and the ragged exhales of her breath against Lyanna’s ear. “You’re beautiful.”

“I love you,” the words sprung to her lips, but this time they didn’t make her twinge with anxiety at the sound of them in her voice as they had before. A simple truth, simply spoken, the statement muffled nearly completely when Cassandra tugged her closer and kissed her in earnest until they were both panting again.

#cassandra x f!inquisitor #cassandra pentaghast #lyanna lavellan #14DALovers #midnight writes #oftachancer writes #cassandra x lyanna #nuit de reves

13 notes · View notes

voltage-vixen · 4 years

Text

"Cuff me, officer.” Gavin (NSFW)

“Finally!” MC triumphantly crowed.

She slammed down the top of her laptop and began to pack up for the evening. MC glanced at the clock and groaned when seeing it was a little after midnight. Gavin was not going thrilled when he found out she had broken her promise of leaving work at a reasonable hour for the third time this week.

“Maybe he won’t find out,” MC gulped, and toyed with the gingko leave bracelet on her wrist.

“That you ended up staying late another night, even after I left you off with a stern warning after the last incident?” a stern voice she recognized called out from the window.

MC spun around to find Gavin standing there with his arms crossed, shooting her a glare that could only be described as intense.

“U-Um,” MC stuttered, while awkwardly avoiding his gaze as he moseyed on over to where she was standing.

Gavin reached out to tilt her head, allowing him to confront MC directly. He saw her guilt-ridden expression and sighed in exasperation. Didn’t she realize that he wasn’t mad at her, but that her well-being was his main priority?

“Hey, you know I’m not trying to be a jerk, right? Upsetting you couldn’t be further from my true intentions,” Gavin comforted.

His face was now directly in front of hers, and MC could feel the warmth of his breath tickle down the front of her neck. Distracted by the golden tint in his eyes, MC’s cheeks began to flush and a bead of sweat dripped from her forehead. Gavin was SO painfully close; she couldn’t help but sneak a peek down the crevice of his white shirt. The slight glimpse of his rippled chest only made MC more aware of how alluring the evolver was.

“I’m aware,” she remarked. MC leaned in closer and fiddled with the drawstrings of the sweatshirt Gavin was wearing. “I know you’re always looking out for my prosperities."

The way MC was looking at him didn’t go unnoticed by the ever-observant police captain. Gavin’s hand tangled in the wavy locks of the producer’s hair, as he pushed her head closer to collide with his parted lips. His tongue danced along MC’s, and the cop’s free hand trailed down the cotton fabric of her dress to fondle the curve of her ass.

Not caring that they were in her company’s office, she pushed Gavin down onto one of the chairs and climbed onto his lap to straddle him. MC grinded her hips down onto Gavin’s newly formed erection, and she sucked hard on the side of his neck until a bright red mark was visible.

“You don’t mind that I left my mark on you, do you?” she purred.

MC’s lips crashed with Gavin’s, and he panted in a wild desperation, as she reached into pockets to pull out the handcuffs that he always had handy. Gavin’s eyes glazed with desire, and his trousers grew even tighter seeing MC dangle his handcuffs in front of his face.

“Is my naughty girl asking for a punishment?”

Gavin’s thumb pressed against her lip and MC obediently sucked on it, evoking a loud groan from her boyfriend. He could feel the dampness of her panties through his pants and Gavin impatiently thrusted his pelvis upwards, grinding through the fabric of their clothing, while pressing up against the sensitive nub of her clit.

“Yes, sir,” MC huffed. “Cuff me, officer.”

Gavin didn’t need to be told twice. He snatched the handcuffs from MC’s grasp, and promptly snapped the links onto each of their wrists. MC held up her wrist and experimentally tugged Gavin towards her while taking in her new restraint.

“Bondage suits you, Mr. Gavin,” she chuckled, before omitting a small shriek when Gavin firmly grasped the sides of her waist.

“Stand up,” he ordered. “Stand up and put one of your legs over my shoulder.”

MC reluctantly executed his command and inclined between his thighs. Trying to balance herself on the chair, the handcuffs joining them together clanked, and MC grabbed the hair on the back of Gavin’s head. Following his instructions, she threw her leg over his shoulder and quivered when Gavin’s teeth tugged away her underwear to the side.

“Just relax,” he murmured. “I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go anywhere.”

His tongue rubbed against MC’s clit before entering her slippery opening. The way he delicately stroked every inch of her sodden heat, and sporadically wringing the sensitive bundle of nerves longing to be touched was nearly enough to push MC over the edge. She tried to prevent herself from bucking like a madwoman, but the feeling of pleasure was overwhelming. And GOOD. There was no way MC could stop herself from humping his face.

“Oh, yes! Don’t you dare stop, Gavin!” MC urged amidst her satisfied mewls.

Ignoring her whines of complaint when he pulled away, Gavin temporarily abandoned his mission, and instead mischievously glinted at his lover.

“This is supposed to be a punishment, remember?”

Gavin and MC precipitously rose into the air and he tightened his grip on her. She anxiously squirmed while Gavin’s connected hand solidly supported her back, and the other shuffled his pants down to his ankles.

“Ever have an orgasm in the air before?”

“Obviously n-AH!”

MC’s voice hitched into keen hisses and her body violently convulsed from the sensation of Gavin’s member stretching her narrow walls. There was something erotic about the fact that they were making love in the air in the middle of her company’s office floor. The immodesty of the situation intensified MC’s arousal, allowing Gavin’s gliding movements to be brisker than normal. Her fingers entwined into his linked hand, and she whispered sweet ramblings of affection, enjoying the sentimental intimacy of becoming one with him.

“I love you,” MC muttered, as her stomach somersaulted signifying she was close to reaching her peak.

“Me too,” Gavin grunted, whilst the walls of the woman he loved fluttered around him.

Gavin soon reached his own climax and moaned in gratification from the explosive release of his load. He floated back down onto the chair, allowing MC to burrow into his warmth by closely snuggling up. She was reveling in the sound of his soothing heartbeat, when the sight of Gavin beginning to unlock the handcuffs distracted her.

“Wait!” she protested with a pout. “Can’t we stay together like this for a little while longer?”

Gavin bopped the tip of her nose with his finger, before leaning his own nose in to nestle against hers.

“With or without the handcuffs, we’re always going to be together anyways,” he affirmed. “I would never let anything stand in the way between us.”

“Promise?” she asked and stuck out her pinky for confirmation.

Gavin twisted his pinky around hers and nodded.

“Always and forever,” he pledged. “Although, we should probably go be together forever somewhere else rather than your office.”

Giggling, MC resignedly allowed Gavin to remove the handcuffs from their wrists. Resting her head on his arm, her fine gentleman escorted her to the elevator, but not before whispering into her ear with a vow of all the torturous ways his punishment would continue later.

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc gavin smut #mlqc fanfic #mlqc bai qi #mr. love gavin #mr. love queen's choice #love and producer #evol and love #follower appreciation

208 notes · View notes

allycryz · 4 years

Note

Duende - Uri & Haurche :3

PG because Haurchefant makes innuendo, set during early Stormblood.

The first draft of this was super easy to get out. The edits were a little harder because Urianger’s voice is very different from mine, but a good challenge all the same!!

‘Tis expected of a Scion to battle as expertly as one might pen a treatise. Urianger schedules two ventures per day to hone his physical talents: a bracing run before dawn and a lengthy solo training session at dusk. For the latter, he takes to the rocky shore along the coast line. The precarious climb to his preferred spot (providing both privacy and space) is part of his regimen.

Urianger picks the times when visibility is low and most residents occupied. Small talk is not his wont, nor is he at ease with those not in his immediate circle. There is something about his unmasked, unhooded face that gives strangers tacit permission to approach.

His position and decorum dictate that he engage somewhat in chatter during his errands. The residents do not press overmuch, for which he is grateful. Still, the task fits him worse than the too-small aldgoat leather gloves Lyse gifted him on his last Nameday. (Except, those he could not put on as easily as he might a polite demeanor. They refused to go past the breadth of his palm.)

There are days when the convenience of sunrise and sunset for sundry reasons, prove incompatible with other needs such as visibility and safety.

The unexpected rain pours down as he wends his weary way up the cliffs. It sluices through his hair, running rivulets over his brow. For the dozenth time, he swipes at his face and squints against the onslaught.

His feet remember where to place, his hands where to grip for balance. These are his cliffs and his winding, narrow path. No one knows it better. Should that memory etched into his muscle fail, a fall here would not be deadly.

‘Twould be painful though, and impact his duties for the next few days. For that latter reason–above all–he takes longer than usual along the rain-slicked terrain.

There, he thinks as he nears the safety of the plateau. Urianger blows out a soft breath of relief, relaxing muscles he has kept tense during the arduous journey. For this stretch he has always found it best to walk sideways, arms spread for balance. It has never been a treacherous spot, simply steep enough to warrant caution.

Today, treachery comes at last. He takes a step up the incline, shifts to lift the other foot. The slippery grass beneath his boots gives way and both feet shoot out from under him. He has enough presence of mind to throw his gravity forward rather than backwards.

The impact is unpleasant but survivable; naught but his palms and dignity scraped. Dirt and mud bespatter the front of his shorter training robe. The cotton garment ends below his knees, the boots just above. Thus the joints are spared injury besides a dull ache. He chooses an ignominious crawl up to the plateau rather than risk another fall by rising on the sodden incline.

The rain is not so courteous as to clean his garments. It does offer some reprieve as he turns his stinging palms up to the sky and rubs the rainwater against the creases of grime and grass.

Ah, well. Rain is uncommon enough that he should be glad when it comes. Should his comrades ever summon him to battle in such precipitation, he shall be well-prepared. Lord Haurchefant oft speaks of how training in winter climes these five years have better forged him for difficult conflict. (Urianger suspects it is not only snow and ice that stood in the knight’s way.)

He finds himself smiling, thinking of his new colleague. Though their base is near underground, ‘tis not wholly cut off from the outside world. Vents let in sunlight, rain can be heard pouring upon the streets. Like as not, Haurchefant put a kettle on soon as he perceived the change in weather.

The Waking Sands are enchanted to remain a cool temperature. If the sun does return in full force, they shall not overheat drinking cocoa.

Befouled, bedraggled, and besodden; he returns to the outskirts of Vesper Bay. The twilight and the rain have not put off the residents. A knot of people gathers near the market stalls, the hum of their voices rising just above the thrum of rain upon roof and stone and sea. The citizens hold cloaks and hands over their head as shields, one has a parasol meant for sun and aesthetics.

‘Tis a lovely pink one with expensive-seeming trim. A shame it is likely ruined.

The reason for their cluster becomes apparent. Lord Haurchefant is the focus upon which they circle, tallest among them save two other residents. His silvered head is bent to them as they harken to his low voice. This eve, he has garbed himself in a long scarlet coat over his usual apparel. ‘Tis the first time he has donned sleeves since his arrival.

(For all the good it did me to be tempered by winter, his lordship had said. It does make me rather pitiful in a desert. I shall do my best to acclimate to Thanalan.)

They all gaze upon him with utter rapture. It has ever been so, since his lordship’s residence began in the Waking Sands while Urianger’s comrades and Haurchefant’s love continued on to Gyr Abania. Their adoration is not due solely to his fair countenance or noble title, though both must aid the cause.

There is an...openness in him that beguiles all he meets. Urianger has witnessed the surliest residents and most peevish of vendors open like blossoms to the sun when Haurchefant turns the glory of his attention upon them. Such an unusual power he has seldom witnessed and never from so kind a soul as this knight.

There is no avoiding this throng, even would it not be unconscionably rude to avoid his guest. At least there is a smaller chance of strangers engaging him in conversation. Not with a beacon such as Haurchefant seizing their attention, both intentionally and involuntarily.

“-suppose he will be alright, he knows the land better than I.” He hears Haurchefant saying as he approaches. His noble brow is drawn down, his battle-sculpted arms folded. “But do let me know if you see him. No one expected this rainfall.”

Doth he….speak of me? Urianger wonders. As if attuned to his thoughts, his lordship turns his way. Surprise, then relief, and then rapture all pass across his handsome features.

“Urianger!” He exclaims. “Thank the Fury. I was worried–I know you favor treacherous paths,and with the dark and the rain…”

“I am well,” says Urianger. “Thy concern is much appreciated and noted. ‘Twould have been a perilous journey had I not been close acquainted with yon cliffs.”

Haurchefant steps towards him, gaze sweeping up and down. Lingering on his bare face, throat, and collar. “It seems it was perilous for your clothes. Let’s get you inside and taken care of, yes?”

One of the crowd smiles at Urianger. Mara, he recalls, the tall Hyur woman who hawks fruit. “Well, we’re glad you’re alright, ser. I was just telling June that I worry when I see you go off in the dark.”

