#kelpie dark matter | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drabbles-mc · 2 years

Text

Making Do

EZ Reyes x F!Reader

Inspired by Day 7 of the August Prompts: tent

Warnings: 18+, some slightly steamy things

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: It took me a while but when I finally got inspired for this prompt and ran with it. I just love seeing these men in regular, silly situations. Also I’ve missed EZ and writing for him.

EZ Reyes Taglist: @ly--canthrope @noz4a2 @queenbeered @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @lakamaa12 @masterlistforimagines @doritosandjellybeans @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @twistnet @themoonandthewicked @garbinge @bucky-iss-bae @enjoy-the-destruction @encounterthepast @bport76 @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo @mijop @blessedboo @holl2712 @bruxasolta @i-love-scott-mccall @withmyteeth @toni9 @shadow-of-wonder @crowfootwrites @redpoodlern @punkgoddess-98 @black-repunzel99 @lexondeck @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardsanddetectives @littlekittymeow @amorestevens @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mijagif @frattsparty @winchestershiresauce @bellisperennis0 @beardburnsupersoldiers @mveggieburger @thanossexual @xeniarocks @choochoo284 @passionatewrites (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You had to laugh. There was really nothing else for you to do at that point. You hoisted yourself up onto the tailgate of the truck, letting your legs dangle as you watched EZ stare at the mess in front of him. Maybe you would’ve been a little more bothered too if it wasn’t shaping up to be such a beautiful day. There was something so relaxing about being out in the middle of nowhere, just the trees and the sound of the wind through the branches around you. It was a little sunny, a little warm, but it wasn’t sweltering. It was the perfect setup for your weekend except for the one little hiccup you guys had run into.

“C’mon, Boy Scout,” you joked, “I know you’ve done this before. You’ve gotta have at least a few patches or badges or whatever for this.”

Looking over at you, you saw the annoyance drain from his face as he took in your expression. You were far too amused by the whole thing for him to continue being pissed off about the whole ordeal. Besides, he supposed that the situation could be much, much worse than it was.

“For the record, I was about ten when I got the badge for that. And also the tent I had back then had all of the necessary pieces.”

“Ah,” you joked, “so there was no real challenge, then?”

He chuckled as he walked over, standing between your legs, “Glad you find all of this to be so funny.”

“You don’t?” you wrapped your legs around him, “It’s not that bad, EZ. And I know for a fact you’ve just laid out on the ground overnight before. Not having a tent shouldn’t be that big of a deal for you.”

He looked at you for a moment, before shifting his gaze to look up at the sky. You followed his movements, and immediately saw why he was a little more annoyed about the entire tent ordeal. It wasn’t often that southern California got rain, but of course there would be dark storm clouds looming overhead at a time like this.

You would’ve been fine with whatever he wanted to do. If he wanted to bail on the camping idea and just take your trip elsewhere, you would be fine with that. But if he wanted to gamble and see if the rain would hold off, you would be up for that too. If you were being honest, you almost preferred the latter. The two of you had already made it all the way out there, it would feel like a waste to turn around and head back now. Besides, even in the worst case scenario, a little rain never hurt anyone.

“What’re you thinking?” he gave you a knowing smile.

You laughed, shrugging, “Just thinking that it is nice out here, despite what those gray clouds say.”

He rested his hands on your thighs, “Wanna rough it, then?”

“You read my mind.”

For most of the day, the lack of a tent didn’t matter in the slightest. It was just you, and EZ, and your little cooler and blankets on the ground. The trees around you provided the two of you with enough shade to be comfortable. It wasn’t like either of you were looking to do a whole lot—the whole point of getting away for the weekend was to relax and disconnect from everything and everyone. So far, even with the mishaps along the way, the two of you were successful in doing just that.

You were laying on one of the blankets you’d brought with you, book splayed open on the ground in front of you as you read. EZ was laying next to you on his back, reading a different book that was propped against his chest. He had one hand resting on the small of your back and you took comfort in the gesture. Every now and then you’d pause your reading to turn and look over at him. Most of the time he was completely immersed in his own pages, but every now and then he’d already be looking at you, a smile on his face. You’d lean over and kiss him, lips hovering for a little while afterwards like neither of you were sure if that was going to be the end of it or not.

As the afternoon started to slip by, the two of you started to get into the array of snacks you’d packed in your bags and the cooler. You had a pretty high success rate of tossing grapes to EZ from one side of the blanket and him catching them in his mouth on the other side. No matter how many times the two of you did it, you always got a laugh out of it. EZ got a good chuckle too, because when he would try to toss them to you, you didn’t tend to have as good of luck as him.

“This is a one-way activity,” you joked, plucking another one to throw to him.

“Yea,” he stretched his legs out, letting them rest against yours, “that’s fair.”

You were about to say something else when you felt a raindrop hit your head. Looking up, you saw that the clouds had moved directly over where you and EZ had set up shop. It didn’t look promising at all. When you looked back over at EZ, you could see the way that his shoulders were shaking with laughter. Even if he didn’t say it, he knew that this was going to happen. He was fine with it, but he did get some enjoyment out of you realizing all of it in real time.

“Still wanna stay?” he asked, and you could tell by the look in his eyes that it was half question, half challenge.

“Fuck yea,” you sat up, eyes bright, “Oh! I got an idea!” jumping up, you grabbed his hand and tried to pull him with you, “Come help me!”

He laughed but allowed you to drag him up from his very comfortable sitting position. Running over to the pickup, you dropped the tailgate and swung yourself up inside. You could feel the way that the rain was starting to intensify. The chances of getting things set up before the two of you got completely soaked were slim to none, but you didn’t really care.

You started pulling out what you had of the tent that the two of you had originally planned on sleeping in. EZ made a point to roll up and protect your blankets and pillows from the incoming rain before coming over. He watched you, not quite sure what you were planning or what you were going to need from him. He was curious, though, because he could see the glint in your eyes as you scrambled to get everything in place.

“We don’t have everything,” you said as you pulled out what was intended to be the siding of the tent, “But we can just make the truck bed our little makeshift tent.”

EZ chuckled, leaning against the tailgate, “We could just sleep in the truck.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, “Where’s the fun in that, EZ?”

He laughed, “What do you need me to do?”

“Get up here and help me prop all of this up,” you eagerly motioned for him to climb up and join you.

It wasn’t pretty, but it worked. The two of you knew how to make do in a pinch, for sure. It wasn’t like you could try to stand up or anything, but you could sit comfortably, and lay down just fine. It was all you would need for the night. EZ laughed as you scrambled to get all of the things that he had packed up not too long before. You chucked them underneath the makeshift tent the two of you had created in the bed of the pickup. It was surprisingly roomy considering the small space the two of you were working with.

You were right in assuming that the two of you wouldn’t be fast enough to beat the rain. You both sat under the cover you created, water dripping from the ends of your noses and hair. Looking at each other, you both burst out into laugher at the ridiculousness of the situation. It would’ve been easier to sit in the cab of the truck to try and wait it out, or to just drive home. But one thing you had always loved about EZ was that he wasn’t afraid of a little bit of a challenge.

“Adventure!” you chuckled as you slumped back against the side of the truck bed, the sound of the rain battering against the tent threatening to drown out your words.

EZ shook his head, smiling as he wiped the water off of his face, “Yea, something like that.”

“Good thinking protecting the blankets,” you commented with a nod, “Otherwise we’d both end up freezing tonight.”

It wasn’t until you said that that he saw the goosebumps rising on your arms and legs. Even though it was summer, the sun was gone and the breeze still managed to sneak its way through the tiny structure the two of you had thrown to together.

“C’mere,” he motioned for you to come over to his side, which you did gladly.

He was no less soaked through than you were, his shirt sticking to him because of the rain. But the heat radiating off of him was comforting. He pulled you in close, running his hands up and down the outsides of your arms in an attempt to warm you up. It worked to a point, but you couldn’t deny that it just felt nice to be curled up with him like that.

“Hey,” you looked up at him, waiting for his eyes to level with yours, “I love you.”

He smiled, “I love you too.”

Leaning in, you kissed him on the lips. Softly at first, but it didn’t take long for him to cup the side of your face, pulling you closer. You clutched the soaked fabric of his t-shirt in your hands, not caring about the way it felt between your fingers as you pushed yourself farther against him. His other hand slid down to your hip, getting his own hold on you.

You pulled out of the kiss just long enough to peel the soaked shirt off over his head. You couldn’t miss the knowing smile on his face as you tossed it to the side, trying to make the most of the limited space the two of you had mad for yourselves.

As soon as your lips were back on his again, his hand slipped down and started undoing the button and zipper of the shorts you had on. He pushed them down, allowing you to carefully try to kick them the rest of the way off. There was a smirk on his face as he watched you try to maneuver around him, and you knew that it had to look at least a little amusing giving the close quarters.

“Not a lot of space to work with,” he joked.

You huffed out a laugh as you kicked your shorts away, “Yea, well,” you shimmied back over to him, kissing him hard on the lips before reaching for his belt buckle, “We’ve done more with less.”

#mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #mayans mc imagine #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x you #ez reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes imagine #ezekiel reyes x reader #ezekiel reyes fanfic #august prompts #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

135 notes · View notes

llondonfog · 2 years

Text

twstober '22, day 31

Prompt: "Enchantment"

Lilia stares into the blank and empty eyes of the human child and swears silently to himself, sharp nails pressing like needles into his palm from where they were curled in a tightly furled fist.

How many times had he warned the child- Silver- to keep to himself in that cabin deep in the woods, to not stray off the path as warring fae and humans drifted closer, to keep the doors bolted shut and the fire burning unless Lilia himself had given a sign-

A mean and ugly chuckle trickles like the slow eddies of a stream from the kelpie standing behind the human, wild and sallow with hunger. It drags wet and shriveled fingers through those pale locks as if in mock affection, and Lilia's fingers spasm and clench even tighter.

"So trusting and gullible, aren't they, humans? This little one came flying out the front door once he thought he heard the great General Vanrouge in pain, pleading for his aid."

"Why have you brought this child here?" Lilia forces out through gritted teeth, the encampment of fae soldiers behind him frozen in place at the bizarre sight unfolding before them all. "We are miles away from any human settlement, what could you possibly hope to bargain for with one?"

Perhaps, if he feigned disinterest, the kelpie would change tactics and abandon his spell on Silver-

The kelpie's watery eyes narrow in a delighted smirk, gazing down at the boy with ill-concealed scorn. "He'll do anything like this, but you already know that, don't you, Vanrouge? Sing us a song, do a dance- but how about you show us what you can do with that shiny blade?"

Mechanically, the boy's hand rises, small fingers clutched around a thin poignard, and before Lilia can shout to stop this madness, presses the edge against his throat without a flicker of emotion. A tiny trail of blood slips down, staining the edge of his worn collar.

"Silver-"

The name wrenches itself from his throat before he can halt it, and the water horse laughs a high, cruel laugh, pale eyes glinting malevolently. "So it's true, then. The great General Vanrouge has been playing house with a human child in his spare time. Has the war ended then, are we domesticating the humans as livestock? Is that your goal, because if so, then I have severely misjudged the circumstances and for that I apologize-"

"This war has gone on for long enough," Lilia snaps, wrenching his gaze painfully from Silver's dulled features and the blade trembling against the pale hollow of his throat. "The Queen wishes for an end to all losses, and not fae nor human will stand in defiance of her demands!"

"And what of my brethren?" The water horse breathes, all false laughter vanished and leaving only foul malice behind. "What of my people who gave their service for the Queen and perished, what right does she have to dismiss their loyalty in vain! Damn the Queen, damn her wishes, and damn the humans, starting with this one! I'll make him slice his throat open and you can hear him squeal about like a stricken pig-"

It's over in a flash of brilliant steel and a whirl of dark hair. The kelpie's head rolls in open mouthed shock to the forest floor, followed by the rest of it's body, and the only other evidence of Lilia's loss of control is the constricted nature of his pupils, wild and seized with a potent rage. His gaze only slackens at the sudden thump of a knife falling limply against the snow, and Lilia catches the boy before he can topple to the frozen ground to the stunned silence of the soldiers behind him, claws tightening protectively against the thin shirt of his child. The cut against his neck is still beading droplets of red, and it is an easy matter for Lilia to wordlessly press his fingertips to the shallow wound and watch the skin knit seamlessly back together. ". . . At peace," he murmurs, cradling the back of Silver's head in his hand, dark brows furrowing as he ensures any remnant of the enchantment has been eradicated, no lingering malicious hold on the boy's mind. As if in response, the stubborn, strong child fights to groggily open his eyes, distraught opals seeking a familiar face.

"Lil'a, you're . . .safe-"

As the ridiculous human slips once more into unconsciousness with that heartfelt proclamation, Lilia wonders idly if he would be forgiven for any trespasses by the Queen if he were to reanimate the headless scum behind him and take his time dismembering it piece by piece.

"This human is to be treated as if he were of my own flesh and blood," he snarls as he stands to face the shaken army behind him, ignoring the crimson stain soaking greedily into the fresh snow as he cradles the boy to his chest. "I will be taking him back to my quarters where he is to be guarded immediately, is that understood?"

A dazed murmur of assent echoes back around him as he strides off, absently tucking the child's face closer to the warmth of his coat and away from the wind's chill.

This war had gone on for long enough- and now, he would see to its end. Personally.

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twstober #twisted wonderland silver #lilia vanrouge #twst silver #twst lilia #diasomnia #twst malleus #malleus draconia #AND TWSTOBER IS A WRAP #lettie writes

66 notes · View notes

mxnsterbabe · 2 years

Text

Female Vampire/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 3,762 Pt 1, Pt 2 (here) Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

You stumble across Miss Esmeralda’s halfway house, hurt and desperate for sanctuary. Miss Esmeralda’s doesn’t usually cater to humans, but it seems the owner has taken a liking to you.

Esmeralda nudged you forward with an encouraging nod. Her smile, despite being filled with fangs, was gentle.

It was enough to have you stepping forwards, hands laced in front of you, to smile awkwardly at the odd collection of people in front of you.