“Ah,” he says, trying to recall which is June. The baker. Yonder woman with the braids who oft gives thee extra tea biscuits. “Tis not my intent to cause worry. I am well versed in the land and how best to scale it.”

“Even knowing that, do be careful.” Mara gives an imperious nod. Others nod as well, their eyes on him and not the handsome knight.

He can only nod again, bearing and smile stiff. He does not recall all their names. It makes him feel the most ill-mannered of scoundrels. He sweeps into a bow towards them, hoping it goes to some measure in repaying their concerns. “I shall endeavor to have a care, my lady. Your solicitous care bringeth warmth into mine heart, ‘tis only right I do well by all gathered.”

She smiles and pats his arm. This seems a signal for all to disperse, more residents bestowing upon him pats and nods. It is a wholly alien experience, and he considers he may be lying at the bottom of the cliff in the midst of a delusion. Surely he is not dear to all these people with whom he barely speaks.

“Come friend,” Haurchefant says. “You need to get out of those wet clothes and have something warm in your belly.”

“Thou art just as sodden,” says Urianger. “Pray also attend to yourself. Thou shouldst not catch sick for mine sake.”

“Ah but I would have done so gladly if I had to save you today.” The knight’s smile is wide again, fair dazzling in its potency. Again, Urianger is astonished any resident would look at him with Haurchefant there. Do they not sense the charm radiating from his very core? “I do thank you, for arriving when you did. There are much better games we might play in the dark than hide and seek.”

Urianger near trips on the steps up to the door. Of course, Haurchefant is there to catch him, strong hands righting his balance and smoothing over his back.

“I beg thine pardon,” says Urianger. Regretful that he has no mask or hood to hide the heat upon his cheeks. As Lord Haurchefant is cheeky himself to everyone, he is likely used to it. ‘Tis not the first time Urianger has witnessed or received innuendo delivered so warmly from this man. “Mayhap I used more energy than I surmised, during my exertions today.”

“Yes,” Haurchefant nods, opening the door. “All the more reason for you to come relax with me once you have cleaned up. I shall not have you burying yourself in work when you have earned respite.”

“For a little while,” says Urianger. He glances back at the streets, at the residents seeking shelter in houses and under awnings. At the way some of them look at them–at him. Relief and concern and warmth in their gazes. He frowns and cannot lose the change to his mien, even in the warmth and dry of the building.

Haurchefant pauses at the top of the stares, giving his shoulders a roll before beginning his descent. ‘Tis late and his friend is often tense in his upper body by the time supper comes. He will need help working the knots loose again. Perhaps Urianger might put off his tasks even further to repay Haurchefant’s worry and concern.

As to everyone else in Vesper Bay, he is at a loss on how to make recompense.

His friend reaches the door to their sanctum and turns back, looking up at Urianger still upon the landing. “Dear Urianger, what is the matter? That’s a rather pensive expression.”

“...I didst not realise the depth of their regard for mine person. Yon residents and I art not particularly close.” He shakes his head.

“Oh,” says Haurchefant, that entrancing smile returning to his mouth. “Do ask me an easier one next time.”

Facetiousness is not Haurchefant’s way. The ironic reply seems out of character. “Yes, I am aware the reasoning seems difficult to determine-”

“‘Tis not.” Haurchefant’s eyes crinkle with laughter. It does not sting–there is no malice in it. He doubts such a quality resides in the knight. “You are quite charming, even when cloaked. It inspires others to take interest in you.”

For the second time, Urianger says “I beg thine pardon? I am not given to using mine wiles-”

“No, no. We should all be in trouble should you do it apurpose. But you have a natural draw that leads people to want to know you. As you signal that is not what you want, they have kept their distance.”

It is an absurd supposition that Haurchefant says with all the conviction of his noble heart. So much does he seem to believe it; that Urianger wants to also trust it, if only for his friend’s sake. “I am...uncertain of the validity of thy premise. However, thy kindness and belief warms my heart. Wouldst that every man hath such a friend as you, my lord.”

At this, Haurchefant lets out a clear, ringing laugh. Again, there is no mockery in it. The sound is joyful and pleased, as seductive a sound as every part of the man. ‘Tis a wonder such a man as he thinks his draw is mirrored in Urianger.

“So I must endeavor to convince you of it, till you are no longer agreeing to humor me.” Haurchefant opens the door, shivering at the blast of magically cooled air upon his wet person. “Well, I look forward to the process. One could do far worse than spending an evening convincing a beautiful man of his charms.”

To that, Urianger has no answer. Nor does Haurchefant expect one. He winks and enters the Waking Sands, door closing behind him.

It occurs to him and the rapid beating of his heart, there is a reason he perceives Haurchefant as charming and beguiling and the one who everyone should desire. Projection has not been a key failing of his, but he has fallen prey to it before. And presently, it seems.

And Haurchefant is correct in one thing: there are far worse ways they might spend the evening. Perhaps Urianger shall put his work on hold tonight, to see the knight’s endeavor in full.

#haurchefant x urianger #background haurchefant x wol #ffxiv #:3 #ally writes

14 notes · View notes

keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

FIC: Musically Inclined (SpicyHoneyMustard, lemon)

Summary: Red isn't supposed to wake up with his Judge missing from his bed, thanks. Guess he should do something about that.

Tags: SpicyHoneyMustard, Fontcest, Fellcest, Sibling Incest, Threesome, Established Relationship, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, LEMONY GOODNESS!!

Sequel to:

Showtime

Secret Garden

A Judicious Amount of Effort

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

It was too fucking early in the am to be awake.

Even Edge was still asleep, and he always got up about half-past the asscrack of dawn to go for a run. The space in the bed between them that Rus usually occupied was empty and had been for long enough that they’d drifted closer, practically cuddling together. Red didn’t have a problem with that, exactly, hell, his bro was toasty at night, their own personal bedwarmer. Except that Rus was supposed to be there. Not off getting into shit on his own.

Little brat was slippery as an eel when he wanted to be and he’d slithered off fuck knew when, damn him. Red was always reluctantly impressed whenever he made one of his escapes, but damn it, one of these days he was going to turn their lanky little brat over his fucking knee. The point of them being around was to keep his bony ass safe, not because he and Edge felt like crawling up it.

Well. Not all the time.

Luckily, Red knew a trick or two of his own. He managed to escape from Sir Clings-A-Lot over there and wasn’t Edge gonna be pissed when he woke up alone? That was a problem for Future Red to deal with, Right Now Red had a brat to find.

It was kinda a relief and a disappointment that he didn’t have to go far.

Their living quarters were expansive, as they fucking well should be for the Judge and his Chosen. Large, airy rooms with plenty of wide sofas and squashy chairs, perfect for napping and cuddling, and scotch-guarded within an inch of their lives for any time they needed to handle their Official Duties. A television with all the best tech hooked up, movies and games, everything anyone needed for electronic entertainment. There was a well-equipped kitchen that Edge usually put to good use. Not only because his high HP made checking the ingredient for any tampering a cinch, but if Red and Rus were stuck cooking, they’d be living on frozen waffles and pop tarts. A bathroom with a hot tub big enough for a double orgy if Red wasn’t more inclined to ripping body parts off anyone who even gave Rus a nudge, much less tried to get a peek at what he was hiding under those flowy robes.

The only thing it didn’t have were many windows. No skylights, no big ol’ panes of glass to let in all the golden sunshine. There were plenty of overhead lamps to make up for it, it wasn’t a lack of light that was the problem for their honey. Their suite only had one picture window, complete with a window seat and that was where Rus was sitting, a burning cigarette held between two fingers.

He looked alright, considering he’d given a Judgement yesterday. No lingering shadows beneath his sockets, his magic glowing softly, healthily, in his joints. Rus was only wearing a tank top and a pair of pajama pants that prolly belonged to Edge from the way they were sagging off him, willowy thing that he was. Bare, bony feet sticking out of the too-short legs and from the way his toes were starting to curl, they were cold. No wonder, the curtains were drawn back and one of the windowpanes was cracked open, wide enough for Rus to tap the ash outside.

Rus didn't smoke often these days. Said all the Monsters out there looking up to him didn't like the idea of an avatar of the Angel carrying around a pack of Marlboro's. Far as Red was concerned, they didn't know what they were missing, and he was just fine with that. Rus smoked like there was only one thing he knew what to do with his mouth and the way his tongue curled behind his teeth, mouth pursing as he blew out a cloud of pale smoke was its own form of divinity.

Red climbed up to sit across from him, stretching out his much shorter legs alongside Rus's so that his foot was pressed lightly to the inside of one femur. He held out his hand and Rus handed over the pack wordlessly, offering the lighter when Red shook one out.

He made a show of lighting it first, inhaling a drag of hot smoke and breathing it out with, "ain't supposed to be over here alone, sweets."

Rus shrugged, but his mouth thinned, teeth tightening around the filter. "i'm fine."

Wasn't even close to the point and Rus knew it. Red let it drop, this time. The glass was bulletproof and if a sniper could manage to bend a bullet enough to hit Rus in the brain pan through the narrow, opened pane, then having an entire fleet of guards around wouldn't make much difference.

They smoked together in silence, watching as the paling darkness slowly brightened, the sun climbing back over the horizon. Red could still remember seeing his first sunrise, standing cliffside along with the other lower guard, his brother at his side as he watched all those unknown colors as they streaked across the sky. Didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching ‘em.

He wondered where Rus was in those days. Rus didn’t talk much about before he was a Judge other than saying flatly that he was nobody. Couldn’t be that simple, though. The Queen knew him back then, had to be some kind of story there.

But then, Red had his own reasons for not thinking much about the old days, a fact that came out and bit him on the coccyx when Rus chose to speak again.

"do you remember when we were kids?" Rus said, softly. His face was turned towards the window, pale eye lights watching the bright disk of the sun as it crested. "before we came to the surface?” He shook his head with a soft laugh. “remember all the trouble we used to get into with grillby in those days, we’re lucky we got out alive."

Red took a steadying drag off his cigarette, ignored the painful lurch in his soul as he breathed it out. "yeah, i remember. wasn't you, though, honey."

He didn’t know how to decipher the little smile that curved Rus’s mouth, secretive as Mona Lisa’s twin brother.

Usually, Red could get a pretty good read on people, but eh, most people weren’t a Judge, now were they. Those pale eye lights didn’t gutter out, his voice was only his own, only Rus as he said, "it was, a little. a part of me, anyway. do you ever wish you’d had a chance for him to choose you instead of me?"

Yeah, that was a land mine question wasn’t it, and Red had a foot firmly on top.

Red loved Rus and didn't have a problem telling him. He'd whisper it against the side of his skull, breathe it into his mouth, spell it with his tongue against his cunt, shout it at a fucking press conference if that was what needed to be done. It was the truth and he wasn't gonna deny Rus for anything. But some things weren't up for discussion and some answers shouldn’t ever hit air.

"don't," Red said gently. His ciggie was burned almost to the filter and he took another drag anyway, tasted bitter, burning cellulose. “don't do any good to think about the past, anyway."

"heh, i spend half my life living in the past." But Rus sat up straighter, tamped out the butt into the ashtray and that unpleasantly unreadable look turned to one that Red knew all too well, playfully mischievous. "now is pretty good time to be in, though. you want me to suck you off?"

His cock surged to form before Rus even finished the last word and Red was already kicking off his shorts. "you ever need to ask?"

There was something about seeing Rus on his knees. He lived in symbiosis with the Judge, he was an avatar for the Angel herself. And yet here he was, kneeling before Red as if he was something to revere, not some thug who managed to wrangle a place in the guard, tricked and tripped his way up the ladder until it came time for a Choosing.

Both Rus’s hands were on Red’s femurs, holding them apart as his thumbs stroking the insides absently, but that wasn’t the real show. His face, now, that was where it was. Sockets closed, his expression one of the purest bliss while he sucked luxuriously, worshiping Red with his mouth, fuck. Like an obscene sheath around his cock, soft and plush, lined with velvety golden magic and his formed tongue curled around the shaft, the tip teasing at the head.

Rus hadn’t always been so good at this; once he’d been a flustered virgin, not knowing how to ask for what he needed and more than a little desperate not to take anything they weren’t willing to offer. He and Edge spent a good amount of time diligently training that out of him. Gone were the days of accidental teeth scrapes and awkward choking, one time even a genuine bite from a nervous beginner. Nowadays Rus went down like an expert and Red could only bite back a groan and let the student take over as the master, watching greedily.

Gorgeous bastard. There wasn’t a thing in the entire fucking world Red wouldn’t give Rus, no dust he wouldn’t grind into his hands for the chance to watch this, the slow glide of his dick in and out of Rus’s mouth, crimson ectoflesh glistening wetly between thrusts and a thin rill of that golden saliva trailing down Rus’s chin.

Fucking gorgeous was what he was and Red wiped away that thread of wetness with his thumb, raised it up to lick it clean, filling his mouth with the taste of Rus’s sweetness.

Barely, Rus’s sockets slit open, pale eye lights flicking up to watch Red’s face and he wondered vaguely at what Rus saw there. Whatever it was, he liked it, humming appreciatively, and the vibration made Red gasp, knees jackknifing against Rus’s grip, trying to clutch against his skull as Red hunched over him.

“you little shit,” Red groaned out and fuck, he could feel that chuckle, didn’t do him no favors when it came to stamina, neither. Didn’t have much as it was and none at all against this brat’s teasing.

He heard the footsteps before Rus did, but that was his job, even when he was balls-deep into his Judge’s throat. His brother came around the corner, fucking finally some back up. Still in his own pajamas, black silk of course, pretentious fucker, but he froze at the sight of them, his eye lights flaring.

Maybe it was Edge’s indrawn breath Rus heard, maybe the clatter of his phalanges as they clenched into fists. Whatever it was, he paused, sockets widening as he started to pull off, and nope, that wasn’t on the agenda. Red set a hand on the back of his skull and pushed hard, forced him back down until he was swallowing desperately against the pressure of a cockhead against the back of his throat.

That little move got him a scowl from Edge that Red met with a smirk. He wasn’t hurting Rus none and if his bro wanted to stop him, all he needed to do was come on over and join the fun.

From the way his hands were jerking at the ties of his pants, that was pretty much the idea.

Red let Rus strain a minute longer, his breaths coming in frantic little puffs through his nasal cavity, fingers clenched tight in the window seat cushion. Then he let up and Rus drew back enough to glare up a Red, those pretty, pale eye lights tinging towards gold that was as bright as the sunlight filtering through the window. Heh, didn’t escape his notice that Rus didn’t pull off completely and the curling flex of his tongue made for one hell of a distraction. Red stroked a hand across Rus’s skull apologetically, taking care with his sharpened fingertips as he murmured, "don’t move, sweetheart.”

He didn’t, kneeling obediently still and his sockets went wide as Edge’s hands settled on his pelvis, gently drawing him up until it was nicely positioned with Rus’s hands braced on the floor for balance. His loose pajama pants were tugged easily down to his knees and Red couldn’t get a good angle to see what his bro was doing, but when Rus made a high, startled sound, the fresh vibration around his cock made Red groan, trying not to come right then.

He could hear the slick sound of his brother's fingers moving. No surprise there, Rus was probably already soaking wet, the inside of his femurs painted with it and his clit swollen and sensitive to even the lightest touch. Kid had to get fucked, that was simply part of who he was. What made it even better was that he fucking loved it, wasn’t any virgin left to their sweet little Judge these days, but a hot, lovely blush still flooded his cheekbones as Edge fingered him, whispering encouragingly, “That’s it, love, you’re so wet, so perfect. Relax now, let me in.”

Rus’s hips were shifting, flexing, trying to ride whatever rhythm those fingers were following, senseless little sounds gurgling in his cock-filled throat turning to whimpers of dismay when they withdrew.

“hang on, honey,” Red told him breathlessly, fucking hell, he was getting too close, they needed to hurry it up or this spitroast was gonna turn into a duet. “hang on, let him get his cock in you.” The shush of Rus’s knees was loud against the rug as he spread his femurs as wide as he could with those loose pajama pants of his still tangled around his legs.

"Shift up, love," Edge murmured. His cock was out now, Edge stroking himself generously until deep crimson pre-cum gleamed at the tip. All ready to fill their honey up and it was worth watched Edge's face as he lined up and sank into him, fuck yeah. Made for a hell of a show the way his expression tightened, mouth falling open, sockets squeezing shut and revealing more than his bro probably realized. It was good to see, some resentful little part of Red glad that he wasn’t the only one utterly absorbed by this brat.

Rus’s rhythm got lost somewhere in the middle, his mouth going slack around Red’s shaft. That was okay, couldn’t blame him for being a lil’ distracted with his bro filling him to the brim with dick. The angle wasn’t a good one for Red to get a peek, but it was a sight he’d seen before, his bro was packing a formidable piece and he went in deep, their pelvises clacking together on the first hard thrust.

Rus wasn’t even sucking anymore, tears and drool running down his face in thin, golden streaks but Red didn’t mind taking over. He gripped Rus’s jaw in both hands to hold his head steady on his wobbly neck as Red fucked that pretty face, rode the soft, plush tongue that wound around his shaft.

So fucking worth it, Rus struggling to take him, trying to follow along, but he and Edge were running the show now. Fucking was like making a song, the slick sound of Edge’s cock moving in that tight pussy matched to the messy slurps of Rus struggling to swallow Red down, with a chorus of Rus whimpering and pleading in gurgling cries. All those harsh, obscene noises building up into a shatteringly vulgar crescendo.

There was a choice to be made, face or swallow, and Red grunted out a curse as he pushed in deep, holding Rus’s head down as he came down his formed throat with a hot spill of burning seed. Some part of Rus must’ve liked that, the taste of cum or the rough handling, ‘cause he shuddered and came too, his groans sweet and muffled, as guttural thick in his throat as the cum he was swallowing down.

Distantly, Red could hear Edge groaning, too, probably decorating their pretty honey’s cunt and thighs with his own shade of crimson, but right then, it was all white-hot sensation and losing himself, losing little pieces of himself to Rus the way he always did.

S’alright. Rus already had a pretty firm hold on his soul. May as well let him keep the rest.

-finis-

Read the Next Chapter

#fontcest #keelywolfe #underfell papyrus #underfell sans #underswap papyrus #underswap #underfell #lemony goodness #papcest #spicyhoney #honeymustard #spicyhoneymustard #bodyguard au

40 notes · View notes

averykedavra · 4 years

Text

Leave No Trace (Chap. 21)

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

Virgil's elbow was mashed into Patton's face. It smelled like dirt and blood and elbow. Patton thought about asking him to move it, but there wasn't any place Virgil could move it to—they were all crowded together at the end of the tunnel, looking out at the darkness below, trying not to make a sound.

Janus had led them to an opening in the wall. A few feet down was the surface of the biggest cavern Patton had seen so far. He'd told them to wait and now they were waiting, pressed together with Remus clinging to the wall and Logan two steps from falling off entirely. Patton watched a few stalactites drip and wondered if this was the heart or not.

"Is this the heart?" Patton finally asked, trying to be as whisper-quiet as possible.

"No," Janus said.

"Then why are we here?" Virgil shifted and only managed to jab his elbow further into Patton's cheek. "My leg's falling asleep."

"It's the quickest path to the heart."

Logan looked at the huge cave. "How is that a path—"

"Shh!" Janus leaned out and peered around. "They'll be here any minute now, if I remember the schedule correctly—"

"You'd better," Virgil muttered. "Also, who's 'they'?"

"Do we have to fight anyone?" Remus scurried farther up the wall. "I wanna fight someone!"

"No fighting," Janus said wearily. After only twenty minutes of proximity to Remus, he was already gaining the exhausted tone of most who spoke with him. "We're just waiting for—"

A distant skittering of claw on rock and a blast of wind.

"There we are." A smile flashed over Janus' face. "Right on time. Hide."

Everyone scrambled back into the tunnel. Patton pressed himself against the rocks and clapped his hand over his mouth, dimming Sparky until the fire was just a glimmer in his hand. He watched the opening again, unable to see anything but darkness and the occasional gleam of water.

Whoosh.

Something huge flew past. Patton caught cerulean scales and deep blue eyes before just darkness again. A few wingbeats. Silence.

"What," Virgil said slowly, his voice pitched in the way it did when he was panicked, "was that."

"Whoever was on flyover came back." Janus didn't move from his perch halfway up the wall. How'd he even done that? "Wait for a little longer, someone else is going to fly back up to take their place."

Patton nodded. Sitting still for so long was making his knees cramp and his back itch. But he definitely didn't want to be noticed by a dragon, especially one in dragon form with big wings and big claws.

They waited in silence. Except for Remus, who tried to draw Logan into a word association game. Janus groaned and waved a hand like he could steal their words away from them. It didn't work, but after Virgil gave Logan a pointed glare, he quietly spoke to Remus and Remus stopped talking immediately.

Logan and Remus were closer now, Patton was realizing. They'd always been close, of course—but friend close. Now they seemed to do everything in unison, or at least with agreement from both sides. They made each other laugh easily. They gave each other silent looks that seemed to convey whole conversations. They kept touching each other lightly on the back and sides, like little reminders or encouragements or just statements of "I'm here."

That made Patton smile. This whole thing had been a disaster and a terrible ordeal. But…there was a bit of a silver lining for them.

Patton looked up at Janus, who glanced at him and gave him an encouraging smile.

Yeah, Patton had a silver lining, too.

They kept waiting. Patton started tossing a rock up and down and watching it land on its pointy edge ninety percent of the time. Maybe he shouldn't be using up his luck, but luck wasn't really something that could be used up, and the most his luck had done for a while was just make sure he didn't die.

Or maybe that was all Patton. Who knew.

Distant wingbeats startled Patton, and he dropped the rock. He pressed himself against the wall again, damp clinging to his neck and hair. Janus placed a finger to his lips and Remus scooted even higher on the wall.

Silver scales this time. A brief flash of red eyes. Silence.

Janus sighed in relief and unpeeled himself from the wall. He motioned for the rest of them to follow as he slipped through the opening and jumped into the cave below. Patton sat up, shook out his leg which had fallen asleep, and followed the others through the opening.

Then he got his first good look, and his jaw dropped open.

It wasn't a cave after all. It was a tunnel, the biggest tunnel Patton had ever seen in his life. The walls were smooth and practically circular. The sleek floor—so sleek Patton's feet skidded on it and he had to fight for balance—dropped away sharply into the gloom. Far below, deep within the darkness, he thought he saw a flash of fire.

Patton turned around and looked up. A steep incline of stone and…light. Sunlight. Patton almost winced at the suddenness of it, even though it was barely more than coin-sized. Somewhere up there was an exit.

He took a step forward, slipped, and almost fell. Janus grabbed his waist and pulled him back up.

"Watch your step," Janus chided. "That goes for all of you."

"That's—" Logan looked around, eyes wide. "What is this?"

"The main tunnel. Hey, we've got to get in and out somehow, don't we?" Janus ran his hand along the wall. "It was made by a wyndworm centuries ago. Think giant slimy snake with no eyes," he added when everyone looked confused. "The worm itself is long dead but this is what we built our tunnel system around. The heart itself used to be its nest."

Patton shuddered.

"Cool, cool, cool." Remus pointed at the light far above them. "And that is a way out. So are we gonna—"

"Too noticeable," Janus said. "Everyone uses that entrance, they'd see us easily. Besides, it's in slightly the wrong direction."

"And," Patton added, who was still struggling for purchase on the stone, "I'm pretty sure we'd all fall and break a bone if we tried to climb that."

Janus nodded. "Good point. Only one of us can fly."

"So we're going…down?" Virgil asked, turning to stare at the receding walls and the black hole far beneath them. "Please tell me we're not going down."

"We're going down," Janus said, his smirk illuminated by Patton's fire.

"Dammit." Virgil sighed. "I guess I shouldn't have expected anything else."

"Question." Logan was sliding back and forth on the slick surface of the stone. "This seems highly unstable for walking, and a place that is relatively open and in which we could be easily spotted. How are we supposed to get down in time?"

"Well," Janus said, "either I fly you down—which is really not stealthy and I'm pretty sure Virgil wouldn't like it—or…"

"Or?" Patton asked, beginning to feel a little worried.

"Or we make this quicker." Janus grinned. "Logan, I think you can piece this one together. If there is a tube with a low amount of friction and we need to get down it very fast, what's the logical plan?"

"Well, we'd probably—" Logan paused. "Oh."

"Oh what?" Virgil looked around wildly. "What are we doing?"

Patton tried to piece things together, but he was coming up blank.

"We slide!" Remus exclaimed, clapping his hands together. "On our butts!"

Virgil's eyes somehow managed to widen even further. "We what?"

"Relax, you'll be fine." Janus allowed himself a smirk. "Probably."

Virgil did not look reassured. Patton had to admit that as much as he liked slides, a super-smooth tunnel with possible dragons at the other end was not his idea of a fun time.

"I'll go first!" Remus sat down and paused. "Jay-Jay, anything I should know before I do this? Don't wanna land in a bunch of dragon eggs."

"You'll be able to stop yourself," Janus said. "And trust me, you'll see when the tunnel ends. Also, don't call me Jay-Jay ever, thank you."