"Hello," you chirped, and you almost lifted a hand to wave before realising how stupid that was. You must have looked ridiculous enough, practically clinging to Esmeralda as you stared about the kitchen. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't help your eyes from flitting between each of the residents; the seaweed-haired woman was the most normal of all, save for her hair and slight green tint to her skin. The others? Not so much.

The second woman was the first to move. She had dark, navy blue skin that sparkled and shimmered, and she slipped from her stool with the fluidity of water. When she stretched out one slender hand, she looked damp - but no water dripped into the kitchen floor.

"Camilla," she said coolly, "but most people call me 'Mil. It will be strange to have a human around, but if Esmeralda has taken a liking to you, then you must be quite special."

You flushed at the insinuation as embarrassment flooded you. "I'm not special," you said, but you shook Camilla's hand nonetheless.

She was cold to the touch, as if she had dipped her hand in freezing water before touching you. Yet when you pulled away, your hand was dry and warm.

"Camilla here is a water nymph," Esmeralda said from behind, perhaps sensing your confusion. "She may be cold, but she's a sweetheart really."

With a smile and a coy nod, Camilla flowed back onto her stool.

"The kelpie here is Maisie - you two have met before."

My gaze shifted to Maisie, who was considerably smaller than Camilla. If the myths were true, then kelpies were known to drag men to their deaths in the ocean - but they were also supposed to look like drowned horses, and Maisie didn't look drowned nor equine. Maybe not all of the myths were true?

Even so, I gulped down my nerves when she waved shyly, and couldn't quite bring myself to wave back.

"Olivier and Laurent are twins," Esmeralda continued. Whether it was for your sake or hers, she elegantly swept past your blunder. "They've been here almost as long as Lucas. Haven't you, boys?"

The taller of the two - Olivier or Laurent, you wondered? - offered a toothy grin. Despite looking like chiselled rock statues, their teeth gleamed perfectly white.

Gargoyles, you surmised, and tried not to imagine them looming above you on a dark night as you passed beneath an old building. Were all statues alive, or only some?

A gentle hand on your shoulder had you stuttering back to reality. Although it made you shiver, you were grateful for Esmeralda's presence. She was comforting beside you, petite and slim but filled with a steady kind of strength. You noticed then, that her sharp fingernails were painted a velvety black.

"I'll leave you all to breakfast, and show our new guest the rest of the house. Olivier, will you make sure to keep a plate for her?"

Olivier must have been the grinning one, because he inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Sure thing, boss. So long as she isn't vegan or anything."

I shook my head mutely, not trusting my voice.

"Good, then you can have eggs and bacon with the rest of us."

With that, Esmeralda took you by the elbow and glided back into the hall. "I do apologise if they are somewhat... difficult to get along with. Laurent and Olivier especially; they haven't spent much time around humans, if any at all."

Now that the cool air of the hallway was calming you, you found your voice again. "It's all right," you replied, although it was far from it. "I'm just... this is a lot to take in, you know? I thought sleep might help, but this time yesterday I didn't even realise any of you were real, let along living in big, Victorian houses and eating breakfast like regular people-"

"We are regular people," Esmeralda replied curtly. "Perhaps not by your standards, but by our own."

Your stomach twisted itself into knots. Great, now you felt like an asshole. That wasn't what you had meant, only that it was difficult to comprehend that vampires and whatever else were living day to day lives amongst humans. And if vampires and gargoyles and werewolves existed, what else did too?

Esmeralda must have sensed your discomfort, because her expression softened. She offered your arm a gentle squeeze, before reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face with feather-light fingers.

It made your stomach flutter in a wholly different way to the nerves overtaking you just before. You hadn't expected such tenderness, or for her touch to linger on your cheek just a moment too long to be necessary. You looked up at her with wide eyes, lips parted ever so slightly-

Only for Esmeralda to drop her hand and turn towards the stairs. It was as if nothing had even happened, and left you wondering sourly if you'd imagined the longing in her gaze.

"You know where your bedroom is, and the kitchen, which are the most important things. You'll find a bathroom in almost every hallway, so I don't suppose that will be an issue. I can show you the two living rooms and the library, although until Beau is gone I wouldn't suggest going near the garden I'm afraid."

You shifted, staring at Esmeralda's clasped hands and wondering why you felt so cold without her nearby. She was hardly warm herself, but with only a meter between you, you felt the loss of her hand against your arm, the ghost of her fingers across your face.

Oblivious - or at least, you hoped so - she held out her hand again. "How about the library first? I have the best book collection in Farfield, I guarantee it."

You didn't care about the books, not really, but any excuse to spend time with Esmeralda was one you'd gladly take. Without hesitation, you took her hand and allowed her to guide you towards the library.

She led you through narrow, winding hallways that were mostly dark, save for the flicker of dim chandeliers. It was like something out of an old book or a fairytale, as if stepping into this house had transported you back a hundred years in time.

You saw huge portraits lining one especially long hallway; five women all in a neat line, their portraits contained in elegant oak frames. Although their hair and clothing changed, they all had the same haunting, blood-red eyes.

The most recent one was clearly of Esmeralda, with her flowing black hair and painted lips. You wondered if the other four paintings were really of her, too, and not some long dead ancestor with uncanny resemblance.

Then, Esmeralda paused - and when she swept open a set of enormous oak doors to reveal the library inside, it took your breath away.

"Woah," you murmured, stepping past Esmeralda and into the cavernous room.

The house was enormous, but you still hadn't expected something as grand as this; towering bookshelves stretched from ceiling to floor, crammed with so many books that you wondered how they all managed to fit. The floor was a huge swatch of black hardwood, but somebody had stacked even more books into every corner, every crevice, leaving only the middle of the library clear.

"Impressive, isn't it?" Esmeralda asked as she swept past. She wore a long dress today, more modern than what you had seen her in last night - but the thick fabric swished about her ankles as she turned to beckon you forward. You had never paid much attention to what she was wearing before, too captured by her ethereally gorgeous face and sparkling crimson eyes; but it struck you now how the dress hugged her curves, tight at the bust and waist before blooming into folds of tulle at the hips.

Esmeralda looked as if she was dressed for a ball; and you, in the same jeans and top as yesterday, felt so out of place in this perfect house.

Yet before you could delve too much into self-consciousness, Esmeralda took your hand and led you deeper into the library. The sensation of her cool hand in yours was soothing, her skin soft and blemish-free as it squeezed yours. She had an odd way of comforting you, without even saying a word.

The two of you settled into a little nook at the window, tucked into the corner where two tall bookshelves joined. You couldn't see any ladders or railings to reach the top, and wondered how anybody was supposed to reach. You had the sudden, ridiculous image of Esmeralda turning into a bat and grabbing a book in tiny talons - but she couldn't really do that. Right?

It was a silly thought, but stuck in your mind as Esmeralda picked out a few books. You were surprised to note that so many were romance - modern ones too, despite the old fashioned appearance of the house and herself. You even recognised a few.

Conversation flowed easily between the two of you; Esmeralda had been alive for a long time, and she had ready so many books that it was difficult to keep up. It was soothing though, listening to her voice as she excitedly told you all about her favourite stories over the centuries.

You hadn't seen her so enthusiastic before, some of that cool and composed exterior melting away the more time passed. It was impossible to know how long you spent there, breaking only once you remembered to eat. You ate breakfast still tucked away in the reading nook, and lunch too, when Maisie appeared suddenly with sandwiches and a huge mug of coffee.

"You might be here for a while," she whispered with a grin. "If you want to stay awake, you'll need this.

You had argued that you loved listening to Esmeralda talk; but after an entire day spent here, even you were beginning to drift off. Eventually the sky began to darken, and you only knew because the tinted windows lost their rosy glow and became a drowsy grey.

After a while, Esmeralda quietened. You glanced up from your position sprawled across the old couch, to see her sorting the books on the table into neat piles.

"It's late," she stated kindly, "and you look tired. I talked your ear off all day. You can rest here if you like, and I'll wake you when supper is ready."

You rose a brow. "You don't mind?"

"My guests are free to go wherever they please, within reason of course. Besides, you look so sweet there that it would be a shame to disturb you."

You smiled when Esmeralda lay a blanket across your middle. That smile only widened as your hands brushed, her perfectly manicured nails skimming across your skin.

She's probably this kind to all of her guests, you reasoned quietly. There was a small part of you, though, that hoped for more. Was it possible that this was more than simple concern for you? The thought made you shiver, and you buried deeper under the blanket in an attempt to hide it from Esmeralda.

If she noticed your odd behaviour, she didn't comment. Instead, she brushed dark hair from her eyes with a gentle hand, making you wish that it was you running your hand through her silky locks.

You let out an audible sigh; and perhaps you imagined it, but it felt like Esmeralda sent you a barely perceptible smirk. It was difficult to tell though, with your eyes growing heavy as sleep threatened to overtake you. Eventually, you slipped into unconsciousness, relaxed by the quiet murmurs of Esmeralda as she began to read.

***

It was night when you were wrenched back to wakefulness by a chill jolting through your entire body. You winced, shuffling upright to look about the library.

The lights were still on, but they had been dimmed to a peaceful glow. Esmeralda was nowhere to be seen, her chair vacant, and you stifled a shudder at the though of being alone in this big, old room. She had to be somewhere though, perhaps in the kitchen while the others made supper, or in one of the several living rooms.

There was a flash by the window, making your chest leap as you spun - but outside it was dark, and you couldn't see anything except the bushes that had always been there. It had probably just been a rabbit or something scurrying past while you weren't looking.

Even so, unease settled deep in your stomach, as you realised that Esmeralda had left her book open. There was a cup of half-finished tea too, and the scent of coppery blood emanating from the cup was less concerning than the fact it seemed to have been abandoned so abruptly.

Biting down on your lip, you picked up the cup and took a sniff. Yes, that was definitely blood, metallic beneath the otherwise sweet scent of peppermint tea. You set the cup down with a wince. For all of her charm and beauty, Esmeralda was still a vampire.

A tap at the window made you startle, bumping into the coffee table and nearly sending the books clattering to the floor. At the last second, you managed to slam a hand against the haphazard pile to stop them from falling, while your eyes darted towards the window.

You couldn't see anyone there, it was too dark and the windows were tinted to almost black. There was definitely someone there though; a silhouette with long hair and slender, folded arms.

"You wouldn't mind letting me in, would you? Lucas has locked the front door and I've been knocking for ages."

The feminine voice brought a rush of relief spreading through you. It was only Esmeralda! There was just one issue...

"I don't have the keys."

Her silhouette straightened. "Oh, it's not locked - you just have to open it from your side and invite me in."

Well, all right then. It was kind of rude of Luke to lock the door, especially if the only danger was a man who physically couldn't enter without being asked.

When your fingers found the window's latch, it slid open easily. Pale moonlight spilled into the library, thin beams spreading across the floor.

"Here, you can come in now. Sorry I can't open it more, it's - I think it's jammed?" You gave it an experimental tug and sure enough, it wouldn't open more than halfway.

"That's all right," Esmeralda said with a chuckle; but it wasn't a kind sound. It was so cold that you felt ice freeze you solid.

The long, sturdy limbs that slithered through the window did not belong to Esmeralda. The hand that gripped the windowsill belonged to a man, the nails filed to a short, sharp point. Slowly, having to duck to fit through, the rest of him emerged; long white hair spilled over his shoulders as he pulled himself into the room; and between those folds of hair you glimpsed a grinning, manic face.

Finally, Beau stood before you at his full height. In the perfect mimic of Esmeralda's voice, he said, "thank you for letting me in, little one. If it wasn't for you I would have been there all night, waiting for Lucas to give up the hunt."

Nausea rolled in your throat. You stumbled back as fear rose in your gut, shaking hands outstretched to keep from smacking into the table a second time. When your foot kicked the table leg, you hardly even felt the jolt of pain.

For every step you took backwards, Beau stalked forwards. A slow, menacing smile crept across his features as his hands reached out for you. You could have run, but the library was like a maze and you didn't know where to go, backed into a corner by Beau's slow advance.

When your back hit the wall, you panicked.

"You really thought you could escape me?" Beau purred, as one elongated hand cupped your chin. "You thought that hiding here could keep me away? Esmeralda is nothing but a sentimental idiot, thinking that she can get along with you humans - shit."

You barely had time to register that Beau had stepped back, before something huge and dark launched itself across the library. The person - creature? - went tumbling, Beau underneath them, knocking furniture carelessly aside in the process. Beau shouted something unintelligible as the creature rose to loom above him.

The creature in question was a huge black wolf the size of a bear, standing on its hind legs.

"What the fuck-"

Something grabbed you before you could finish the thought. Slender hands tugged you aside and out of harm's way and you stumbled, legs unwilling to hold you anymore.

You weren't sure how you made it into the hallway, the echoes of the fight far behind you. Yet somehow you made it, but your legs suddenly buckled and then you collapsed without a word.

The floor was cold beneath your crumpled legs, but it did little to snap you back to reality. Rather, it only made you shiver and bury deeper into the comforting embrace of whoever sat beside you.

You realised with a whisper of embarrassment, that the person in question was Esmeralda. At some point, she had swept a blanket over your shivering shoulders and pulled you close, her chin resting on the top of your head.

"It's all right," she hummed, and gave you a little squeeze. "I don't know how Beau got in, but he won't hurt you. Lucas will take care of him now."

Lucas... he must have been that enormous werewolf inside the library. You wanted to feel comforted by the knowledge that such a hulking man was on your side, but it was Esmeralda's soft touch that soothed you more.

She continued to whisper soft reassurances, drowning out the howls and snarls of Lucas. It sounded as if he was tearing the library apart, and you almost felt sorry for Beau to be on the receiving end of that. Almost.

"I really thought that he was going to get me," you murmured against Esmeralda's shoulder. "He sounded exactly like you, and I didn't think twice about letting him in."

Esmeralda huffed. "Mimicking. It's one of the oldest tricks a vampire has, I don't blame you for falling for it."

You had nothing to say to that. Your heart still thundered too loudly in your ears to think of a proper reply anyway, pounding desperately against your ribs. Instead of answering, you simply curled up beside Esmeralda and let her hold you.

Later - it could have been hours or only minutes, but probably the latter - heavy footsteps clunked down the hall. A masculine - yet surprisingly soft - voice whispered. "He's dealt with. Beau won't be coming back here anytime soon."