"Gotcha, Janny Boy!" Remus ignored Janus' groan and pushed himself off. He slipped a few inches down and a few inches more, and soon he was gathering speed, leaning back and letting himself slide. Patton heard him whoop as he disappeared into the darkness. At least one of them was having fun.

"Don't make so much noise…" Virgil called after him, trailing off in resignation.

"I suppose someone should make sure he doesn't die," Logan said, and in a flash he was following Remus, going way faster than Remus through use of strategic leans and twists. Patton waved a little as Logan disappeared.

"I hate this," Virgil grumbled, but he reluctantly dropped to the ground. It took him three tries to work up the courage to push off. Then he slipped a few inches, stopped himself, slipped a few more inches, stopped himself, and stared at Patton in horror. "I don't want to."

"You can do it!" Patton encouraged.

"Look." Janus slid on his bare feet and somehow managed to come to a stop right by Virgil. "If it helps, I'll give you a push. And I promise I'll be right behind you."

Virgil nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. Janus shoved Virgil gently between his shoulder blades and Virgil slid down the tunnel, arms crossed over his chest, going pretty slow but still making good progress.

Patton smiled at Janus. "Go ahead. You said you'd be right behind him."

"I did," Janus agreed. "You'll follow?"

"I always do."

Janus smiled back and in a flash of yellow he was sliding down expertly. Like he'd done this a million times before. Patton wondered if he'd done dares here as a kid, or just enjoyed sliding with his friends like Patton did on snowy hills during the winter. Then again, he'd said he didn't have any friends. Maybe he just did it on his own.

That made Patton feel kind of sad. He loved sledding and playing on slides, but it would be no fun if his friends weren't there.

As Janus disappeared with a final wave of hair, Patton steeled himself. He sent Sparky down, but Sparky stopped a few feet away, bobbing up and down, waiting for him.

"Alright," Patton said to himself. "Let's do this."

He carefully sat down on the slippery stone. He could already feel himself sliding and he instinctively dug his hands and feet into place to keep himself steady. A gust of wind came tumbling down the tunnel, and when Patton sniffed it, he thought he smelled trees.

They were so close to an exit, so close to sunlight, so close to escape—

And they were going the other direction. Deeper into the Mountain. To the heart. Patton was turning his back on the light and slipping farther into the shadows.

Because Janus said this was the path.

Did Patton trust Janus?

With his life.

Patton closed his eyes, breathed out, and let himself fall.

He slid down into the darkness, the walls falling away around him, gaining speed until he wasn't sure he could stop himself if he tried. Wind whipped against his face, tossed his curls, and made him screw up his eyes even more. He made the mistake of putting one hand down and got a bit of a scrape. It stung. But it was just one more injury added to about seven or eight, and soon, if this worked, Patton would be able to take a look at it safely. He'd be going home.

Home which was the exact opposite direction right now. Home was up. He was going down.

He was going down because he trusted Janus, and because he didn't see another option, and because at this point he was going way too fast to stop himself.

He cracked one eye open and saw only darkness. Well, darkness and Sparky, sliding next to him and sending blue sparks flying into the air like metal on metal.

Patton decided to close his eyes again.

Then he decided to open them. Because he'd need to stop himself eventually, wouldn't he? He had no idea how, of course, but he felt it was kind of important. He didn't want to just skid into the center of the Mountain and get pressed into a little rock in the middle of the bigger rocks. Patton carefully extended a hand just to see if he could. It wobbled in the slipstream and felt kind of like he was attempting to push it out of a waterfall. But it stayed there.

He tried putting his hand down on the stone.

Ow. Not doing that again.

Instead, he dug his feet in. His momentum slowed. Or he hoped it slowed based on the lessening of the wind in his face. He couldn't be sure. Everything looked the same, the walls around him were endless, and it was all too dark—

Fire beneath him. Not his own blue fire. A familiar yellowy fire, the fire of dragons, the fire he remembered from that night so long ago where everything started. He'd gone to sleep that night thinking about his toy animals, and whether he was going to take which chores the next morning, and if he could possibly convince his moms to get a puppy. Then he'd woke up to dragons and the world had changed.

Everything was confusing now. Everything was dangerous now. Patton had almost drowned and swallowed spiders and made a deal with a Faerie that still might backfire and found out that he was descended from said Faerie and got magical powers and crossed a secret-keeping bridge and made a friend. It had all been a mess, and he'd said he'd get to the Mountain and he had, which was more than anyone else had ever done.

Of course, getting out of the Mountain was another matter altogether.

It was dark inside the Mountain, and it was cold, and even the fire was too dangerous to keep Patton warm.

It was dark, he was falling, everything was out of control and he was suddenly wishing fervently that it had all never happened in the first place—

Except that felt wrong.

Because yeah, he'd almost died. And he'd gotten kidnapped. And he'd messed up. And he'd made mistakes. And he'd hurt Janus, who was now his friend. And he'd lied and he'd cheated and he'd almost gotten them killed and he'd been scared and angry and lost.

But…

But they'd made it this far.

Patton had gotten himself this far.

He'd found Logan and Remus. He'd helped Janus and Virgil. He'd made a new friend, mastered some new magic, and conquered a new adventure. He'd saved a unicorn! And outwitted a Faerie! And rescued his best friend! And helped Janus fly again! And it had all been kind of mish-mashed and not very great at times and sometimes they'd taken two steps backward with every step forward, but they'd still managed to get somewhere.

If all this had never happened, they'd be safe. Patton would be with his friends and powerless, content, still scared to speak and still compelled to answer every question because he couldn't admit what they did to him. Powerless, scared, and lost—lost in an entirely different way. So lost he didn't even realize there was a path he was supposed to be on in the first place.

But he'd found it. And lost it again, and stepped off it accidentally, and followed his friends off it, and struggled up and down it. And lost it, and found it, and followed it, and trusted that Janus knew what he was doing, and Janus had made mistakes but he'd also gotten them somewhere and neither of those things canceled the other out. They just existed, two halves of a whole, two different fuels of the same fire. Everything was good and bad and whatever was in the middle and it felt mixed-up and patchwork and strangely okay.

And it didn't matter, after all, the paths they'd taken. They were where they were. They were who they were. They'd done what they did and said what they said and hindsight was twenty-twenty but all they could really do was look forward. Keep following the path or find their own path. And figure out the next step from there.

The past didn't matter. It was all behind you, and if you wanted you could retreat to it, run back down the path to the last place you felt stable. But that didn't get you anywhere at all. Look back all the time and you'd trip over your own feet because you hadn't been watching your step.

The past couldn't be changed. But Patton could change his present. That was what really mattered.

He'd done what he did, made his mistakes, and a million terrible things had happened and maybe it could have been different but it wasn't. He was here now. It was dark, he was falling, and Janus was somewhere below him and Janus would catch him.

And if Janus didn't, Patton would reach out and catch himself.

Because he knew how to, by this point. He'd fallen enough times to learn how to avoid it.

The fire grew brighter in Patton's eyes. The darkness was fading away piece by piece. He still slid expertly over the stone but the incline was leveling out a bit and the walls widened ever-so-slightly. Somewhere beneath him, he thought he saw a few silhouettes of people, standing at the lip of a room that glowed as brightly as the sun.

There it was.

Patton smiled and ground his heels into the stone.

He skidded, stumbled, and feet from the ledge, scrambling to his feet, grinning wildly like he'd been having fun. Maybe he had. Or maybe it was just the way he felt—loose and relaxed and boundlessly open. As if all his worries had been left behind in the wind.

Sparky bounced over to Patton and Patton gave it a little bump as a high-five. In the piercing light, Sparky was dim and almost invisible. Patton added a little more power and felt his head swim, just a bit. Okay. So his power did have limits—good to know.

"Good, you're here." Patton looked up to see Janus nodding at him. Virgil was standing next to him, arms crossed and hair mussed up wildly. Remus was still grinning and whispering "Awesome" to himself. Logan was straightening his shirt and giving the dark hole behind them suspicious looks.

Patton waved at them all and took a few unsteady steps over. Janus looked surprisingly unruffled, save for a few streaks of dirt on his clothes, and Patton found that unfair.

When he reached the edge, however, all thoughts of the tunnel flew from his head.

Beneath the lip of the tunnel was a huge cavern. Every stalactite was the size of Patton's whole body, and a ring of fire around the edge made them all appear to glow. Hundreds of treasures and eggs and dragons were strewn across the floor, all edged with flames and impossible to distinguish from each other. The brightness of the light made Patton squint. He focused on the walls nearest to him and saw they were pockmarked with tunnels, some big and some small, like a giant wasp nest.

"Whoa," he breathed, because he felt he was supposed to say something.

Janus didn't look impressed, which made sense, because he'd probably been here dozens of times. He only spared the ground a glance. "There are some dragons here—they look asleep, but we'll need to be quiet."

"There are what?" Virgil peeked over the edge, flinched, and shuffled back several feet. "No, no, no."

Patton placed a hand on his arm. "Jan, what do we do?"

"The closest exit that'll work is…" Janus scanned the tunnels and pointed at a smaller one with two stalactites over the entrance like fangs. "That one."

"That's like all the way over there, though." Remus frowned. "How're we gonna…?"

Janus pointed again, and Patton noticed a small rope bridge along the side, crafted of stone and wood and hastily tied to the wall. It dipped around some of the tunnels and wound all the way around several times, looking like a ribbon against the rock.

"No," Virgil said simply. "No, absolutely not."

"My apologies, we'll just fly over there by flapping our arms." Janus waved his hands mockingly. "You first."

"You can fly," Logan pointed out.

"The rest of you can't, and I can only carry maybe two people at once."

"Wait." Remus frowned. "There are four of us."

"A remarkable observation and the entire point of what I was saying."

"So…" Patton hesitated. "How are you getting all of us off the Mountain?"

Janus stared at Patton for a few seconds. Then he swore.

"We could go in pairs," Logan suggested.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Patton decided. "Right now, we've got another bridge to cross."

Everyone turned to look at the little makeshift ledge. It had some sort of rail but it was broken in places and looked like a strong gust of wind could knock it over. Patton privately thought they might have better luck trying to fly.

"That looks terrifying," Virgil finally managed in a strangled voice. "It's like a combo of the bridge and the cliff, both of which almost killed us!"

"If it's any comfort," Janus said, "I doubt this bridge fills your mind with your deepest insecurities. And I don't think there are any gryphons."

Virgil glanced down into the heart. "There are dragons, though."

Janus looked like he didn't have an argument for that.

"Let's go slow," Patton decided. "Okay? If one of us slips, catch them. If things go really wrong…fight, I guess."

Nobody looked too excited about that. But Janus sighed and walked over to the edge where the bridge dipped below their tunnel. He sat down, let himself fall forward, and caught himself on the rocks so his feet hit the bridge lightly and neatly. He crept down the bridge a few feet and motioned for everyone else to follow.

Logan slipped down next, almost as silent as Janus, tripping on the edge of the bridge but catching himself just in time. Patton decided to follow. He bumped his way down the rocks, heart hammering, and managed to find purchase on the bridge. It creaked under him. Virgil was right—this whole thing brought back bad memories. Well, hopefully nobody would fall off this time. And hopefully he wouldn't light the whole thing on fire. Patton pulled Sparky away from the edge of the bridge anyway, just for safety.

A light thump behind Patton and a swear, which meant Virgil had joined them. Patton scooted further down the bridge and sent Virgil a smile. Virgil, who was already curling into his hoodie and pressing against the wall nervously, gave a shaky one back.

Remus shook the whole bridge with his landing. Patton grabbed wildly at the wall to steady himself. Virgil swore again.

"Sorry," Remus said in a harsh whisper. "I tripped on the way down."

"It's fine," Janus hissed. "Follow me and stay quiet."

Staying quiet, Patton found, was very hard. Every step made the whole bridge creak and shake. Every wrong move sent him tumbling to the stone wall, which hurt, or tumbling towards open air, which would hurt very much when the open air eventually stopped. Fortunately, he was getting better at sensing when he was about to trip and throwing himself in the direction of the wall. And Virgil also caught him when he needed it.

Up ahead, Logan slipped and fell. Patton reached for him and missed, but Janus grabbed his arm and hauled him back upright.

"Watch your step," Janus whispered, eyes flashing to Patton. Patton smiled.

It took too long to get to the tunnel. Janus was setting the pace and each step of his was small and hesitant, so Logan was doing the same and Patton was doing the same and Virgil was somehow being even slower and Remus was practically a snail. Patton didn't blame any of them. The bridge swayed if they stepped too hard, and then one of them might fall off, and if someone fell off they'd definitely be noticed by the sleeping forms below. Two blue dragons, he'd finally made out, and one the color of a pinkish sunset, and a huge black dragon with silver horns.

"Who's that?" Patton whispered.

Logan glanced down. "Black is usually a juvenile color. Their scales gain color later on. That…does not look like a juvenile, though."

"It's Mara," Janus snapped. "And shh."

"It's who?" Virgil stared at the dragon in horror. "We're trying not to wake up Mara?"

"Shh!"

Virgil obligingly shhed, but he kept glancing down and shuddering. Patton didn't blame him. From what he'd seen and heard of Mara, he did not want her finding out they were trying to escape.

Patton slipped again. Virgil caught him. They were more than halfway to the tunnel entrance. At least, Patton hoped this was the tunnel entrance. A lot of the tunnels kind of looked the same. Janus probably knew what he was doing, though, and they just had to follow Janus! So it would be fine!

It would be fine.

Patton glanced at the dragons far below them and cold shivers trembled in his chest. Sparky pressed closer to him, but even the familiar warmth couldn't comfort him.

He stepped, stepped again, stepped again. He focused on his feet, on the scuffed lining of his shoes, on the dirt smeared on his overalls. He'd have to get new overalls after this, probably. His moms would be upset. But he really didn't want to wear these ever again. They were more shredded than intact in most places and torn up in a way stitches wouldn't fix.

Step. Step. Step. Stare at his feet. Don't look down. Don't think about the dragons only a little ways below. Step. Step. Step.

There was a loud noise below them. Patton almost screamed and Virgil swore, cutting himself off mi-word by clapping a hand over his mouth. Janus stopped walking and Logan almost fell into him.

Patton carefully looked down.

One of the dragons—the pink one—was yawning and stretching their wings. They twisted their neck, blinked lazily a few times, and started to uncurl.

Patton looked to Janus. Janus looked terrified, which wasn't a good sign.

Well, maybe it wouldn't see them? If Patton just stood very still and pressed himself into the rock wall, he'd become a rock too. And it would be fine.

The dragon raised their head and stared directly at them.

Virgil was shaking violently next to Patton. Logan's hands were white on the rock. Remus was swearing under his breath, even more colorfully than Virgil.

Patton just stared, every inch of his body frozen, waiting to get swooped up and killed.

The dragon tilted their head, deep brown eyes watching them carefully.

"We should walk," Janus advised. "It makes us look like we're supposed to be doing what we're doing."

Nobody, including Janus, moved an inch. Patton was pretty sure he couldn't move if he tried.

"Emile, leave." Janus was muttering it under his breath. "Leave, leave, leave—"

Emile couldn't possibly hear them. But his eyes narrowed slightly and his wings extended.

Then he was off, flying through the air, and Patton would never get used to seeing a dragon midflight. The way their tail dipped and twisted to control their balance, the way their wings gripped the air like it was water, the way their heads bobbed up and down and their legs tucked up and their horns gleamed. Up close, Emile wasn't all pink—there were little flares of orangy-yellow around his belly, like a tinge of morning sun.

He was flying way too close. Patton pressed even farther into the rock until he was sure he was making stone-sized impressions in his skin.

Janus was stock-still, watching Emile with narrowed eyes.

Emile flew.

Right past them, towards the big tunnel, as if he hadn't seen them at all.

Patton stared at him. This had to be a trap. Why was he just avoiding them? They must have looked so suspicious, and Emile knew Patton and Virgil weren't supposed to be out—

Emile met Patton's eyes and winked.

And he was gone in a flash of wings, leaving silence in the heart of the Mountain. Silence and five very intimidated teenagers, still doing their best impersonations of rocks.

Patton's heart felt like it was going to leap out of his chest.

He looked to Janus. Because Janus would know what was happening, and if they were safe, and if Emile was going to come back with a bunch of friends and try to rip them open.

Janus closed his eyes, breathed a sigh of relief, and whispered "Thanks, Emile."

And Patton smiled.

Virgil peeled himself off the wall. Logan relaxed his grip. Remus swore cheerfully. Janus pushed himself off and kept walking, his shoulders a little less tight, still taking every step carefully.

Patton walked again. He kept his eyes on his feet and his ears pricked for any more noises. There was nothing—nothing but the gentle whisper of Virgil's hoodie, the light footfalls and little creaks of their movements, and the occasional little rush of wind. The heart didn't smell or feel like the rest of the Mountain. It was damp but cozily so, and it had a kind of heat that scorched Patton's bones and made him feel set bare against the stone. Like the light beneath them was scouring him and scrubbing him clean.

There was nothing about this place that was terrifying. It was just a huge cavern with some dragons inside. But something about the light, something about the smell, something about the journey to get here set Patton on edge. This whole place felt wrong to him. It was so new and so big—and there was nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. They were exposed with no shadows to duck into and no dappled cover from the sky. It felt like they were back on that road, so long ago, with the sun beating down and only rippling corn for miles. Patton had hated that, because of the heat, but it wasn't scary. Not like this.

Maybe it was all the things they'd been through. Shadows meant bad things, but light in the Woods meant even worse. Maybe Patton was accustomed to hiding by now.

Or maybe Patton was just scared of falling and also dragons.

That would also make sense.

Patton took a deep breath. It smelled like ash. Ash and rust and old paper and spices, a heavy and thick scent, thicker than water. It sloughed off the walls and dripped from the ceiling and covered Patton's shoulder like a blanket.

If Patton really concentrated, he could smell the mud on Virgil's hoodie and the dried blood on his own skin. If Patton closed his eyes and listened hard, he could hear everyone's breathing—Virgil's a little too fast, Remus' a little too loud, Logan's almost imperceptible, and Janus' far ahead. So steady that he had to be doing it on purpose.

Patton found himself following Janus' breathing. In and out, in and out, a rhythm in line with his steps. Sparky bounced alongside him on the same rhythm. In, out, step, step, bounce, bounce, make his way along the bridge and try his best not to fall.

He licked his lips and tasted fire.

"Almost there," Janus whispered. Patton heard Virgil sigh in relief. The tunnel up ahead was a little higher than the bridge with those two stalactites in the entrance and a little nick alongside it. Pure darkness inside, but at this point Patton didn't expect anything else. And he kind of looked forward to it. Cool darkness felt better than blinding heat, at least right now, and cool darkness didn't have dragons curled up in jeweled heaps far below.

Almost there. They were almost there.

Janus reached the tunnel first and hissed in annoyance. It was several feet above them. The remnants of a rope ladder dangled from a nearby outcrop, but it had crumbled to pieces long ago, only leaving natural rocks as the path to the tunnel.

"Great," Virgil mumbled as they stopped in front of it. "Fantastic. Climbing—that's something I like doing."

Remus looked at the wall, cracked his knuckles, and scampered up without another moment's hesitation. Patton remembered he'd loved to climb trees back home. Now he dug his toes into the rock, swung his way up, and pulled himself over the ledge with only a few curses in the process.

"Who's next?" he asked, smiling wider than the situation really allowed. "I'll help out from up here."

Logan nodded and stepped onto a small ledge, then a wider ledge, then grabbed a particularly rough outcrop and hauled himself upwards. Patton tried to take notes. Soon, that'd be him. He winced when Logan's foot slipped, but Logan jammed his hand into a little divot and hung on tight. Remus leaned over the edge and waited until Logan had crawled his way in range before grabbing Logan's shirt and helping to haul him up. Logan banged a knee on the lip of the tunnel and swore almost as colorfully as Remus, but it didn't seem to be bleeding, and he'd made it to the top.

"Get it over with," Virgil whispered to himself. He grabbed at one rock. His hand slipped and he jumped back onto the bridge, which made the whole thing sway. His hands were shaking again. He looked like he was considering just curling up into a ball and hoping he could teleport his way up.

"You can do this," Patton encouraged him. "I'll catch you if you slip, okay?"

He had no idea if he could keep this promise. Probably not. But it made Virgil nod and square his shoulders, so it was alright.

Virgil's ascent was a slow and painful one. Every time he reached a slightly solid area, he paused to take several deep breaths. Patton recognized the pattern as 4-7-8. He felt really bad for Virgil—Virgil always hated heights, and he'd had a super rough week, and having dragons nearby was probably even worse for him than it was for Patton—but Virgil continued to be so much stronger than Patton gave him credit for. Virgil kept climbing. He swore once in a while, and Remus swore merrily back as if singing a call-and-response, and once Virgil's foot slipped and he was left dangling, eyes wide. Remus jumped back down towards him and grabbed his hand, and Logan grabbed Remus' hand, and as a little chain they helped Virgil back to his feet and pulled him up to the top.

That left Patton and Janus standing on the bridge together. Patton glanced down at the dragons below them. For a second he thought he saw a flash of black eyes, but when he looked again, all of them were still asleep.

"You or me?" Patton asked Janus.

Janus just indicated Patton with a smile.

Patton nodded, took a deep breath, and stared at the wall. He tried to remember where everyone else had started. Logan put his foot there, right? And Virgil put his hand there. But Logan and Virgil were both taller than Patton, and Remus had started all the way over there, and—

Patton shook himself. He'd just have to play this by ear. He reached out and grabbed a knobbly bit at roughly eye level and jammed his foot into a ledge. It slipped a bit but held firm. He pulled himself up and kicked at another outcrop nearby with his other foot. Two tries, but he hit it. He reached up with his left hand and ran it along the wall, looking for something to hold onto. A divot! He dug his fingers into it, accompanied with a spark of pain, and shifted his weight carefully.

This. This was…stressful. Wow.

Patton pressed himself closer to the rock and tried not to think. It was just a little climb. Over in a few seconds. His fingers were already growing sore. He wrapped his arm around a rock instead, using that to pull himself up further. His leg scraped against the stone and his foot struggled for purchase. His stomach dropped.

He hung there for a second, waiting to slip all the way.

Nothing. He'd wedged himself firmly enough into the rock.

Patton breathed out, looked up, and kept climbing.

He could hear Virgil muttering encouragements. Patton smiled to himself a bit. Sweat was already sticky at the back of his neck and making his handholds even more slippery. He'd have to hurry.

His knee bashed the wall and he swung to the side, losing his handhold and left dangling from one hand, his foot kicking wildly and his other one jammed so tightly that it was three seconds from twisting the ankle.

Patton bit back a yell.

He couldn't make any noise.

He shifted carefully and wiped his hand on his sleeve before grabbing a lip above him. Then he shuffled up, kicked off a little lump and used that to get his other foot on a ledge, pulled his whole arm over the lip, and felt a hand grab his elbow and another one take the back of his shirt.

Patton wondered if he should go limp or try and help. He settled for keeping himself steady and trying to keep climbing. With the support from his friends, every step was easier and he was able to throw another arm over the edge into the tunnel. He dangled there for a second, moving his feet around for a good purchase, and finally found one. He kicked off it, scraped his way over the lip, and rolled onto solid ground.

He'd done it.

He'd done it!

Patton jumped up and high-fived Virgil. His hand stung from the force of the high-five and the little cuts around his fingers, but he didn't care.

"Good job," Logan said, giving Patton a shoulder squeeze that was ridiculously comforting.

"Janny's turn." Remus bent down and watched as Janus glanced around. He sighed and pushed back his hair all the way. The burns were clear on his face, pink and mottled and dripping from his eye like tears. For some reason, though, Patton didn't feel the usual guilty disgust. They looked at home on his face. Just another part of Janus, yellow eyes and pink scars and long brown hair and a determined smirk as he started to climb.

Patton jumped from foot to foot as Janus made his way up. He was clearly practiced, but anything could happen! He wanted to lean over and grab Janus' hand and pull him up. Except Janus was still too far away, and Patton wouldn't be strong enough. Still. He wanted to. He didn't like Janus being the only one not safe, the only one not huddled in the tunnel entrance and basking in the darkness.

Janus' eyes were narrowed in concentration. He'd taken a sideways route that brought him around to the left, and it looked like he was starting to regret it. He had to kick off a rock, grab another rock, and balance on one foot as he stretched for a new handhold. Patton's breath caught in his throat. Janus didn't look too nervous—he could fly, after all—but if he fell and had to turn into a dragon, they'd definitely be caught.

So close. Patton leaned forward and reached out a hand. It was only inches from Janus' own.

A low rumble from below.

Janus' eyes widened.

His hand slipped from the rocks. His foot skidded.

Patton threw himself forward. His hand collided with Janus'.

Janus' slipped away from him.

He grabbed at it wildly. No. No. He might be about to fall as well, but he wasn't letting go.

His hand tightened. Janus' hand curled around his.

And an arm hauled Patton back from the edge before his momentum carried him over. Virgil. Face grim with determination. Janus dangled, holding onto Patton's hand so tightly Patton was sure he'd leave marks, swaying.

Patton reached down and grabbed Janus' wrist instead. It was thin and pale and cold and not enough to keep Janus upright.

But it was enough to keep Janus from falling, and that was all Janus needed.