Relief struck you hard enough that you were almost ill from the force of it. You peeked up to see a man you assumed was Lucas; he was towering and broad, but his smile was soft.

"Sorry you had to hear all that," he said sheepishly, and his nose crinkled in embarrassment. "Beau's a nasty one. Oh, and Es? You might want to buy a new sofa at some point. That's my bad."

Esmeralda only rolled her eyes and shooed him off - Lucas ambled off down the hall, perhaps to check on the others. Or to deal with Beau, whatever that entailed. Honestly, you didn't want to think about that too much.

You took a moment to cool your racing nerves, before turning to Esmeralda with a frown. In the wake of almost being eaten, you should have been more torn up about it. And you were, except that now Beau was dealt with you really had no more reason to stay.

"Thanks for saving me. Again." You chuckled, but it was dry. "Now that Beau's gone, does that mean I should go?"

Esmeralda's thin brows furrowed. "I'm hardly going to kick you out the moment the danger passes."

"Sure, but... I'm just a human, and don't you need the space?"

She sent you a wavering look, but her glowing eyes were soft. Gentle. Dare you even say... affectionate?

"I have more bedrooms here than I could ever reasonably use. While you don't have to stay, this house is always open to you." Carefully, as if you were made of delicate china, she used one sharp nail to brush hair from your face. "But perhaps you should stay another day or two to recover."

You parted your lips to argue, even as your pulse quickened. When had Esmeralda gotten so close? Her hair draped across her shoulders, close enough to tickle your cheeks as she bent down to your height. You could see those smouldering red eyes, smell the odd mix of peppermint and tangy blood on her breath. Any closer now, and all you'd have to do was tilt your head up and allow your lips to meet.

You never had the chance, because Esmeralda closed the last inches between the two of you. You had always found her cold before, but now the two of you seemed to be on fire as warmth lit up your chest. Her lips caught yours in a tender kiss, as one arm slipped around your waist to hold you carefully.

When she pulled away, there was a dazed smile across her lips; one that you knew you mirrored in your own expression.

"If you leave after such a perfect kiss," Esmeralda said, "I would be terribly disappointed."

Still flushed, you replied, "then I suppose I have no choice but to stay."

She hummed in agreement - and then pulled you in for another long, lingering kiss.

#exophilia fiction #exophilia #monster x reader #monster girlfriend #monster romance #tag: fxf #tag: vampire #tag: female monster #tag: female reader #tag: sfw

57 notes · View notes

grumpygreenwitch · 3 months

Text

The Witches & Wizards Jobs 17-18-19

AO3 Link

Buy me a Ko-fi?

Remember: Tumblr has no algorithm. Reblogs give me life.

1-2 + 3-4 + 5-6 + 7-8 + 9-10-11 + 12-13-14 + 15-16 + 17-18-19 + 20-21-22 + 23-24-25 + 26-27-28 + 29-30 + 31-32-33 + 34-35-36 + 37-38 + 39-40-41-42

SEVENTEEN

I slept like I hadn't in months. Living in a constant state of anxiety will do that to you, I suppose. But I was so far from home and from the enemies and dangers of Chicago that it felt as if they were too far away to matter. Even the war seemed a thing happening to someone else. It was a dangerous feeling, particularly because the house didn't have any of the protections of my Chicago apartment, but I was too tired to care.

I woke up to an unfamiliar doorbell and my dog trying to murder me by stepping on my kidneys. That much dog euphorically walking all over you will wake you up in a hurry, if nothing else. I dragged myself out of the surprisingly comfortable bed and down the stairwell to the door.

I found my current boss there.

"Dresden."

"Ford." I was all at once as awake as someone could be, every sense sharply on the alert.

"You can't use an electric stove, can you."

Ok, not the words I'd expected to hear from the man. "Uh, I can probably do it once."

"Without setting the house on fire?"

"Fifty-fifty on that one."

"Mm. Get dressed. We're gonna pick up breakfast."

He must have seen something on my face. I'd expected a lot of things; most people see Soulgazing as a theft, or worse. Very few like what they see in me. I'd expected to be fired, or interrogated, or something in a long and extensive list. Treated to even more food had not been part of it.

Ford shrugged minutely. For once he looked put together, and it was startling. He still had that deceptively harmless quality, the feel of a man that makes friends easily. He was freshly shaved, wearing a light shirt under a summer jacket and casual slacks, all in dark, neutral tones. His hair was still damp. "I refuse to let you think Boston only wants to come at you swinging."

I opened the door wide and stepped aside. "For the record, I don't mind Boston. I just don't want to make waves."

He stepped in. Mouse sniffed him, the banner of his tail wagging sedately, and Ford distractedly rubbed his head. I don't think he even noticed he was doing it. "Is it that easy? If what happened yesterday at the museum hadn't happened, would the city still know you're here?"

"Yes."

He looked thoughtful, but merely went on his way to examine the rooms full of crates while I took the fastest shower in the world, fed Mouse some dog food that looked like it cost more than my rent back in Chicago and got into my spare clothes. We headed out into an unfairly sunny and lovely morning. Trees bordered the street, the houses gracious in their old age. Boston was lovely.

It just wasn't home.

"There is, comparatively speaking, a lot of things living in Boston that aren't human. Supernaturals move, same as us," I explained as we walked. "For work, for life, for family. That's universal. And Boston's one point where that traffic bottlenecks. A lot of them don't go any further."

"So Boston's the best they could find?" He gave me a quick, incredulous glance.

"No, the most convenient. Magic likes it when you throw down roots. You can draw power from your home in a pinch, there's protections that kinda seep into a place the longer you live in it."

"Lintel magic," he murmured.

I damn near stopped walking. It was the first time in all our dealings that I'd heard Ford use the m-word.

"My mother believed," he said after a few steps. "She'd tell me stories, the old classics, and the ones from the Old World. Fairies, wicked stepmothers, charming princes - kelpies, hounds, fairy queens…" He shrugged once again. "I'm not nearly as surprised as I should be that the reality is even bloodier."

"You stopped believing, why?"

The ice flickered briefly in his eyes. "You looked into my soul, Dresden, don't you know why?"

"It doesn't work like that. You know that, or I would already be on a train to Chicago."

He did look amused at that, snorting minutely. "Dresden, you're Crime Lite from where my people and I are standing." He marshalled his thoughts while I tried to figure out if I was flattered, insulted, or something else even more complicated. "Life got in the way. Here comes Parker."

The thief was sprinting at us. She'd probably been coming to meet everyone in the loft. "Nate! Are you getting donuts?"

"Uh, we can?"

"I want donuts."

"I want something a little more substantial than donuts," he pointed out mildly.

"Oh, fine." She peeked at me. "Are you alright?"

"I'll do better with a couple of donuts in me."

She beamed. Ford groaned. We walked down the block to a little shop by the clever name of Double-O's, which did bagels and donuts both. Ford ordered enough food to feed twenty people and we sat at one of the little tables with a couple of donuts and some coffee and they brought me up to speed on what they'd done after I'd gone down.

Parker and Eliot had moved the coffee table, and everything in it, to the storage room, and taped the key to the Witchwell. That was already a huge weight off my mind. But then the Leverage people had gone further - with the crumpled envelope, of all things.

"It's not paper, it's vellum," Ford explained while Parker demolished a donut covered in chocolate and corn flakes. "Which is just fancy paper made to imitate actual vellum."

"Expensive paper," I ventured.

"Precisely."

"There was no writing."

"There doesn't need to be. Remember the embossing on it? It's a sigil, sort of a coat of arms."

"I really, really would love to know what it is you people actually do. So you looked up this sigil thing?

"Solve puzzles." Ford didn't miss a beat. "We didn't have to. Sophie knows it by heart, it's the sigil of Christie's."

"Christie's, the British Auction House?"

"Yes."

I worked on my coffee. "I'm hoping this makes sense to you, because I'm -"

The lights above us flickered. I wouldn't have thought much of it; I was there, after all. But at one of the tables, two women snatched up their purses and one toddler, and scurried off at truly phenomenal speed.

There were advantages to having that many supernaturals around, apparently. I snatched for my wand; like a moron, I'd left my staff back at the house.

"Do not." The gratingly avuncular tone was threaded with menace.

The man in black walked sedately past the counter and the last late morning customers. Only one person reacted to his passage, a young man wearing a typical cycling outfit, a messenger bag slung across his chest. He took one look over his shoulder and bolted. No one else seemed to see him, to know he was there. They shifted out of his way because suddenly they had to reach for a napkin or a sugar packet or something else, but no one directly acknowledged his presence at all.

It was a Veil with conditions. Until that moment I'd never known a Veil could be crafted like that, with exceptions built in.

Ford put a hand on my good shoulder and shook his head minutely. I tried to relax, and managed only to pull my hand out of my duster pocket. Parker was glaring with hyperbolic fury.

"Ah, you must be the sensible one," the man in black told Ford. "What pleasant luck."

"Every now and again," Ford agreed mildly.

He turned to look at Parker. She immediately looked down at her donut and scowled.

"This modern world," the man in black mused. "One comes to find the Prince of Thieves, and it is a woman. How times change. Hands on the table, please. Where I can see them."

"Parker," Ford said quietly when she didn't move. He said nothing else; he merely let his eyes take in the dozen or so people sharing space with us and the wizard.

She obeyed, sulking all the while.

"And yours, wizard Dresden."

Gosh, I'd almost forgotten what it was like, when someone used the title to insult me. I dropped both my hands on the table and worked really hard on not curling them into fists.

"Well, isn't this nice." He sat at our table. He was wearing fully modern clothing, a high-collared white shirt, a black embroidered vest, a long black coat with silver and emerald buttons, dress slacks, expensive shoes. His black hair had been cut and combed back, and his moustache and beard were so neatly trimmed I wouldn't have been surprised to find out he'd used a ruler. He was a very pale man, and his eyes were the same luminous, poisonous green of the painting and his magic. He looked and sounded so smug it took effort not to just haul up and punch him on principle. "So very nice. You have something of mine, sir," he told Ford mildly. "Several somethings, actually." He grinned.

"That would be stealing. I don't make it a habit to confess to crimes publicly, even when I haven't committed any."

The man's eyes flashed. His mouth opened - and closed, and he looked deeply amused. "No, of course not. You have committed no crime." His voice suddenly turned into a lash. "Hands. On the table."

Parker glared at him.

"I do strive to not be a fool more than once," he told her mildly. "If you do that again, I will kill someone here. Someone you do not know. Someone who does not know you. That nice man who served you your donuts, maybe. The old lady one of your companions held the door for one time. It will not hurt you. It will just be a toothache, forever there to be worried at, because I will kill them only if you take your hands off the table. Yes?"

Parker's face had gone to stone. My hands, despite my best efforts, had curled into fists after all. Ford tightened his grip on my shoulder a little more.

"I do not see a need to make this into a quarrel," the man in black said very calmly. "My attention is on greater matters. Whatever Dresden might have told you, until the small issue at the museum, I had committed no crime."

"No c- No crime? At the very least you destroyed the MFA lab. You stole from their vaults."

"Not at all. The portrait is mine. I commissioned Sokolov for it. Beautiful work, truly. I was very pleased with it, even with the nose being wrong."

"Working from memory," Ford mused.

"Mm, as portraitists do. So you see, I was recovering my property."

"You could have gone through proper channels. That shouldn't be a hardship for a man like you."

"I am pressed for time," the man in black admitted. "Which is why I come to make you an offer."

I tensed up immediately. Ford's hand turned into a vise on my shoulder and he shot me a warning look.

"You will return my property to me. And I will not kill you. You will send Dresden home. And I will not kill him. You will forget this matter. And in three days' time, I will grant you and your people your heart's desire. Whatever it might be. Fame, fortune, revenge, knowledge. I am a man of many talents. I daresay there's very little in this world that I could not give you. One wish."

"I get to punch you once," Parker growled immediately.

The man in black blinked in surprise, and then laughed. "Well, not that."

Under the table, Parker's leg bumped lightly against mine. It was so unexpected, so out of nowhere from someone who only touched even her own teammates when she absolutely had to, that it shocked me back to my senses, and I turned my attention to her. She was scowling at the man in black from the corner of her eyes, hunched down minutely, her hands flat on the table, tension on every line of her body, and her face had the same wild expression she'd had back at the Museum, when she'd figured out how to save our asses.

I lunged at the man in black across the table. I did it slow; I already knew I was much quicker than him. For a moment I thought I was going to actually get at him, the one time I didn't care if I did, but Ford belatedly caught me. "Dresden!"

Whatever slammed into me froze me, literally. I felt my veins turn to ice, my muscles lock. Cold blasted into me, left me motionless, unable to even shiver. I could barely gasp for air, but hey, if I wasn't going to get another chance to breathe, I might as well put the one breath I had to good use. "My hands're still on the table," I hissed at the man in black.

I saw surprise and fury flash through his eyes. He'd thrown himself back and scrambled to his feet, his chair crashing to the floor. No one noticed." So they are," he gritted out, and his magic faded, letting me wheeze for breath. With an effort he turned to face Ford, the mild and cheerful facade gone behind a vulturine, sharp and predatory look that was far more appropriate. "My property. Now, if you please."

"Does that include the Burning Witch's Well?"

Surprise once again went over the angular features, quickly hidden out of sight. "Yes."

"Well, you nearly killed twenty people with it, so, uh. No."

The man in black bared his teeth and flicked his hand. The lights went out. I threw my hand up and whatever he'd meant to hit Ford with crashed instead into my shield. It sent us both skidding back until we hit a half-wall behind us, random little decorations falling off it. He looked livid; yeah, still faster than you, asshole.

"Then I will take what is mine, and enjoy the killing of you all in the process," he declared, stalking off.

Breathless or not, Nate rushed immediately after him. I turned to check on Parker. "You alright?"

"Yeah, go get him!" She was wriggling in place. "I gotta put my shoes back on!"

Her sh-

Her shoes?!

There's only so many surprises I can cope with from just one person. I ran after Ford, but he was just outside the door to the shop, looking frustrated, scanning the street in every direction.

"Don't bother," I told him. "He probably closed off the Veil he was wearing to begin with."