One foot down on a small bit of rock. One arm curled around the lip of the entrance. And he swung himself up in an elegant motion, feet coming up and touching the stone. He rolled forward and managed to get to his feet in the middle of a roll. He brushed off his hands, tossed back his hair, and gave Patton a triumphant smile.

"You did it!" Patton squealed and clapped his hands. "Nice!"

"Guys?"

Patton turned to Logan, Remus and Virgil. They were staring over the edge with varying degrees of blind terror.

"We—" Virgil paused. "There's a problem."

Patton's heart stopped.

A blast of wind, stirring up the scent of ash and spice, and a flash of scales. A dragon was making its way up the side, hovering slowly, flapping their way higher. There was no chance of believing they wouldn't see them. Their dark teal eyes were locked onto the tunnel.

Janus swore. And Patton decided, screw it. He swore too.

"We need to run," Virgil said, backing away from the dragon. "We—"

"There's more." Logan looked up, eyes wide with terror. "They're all—"

Patton, feeling a sense of morbid curiosity, stepped forward and looked down. The dragons were all unfolding and starting to fly. It would be a beautiful sight, stretching wings and gleaming scales, if their eyes weren't trained on Patton.

Only the largest dragon—Mara—didn't move. She was watching Patton, but her head was still tucked between her claws, and she gave him a little wave of the tail. A mocking kind of wave. She didn't need to get up because they were dead anyway.

Patton swore again for good measure.

"Run!" Remus yelled, grabbing at Logan's sleeve. Logan obligingly turned and started to run. "They can't follow us in here!"

"Yes, they can." Janus shoved Virgil away from the edge. "They'll be waiting at the entrance too, I'm guessing. Run!"

"What about you?" Patton asked as the dragons started to circle them, clearly gearing up for a dive.

"I'm running interference." A smirk crossed Janus' face, and Patton hated it because it was such a Janus expression and a Janus thing to do and no— "Don't worry. I'll catch up."

Patton grabbed for his hand, but he was gone. He bolted off the cliff without a second thought, and then there were wings, and a small dragon with black-and-yellow scales crashed into one of the blue dragons. A flash of wings. A slash of claws. They tumbled toward the ground together, another dragon swooping in to help, Janus twisting for the upper hand.

"Janus!" Patton screamed.

That was a mistake. One of the dragons looked his way with piercing eyes and headed toward him. They needed only a few wingbeats to cross the whole heart. Patton stumbled backwards, grabbing for Sparky, trying to think of a good spell to keep himself safe.

Yellow.

Janus had let go of the blue dragon and grabbed at this one from below. It roared and slashed at him, and suddenly Janus' wings disappeared and he was human again. Small and falling between claws and twisting in midair.

And he was a dragon. Right before he hit the floor. He pulled off a last-minute swoop and sailed around to the back of the heart.

He was trying to keep them away from Patton.

"Run!" Virgil was yelling. He'd come back for Patton—of course he had. He was good like that. But Patton couldn't move. He needed to help Janus, he needed to—

A dragon plowed into Janus and sent them both tumbling. Dragons seemed to fight with their whole bodies, kicking and biting and slashing and sometimes even landing blows with their tails. They were loud, too. Apart from the dull thumps when they hit the wall, they roared and the sound tore into Patton's bones every time.

Janus kept pulling the same move. Get in close, shift to human, plummet until he caught himself last-minute. It made Patton's heart clench. Janus always looked so small when he did it. And he always caught himself but it was always just close enough to make Patton press his hand over his mouth.

Virgil was still tugging on Patton's sleeve, but it was less urgent. When Patton glanced at him, he saw that Virgil was staring too, a mix of respect and horror on his face.

There were three dragons. And only one Janus.

And Janus was the smallest there.

He was missing the floor by smaller and smaller increments.

"Run!" Patton screamed at him when he flew close to their ledge, a large rip in his wing, teeth bared. "Get back here and run!"

Janus shifted back and dropped like a stone again. He met Patton's eyes and mouthed 'Go.'

"Go!" Virgil repeated, tugging on Patton's shoulder. "He'll be fine, he's strong, we need to go!"

When you need it most, your strength will fail you.

Patton's entire body went cold.

He stepped forward. Maybe he could attack. He had fire, right? And he'd burned dragons before, so what was stopping him now?

Memories, mostly. Memories of Janus collapsed in the courtyard.

And fear. Because Janus was too close to all the dragons. He could hit Janus too. He could hurt Janus. He didn't want to do that.

Janus landed on the wall and flapped his wings, dodging and somersaulting back into a human. Small. Delicate. Even from here, Patton knew he was smirking.

A tail swept out, caught him in the ribs, and sent him flying. He hit the wall with a sickening crack.

This time it was Virgil who screamed.

Janus dropped twenty feet to the ground.

He pulled himself up with his arms. Then he stumbled. His hair covered his face as he collapsed again. This time, he didn't move.

Patton balled his fists. Before he knew what he was doing, Sparky was flying into the middle of the heart, heading straight for one of the dragons. It bobbed around the dragon's head, looking ridiculously small. But it was enough to get their attention. They sniffed at it curiously.

Another one was still advancing on Janus.

A crossbow bolt hit it in the shoulder. Virgil's eyes were narrowed. Another bolt flew and pinned its wing to the wall, tearing the delicate skin. The dragon screeched in pain and tried to dislodge it.

Janus pulled himself to his knees, pushing back his hair, curling his hands into fists.

But Patton couldn't help him.

A third dragon was flying straight for Patton and Virgil. Claws outstretched. Eyes narrowed. Wings wide.

On the ground, Mara seemed to smile.

Patton grabbed Virgil's arm and pulled him back. Sparky swung back towards them. He stumbled into the tunnel. It wouldn't be enough. The dragon could shapeshift and grab them, they couldn't get away in time—

He dropped to his knees, ran his hand along the damp floor, and wrenched at something inside of him.

Not a simple tug. He grabbed at everything he had and forced it to the surface.

Flames erupted between them. Blue and angry and white-hot, filling the whole tunnel like a skein, like a burning door.

He couldn't see past it.

He couldn't see if Janus was okay.

All he could see was Virgil, crossbow still raised, eyes dancing with the fire in front of them.

"Run," Patton said weakly. "We should probably run. I don't know—how long I can hold this—"

Virgil took one shaky step backward. "But now he can't—"

"It won't hurt him," Patton said, pretending to be certain. It was his magic, and Patton wouldn't hurt Janus. Except for the time he did.

The blue glow was painful to look at. But Patton couldn't look away. The stones beneath it were starting to bubble from the heat. It licked at the ceiling, not leaving its line but about to, straining at the seams and wanting to let loose, roar through the Mountain, destroy everyone inside.

Patton wasn't about to leave that unchecked.

Thank heavens, he had an excuse to stay.

He heard footsteps behind him. Logan and Remus. They'd come back, because of course they had, their eyes wide.

"What is that?" Remus asked. "How—where's—"

"He's, um…" Virgil pointed at the fire. "Past there."

Patton tried to make a gap in the fire to see better. For a second, he thought he saw a dragon lunging at the tunnel. The next second, he lost control and the fire rose, leaving him with nothing but blue light and finicky magic and the memories of the way Janus dropped to the ground like a bird with clipped wings.

"Janus," he whispered. "Janus, Janus, be okay, please be okay…"

"We should be running," Logan said.

"Then run!" Virgil's knuckles whitened. "We'll head them off. We'll need a backup defense in case—"

In case Janus wasn't enough.

In case Janus wasn't…

"I'm staying," Patton said without hesitation. "At least…at least for a little while longer. You guys go ahead, okay? We'll catch up soon."

Logan and Remus glanced at each other. "There's bound to be a bunch of dragons at the end of this tunnel, too," Remus pointed out. "So, um—"

Virgil instinctively turned to them. Then he glanced back at the fire.

"Go," Patton encouraged. "I'll hold them off. As soon as Janus gets here, I'll leave."

Virgil bit his lip. "And…if he doesn't?"

"He will." Patton swallowed. "He's got to."

"Well, if anyone can do it, he can." Virgil sighed and gave Patton a quick hug. "We'll be up the path."

"Good luck," Patton said. He suddenly found himself filled with other things he wanted to say, but that would make this feel too final. They'd be reuniting soon. Hopefully. Definitely! Probably. Maybe.

Virgil gave Patton a little salute and ran down the tunnel, Logan and Remus at his heels. It took them only a few seconds to get out of sight.

Patton felt very alone.

He turned back to his fire and tried to focus on the warmth of it. All he got was pure heat—rage and worry and fear and guilt making his fire spin almost out of control. He gritted his teeth, held out his hands, and kept it in. Would it be enough to stop a dragon? Would it be too much to let Janus through? Would—would Janus even make it to the tunnel?

Patton closed his eyes and listened hard.

An occasional roar. That meant they were still fighting. Janus was alive. For now, at least.

Patton had to check on him. He had to.

But he'd have to bring down the fire. He wasn't sure if he even could. It was straining at his fingertips. One wrong move and it would roar through the Mountain. There was a reason none of the dragons had used their fire breath.

Patton's breath hitched, and he realized he was going to cry. He was tired and cold and scared and hoping against hope that Janus was alright. And he wasn't running forward to help, and he wasn't joining the others to escape, he was just frozen in the middle of a dark tunnel and hoping Janus would make the choice for him.

Just to see if he could, Patton lowered the fire.

He couldn't.

It just sprang into place like a jack-in-the-box. He'd put fire there and it didn't want to go out.

Patton was going to have to get rid of it eventually. He couldn't keep this up forever. His arms were starting to shake. But if he couldn't make it leave entirely, it'd just keep burning, and then everyone would get hurt and it'd be his fault and Janus was right, he couldn't control his magic, he didn't want to be the only one between the world and fire—

Patton glanced behind him down the tunnel. Nobody. It was empty and dark and silent. He couldn't even hear sounds of combat, which was probably a good thing, because it meant they hadn't needed to fight.

Or they'd already fought and lost.

A less-good thing. One that Patton decided not to think about.

On the bright side, he still heard roars from beyond the fire. Janus was still putting up a fight. But when Mara stopped toying with him and he ran out of luck, it was over. Patton knew that much.

Sparky rolled around his feet. He'd completely forgotten the little guy. He glanced between it and the fire—Sparky, unlike his gate of flames, didn't seem to run the risk of exploding and dooming them all.

Patton kicked Sparky through the barrier.

It'd find Janus.

It was Patton's magic, after all. And in little amounts like that, he trusted it.

It would find Janus, and help him, and maybe bring him back.

Or maybe not.

Patton should be running by now. He had a feeling if he didn't run now, it would be too late to escape. And he needed to escape.

Just not without Janus.

He wasn't going to leave without Jan.

Patton dug his feet into the stone and maintained the fire. Sweat beaded down his forehead. Was this even worth it? Nobody had tried to attack through the fire. Maybe that was because it had been warded off. Or maybe their attention was focused on Janus, and maybe they had enough people at the other end of the tunnel to know that Patton and the others were trapped—

Patton kept the fire going. It was all he could do.

He stared into the flames until he saw spots, and he muttered Janus' name to himself like it was a spell, and maybe it was because every time he thought of Janus in trouble his resolve strengthened.

"Come on," Patton whispered. If any moment in his life had Fae luck involved, he wanted it to be this one. "You can do it, come back, you can—"

A loud roar. It wasn't Janus'. Patton's hands shook and he squared his shoulders.

"Come on, please, come on—"

Silence. Dead silence except for him and the fire. A tear clung to his lashes and his throat ached. He blinked it away.

Wind blasted through the tunnel. The fire stuttered, and for a second, Patton saw the dark expanse of dragon wings.

He raised his hands.

A slim figure tumbled through the fire, landing on his knees.

Patton almost sobbed in relief. He ran over and grabbed Janus' arms, pulling him upright. Sparky bobbed around their legs and the fire behind them raged.

Patton only had eyes for Janus. There was a bruise under his left eye and a bit of blood dripped from his mouth. His scar seemed to have been agitated again, judging by the angry red edges. He looked almost wild. Like his instinct had been to swat Patton away and run.

"You're okay?" Patton asked.

"Yes." Janus reached up and brushed Patton's bangs aside. "You're okay."

Patton smiled. "Yeah."

Janus smiled back for a millisecond. Then determination took its place. "Run. Now!"

Patton didn't have a chance to ask questions. Janus' hand was in his own and he was tugged along, forced to run because he'd fall if he didn't. He turned to look at the fire, which was already spreading, leaking and spilling down the tunnel almost like water. He waved a desperate hand at it, again and again.

"Go out!" he yelled at it. "Go out!"

He didn't want to burn in here.

A desperate tug that sliced into his bones, pulled at all his muscles, and scraped at power Patton didn't know he had.

The fire winked out like it had never been there at all.

Patton turned around and kept running.

Sparky was their only light. It illuminated Janus' face and the steps ahead of them, although Janus didn't seem to need it, based on the way he jumped neatly from rock to rock. Janus was usually faster than Patton. Patton should be struggling to keep up. But it was Patton who was pushing ahead of him, Patton who found himself tugging Janus along.

Janus had one hand in Patton's. His other arm was pressed to his side.

Patton looked back and thought he saw blood on the stones.

That wasn't good.

But he didn't have time to think about it. He was running. He was running down a dark tunnel to who-knew-what and he needed to focus on his footsteps. He was leading Janus. He was getting them out of here. He couldn't be distracted. He needed to watch his step.

The tunnel seemed endless. Patton's side began to ache and his feet stumbled over each other. But Janus was still going, and Janus was possibly hurt, so if he could do it Patton could too.

A loud noise behind them. And then footsteps. Footsteps far faster than theirs.

Patton turned around and tossed a hand at the shadow lurking behind them.

A bright spurt of fire. It lasted for two seconds, a little arc of flames, reminding Patton of dragonfire.

He turned around and kept running.

And he realized he could see where he was going.

Up ahead was a pinprick of light. As Patton ran toward it, it grew larger and larger. Blue sky. A few clouds. And the silhouette of someone Patton knew very well.

Hand in hand, Janus and him bolted for the exit.

Light. So much light. Patton couldn't see for the brightness. He covered his eyes and skidded to a stop, Janus' hand still in his.

He'd forgotten what daylight felt like. Warm and scorching and oppressively everywhere, like he'd walked into a wall of heat and sun and now it pressed down on him as it fell.

"You're back!" Virgil blurted out.

Patton cracked one eye open, then the other. Virgil and Logan and Remus were standing at the edge of the mountain, staring down a crumbled incline to the thorns far below. It was a sunny day and the blue sky was all around them, wind sweeping their hair and the thorns and the trees of the Iron Woods, far in the distance. They looked like a green carpet. Then there was the angry slash of the canyon, then the sprawling brown thorns. Then the steep gray sides of the Mountain itself. Then Virgil and Logan and Remus, fists curled, Virgil firing a crossbow at—

Oh. There were dragons here, too. They weren't approaching yet, maybe figuring they couldn't get a good grab at human-sized humans, but flying in lazy circles like vultures.

Virgil hit one in the flank. It barely flinched.

Patton took a deep breath and looked out at the Woods in the distance. They shimmered in the sun. Something in his gut twisted.

"We have to go there," he said almost without thinking. "Get to the Woods, and we'll be safe."

"You're kidding," Virgil said. "The Woods are not safe."

"Pat's right." Janus stepped forward. In the light of the sun, his bruise was purple and green down his face, and Patton noticed a dark stain around the place his arm met his side. "I can't fly anyone to the town in one go, and they won't follow us in there."

"Yeah, because it's deadly," Remus pointed out.

"We survived it last time!" Patton shrugged. "And I have a feeling we'll be fine if I'm there."

Virgil gave Patton a weird look, which Patton ignored.

"So what now?" Logan watched the dragons circle above them. Patton remembered the gryphons from the cliff and shuddered. "They'll dive if we attempt anything."

"We'll have to make it quick." Janus looked around and tightened his jaw. "Maybe I can take all four of you if I try—"

"And be fast enough?" Virgil asked.

"And not have anyone fall off?" Remus added.

"You're injured!" Patton cut in.

"I'm not—" Janus shifted and winced. "It's not that bad."

Patton stared at him incredulously. "Not that—?"

Logan stepped around and pulled Janus' hand away from his side. It came away sticky with blood. Janus swallowed. His whole shirt was shredded and blood dripped from a nasty cut down his side, trickling down his leg and splashing to the ground. Now that they were in the light, Patton could see the pain on his face, sharp and tight and buried.

Virgil swore. Remus did the same.

"Jan…" Patton reached out.

"It isn't important right now," Janus said, sidestepping Patton's hand. "What's important is how we're going to do this. The moment I transform, we'll have several dragons on me, so we have to make this quick and decisive."

"You said you can carry two people?" Logan asked.

"Yeah." Janus glanced at the dragons above them. "Maybe three, but I'd have to carry one in my claws, and that'd be pushing my limits."

"Understandable." Logan worried his lip in the way he always did when he'd thought of an answer he knew nobody would like. "So we'll have to take turns. And I hate to put it this way, but the people who are the least qualified to fight off dragons…"

"Are you and Remus." Virgil nodded. "Yeah."

"We can still stay!" Remus picked up a rock. "I can throw rocks at them, it'll be fine—"

"No." Patton shook his head. "Guys, go. We'll hold them off."

A dragon dipped too close to them. Virgil fired a bolt. He was running out of them—Patton could see it—and he looked exhausted. And Patton himself was feeling scratchy and tired and out of control. He didn't know what would happen if he tried to use magic again. Maybe it wouldn't work. Maybe it would work too well and burn the whole Mountain with him inside of it.

Janus stepped closer to Patton.

"You realize," Janus murmured, "that there's a good chance I won't be able to come back for you."

"It'll be fine," Patton said, pretending to believe that.

"Patton," Janus pleaded, his fingers closing around Patton's hand. "I—the path through the thorns is twisting, but flying over it will still take me twenty minutes. More, if I'm carrying people. You can't hold them off for that long, no one can—"

"What are you suggesting?" Patton whispered. Virgil fired another bolt. It hit a dragon square in the wings and sent them tumbling, but more took their place, scales brighter than the sun. "I take Logan's place? Or Remus'? They can't hold them off, they've spent a week getting thrown at walls—"

"I'm saying to really think about this." Janus' eyes were wide. "To make sure you really want to stay behind with Virgil. Please, think this through."

Patton looked back at Logan and Remus. Remus was dutifully chucking rocks at the dragons, although none of them met their mark. Logan was tapping his fingers on his leg and investigating the route back.

He'd come so far to rescue them. They were his best friends.

Patton looked at Virgil. Virgil was aiming his crossbow at the clouds. Virgil was standing firm but Patton could see the shake in his hands. He was terrified. This was his worst nightmare and he was choosing to stay behind anyway. Because he wanted to help his friends escape.

Patton swallowed.

Did he want this?

Patton looked at Janus. Still bleeding, the dark red spreading through his yellow shirt, his hair hanging around his face, his burns angry and muddled, his mouth slightly parted and his hand still squeezing Patton's like he was scared to let go.

Logan-Remus-Virgil-Janus-Patton. A life for another, a spot for another, fighting and fleeing and whether that made you a coward or a hero, good or bad, right or wrong.

Patton shook his head. It wasn't about that now. It wasn't about being selfless for the sake of being selfless. It was about what he wanted.

And he found, deep down, that he wanted to live.

But he also cared for his friends.

And he found, when he weighed the options? They didn't even come close.

"Go," Patton blurted out, letting go of Janus' hand. "There's not much time."

"I'll come back," Janus said. It was desperate, not the kind of slick reassurance he usually gave.

"I know you'll try." Patton pressed his lips together. "But…don't."

Janus looked at him and opened his mouth to respond.

"They're closing in!" Virgil yelled. "We gotta do this!"

Patton nodded and tugged Janus to the edge. Janus glanced up at the dragons, steeled himself, and slipped off the ledge. Patton glanced at Logan and Remus, who moved into position. He summoned Sparky to his hands and let fire twist around his fingers, ready to be let loose. It already felt rough and raw and unpracticed and dangerous. But he didn't have any other options.

A dragon dove. A crossbow bolt stopped it in midair.

Janus hovered by their little ledge, wings flapping, blood dripping from a large gash in his scales. Logan paused and slipped between his haunches. Remus jumped on behind him. Another dragon swiped at them. Patton threw Sparky in its face. Sparky exploded.

Well. So much for Sparky, then.

Janus was still hovering. As if he couldn't bear to leave just yet.

Which suited Patton perfectly.

He ran to the edge, standing next to Virgil, who was swiveling his crossbow in every direction like he was loosing invisible bolts.

"Janus!" Patton yelled.

Janus' eyes watched him. Warm and yellow.

"Take them home! Don't come back!" Patton paused and shot a bit of fire at an approaching dragon. He stumbled and almost fell off the Mountain entirely. But it was alright. They just needed a little more time.

Virgil was staring at Patton. Patton didn't look at him. It'd make this harder if he did.

"Keep flying," Patton yelled. "Jan, just go. And catch him, okay? I'm sorry! But I know you can, I trust you—catch him!"

Janus' eyes were unreadable. Because he was a dragon. But Logan and Remus and Virgil were all staring at Patton with varying degrees of horror.

Whatever. Screw them. This was the right thing—no.

No, it wasn't about that.

This was what Patton wanted to do. He wanted to keep his friends safe. And maybe Janus would come back for him anyway—Janus was so good like that. If anyone could do it, Janus could, and if Janus didn't get hurt in the process Patton was okay with it.

As long as he took the others to safety first.

As long as he listened.

Janus would listen. Janus was good like that.

"Pat?" Virgil asked as Janus stayed in place, hovering. Janus had figured it out, probably. He was so smart. "Pat, what're you—"

Before Virgil could finish the question, Patton smiled.

"I love you." Tears clustered at the edge of Patton's lashes, ready to fall at a moment's noticed. "I love you, kiddo. So much."

Virgil's eyes widened. "Pat—"

Patton shoved Virgil in the small of his back.

He toppled forward and plummeted off the Mountain, a little black figure against the gray. He'd fallen right past Janus. Patton's heart stopped.

Janus dove after him.

He'd need luck to catch Virgil in time.

Luck was all Patton had to give.

Janus dove, a streak of black and yellow, and Virgil fell, hand reaching up like he could take Patton's and keep himself steady.

Janus' claws extended.

And he grabbed Virgil. The same smooth motion from so long ago, when Logan and Remus had disappeared from the courtyard. A swift little steal. Virgil dangled from Janus' claws. Janus dropped a few inches but his wings gripped the air and pulled him forward.

"Go!" Patton screamed at them.

He threw his hands into the air. Dragons were diving, dragons were attacking, and Patton threw everything he had at them. Patton let go. He let the burning inside of him finally escape.

Fire.

Fire bursting in midair.

Fire lighting up the sky and dancing around the clouds.

Fire trickling down the Mountain, filling each crevice in each rock, spreading into the tunnel behind him and spiraling up to the peak.

Fire shielding Janus as he flew, two figures on his back and one in his claws, between arcs of dragonfire and Patton's magic.

Fire against fire. They clashed in midair, yellow-orange against blue, and sparks flew into the clouds.

There was no smoke. There wasn't any smoke except Patton was still struggling to breathe.

Fire streamed out of his fingertips in a flood.

He couldn't stop himself.

Fire licked at his clothes and cascaded from his shoulders and pooled at his feet. The heat was almost enough to kill him, probably, except Patton couldn't die by his own magic.

Another reason why he needed Virgil out of here.

This way, nobody else would get hurt.

Janus was far over the thorns now. He gleamed in the sun. Beautiful, Patton thought, and didn't stop himself, because he might never get a chance to enjoy the thought again. Janus was beautiful. And powerful, and so helpful, and was probably going to try and rescue Patton anyway. Hopefully, common sense would prevail, to use Logan's terms. Logan would talk Janus out of it. And they'd all be safe.

Fire all around him, exploding and curling and burning itself into existence, searing his chest and sending black spots dancing all around him.

He was going out.

Going out like a bonfire, a marshmallow held over a campfire in the Woods at night. Burned and blackened and losing all its light.

Patton wondered if the fire would stop when he collapsed.

It was hard to think.

There was no smoke, but his face was still wet with tears, and his lungs still stung with every breath.

There was no smoke, but Patton couldn't see.

Fire. Fire everywhere, unspooling from him, scraping at his heart and digging every last bit of flame from his body.

Maybe he'd never be able to use magic again. Maybe he'd used it all up. It definitely felt that way now. He was a comet about to make landfall. All this power he'd barely known of, and he was throwing it all away.

It didn't matter, though, since time was running out.

Janus was far away. Not far away enough. Not close enough to the Woods.

Not safe, not yet, so Patton screamed and pulled the last bits of fire from his body.

Every pocket of the world was in flames.

Every rock in the Mountain was melting.

Every piece of Patton was on fire and screaming and blackening and he was going to die if he kept this up—

That'd be the right thing to do. To keep going until he died, until he became just another part of the fire leaping up to touch the sky.

Janus was far. Not safe, not yet, but far enough.

Janus could handle this.

Patton wasn't going to die. Not like this. Not now.

He had to save some light for himself.

He had to save them.

But he could save himself, too.

Patton closed his eyes.