"You saw him."

"No. I saw a couple of ladies bolt; they're the ones who saw him. I told you; you can't hide a wizard, not easily."

Parker nearly ran into us both as she charged out the door. "Is he gone?"

"Yup." Ford had that look again, the look that said he was putting together bits and pieces into a whole no one else had even noticed was there.

A man peeked out of the shop. "Mister Ford? Your order's ready."

"Oh, good." He marched back inside.

"You picked his pockets again," I told Parker before either of us followed Ford inside, not sure if I was amused or amazed. I settled for both.

"Yeah, of course I did. You almost messed me up, though!"

"I did? I thought you were signaling me for a distraction!"

She flushed minutely. "No. Your legs are just longer than Eliot's."

"… Sorry?" She grinned a little. "So what did you get?"

She grinned even more.

EIGHTEEN

Nate charged into the loft at full speed. "Hardison, are you here yet?"

The hacker had been in the kitchen; he peeked out of the fridge. "Yeah, man. Uh, fridge's broken."

"Then replace it, landlord mine." Nate glanced at the door and added, his voice quieter. "Quietly."

Hardison's expression filled with understanding, and he nodded. "Did you get breakfast?"

"They're bringing it up. I don't promise there's any donuts left. Is everyone else here?"

"We are now." Eliot held the door open for Parker and Dresden, Sophie coming up behind them. "What's this I'm hearing, that you met the man in black?"

"We did," Nate confirmed cheerfully.

"What?!" Hardison looked stunned.

"Is everyone alright?" Sophie asked.

"Oh, yeah, everyone's fine. He just wanted to talk. Threaten us, bully us, you know, the usual. Dresden, back to your couch, I need Hardison's computers." The wizard went that way obediently, but he didn't let go of the box he was carrying, raiding its contents before he surrendered it to Eliot. Sophie followed Parker to the staging area.

"Hardison." Nate sat and stared at the screens. "The Tetryakov Gallery is the main repository of Sokolov's work. That's not just his portraits and his studies, that's also his journals, his notebooks. The records of his commissions. Do they have electronic copies of those?"

In a moment the central screen was full of documents, more and more being flicked to one side as the hacker blithely charged into presumably secured databases across the world. "Some of it."

"Cross-reference against the portrait. We might not know who the people in it are, but it's absolutely one of Sokolov's largest pieces."

"It's also a full-body portrait of two people. He preferred faces, busts, or large groups. It's unique," Sophie added.

"Give me a minute, I'm having to run all this through a translator. I don't actually read Russian."

"Sophie, Parker. Are there any big art events taking place within the next three days?"

"Yes," Parker replied before Sophie could. "A private art auction in two days." She pulled from an inner jacket pocket a small piece of paper and handed it over with a grin.

Sophie took it, read it, and passed it on. "That's what the Christie's man is here for. He's not selling, he's buying."

"He just went to all this trouble to get the portrait, and he's selling it already?" Eliot protested mildly. "Why?"

"Because in two days he won't need it anymore." Ford stared at the screen. "Dresden, the brass piping. What you meant to do with it, can you do it in the storage room as well?"

"If there's enough brass, yes."

"Do it." Nate looked at his team. "He can't find them. He came to us because whatever Dresden did worked. The key, the circles, whatever it is, they are actually doing their job and he can't find all the stuff Parker took from him. I bet he had some sort of tracker in his pockets, waiting for Parker to go for it."

"Jerk," the thief muttered, but she didn't sound angry as much as resigned. "I figured the paper was safe."

"Dresden."

Eliot brought the piece of paper to their consultant. It was a match to the envelope, heavy vellum, the ink black and gold, the writing beautifully elegant. Dresden grimaced as soon as he touched it, and lifted it up. "Nope. This is your tracker."

"I can't put it back when he just keeps being invisible!" Parker protested.

Nate gestured appeasingly. "Hardison, make a copy. We'll put the original with the rest of the stuff. I imagine next he's going to try and break in, send the leshy to fetch them, or something worse." Once again he turned to Dresden. "Can you stop that from happening?"

"Yes, but I should get started soon," the wizard had sat up straight, staring in something like wonder as, once again, Nate did what he did best.

"You've got the whole day. Sophie, you and I have a meeting for dinner."

"Fedorov?" When he nodded confirmation, she pursed her mouth. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"No. That's why we're going."

Hardison had put the invitation into a scanner that was discreetly hidden in one of the desks. He handed it back to Parker, who glared at it as if it were the man in black himself. The computers chose that moment to beep and he looked sharply up. "Found it." His fingers flew over the keyboard and he grimaced. "They're direct scans from one of Sokolov's commission journals. The OCR is having a time with it, let me see if I can make the name of the commissioner any clearer." He clipped one particular set of lines from the yellowed, faded page on the screen.

Sophie drew in a sharp breath. Eliot, who'd been coming over to take the invitation from Parker, froze.

"You're fine, Hardison. It reads fine like that," Nate murmured distractedly.

"That can't be right," Eliot muttered.

"What's been right about this job from the beginning?" Sophie countered mildly.

"What's it say?" Hardison asked.

All three of them replied at once. "Koschei."

Behind them, Dresden choked on his breakfast sandwich.

Nate clapped his hands. "This is good!"

"Good?" Eliot stared at the mastermind in disbelief. "This is good? We're going up against the main bad guy in every Russian fairy-tale ever written, someone who actually makes the Russians balk, and you think this is good?!"

"All fairy tales have their basis on something real," Sophie had sat to one side, her hands wrapped around a cup she hadn't touched yet. "Khan Koshan was a barbarian warlord, back in a time when Russia was simply Rus, 'the land'."

"It's good because we have a name," Nate explained. "And a name means a trail. Wizards might not be able to use technology - he is a wizard?" He turned to Dresden, waited for a nod to carry on. "But the rest of the world does. A name means a profile, travel records, hotels, purchases. Even if he's not using his own name, and honestly I expect he'd be the sort who would out of sheer arrogance, a name isn't the sort of thing that blows up computers, like an image does." He turned to stare at the screen. "A name gives us everything. Hardison, this isn't your usual profile, but can you give me an estimate of how long it will take you?"

"You want me to guess how long it'll take to sift through two hundred years of fairy tales to get a bead on this man?" Hardison stared at Nate.

"He's older than that," Dresden sounded off. "He's much, much older than that."

"Dresden." Nate acknowledged. "Do you have a starting point?"

Harry exhaled sharply. "Yes," he replied carefully.

The mastermind pressed his mouth into a thin line and added, "One that doesn't involve men in gray and big swords?"

"I'm working on that," Dresden admitted. "Khan Koshan is…sort of a wizardly cautionary tale. He's the only wizard anyone knows of that successfully managed immortality."

"As in he can't die, or he can't be killed?" Eliot asked.

"Both," the wizard replied grimly. "That's half the trick. You can be ageless, if you don't mind every supernatural in the world out for your blood. You can be unkillable, if you don't mind selling your soul. As far as anyone knows, he got both kewpie dolls without paying the price."

"So he's a criminal." Nate didn't look convinced.

"That's the other half, he's not. Technically." Harry seemed to measure his words with incredible care. "The best known way to be ageless is by stealing the life off of someone else. That is outright necromancy. Men in gray. Big swords."

"He's not doing that." It wasn't a question.

"No. No one knows how he's doing it, only that he absolutely doesn't age, and that he's not a necromancer."

"And he can't be killed? Hurt?" That came from Eliot, who was scowling at the very thought.

"Parker clocked him twice at the museum. Solid hits. They were gone by the time I tackled him."

"That can't be an easy trick to pull off," Sophie mused.

"It's not. What… is known is what the fairy-tales are already telling you. He cut out his own heart and hid it - he hid it so well that no one can find it, not even death."

Sophie drew in a deep breath. "The brooch. The Emerald Heart of Koschei the Deathless. The jewel that no one's ever seen, but everyone knows is real."

"Yup. Now, here I'm going on hearsay: he did it to gift it to a woman he loved. But she rejected him, and it poisoned the heart. Turned him greedy and cruel. He was going to share the trick of it with the world, up until that point. Having met the man, I think it's bullcrap. He never meant to give the secret away. He's just spinning some PR to make himself look the victim, not the villain."

"That tracks," Nate agreed.

"Is that what he's after?" Eliot turned. Hardison had put up a picture of the portrait on one of the screens, deeming it safe enough since no phones had been sacrificed in the acquisition of it.

"The placement of the lock would seem to hint at it," Sophie agreed, but she saw Nathan frown minutely.

Surprisingly, it was Dresden who sounded off. "Why? It's been safe all this time, impossible to find. Why bother now, why bother at all?"

"Mm." Nate stared at the painting. "Dresden, do you mind shouting across the room?"

"I like it better than the alternative."

"Then I'd like you to work with Hardison on the profile, but the security around the things we took from Koschei takes priority. Eliot, you're with them. Sophie, Parker, we're going to find out what we can about this private auction."

"I bet Jess knows," Parker suggested.

"Start there, then. Dresden." It was Nate's turn to choose his words very carefully. "Is this something you should report to your people?"

The wizard looked surprised to even be considered on that regard. "Technically."

"We're flying on a lot of 'technically's here," the mastermind muttered.

"I mean, I can't use a cellphone. I'd have to find a landline." A little smirk ghosted over Harry's features making him look, for a fleeting moment, young. "The only ones I know of are back in Chicago."

Nate didn't smile, but it was a close thing.

NINETEEN

To be fair, I did get why Ford called it 'wanton destruction of property'. Eliot just looked way too gleeful wielding a power tool. And it absolutely wasn't because I was a little bit jealous that he got to use the fun toys, like a nail gun. Cordless drill. Power sander.

Nope, not jealous at all.

So the morning went with Eliot in my basement and me out in the yard entertaining Mouse, and the hitter occasionally stopping long enough to relay a question from Hardison back at the loft.

Then he ran out of iron nails. That wasn't anyone's fault, I'd asked for enough for a few spells, not enough to line the doors and windows, which was what it would take to keep the leshy out. No shield or barrier I could think of was going to keep a Golden Bear out, obviously. And I couldn't imagine anyone had ever come up with something to keep Koschei out, it would have been the stuff of legends. No, the point was the circle, and the ward inside, a copy of the pattern on the key.

Hey, if it worked for Koschei it was good enough for me.

Eliot took off to get more nails. Hardison didn't want me near the loft while he worked on a little joint project I'd suggested. Which gave me the perfect opportunity to head into my shiny new basement, close my shiny new circle for protection, and break out Bob.

I'd honestly thought about leaving Bob behind. My apartment might not look like much, but there were protections on it that only living for years in the same place can create. My laboratory, the sub-basement, was not only protected but hard to find. There was a better than good chance that Bob would be reasonably safe. But better than good was no perfect. And powerful and knowledgeable as Bob was, he still lived in a skull, and skulls are fragile. I wasn't worried about any of the many enemies in my life breaking in and finding him nearly as much as I was about them breaking in and not realizing how valuable he was while they wrecked the place.

In any case, I'd brought him with me. I hadn't expected we'd do much. I figured I could let him loose for a little while, if nothing else, and use that later as, heh, leverage when I needed his help. But that had been before I realized the size of the mess in Boston. I brought my rucksack down to the basement, found three boxes that had been on the Endless List, and put the skull on top of them. "Wake up, Bob."

The spirit's eyes lit up like candles, and immediately blazed and sparked like fireworks. "Whoa!"

"Yeah, welcome to Boston." I knew exactly how he felt. I put the sack on the shiny new workbench and sat on the shiny new stool.

"Ooof, headrush." Bob sorted himself out faster than I had, and his eyes rolled all around the sockets as he took in his surroundings. "Nice place. These Leverage people are taking good care of you, I see. Did you ever find out what it is they do?"

"I'm working on it."

"You know, Harry, it wouldn't have killed you to put me on a window during the train ride. It's been forever since I've really traveled."

"I was asleep for most of it."

"Liar," Bob sang back. "Are you wearing a sling?"

"I was trying to sleep for most of it. And yes." The shoulder was only occasionally throbbing, but Eliot had been very clear about wearing the sling as long as possible. "The Leverage people seem to have stepped into something a little beyond everyone's paygrade."

The spirit scoffed minutely. "Mortals."

"I'm not sure I'd have the arm to put in a sling if it weren't for them, so let's skip the pleasantries about that. I need to make a quick veil-shielding charm."

"Harry, you can't do that, you know that. A charm that can defend against a Veil needs to be attuned to, if not the Veil, then the wizard casting it, else it burns up."

"I'm fine with it burning up. I just need it to last five minutes. Two even." I couldn't even imagine the sheer amount of mayhem any of these people could do in two minutes. Or less, but I was trying to play it safe.

"What a waste of magic," Bob scoffed.

"Bob, focus. These are the same people who got you the boxes you're sitting on." The skull was sitting on top of three boxes full of paperback romances. I didn't question his unlife choices and Leverage hadn't questioned mine.

The spirit's attention turned inward briefly. "Well, I'm suddenly feeling a lot more generous toward our hosts," he declared, far too chipper. "Also, this city's making my teeth buzz. Anything that takes attention away from that is welcome."

"Oh, I have lots more questions for you, don't worry. The charm?"

"Did you bring the Vivendum with you? Page 253. By the way, Gottridge is lying, the charm works just as well in metal as it does glass, as long as it's not iron or lead."

I lifted one of the pins I'd found in the Lost & Found box. "How about pewter?"

"Ooo, tin and copper, perfect. If you get lucky, there might even be silver in there."

I found the Vivendum Grimoire, one of the books I'd brought with me from Chicago, found the spell to enchant the charms, and started rummaging about for sympathetic ingredients. Magic's all like that: sometimes you need something specific, but for the most part as long as you have something that sorta resonates with what you mean to do, you're fine. I found a heavy mortar and pestle first, and started throwing things in there: a lens and some colorful beach glass, a few plastic whistles. I tore strips out of a sheet of sandpaper, and emptied a bottle of perfume in. Then I started looking about for something to fill in the fifth slot. Gottridge recommended cheese, but everyone agreed that the man had had a dairy allergy.

"Rice," Bob said in a long-suffering tone. "Rice, Harry. If you cannot go to one extreme, go to the other."

I threw my last ingredient in, covered the mortar and started grinding. "Next question. Can you make a suppression spell into a suppression potion?"

Bob sucked in a breath. How, I didn't know, given he lacked every single element needed for it. "Yes, but it's not gonna taste good. Among other things."

"Other things?" I asked in between working the pestle.

"Think, Harry. The point of a spell is that you can dismiss it at will. If you drink the suppression, how are you going to dismiss it if you need your magic?"

"Can it be done so it's on a timer?"

"Tricky, but doable. And it's still going to taste like the bottom of a ditch. Why are you wearing a sling?"

"Because I dislocated my shoulder last night. Work out the recipe, please." The pestle began grinding more smoothly, so I gave all my focus to the spell. Bob knew better than to distract me, though I could all but feel those witch-light eyes burning into my back.

It wasn't hard, particularly because I didn't need it to be efficient, or good. Like I'd told Bob, I just needed the charms to do their thing long enough for my employers to get wise to a bad situation and bail. I worked the spell into the ingredients until I had fine, dust-colored dust on the bottom of the mortar; I scooped that into an empty salt shaker, sprinkled it all over the dozen or so pins I had ready, covered it all with a dish-cloth with sunflowers printed on it and left the magic to cook.

"You've been here barely a day and you dislocated you shoulder already?" Bob burst out as soon as the cloth settled.

"The suppression recipe, please."

"Harry!"

"It wasn't by choice!"

"That's worse!"

"Bob… These people live and work and do everything on computers. The suppression potion, please. Besides, they put it back already."

I got a recipe, and about ten minutes' worth of being lectured in between every step and ingredient, where Bob knew I couldn't get away or complain too much. "What do these people even do, did you ever figure that out?"

"Nope, and at this point I don't want to. Next question: what would it take to summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever?"

Bob went quiet. You wouldn't think this a bad thing unless you knew Bob. Unfortunately, I knew Bob.

"I mean, a couple of the wizards on the Council might be able to, if they can find one. If they can convince it to come through. Things that big, they don't like it on this side, Harry. It takes too much effort and they're not bright enough to put in the work themselves."

"Let me rephrase," I said as I tried to figure out if I had half the things I needed for the suppression potion. "What would it take for someone to instantly summon a Golden Bear out of the Nevernever to do their bidding?"

Bob went quiet again. His eyes were staring at me with an almost solid weight. "Harry, what aren't you telling me?"

"Too hard? Ok, here's another one: tell me every you know about Koschei."

The silence went on for so long that I would've thought him gone if it weren't for the eyes pinned on me. "Harry."

"Yeah?"

"Call the Council."

"Not an option."

"Harry, I know you. If you're asking leading questions about Koschei, it's because you've already met the man. You know for a fact he's here. You are involved, and that is the least safe thing you could be. This is beyond you, Harry. This might be beyond the Council, but at least if you call them it'll be them dying, not you." Bob was sounding very clipped and rushed; it was something I very rarely heard from him, I guess because when you're stuck in a skull there's not much to make you afraid anymore.

"I can't. Not with the War going on. Even if I did manage to get through to someone, I have no way of knowing if they'd have anyone to send. I'm here, now. This is the job."

"You can't take Koschei on! Harry, that's beyond suicide. He has a reputation for holding grudges for a reason!"

"That's a problem for future me. Present me still needs to know everything you can tell me about him -"

"I will not!"

"-because if you don't he's still coming after me, I just won't know when or where or how."

The skull somehow blew me a raspberry, and let out a highly infuriated sound. "What did you do?!"

I brought him up to speed while I worked on attuning a couple of compasses to the chalk I'd scrawled on the back of the portrait. Odds were the painting -sorry, the portrait- would be protected with the same anti-tracking magic on the key, but just in case it wasn't I wanted some way for the others to follow and find it, not just me.

"So he's here for his heart?" Bob saw me grimace as I worked. "You don't think so."

"No. It's been safe all this time, Bob, he has no reason to look it up now, particularly not so openly, so blatantly. If he just wanted the heart he could've gone into the museum at night, broken in by magic and taken it. No, he wants that portrait for another reason."

"And you're sure the woman's the Hag herself?"

"Ford thinks so. I haven't met her."

"I still don't like it."

"Oh, I'm thrilled as peaches about it, Bob," I told him, and all the sarcasm I'd learned from the damn skull came out with the words. "Really. I've met the man twice and both times he wiped the floor with me. I'm sure earning my paycheck."

"Harry, no one could ever pay you enough to face off against the Raven." Bob's voice went to a quieter note. "You're alive. Take the win."

"What'd you say?"

"I said take the win, you -"

"No, I mean, what'd you call him?"

"The Raven? The Blackbird? I wouldn't even be saying his name if we weren't in a circle that I'm sure you've closed. He's one of those people who are deeply attuned to any attention coming their way. You know the type. Opera singers. Politicians."

"So he can tell when someone says his name?"

"If he's listening. If he knows the person saying it. If there's enough intent, like with any other sort of magic. Why?"

I closed my eyes and focused on that morning. Koschei hadn't actually met Sophie; the vault hallway of the MFA had been dark, and I'd drawn his attention away just long enough that, by the time he'd caught up to us, Sophie had already bolted to go get Eliot.

Eliot, he knew. Unfortunately.

But he didn't know Ford. They hadn't even traded names at the bagel shop. More, Ford didn't believe. It didn't matter that he'd seen me actually throwing magic around, he was more like the sort of person I'm used to, the ones who wanted to explain it all away and forget it had ever happened.

So, just as we'd expected, he probably had a nebulous idea of where his stuff was - somewhere on the block, if he'd sniffed me out already. But he wouldn't know precisely where, and with the anti-tracker in place, he never would. "See, that's the sort of thing I need to know. How about sharing some fairy tales with me while I work on the suppression potion?"

Bob wasn't happy about it, but he also had a vested interest in keeping me alive, and it was going to be hard enough without suggesting one of his usual bargains. I spent the next hour setting up and preparing the suppression potion while he told me old Russian fairy tales and scared the crap out of me.

And yet.

The thing was, whenever I was on a case, things were usually happening so fast, coming at me from every direction, that most of the time I wasn't acting, I was reacting. That wasn't happening with the Leverage people; it couldn't. Whatever came at them, one of them knew how to deal with it and the rest knew to follow through.

Which included me.

I'd never realized it before, because I usually worked alone. I didn't have time to think through what I was doing, I barely had time to catch my breath, keep all my body parts attached to the body in question. But working with other people, capable people, I'd held my own. It wasn't gonna save me from Koschei, but it was kind of enlightening to know I could keep up with some of the smartest folk I'd ever met. Even if they were suspiciously criminally inclined.

I got the potion sorted out, dipped my finger and tried a taste, since I was pretty sure I was done doing magic until lunch, at the very least. It tasted about as bad as I'd expected. "Hey, Bob?"

"I don't have a tongue, I'm not tasting it for you."

"It's not that. I was just thinking, if you can see what's in those three boxes, you can probably do a general inventory -"

"Oh, here we go with the drudgery."

"- and I need to know if I've got what I need to make a mirror-mask -"

"Hey, Harry!" Eliot called out somewhere above me. "You home?"

"Inventory, Bob."

"There better be another box in it for me," he grumbled.

"Thanks." I stepped forward and focused on breaking the circle, except as soon as I stepped up to it it disappeared.

Right, suppression potion.

"Dresden!"

"Down here!" I set my foot on the stairs.

The doorbell rang. It was about as old as the house, and it seemed to be holding up well in my presence. It was certainly loud enough to nearly make me jump off the stairs. Eliot had just opened the basement door up top, and I saw him snap around like a wolf scenting prey. He put up a hand; I'd seen enough of the man to stop dead where I was.

He walked out of sight. I couldn't even hear his steps on the wooden floors. I only knew where he'd gone when the front door opened. I heard a woman's voice, I heard Eliot saying something back before he called out, "Dresden, someone here to see you."

That, I wasn't expecting. I trotted up the stairs, closed the door; Mouse was waiting for me there, ears perked and tail on the alert. He whuffled a warning.

Eliot shot me an equally wordless warning with his eyes before he stepped back, away from the door. There was a woman there with a kid, a young girl. I'm not good with children but she was old-ish, maybe twelve. Something like that.

When someone talks about someone who's not classically beautiful? The woman was the very definition of it. She was short, solid, very curvy, but even when she was just standing there there was a grace, a sort of unbreakable dignity that made you take notice. She was wearing a very prim business suit, gray skirt and jacket, white silk shirt, black shoes. She had dark hair done up in a very severe bun, dark skin the color of copper, sharp features mixed in with soft curves. Her eyes were black as midnight, with a ring of gold.

Her daughter had the ghost of her mother's beauty; she was quickly growing into it, though there was a bit of lanky to her that said her father was probably taller, definitely skinnier. She was wearing some sort of uniform, gray pleated skirt and white shirt, and she looked scared; she took one quick peek at me and immediately pinned her eyes down, but it was long enough for me to see she had her mother's eyes.

"You are wizard Dresden?" The woman had a thick, nearly impenetrable accent. She also had a printed sheet of paper with, of all things, my ad on the Chicago Yellow Pages on it. "Lost Items Found?" she recited.

"Uh -" I'm not good when I'm not under pressure. I usually get myself all hyped up and ready when I have to talk to a customer, be it on the phone or in my office back in Chicago. It didn't help when she suddenly started talking in a language that sounded a little bit like music and a lot like nothing I'd ever heard before. "Whoa. Ma'am. Ma'am, please."

"She wants to know if you're the man from the ad." Eliot's frown had changed to a look of curiosity.

"You sp -? What is sh -?"

"Wampanoag. Algonquian. It's a native - hold on." The woman had kept on talking, faster and faster, and Eliot put his hands up to stop her. "Ma'am, please, wait a minute -"

"Ma'am, he's human!" I shot at her, hating that I had to.

It worked. Her eyes went wide, and her mouth fell open. She stepped back. "Sorry! Sorry! Am sorry! Am so sorry! I say nothing!"

Eliot fell back, confused, so I stepped forward. "It's fine. It's fine, ma'am. Yes, I'm Harry Dresden. Can we please move this inside?" I thought for a moment she was just going to bolt, but obviously whatever had made her track me down sight unseen, in Boston, had more weight than her fear of humans and she stepped in, her daughter keeping close.

"Dresden, what was that?" Eliot muttered.

"There's a thousand humans for every single supernatural in the world, and most of them come out shooting if they get so much as a whiff of anything weird. Never sell yourself short in a fight, Eliot, not that I think you would. Humans are the tactical nuke of the supernatural world."

"And scary accordingly?"

"It's just safer if humans don't find out what lives around them. Safer for everyone involved."

"Hardison wants to know why you're not blowing up the earbud."

"Suppression potion. Long story. No magic for me right now. I'd take it out, it's gonna wear off any minute."

We sat down. Mother and daughter laced hands, and the woman said something. Eliot opened his mouth, but the kid beat him to it. "We don't want any trouble. We didn't know you had humans with you. We don't know what the rules are for people in other cities."

"I'm a little looser on the rules than most wizards. Now, I'd love to ask how you tracked me down, but I'm more interested in why."

"I found you on the internet," the girl replied. "I told my mom. We had a friend sniff you out. It wasn't hard." The mother said something. "He said you smell like big water, like a lake."

"You found him by his smell?" Eliot sounded stunned. She shrugged. Her mother said something and he frowned. "I'm not sure I got that right, it wasn't Algonquian."

"It was Welsh," I said. "Wasn't it?" I looked at the two ladies sitting on a couch that had been, until five minutes ago, still wrapped in plastic. "Because there's no word for 'selkie' in the local tongue."

The mother finally found her courage. "You help us. You find lost items, yes? You help."

Well, the next part was gonna suck. I've been the victim of my share of raw deals in my day. There's been a lot of times when I've had to sit down, shut up and take it when someone's doling out misery. I'll never agree to leaving someone in that kind of situation, but there's rules of magic even I can't bend. "Not this one, no. Ma'am… did he take it fair?"

She drew herself up proudly. "Never fair. Never. You know, wizard. You know this."

"Wait, selkie, as in, the selkie? Seal-woman?" I saw Eliot go through every stage between disbelief and understanding in under five seconds. Then I saw dark, cold rage blot out the sunshine. "Her skin. Someone took her skin."

"Someone took her skin, what, twelve, thirteen years ago?" I asked the kid.

"Fourteen," she replied haughtily.

"That deal's done. It's like signing a contract, you might not like it, but you're stuck with it. The penalties for breaking it are… severe. And interfering is tricky. Interfering with magic into a selkie marriage tends to rebound, ricochet. Like a bullet. "Ma'am, I can't help you, I'm just - I'm a wizard. The rules apply to me same as everyone."

"No!" She snapped at me. "I no say -" She growled in frustration, then looked at her daughter and took a deep breath. "He find my skin. Take. Is law. I know. I no need you find my skin, wizard. I need you find my daughter's skin."

Oh, Hell's Bells.

Both Eliot and I turned to stare at the girl. Thirteen, fourteen years old. In some places, to some men that I couldn't legally set on fire, she was ready to be married.

"He took your daughter's skin," Eliot sounded ready to murder someone.

"Yes. You find."

"I'm… working -"

"Can you find her skin, Dresden?"

"There's a few things I could try?"

He smiled at the two seal-women. It almost looked like his usual sunshine smile, but I could see the murder still lurking somewhere behind it. "We'll do what we can, ma'am."

She sagged with relief and reached for her purse. "I pay -"

"No payment required," he told her pleasantly.

"But we'll need as much information as you can give us about your -" Even knowing Eliot felt the same as I did, even knowing I had both backup and permission to act, I still wanted to set someone on fire. I did my best to smile instead. Smile and reassure. "- your husband."

She had it all typed up neatly in another piece of paper she pulled out of her sensible purse, as well as a few hairs in a bit of plastic wrap and her contact information, which directed us to Sannah, her daughter. We saw them to the door, waved them away, and Eliot turned to face me. "Dresd- " The little bit of suppression potion I'd tasted chose that moment to run out, and he yanked the earbud out as it screeched angrily. He drew in a deep breath. "Is that for real? Someone took her skin and she had to marry him?"