The fire went out in a huff of nothing. No smoke, no wind. It just winked out in his palm. Maybe all the fire was gone. Maybe the Mountain still burned with blue light. Who knew.

Patton didn't really care.

He was stumbling. He should push himself back from the edge. But he couldn't see, and all his muscles were burned up and all his fingers were limp.

He fell. Wind, sky, bursts of fire behind his eyelids.

Everything was going black. That was funny. Everything had been blue earlier.

Patton giggled.

He'd been falling for an awfully long time.

But it was fine. Janus would catch him.

Black crowded at his vision and fire streamed off his body.

It was fine.

He'd solve everything later. He'd catch himself soon.

For now, he was going to sleep.

Because no nightmares anymore. The dark was safe that way.

The dark was all around him, and Patton had been sure it was the middle of the day, but he didn't waste time thinking about it.

He slipped into unconsciousness.

And he fell down the Mountain, flames leaping up to meet him.

[Masterlist] [Ao3]

#leave no trace

5 notes · View notes

thewarriorandtheking · 4 years

Text

Thief In The Night

A little Warrior and The King/Fantastic Beasts crossover story, because who doesn’t like nifflers? And can you imagine one loose in Erebor?

The Warrior and The King MasterList

Warnings: Silliness and shiny things

******************************************

“My king, what are you thinking about?” Kaylea Wolf asked, running her foot up the inside of Thorin’s leg. They were in his office, drinking coffee and looking over some old maps, Kaylea was sitting on the edge of his desk. Thorin Oakenshield looked up at her with a soft smile, about to reply when his wife suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“What have you done with my jewelry?” She demanded, pointedly not looking in Kaylea’s direction.

Thorin scowled at her. “Why would I do anything with your jewelry?”

Shurri drew herself up, her hands on her hips. “It is all gone! Even all the jewels on my dresses. What is the meaning of this?”

“Why do you assume I had anything to do with it?” Thorin replied angrily. He glanced at Kaylea, saw her incline her head towards the door. “Show me.”

Shurri snorted, turned on her heel and stalked off towards her apartments. Thorin followed, with Kaylea a few steps behind. When they reached her rooms Thorin could see the place looked almost as if it had been burgled; drawers open, clothes strewn about.

Kaylea scanned the scene from the doorway, knowing the Queen would not want her inside. “How long was your majesty away from your rooms?”

Shurri’s eyes flicked toward her briefly, not wanting to acknowledge Thorin’s Woman. Suddenly there was a shriek from the hallway. Thorin was immediately out the door, he and Kaylea hurrying down the corridor. Freya, Thorin’s daughter, was standing in the door of her apartments, her face white.

“Someone has been in my room!” She exclaimed as soon as she saw her father. “All my jewelry is gone!”

Kaylea quickly walked through her apartments, the scene was the same as the Queen’s. Freya’s jewelry chest was open and empty, as she stopped to inspect it she caught a glimpse of something small and black disappearing under the wardrobe.

“Do you have a cat, your highness?” Kaylea asked, moving slowly towards the wardrobe.

“Puss is just there,” Freya replied, motioning to the tabby cat regarding them quietly from the bed.

“Another cat. A black one?” Kaylea slowly knelt down.

“No.” Freya shook her head. “What are you doing?”

Kaylea knelt and lowered her head to the floor. There was a black creature under the wardrobe, not a cat. It was chubby and soft looking, had a bill like a duck, bright eyes and almost human hands. As soon as she laid eyes on it the creature shot across the room and past Thorin out the door, without giving anyone time to react. It was amazingly fast.

“What in Mahal’s name is that?” Thorin asked, as they hurried to follow it. When they got to the hall it was already far up the stairs. “It is heading towards my rooms!”

Kaylea paused, sending a mental call to Ajax to come to her. She knew he was in the city, probably down in the kitchens looking for a handout. She felt the touch of his mind and knew he was on his way as she followed Thorin up the stairs. Thorin stormed through his rooms, opening the door to his bedroom to find an extraordinary sight. The little creature was sitting on his dresser, all the drawers were open and it seemed to be stuffing rings into its pouch. As soon as it saw them it disappeared over the mirror. The little animal was fast.

Thorin looked over his things. “It has my crown,” he said. “Where did it put it? It certainly was not wearing it.”

Kaylea closed the door. Thorin’s apartments were huge and as fast as that animal was, it could be anywhere. “I guess that pouch is much bigger than it looks,” she said. “You have never heard of this animal?”

Thorin shook his head, bending down to look under the furniture. “I have no idea what it is, but I want my things back.” His face was dark.

They split up, each taking a side of the room, moving slowly, inspecting every place it could be hiding. Suddenly Kaylea saw Thorin lunge forward, the little creature was running around the bed, heading for the door. Kaylea jumped and got a hand on it, but it flowed out of her grasp then flattened itself to slip under the door. She pulled the door open to see the creature frozen in the middle of the room, staring at Freya standing in the doorway to the hall.

“Do not hurt it! Look how cute it is!” She knelt down, holding her hand out. “Come here, I will not hurt you.”

Kaylea watched as the little animal took a few steps towards her. She realized it was not focused on her face, but her necklace, swinging free from her neck as she bent over. In what seemed like one smooth motion the creature jumped forward, grabbed her necklace, stuffed it in its pouch and made a break for the door. Freya grabbed at it, but missed. Thorin and Kaylea ran past her, the animal was already far down the hall. They chased it through the princes’ apartments, then saw it start down another stairway only to suddenly back up. Ajax was coming up the stairs, his yellow eyes fixed on the little creature. It looked quickly back at Kaylea, then the wolf, considering its options. It chose the stairs and ran right at Ajax, he grabbed it in his jaws, the animal squeaked loudly and somehow freed itself, shooting between the wolf’s legs and away. All three of them ran after it, into the Hall of Kings. Kaylea saw it pause and run straight for the throne.

“The Arkenstone,” she said quietly.

“I think not,” Thorin said, his voice murderous. He realized he still had the piece of quartz in his pocket he had picked up in the mine that morning. Quickly judging the distance, he pitched it at the running animal, the rock hit it square on the shoulder and sent it sprawling. Ajax, who was close behind, was on it in a flash. This time he held it down with his paws, holding its head in his mouth. Thorin immediately grabbed the creature by its feet, giving it a sharp shake.

“Give me back my things, you little shit,” he growled. The Raven Crown fell out of the animal’s pouch and rolled across the floor, accompanied by several rings and chains. Thorin handed it to Kaylea and stooped to pick up his crown. The thing had fur like ruffled velvet and was incredible slippery, but she found its feet were easy to hold on to. It was very much heavier than it looked, she was amazed it could move so fast loaded down with jewelry. The animal kept curling up, chittering softly, as if to protect its pouch. Kaylea held it by one foot and poked its belly, this seemed to tickle it so she poked it harder. As she did so a stream of jewels and jewelry began to flow out onto the floor.

Thorin looked at the growing pile. “I am going to boil that thing alive.”

“Do not say that, father!” Freya exclaimed breathlessly as she came up. She was fascinated with the little creature. “I do not think it meant any harm. It just likes shiny things! And look how cute!”

“Cute,” Kaylea said. “And not something that should be running loose around Erebor. Imagine if it got into the treasury.”

Shurri strode up behind Freya, her face astonished at the pile of gems and jewelry the creature has stashed in its pouch. “Where did this thing come from?”

Kaylea glanced at Thorin. “Any ideas, your majesty?”

Thorin looked thoughtful. “Not yet. I wonder if it was deliberately sent here to steal the Arkenstone, or the treasury, or both.”

“Possible, but it acts like a wild animal,” Kaylea said. “And it is certainly not the only creature to be attracted to shiny things.”

“Can I keep it?” Freya asked hopefully, giving her father a pleading look.

“Absolutely not,” Thorin frowned at her. His daughter was such a lover of animals. He would prefer to wring the thing’s neck and be done with it.

“I will take care of it,” Kaylea said, grabbing the animal by both feet and giving it a sharp shake, as Thorin had done. Shurri’s best necklace fell out on the pile. “I have a way to keep it safe. Find out if it belongs to anyone, and if there are more of them.”

When they had recovered all the family’s jewelry, and much more they did not recognize, Kaylea walked back to her quarters, holding the animal by its foot. Ajax walked close beside her, ready if the creature wiggled out of her grasp. The little animal made soft squeaking noises, trying to free itself. Then it spotted the mithril beads she wore on her braids and tried to climb up her arm to get them. Once in her rooms Kaylea put the animal in a stasis box, there was no way it could escape and Erebor would be safe. As she watched the lights on the box turn green to indicate the animal was safely contained, she could not help wondering if it really could have fit the whole treasury of Erebor in its pouch.

The next day many enquiries were made and the city thoroughly searched. Erebor was a great center of trade and there were always many people coming and going, but no one admitted to losing an animal. It was possible its owner had moved on not knowing it was missing. More importantly, they did not find any more of them. Freya badgered Kaylea with questions. Was the creature getting enough to eat? Could she see it? Kaylea politely put her off, reassuring her the animal was getting the best care and she would not try to convince her father to let her keep it.

Late that evening, Thorin and Kaylea were walking along the battlements when they saw a familiar figure approaching. There was no mistaking Radagast the Brown, even at a distance. Tall and lean, his brown robes showing the signs of long travel, a goshawk on his shoulder and a spring of oak in his short-brimmed felt hat.

Kaylea bowed as the wizard came up. “Radagast the Brown, what a surprise to find you in Erebor!”

The Brown wizard smiled. “Yes, I would not be here if my errand was not urgent. The Lonely Mountain is beautiful, but this city gives me a headache. Anyway, an associate of mine has…ah, misplaced…one of his animals. Have any of your jewels gone missing, your majesty?”

Thorin scowled. “Only my wife’s, my daughter’s and my own. We caught it before it got any further.”

“So, you have it! That is good news!” Radagast nodded quickly. “An unfortunate lapse in judgement on my friend’s part. You should never bring a niffler anywhere near a Dwarf city! Goodness, no!”

“A niffler?” Kaylea asked. “Is that what it is called?”

The wizard smiled. “Yes. Harmless little creatures really. But they do love precious things.”

“They certainly seem able to steal a great many,” Thorin scowled at the wizard. “Where do they come from?”

Radagast put on his best mysterious wizard look. “There are many creatures in Middle Earth that live unseen alongside us. The niffler is one.”

Kaylea smiled. “I would not dispute that, but this creature has no equal as a thief. What does this associate of yours do with it?”

“He has a scholarly interest in magical creatures,” Radagast explained. “And he does keep quite a few of them, but he is an honest man. He came to the mountain looking for a particular animal on the high slopes, I ran into him searching the forest for his lost niffler. Of course, I knew immediately where it had gone. He was completely unaware there was a city on the other side of the mountain, like me he spends most of his time away from them.” The wizard chuckled. “I told him I would retrieve his animal, as I am known here and he is not.”

“I want that thing out of my city. I will hand it into your keeping if you promise you can prevent it from getting loose again,” Thorin said. “And if you take it far from here and give me your word it will not come back.”

“You have my word,” the wizard replied solemnly.

Kaylea led the way to her quarters. Radagast gave her a startled look when he saw the stasis box. “A magical box for a magical creature,” Kaylea explained, laying the flat square of metal on the table. “I trust you have a way of catching this thing when I open it.”

She touched the edge, there was a shimmer of blue light and the niffler appeared. It looked at them and started to launch itself, but Radagast held out a hand and spoke a few words. The little creature happily sat back and let the wizard put it in his robe. Radagast gave Kaylea’s box a curious glance.

“What it that, if I may ask?” He asked. “I have never seen the like.”

“Something from my homeland,” Kaylea said, slipping the box into a drawer. “You might say it is a place of many wonders.”

Radagast laughed. “Since you come from there also, I must agree! Thank you both, I will be on my way. And do not worry, your majesty, you will not be bothered by this niffler again.” He bowed to Thorin and took his leave, striding purposely along the gallery towards the gates.

“For a wizard, he is not so bad,” Thorin said thoughtfully, watching his retreating back. “Though it does concern me we have never seen one of these creatures before. I hope there are not many more of them.”

“I cannot imagine they are very common,” Kaylea said, leaning against the doorframe. “If they were the Dwarves would have encountered them long ago.”

“That is true enough,” he turned toward Kaylea with a mischievous smile. “It occurs to me I never did answer your question the other day.”

“Mmmm…,” Kaylea responded, running her fingers down his braid. “Then shall we finish that conversation?”

“Talking is not exactly what I had in mind,” Thorin slapped her playfully on the butt as he followed her into her quarters and shut the door.

#fanfiction #crossover #the hobbit #fantastic beasts #thorin x oc #thewarriorandtheking #thorin oakenshield #niffler #nifflers are cool #king under the mountain #wizarding world

12 notes · View notes