"Yeah. Crap deal, with magic and hope keeping them tethered. As long as there's even a chance to get her skin back, she'll do anything, put up with anything."

His hands curled into fists. It took him a few moments and a couple of deep breaths to get past the first crest of anger; he was better at it than I was, I'd known about selkies for so much longer, and I was still angry at the whole situation. "So, how do you normally handle something like this?"

"Uh, I go to the library, look up the guy. Tail him, on foot or by magic, see if he goes any place that isn't home or work. Find out where the skin is, report back to her with the location."

"Wh- That's it? There's no… explosions, no fighting?"

"He's human. Anyone else would know to give the skin back. A selkie's skin is bad luck on an impressive scale to anyone but the owner, it's why you can't use magic to break up the marriage."

"So he'd be using human means to keep the skins." He looked very thoughtful.

"Probably, yes."

A slow, wicked grin bloomed on the man's face that made me feel as if we were about to do some very bad things to some very bad people. It was a good feeling after having Koschei wipe the floor with us. Me, mostly. "Good. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Out of the dark ages and into the age of the geek. Unless you're in the middle of something?"

"Nothing that can't wait." Yeah, ok, I was curious to see how Leverage dealt with a supernatural challenge, even if it was a relatively minor one.

#fanfiction #my writing #urban fantasy #leverage #the dresden files #harry dresden #nathan ford #parker #alec hardison #eliot spencer #sophie devereaux #crossover

4 notes · View notes

artmadebysana · 1 year

Text

The Golden Thread

Prologue

Pairing: male kelpie x female OC (human)

Summary: Every action comes with a consequence, especially if you are foolish enough to interfere with the course of nature..

Tags/Genre: romance, fluff, mythology (mix of slavic and celtic mythology), (found) family, enemies2lovers kinda, a little bit of angst, horror and drama

Warning: none

Rating: 16+ (yandere, gore etc. in later chapters)

MASTERLIST │Next -> Chapter 1 (Coming soon)

The goddess weaves the delicate threads, her eyes fixed upon the intricate pattern as it unfolds. The threads of fate twist and turn in her fingers, glowing with a soft radiance that illuminates the darkness around her. She hums softly to herself, lost in the rhythm of her work.

Her fingers moving with precision as she decides the path of a young girl's life. The thread glows with a radiant golden light, pulsing with the promise of potential and possibility.

"Destiny is a fickle thing," the goddess murmurs, her voice low. "It can be shaped by many things, both within and without your control. Will you embrace your fate, or fight against it?"

Her fingers dance over the loom, manipulating the threads with a deft hand. "There are those who are born lucky, and those who are born to struggle. But no matter the path, every thread is woven with purpose and intention.

The goddess leans forward, her eyes burning with an intense fire. "Remember, dear one, that the thread of your life is your own to weave. You hold the power to shape your own destiny, to turn misfortune into opportunity. Will you take hold of the threads, or let them slip through your fingers?" A sly smile tugs at her lips, hinting at the secrets only she knows..

#enemies to lovers #romance #fluff #terato #found family #kelpie x oc #kelpie boyfriend #slavic mythology #slavic pagan #celtic mythology #angst #monster boyfriend #monster x human #own writing #writing #terato writing #the golden thread

19 notes · View notes

darklove9314-blog · 2 years

Text

Please, Don’t Go: A Nessian Fanfic

Author’s note: For Nessian Week Day 6 (Prompt: What If?) I’ve decided to do a different variation of After the bog scene where Cassian takes care of Nesta (This is more fluff then smut)

Cassian had thought he had tasted true fear, thought he had grown accustomed to it in his 500 years of life, but nothing-nothing had equated to the fear he had felt in that bog, when he had found Nesta and couldn’t find her. When she had popped out of the water, raising like the goddess of death only to collapse in his arms after she took that Gods damned mask off.

Cassian landed hard on the ground, an unconscious Nesta still in his arms as he rushed into the moon palace, voices following him as he passed shadowed figures, thinking of her and her alone. His Nesta. His-

“Cassian!” A voice as dark as the night shouted, but he couldn’t see past it, could see past the blinding fear that had grasped him by the throat, she had to be okay-she had to.

He could still hear it, the beating of her heart, her breath on his chest, but he shoved all the belongings off the first couch he saw and deposited her on it.

“Clothes.” Cassian growled out, looking at her wet leathers. “She needs to get out of these wet clothes. get me towels or something to warm her up!” Cassian growled out, caressing her cheek, her skin still cold and clammy.

His heart pounded against his chest, knowing that he would not calm until she opened those eyes of hers.

“Come on, sweetheart. Wake up.” He murmured to her, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Cassian, we can-” A voice started, pressing a hand to his shoulder as he turned cold eyes to him, baring his teeth at them as he growled,

“Don’t touch her.”

Feyre’s face caught the light, her eyes so familiar to Nesta’s widening in shock as Rhys stiffened beside her, contemplating whether or not he should step in.

Cassian held his breath as he heard a choking noise from beside him as he turned to Nesta, water spewing from her mouth as she twisted, vomiting water and slug from her mouth coughing and spurting, Cassian surging forward to assist her by patting her back.

He heard Feyre muttering something about getting towels as Nesta gasped trying to catch her breath, her eyes widening as she clutched onto Cassian’s leathers, her whole body trembling.

Cassian didn’t think, he just moved as he pulled Nesta down to him, holding onto her as he lent her his body for warmth, clinging onto her for dear life before Feyre came back with blankets.

Cassian took them from her arms, enveloping Nesta with them before he lifted her up. Glancing at Rhys,

“I’m going to tend to her, I need a room for us, some food sent up, and a few herbal remedies for cuts and bruises.” Cassian instructed, Nesta looking as if she were about to protest, before she decided against it and Feyre told him there was an unoccupied room upstairs at the second last door to the right.

He took Nesta upstairs, finding the room as he opened the door, shutting it tightly behind him as Nesta said,

“You could put me down now. I’m fine.”

Setting her down gently, he took in her torn clothes, the dirt on her skin, and the scratches blooming over her exposed body and her face, including ones beside her mouth.

Moving forward, Cassian traced the cuts beside her mouth with his thumb, feeling his body tremble with murderous rage.

“If you hadn’t killed that Kelpie, I would have torn it apart with my bare hands.”

Nesta turned away, her throat bobbing as she responded,

“I should have stayed up in the tree like you asked me too.”

Cassian stiffened slightly,

“What-What happened to you ], Nes. Before the Kelpie dragged you into the water.”

“I-I thought you were-I thought you were in danger, and I-”

Cassian tilted up her chin, glancing into those beautiful blue-gray eyes of hers,

“My life doesn’t matter as much as your safety Nes.” He told her, as Nesta shook her head in disagreement,

“You’re life matters just as much as anyone else’s Cassian, if you had-”

Her voice caught as Cassian heard a knock on the door,

“Wait here. I’ll get it.” His eyes flickered to the leathers. “Go ahead and get out of your clothes if you’re comfortable with me assisting you, if not I think Feyre is bringing a few clothes and I can wait elsewhere as you bathe.”

Nesta nodded as Cassian made his way to the door, opening it to see Azriel at the other end, holding the supplies that Cassian had asked for,

Azriel’s gaze flickered to the room beyond as he asked,

“Is she doing alright?”

“A little bit shaken up, but I’m going to make sure that she’s taken care of tonight.” Cassian relayed to him, sure that Azriel would pass on the information to Rhys and Feyre.

Azriel nodded, bidding Cassian a good night as Cassian went to set the tray of food and bags of other supplies down on the table as his eyes flickered to Nesta.

She had stripped herself out of the leathers, her undergarments still clinging to her as her gaze snagged on Cassian.

“Did you decide?” He asked as she nodded,

“Can you-Can you help me get into the bathtub? My body is still stiff.”

Cassian nodded, “I’ll drawl you the bath if you want to finish getting undressed.”

Nesta nodded as Cassian turned to the enormous tub at the side of the room, drawling Nesta a bath, adding some bubbles and scented oils to her water before he sensed her presence, turning to see her exposed body before him.

Cassian’s throat bobbed, telling himself to calm down, that he was taking care of her tonight and nothing else as he stood, outstretching his hand as she took it and he helped her down the steps, careful not to hit one of her scratches as she sunk down into it.

She exhaled in relief, the water hitting her breast as she tilted her head back, glancing at him, taking in the state of his own leathers.

“Did they not give you a change of clothing as well?” She asked him, he hadn’t been thinking of himself when he had asked for a change of clothes.

“I didn’t consider it, I was thinking about tending to you first and foremost.”

Nesta glanced at him, concern flickering over her own gaze.

“You can join me in here, get clean.”

He glanced at himself, at the dirt and grim on his skin, he knew he was in desperate need of a bath as well, but the thought of being inside of the tub with Nesta-especially when she was injured-

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He heard himself saying as she told him,

“This bathtub is big enough for the both of us.” She observed.

“Did you really want to deal with me in the bathtub with my massive wings?”

“We’ll make due. i can even help you wash them-if-if that’s what you want.”

“Are you sure?” He asked her, she nodded in assurance as Cassian stood, stripping himself of his leathers as his gaze feel upon Nesta who glanced up at him, her eyes roaming him as she stopped at his length.

“Well, are you just going to stand there or are you going to-”

Cassian took the stairs, careful to avoid his wings brushing against her scratches as Nesta glanced at him, Lust filling those eyes as Cassian grabbed the shampoo by the edge of the tub, squeezing a generous amount of shampoo in his hands as he rubbed them together, gesturing for Nesta to turn around.

She wet her hair as Cassian tried his best not to stare at her bare back, the freckles making their own constellations on her skin as he worked the shampoo in her hair, making sure it was properly cared for as he ran his hands through the tangles of her hair, making sure to get every inch of it as she relaxed into him, the feeling so natural that it nearly made Cassian hold his breath at the physical contact.

She took a deep breath, grabbing a basin by the tub as she poured it over her hair, Cassian observing it as he asked,

“Is there-a reason you use a basin?”

Nesta stiffened slightly at the question as she glanced around seeming to come to a decsion as she replied,

“It took me a while to get used to bathtubs after the cauldron-I-stil;l can’t stand putting my head in the water.”

Something pulled at Cassian’s soul, sorrow filling him as the memory of Nesta being dragged into the cauldron, of him not being able to fulfil his oath and save her, still haunted his dreams to this day.

Cassian wasn’t sure what had overtook him at that moment, but he pulled Nesta into his embrace, not caring if the leftover shampoo on her hair had gotten onto him from the skin to skin contact as she glanced up at him, her lips near inches from his own, all it would take was a slight shift in their stance for them to come together, but this was not the moment where Cassian wanted to be inside her, to share her body with her. Now, this time-this time was for her.

He pulled away slightly from her grabbing the basin as he ran it through her hair again, making sure he got everything before he grabbed the conditioner, running it through her hair, untangling it as he went as he felt Nesta’s soft moans fall from her lips.

He wet her hair, making sure there was enough conditioner left over in it to avoid tangles as she turned to him, oils in her hand as Cassian’s gaze flickered to it.

“Will you-”

“Of course.” He answered taking them as he worked the oils into her skin, stopping by her breast as he noticed her peaked nipples, waiting for his touch.

Cassian ran his hands over them, messaging the oil into her breast as she winced slightly, he halted.

“The cuts.” She explained,

“Did you want me to keep going?” He asked as she nodded,

He continued to work oil into her skin, loving the feel of her underneath his hands. She pressed into him, the oils making her skin slick as her mouth dropped slightly.

“Cassian-”

“Can you help me wash my hair?” He interjected throwing Nesta off, but sex was the last thing on his mind right now. Right now all he wanted was to take care of her.

“Sure.” She answered as Cassian knelt down beside her, making sure she could get to his hair at an angle that avoided his wings as she washed his hair, massaging his scalp.

When they were done with his hair, Cassian turned to her as her gaze flickered to his wings,

“Can I wash-”

“You’ll have to be gentle.” He told her, knowing that if she hit his wings just right-.

“I will. I promise.”

Grasping the oils, Nesta gently ran his hands over his wings, careful to avoid the parts he told her not to touch, knowing that if she did he would want nothing more than to ravage her all night and never leave that bed until they were both sated.

Cassian fought back a small moan of pleasure as he reveled in the feel of Nesta’s hands on his wings, keeping the thought of wingplay in the back of his mind for later.

Once she was finished, Cassian thanking the Mother that he was not quick off the mark tonight, he turned toward her, glancing at her before asking.

“Are you ready to get out?” He asked her.

She nodded as Cassian got out of the bath first, assisting Nesta up before he helped wrap her in a towel, snaking a towel on his waist before her eyes flickered to the night dress Feyre had brought for her

“Did you not ask for clothes for yourself? You were also in the bog.”

Nesta ran a hand over her hair glancing between him and the clothes.

“You can go ahead and get dressed in your room if that’s what you want. I can take care of myself.”

“I can get dressed and come back. Unless you wish to be alone for the night.”

Contemplation passed through Nesta’s gaze as she bit her bottom lip,

“I know what I should probably say, but what I should say and what I want to say are two totally separate things.”

Cassian stepped closer, closing the distance between them as he asked,

“And what did you want to say, Nes?”

“That I want you to stay.” She whispered.

“Then I’ll stay.”

Nesta nodded, dropping her towel in between the two of them as Cassian gazed down at the beautiful force which was her.

His breath hitched up slightly as he felt his own towel drop, her eyes flickering down to him with a smile, before she strode over to where the clothes were letting Cassian let out a deep breath. Calm down. He had to calm down or else he didn’t know where this would lead to.

“I should probably get a change of clothes first.” He told her.

“Do you not prefer to sleep naked?” She asked him. “I know i do.”

Cassian sent a prayer up to the mother as Nesta sat down, her body on full display to him as his was to her before he took a seat next to her, the aroma of the food that had been laid out between them wafting through his nose.

She ate her food, offering Cassian half of it as they ate, careful to avoid spilling any of the food onto their skin, when they were finished, Cassian gestured to Nesta to sit closer to him , she did so without any hesitation as Cassian grabbed the vials of medicine, tending to each and every one of her cuts as he worked metrically with his hands, remembering every cut and bruise to memory, reminding himself that this was why he had to keep her safe.

Her blue-gray eyes fell onto him as he worked, watching him with that careful gaze of hers, before grasping his hands, pausing him in his work.

“I think we got it all.” She mused as Cassian sat back, she sat up reaching her hand down to him as he took it, standing up as she said,

“I’m tired. Will you-Will you stay the night?”

“Of course.” Cassian answered as Nesta made her way to the bed, Cassian was about to pull up a chair with a couple of blankets on it so he could sleep and keep watch next to her, but she shook her head.

“The bed is big enough for the both of us.”

Cassian nodded, gathering his courage as Nesta pulled back the covers sliding into the enormous bed as Cassian slid in beside her, careful not to touch her unless she specifically asked him too.

She turned on her side, glancing at him as she said,

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight.” She told him as he gave her a gentle smile.

“I’ll always take care of you, Nes. Now let’s get some sleep, there’s a lot we need to discuss in the morning.” He said, about to reach over for the light as she grasped his arm.

“Would you mind...holding me?”

“I don’t mind at all, Sweetheart.” He told her as he flipped off the fae light and pulled her in closer to his embrace letting her soak in the warm embrace of his body as he played with her hair.

“Cassian.” She mused as he glanced down at her,

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“When we get back to the house I’ll let you fuck me on every surface.”

He smirked at that leaning forward to gently brush his lips against hers,

“I’m looking forward to it, Sweetheart, Now get some rest.”

She smiled as Cassian felt sleep tug at the edge of his conscience and he feel asleep in Nesta’s embrace.

@nessianweek

#nesta archeron #cassian #nessian #nessianweek2022 #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

105 notes · View notes

flowerflamestars · 10 months

Note

Hello! I was wondering about some world building bits in Effloresce. What are the powers for the courts. You imply there are multiple and that the plant power does not come from Spring. Also, why are the Courts the way they are (seasons/time of day/why is there no Dusk Court)? I am also super interested in the Wild Hunt and the wyrms in Autumn. Thank you, your writing is amazing!

Hi, thanks!

In Effloresce specifically I've wandered off track from canon world building- the sharp divide between High Fae are the Most Magic and humans are horrible weaklings doesn't really...appeal to me?

So there's magic everywhere.

(Also just. someone mentioned to me recently the books only call it 'power'? I'm definitely not going back to reread just for that, but that strikes me as...silly. ANYWAY)

We kind of take the Court system, and move outward. There's humans using magical objects. There's a ton of humans, like the Archerons, with faery blood. There's faery countries on the continent humans interact with that aren't behind a giant cursed wall. (The idea that all humans. EVERYWHERE. were slaves is just...such bad world-building, sorry)

There are, specifically, an enormous amount of different kinds of faeries.

So, a lot of western canon for fae stuff has this vague overarch of balance- light and dark, seelie and unseelie, things like that. Prythian is pretty clearly supposed to be an extension of that: a deeply magical faeryland, where balance is ingrained in everything. At least in theory.

I pick up there, and sort of keep going. There's no point in the Court system if faeries from the different Courts aren't actually distinct outside their outfit choices. They're all fae, tied to the land and immortal and beautiful, but the books make that SO boring.

So like, the plant thing: Feyre is oversimplifying a quintessential faery experience (communing with magical faeryland), because she's had the most woeful education imaginable.

Lucien is a forest faery, trees like him. Trees in AUTUMN are not quite the same as say, those Spring oaks he obliterated with Helion's famous destructive power. Making things grow isn't unique in and of itself. Capacity (power), feeling, and personal affiliation all matter to what a High Fae might accomplish. They're the top of the food chain because they have those broader definitions to work from- a random kelpie in a lake in say, Spring, will have a whole immortal power that is going to be water and lilies and murder, which is magically different than a siren in summer whose's dragging sailors down on the same tide that birthed her.

As for the wild hunt! I just love it? To me, it works in well with this established aesthetic of Autumn as a beautiful, wild, violent place. They're probably bound to the crown in some limited capacity.

The wyrm however, is a very small shout out to the idea that there used to more. Creatures, magic, power- that Prythian was a wilder place, and at some point, Rhysands stupid plan IS going to wake all that up, when the Night Court starts fucking with things they don't understand.

#thank you for the ask!#effloresce still going strong in my heart babes

9 notes · View notes

eireemee · 2 months

Text

The Land of Six Kingdoms

(From top right moving clockwise) The Rowe Kingdom, The Blanco Kingdom, Green Castle in Dream Forest, Queen Sollohah of the Siren Isles, High Elves at Dragon Stone

The six kingdoms make up to the cyberpunk/fantasy world of Dystopian Scramble.

The Kingdom of Rowe is the largest kingdom and spans across Strangerville proper and valley, Techno City, the town of Evergreen Harbor and parts of the Barren.

These modern citizens believe in embracing both the advancement of technology and the power of the occult. King Alejandro Rowe II welcomes all, no matter their background. During the decade of his reign, many refugees have settled within the borders of the kingdom. Outside of the barren, the king is well liked by his people for his tolerance. But some do question whether his motives are actually pure.

Ava Delaney, a small town sim moves from Evergreen Harbor to Strangerville Valley in order to the join the Rowe Arm forces. She has dreams of seeing the world. But life on her own is a little bit tougher than she expected.

The Blanco Kingdom is ruled by King Davion Blanco and his heir and nephew, Duke Wyndell Blanco.

King Davion Blanco's great grandfather was a distant cousin of the Rowe Family bloodline. After being banished from the Rowe Kingdom for attempting to overthrow the sitting king, King Daunte (then Baron Daunte) journeyed west with his followers and settled in the long abandoned frontier town of Moonwood Mills. He soon learned the town was not abandoned but actually was overrun by packs of werewolves who lived under the mountain and in the tunnels under the town.

A bloody war ensued between the human settlers and the packs. It seemed the humans had no chance against the veracity of the wolves. However, the tide did turn when King Daunte made a pact with a powerful dark witch.

The werewolf packs were massacred to near extinction, and the few survivors escaped to take refuge in other more welcoming kingdoms. Only the most dangerous wolves still live deep in the surrounding forests.

After winning a war against the powerful werewolf packs and their long alliance with the dark witch/necromancer, Baroness Melisandre, many wonder if the Blancos are still human themselves.

Green Castle in Dream Forest is ruled by Princess Lilliana Wood and her younger brother and heir, Prince Terran Wood. Their half brother Prince Leaveye Wood also lives nearby in his flying steam engine with his shadow guard and travel companion, Ryah Oakensteel. Dream forest is one of the three magical outlands. It is also the only place you may spot an elusive unicorn outside of sylvan glade.

Green Castle has the strongest ties to the magical realm. Their warriors are fearsome, and their magic is very powerful.

They have no interests outside of their forest and only seek to protect it. But the High Elves and their dragon fire are always a looming threat. So, they may be convinced to seek an alliance with another powerful kingdom.

Siren Isles is ruled by Queen Sollohah Orchano, whose siren song is the most powerful in the six kingdoms.

Queen Sollohah rules alone from Sea Stone Castle and will not allow any mermaid to enter the magical hall, not even her sister, out of fear that someone may steal her power. Mermaids and kelpies are free spirits who love to travel the world, fall in love, and very rarely marry. She has two children with Chief Taku who is chief of a nearby island village. As a merman, he is constantly attempting to get her to settle down with him, but Queen Sollohah is too busy with millions of subjects under the sea.

The High Elven Kingdom of Taratosa is ruled by King Elvenore Guerin and his dragon riders.

King Elvenore's younger brother is Prince Elvon the famous dragon knight and he has two daughters, Princess Nollette and Princess Avorra. He also has a younger half-brother, Prince Arrant (who no one ever mentions).

The larger adult Guerin dragons are sometimes spotted flying around Dragon Stone Castle's turrets, but the family keeps the younger and much smaller dragons close at hand.

The Guerin family has a strong alliance with the Russo Family, one of the oldest human bloodlines in the six kingdoms. Most Russo descendants are easily identifiable by their flaming red locks. They once ruled Taratosa before the dragon riders descended and burned their kingdom to cinders.

Duke Lionel Russo attempted to reach for more power by marrying King Alejandro Rowe's sister, Dutchess Annabelle, tying the Russo bloodline to the Rowe Kingdom. However, in the process he broke his long engagement to King Elvenore's awkward youngest daughter.

The Taratosa kingdom has recently announced Princess Avorra's engagement to Duke Wyndell Blanco. The news has shook the entire six kingdoms.

The sixth and final kingdom was overthrown by rebels and now lays in ruins. The free desert people are still fighting to stay free, as both the Rowe and the Blanco Kingdoms have interests in the barren. It is still not clear what sparked their intertest but there are visible traces of the strange visitors who may have created the infamous Cybernetix...

let's get into it... next

#the sims gameplay #the sims 4 #black simmer #fantasy #sims 4 realm of magic #cyberpunk aesthetic #ts4 gameplay #ts4 simblr

2 notes · View notes

starryserenade · 1 year

Text

Myth and Magic Ch. 15: Awakening

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: Mickey and Minnie return to the village, danger lurking just behind them.

Links:

AO3

Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

~~~

She was quiet, eerily so as they rode across the hills. Any humor and satisfaction at their recent accomplishment had melted away along with Minnie’s smile, and Mickey now found himself staring somewhat dejectedly at the snowfall that surrounded them. He wished he knew what she was thinking. If the grim expression written on her face was pain or worry, or if his presence was the thing that had triggered it. It still scared him, the look that kept crossing her eyes every now and again–distrust and love all at once, like some great war he couldn’t see was raging within her. He wondered then, if it might be better for her without him there. She’d protested it, sure…but of course she had. That was just Minnie. She’d help anyone no matter how much it hurt her.

As afraid as he was of all this, he was far more scared to loosen his grip around her waist. She’d grown paler since they’d left the riverbank, and seemed to sway dizzily each time the Kelpie made an abrupt turn or small leap over a stone or branch in its path. Unfortunately, that was quite often. He’d willed the creature to take a path opposite Mortimer and his forces, so the main road was out of the question. The route they took was a bit rockier, and left their mount weaving endlessly through obstacles in its path. He blamed himself for that, too.

Snow still coated most of the countryside but a faint trail of warmth followed them as they rode through. In their wake, snowfall turned to rain and the clouds parted to reveal small streams of sun, while the places just out of their little pocket remained cold and dark. Mickey marveled at the spectacle, and it was almost enough to distract him from his worry. In truth, he’d never really thought he'd played a part in bringing back some sense of spring to the village, had never really noticed when the warmth followed them ever so slightly to the castle. If anything, he’d figured it had been Minnie, and her power alone. But now he noticed the glow trickling off his wings, drifting to the ground where it left patches of green poking through the snow. He nearly pointed this out, but thought better of it when he felt her draw in a deep and labored breath.

Mickey loosened an arm only so that he could pull back a stray strand of hair that had fallen over her face as she leaned forward, growing more limp with every second. “We’re almost there, ‘kay?” He kept his voice soft and quiet, having noticed she winced every time the kelpie let out a noisy snort or whinny. She responded with nothing more than a slight bob of her head, eyelids fluttering as if trying to stay awake. Mickey swallowed and held her a bit tighter. She was worse off than he thought.

We’re almost there, he reassured himself this time, spotting the faint billows of chimney smoke in the distance. Thankfully, that was all the smoke he saw, proof that they must have beaten Mortimer. That was a relief, at least. He let out a sigh that was quickly stifled by an air of disappointment.

Though it had been less than a week since they were taken from the village, the floral hints of spring had already been coated by a layer of ice and snow. The place was once again shrouded in the cursed weather, and on its way to being worse off than before. Mickey’s tail drooped. These storms were getting worse, and he had a lingering suspicion they were more caught up in the cause than he first believed. He thought back to the dragon’s words, and wondered if the world itself might not truly be at risk.

Was he to blame?

He shook off the apprehension with a shake of his head. That was neither here nor there. Minnie was his focus now, and she was in enough danger already.

Mickey urged the kelpie to quicken its pacea nd with a whinnie and a splash of water from its mane, it burst forward, cutting through the snowfall. It galloped forward until it reached a place just outside the village that was shrouded by trees and foliage. Mickey let out a breath, heart twisting at the sight of their hiding place so desolate and frozen over. Icicles hung on the trees, and the once-green brush and branches had already grown barren and withered.

His eyes stuck on the scene for a moment, and he found a heat rising in him. It didn’t seem fair, to have come so close to something so wonderful only to have his world pulled out from under him all over again. Years worth of not knowing a thing about where he came from, of trying to forge any sort of home for himself, and it had gotten him here. To a place where he’d endangered the first glimpse of love that had ever been shown to him. He might have gotten lost in his frustration, had Minnie not stirred uncomfortably in his arms. Startled, he noticed his glow had gotten brighter, hotter, and he swiftly shifted his focus to cooling his magic. He still wasn’t sure how exactly to do all this, but a gentle flutter of his wings seemed to do the trick, even if it pained him to do so.

Focus! He reprimanded himself with a twitch of his tail when he’d cooled, and gently turned his attention back to Minnie. She’d fallen asleep, so he was left with the delicate task of helping her dismount without waking her or aggravating her wound. This wasn’t easy considering his height, and he awkwardly shifted to the left and right of the mount before giving up and casting an exasperated sigh to the kelpie. It seemed to sense his stare and craned its neck to look back at him, then let out a snort. Mickey took that as a personal insult.

“ ‘S’not my fault,” he hissed quietly with a wrinkle of his nose, and when it shook its head back at him, he sighed. “Can y’help me out, please? ”

The creature seemed satisfied with this request and gently, it lowered its head and knelt first on its front legs, then on its back, allowing for Mickey to dismount himself while keeping a hand to Minnie. When both his feet were safely planted on the snow-covered earth, he whisked her up in his arms as carefully as he could, listening for the quiet breaths that escaped her lips. They were labored, yes, but consistent, and he released a relieved breath of his own at that simple fact.

“Thanks, big gal,” Mickey whispered, and nodded towards the kelpie who was just starting to return to its hooves. It stared at him for a moment, silent, but when Mickey began to walk away, set on returning to the village, it whinnied in protest and trotted up beside him, taking his cape in its teeth and pulling him back. “H-hey, what gives?!” He kept his voice as quiet as possible, but still couldn’t help but raise it slightly. “I’ve gotta get ‘er help!”

He tugged at his cape and tore it free, but the kelpie moved in front of him and blocked his path. Mickey held Minnie as close as he was able and held his ground, ready to try to move past the steed. He opened his mouth to argue with it, but then it lowered its head and stared at him with such sincerity that he felt he had to pause.

“What are ya tryin’ to say?” he murmured, watching as its eyes glittered in the light of his own glow. When it approached him again, he didn’t try to move. Gently, closing its eyes, it set its muzzle against his forehead.

There was only a pinprick at first. Like a flicker of candlelight that lit up a dark corner of his mind he didn’t even know was there. Then it exploded in a burst of light, and Mickey stumbled backwards with a gasp and stayed there, staring wide-eyed at the creature who only tilted its head curiously.

His presence had once again summoned the sun and though it was nearly twilight, small pillars still shone down through the trees and fell upon the creature he faced. Its mane scattered the light across the snow in tiny beams of color. So beautiful was the scene that Mickey found it difficult to stay frightened. The kelpie did not move towards him again, only stared, and cast a glance towards Minnie before looking back up at him once more.

Y’wanna help her too, huh? Mickey thought, and held his breath when the horse dipped its head in a nod. You can hear me?

It nodded again, and Mickey cracked a smile. Not a wide one, only a soft, breathless sort of grin. All right…show me how.

He couldn’t hear the kelpie’s thoughts the same way one might hear words spoken, but they painted themselves like pictures in his mind. Delicate images with gentle colors, as if stained with water, accompanied by an overwhelming feeling . An intentionality that guided him down a sunlit path through each picture.

He found himself led towards the brush, towards the same little tunnels he’d used before. They were coated with snow now and mostly hidden, but he was urged to them nonetheless, and when he stopped before one, at a loss as to what exactly he was supposed to do, the kelpie whipped its mane around as if completely exasperated with his incompetence.

Mickey could feel its frustration, and narrowed his eyes. Go easy on me, pal. This is all new t’me, too.

When he blinked, he saw a hand set to the twisted branches, and the snow melting away beneath it, so he swallowed his uncertainty and his pride and followed suit.

At his touch, the foliage seemed to wake up, and each plant radiated with a gentle warmth. The snow slipped off their branches and tiny buds littered the surface of the entire patch of brush, sweeping across it like a wave. So, too, did it part for him, his usual tiny passageways widening so that he could make his way through without having to duck at all. When he glanced at the kelpie, it snorted at him and he could have sworn it rolled its eyes. Then it tossed back its mane and stepped straight into the brush beside the tunnel, passing through as easily as a river might part for a stone in its way.

Mickey drew in a breath then shrugged and stepped into his own passageway. The moment he’d cleared the entrance, it closed behind him, and he breathed a sigh of relief that they were now hidden from view. The overgrowth had made it difficult for the sun to peek through as it had before, but that didn’t matter. Mickey’s own glow was more than enough to illuminate the tunnel. As he journeyed into the clearing, his light fell on the rest of the area as well, as bright as any sunlight might be.

The kelpie was already there waiting for him and when he arrived it beckoned him towards where it lay, soft blades of grass pooling about it. The pond itself was still frozen, but the moment Mickey approached it began to thaw, lilypads sprouting up to its surface as if the warmth of spring had never left. They clumped together in a place just in front of the kelpie, forming something like a bed upon the surface of the water.

Are ya sure? He thought gently, its instructions ringing in his mind, and glanced at Minnie. She was so still, so cold now. Letting her go terrified him more than anything.

At this, the creature’s ferocity melted, and he felt nothing but a quiet sense of peace envelop his mind. It was here to help, he was sure of it.

He knelt beside the kelpie, just on the banks of the pool, and gently set Minnie upon the bed of lily pads that had formed. Though there must have been a touch of magic to them, they still dipped beneath her weight. Mickey paused, unwilling to release her. Then the kelpie nudged up against his shoulder and he finally loosened his grip, trembling as his hand brushed past her arm and lingered at her fingertips.

The kelpie lowered its muzzle to the water, and a ripple shuddered across the surface of the pool. In its wake, small vines sprouted from the lily pads and wrapped around Minnie’s waist. Her legs melted into the pearlescent scales of her tail and in the place where her wound shone through her dress, deep pink petals sprouted and unfurled in the midst of the surrounding leaves. She drew in a soft breath and Mickey released a shaky one.

Keep her safe, okay? The thought was a quiet plea, and the kelpie answered him only with a swish of its tail – its focus was locked on the sleeping princess, and her alone.

Mickey cast a glance back at her, then turned back the way he’d come. He wished more than anything he could stay to see her healed, but someone had to warn the villagers before Mortimer arrived. She’d be safe for now, safer than she’d be with him at least.

The moment he left the confines of the brush, he tugged nervously at his cloak, making sure it concealed as much of his wings as possible. Feathers poked out from beneath the rim, but he hoped they’d be mistaken from a warmer cloak underneath. They still hurt endlessly – a raw, nagging sort of ache that only worsened as he drew them in clsoer to himself than they belonged. He longed to let them free behind him but he was terrified of what the villagers might think, and he needed them to listen. With any luck, he’d be able to keep them hidden long enough to get the message across.

He set out for Goofy’s house first, ignoring the shocked stares he got from the few lingering passersby he crossed as he made his way through the streets. They’d thought him dead, he could see it on their faces. Each of them froze for a moment before a surprised grin crossed their faces, though that only made him more eager to escape their eyes. They wouldn’t be nearly so kind if they knew what he was. The only greeting he gave them was an awkward smile and a low-hanging wave – he couldn’t risk letting his cloak fly up behind him.

When he reached Goofy’s doorway he knocked briskly, hoping beyond all hope he was home. Relief washed over him when the door opened abruptly and he appeared, his mouth open wide in preparation for a lighthearted greeting. But then he looked down and spotted Mickey, and froze.

“G-Goofy…” Mickey had hardly a chance to say hello before his friend had dropped to the floor and gathered him in his arms, and he found himself unable to finish the sentence. He’d come to know Goofy as one prone to dramatics, but the sincerity in his embrace and in the tears that started to flow just about left Mickey a bumbling mess too. “Awe, Goofy…I’m…I’m all right, see? I-” He winced as one of his wings was squeezed a bit too tight, and then faltered when he realized Goofy must have noticed they were there. His friend, still a mess of sniffles, drew back and looked at him with wide eyes, and Mickey swallowed. He drew in several short breaths, shrinking beneath his stare, and fumbled with his words. “L-listen…I dunno how…I didn’t know…I…I swear it…I’ll be leavin’ soon…but I…”

And then Goofy was rushing him inside, casting all sorts of worried glances out the door. “Well, gawrsh, Mick…” Goofy hissed, wiping his nose with his sleeve as he shut the door behind them. “Is that what they were after y’for?” His cheeks were still stained with tears, but there was no fear on his face. No hatred or distrust, either, and that was enough to send Mickey to his knees in a trembling heap on the floor. His cloak shifted off his shoulders, and his wings slipped out from underneath.

He was tired, more tired than he’d realized. His heart ached more than his body, and every inch of him wanted nothing more than to collapse.

“Goofy…” he croaked, looking up at him with pitiful eyes. “I swear…I didn’t know.”

He hadn’t, not really, but he couldn’t help but feel like he’d lied before. About everything. Didn’t he deserve a bit of reprimanding for that, a bit of anger directed his way? But Goofy was not angry, and he didn’t say much of anything about all the things Mickey had feared he might. At most, he seemed…

Well, concerned.

“Gee, Mick, y’didn’t really think I’d be upset at ya for somethin’ like this, didja?” There was a gentle smile scrawled across his face, though his eyes were narrowed with worry. “I’m your friend. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout things like that. Now, whaddya need? Food? Clothes? An’ where’s Minnie?”

Mickey smiled but only slightly. It slipped off his face in hardly a moment. There were a thousand thoughts running through his head, half of them completely irrelevant. Finding the important ones seemed an impossible task, and it took him a few seconds to get any sound out at all. His words were fragmented and slurred when he finally did, and his hands shook as he spoke. “Min…Minnie’s…she’s safe f-for now. And I don’t need much…not really, but…but…they’re coming…you’ve gotta get everyone outta here…”

“Hold on, Mick! Who’s comin’?”

“Th-the king! He’s got soldiers, too…I-I dunno how many. I’ll buy ya some time…try to at least…but-”

Goofy’s eyes widened momentarily then he looked at Mickey sternly. “Well, no matter who’s comin’ our way, you’re not goin’ anywhere without help.”

He wasn’t getting it. He wasn’t getting it, and they were running out of time.

“Goofy!” Mickey gasped, and found his heart beating far too fast when he jumped to his feet. “Y’don’t understand! Th-they’re gonna burn this place t’the ground..! I…I don’t care what happens t’me but y’gotta get outta here! I just…I don’t wanna hurt any…anyone else…I…gosh, I… I just… I…I…”

The words dissolved into a whimper despite his best attempts to finish. His vision grew hazy and though his chest heaved with manic breaths, he took in and expelled the air too fast to use any of it. He’d have fallen backwards had Goofy not come behind him to steady his stance and guide him to the floor. Though he couldn’t really even feel that. There was only a sense of buzzing in his mind that he couldn’t get to go away, a noise that he couldn’t silence, no matter how hard he tried. Goofy said something but he couldn’t understand it – it was faint and warbled. After that it was only a sort of static in his ears, and a sense of intense chaos and guilt that settled in his chest.

He wasn’t really sure how long it took for him to become aware of himself again, to get to a point where the air he took in actually did him some good. But slowly, he became aware of his friend sitting there beside him, accompanied now by a younger companion who looked at Mickey with just as much concern as his father. As Mickey blinked and swallowed, Max held out a small cup of water and smiled.

It took Mickey a few more seconds to truly come to himself, but when he did he managed to draw in a deep breath and release it. With a shaky smile and even shakier hands, he took the drink and took a sip just big enough to clear the dry feeling in his mouth.

“...Th-thanks…” he breathed and looked back to Goofy, utterly defeated. His friend didn’t say anything at first, but Mickey felt he owed him an explanation anyway. “Goofy, I…I know things now I wish I didn’t,” he whispered hoarsely. “I think I might’ve done something really bad, and I… I don’t want anyone else t’get hurt. The king’s only after all of you because of me…because ya helped me. This is my fault, and I…I’ve gotta fix it.”

Goofy paused as Mickey finished, and appeared to think for a few moments. When he spoke again, it was to Max. “Maxie, what didja say t’me before? About what happened when you got caught?”

Max’s eyes sparkled. “Mickey came t’rescue me!”

“And what did y’call ‘im?”

The child laughed. “He’s my hero!”

Mickey thought he might cry. When Goofy turned to him, the mouse was stifling a sob. “Goofy…”

But Goofy didn’t give him a chance to argue. “Now, what kind of dad would I be if I let my son’s hero go racin’ off alone into danger again?”

“But Goofy, I’m not…”

“Listen, Mick,” Goofy interrupted sternly. He seemed more serious and profound than Mickey had ever seen him. “I don’t know whatcha mighta done in the past, but I darn well know who y’are now. Yer my friend, and you’ve got a good heart and a good head on yer shoulders. And even if the whole village goes and runs away, y’can count on me to stand here besideja.”

His sincerity stunned Mickey speechless, and it took the mouse a few minutes to find the words to respond, though they were hardly anything stellar when he did.

“Gosh…ya…ya mean that?”

“‘Course I do,” Goofy grinned, and the pure faith in his tone was enough to give Mickey the strength to start truly thinking again.

“Well then,” Mickey started, clearing his throat. “We’ve gotta go warn everyone, tell ‘em to get the kids t’safety at least. The king seemed bent on destroyin’ everythin’ no matter what, so…so we better prepare for the worst. Make sure everyone’s got what they absolutely need an-”

A trumpet sounded outside, and Mickey’s blood went cold. “No…” he hissed, darting to the window. He couldn’t see much, but the sound of horses grew clearer. “No, no, too soon! A-alright,” he stammered, refusing to let his fear take hold of him again. “Change of plans! Get Max somewhere safe at least, he’s the only one they really saw before. I’m gonna go see what I can gather from the crowd. There’s gotta be a way to save this place somehow.”

Goofy had gathered up Max at lightning speed, but he kept a cautious eye to Mickey before rushing out the door. “You keep safe ‘til I come back for ya.”

“Awe whad’ya take me for, Goof?” Mickey winked. “When have I ever gotten into trouble?”

His friend seemed glad he had his humor back at least, and chuckled softly before rushing outside with Max in hand.

When he’d left, Mickey darted into the room he’d called his own, taking only a second to appreciate that it’d been left untouched, and slung his spare bow behind his back along with a quiver that had fewer arrows than he’d have liked, but enough. Then, running back into the main room, he snagged his cloak from off the floor and tightened it securely around his neck, tucking it in extra snug to keep it from billowing outwards. He drew the hood over his head this time, too. He’d need to hide more than just his wings out there.

When he approached the door to leave, he cast one final glance behind him, hoping and praying that he’d be able to save the place he’d called home.

The crowd outside was in a frenzy, with all the villagers clambering to gather in the square and see what all the commotion was about. Mortimer and his soldiers towered above all of them atop their horses, who whinnied and pounded their hooves without regard for the people nearby.

What are they doing here?

Damned king…

Can’t they just leave us alone?

Mickey heard all the hushed and panicked whispers as he wove into the middle of the gathering, hiding behind someone distinctly taller than him, but whom he could easily peek from on either side. Shortly after he’d found a place, Mortimer raised his hand, trying too hard to look regal, and a trumpeter beside him sounded their horn. The people silenced, and Mickey held his breath.

“Adoring Subjects,” Mortimer began, and Mickey nearly snorted. “It’s come to my attention that two very dangerous criminals might have escaped into your quiet, little village…”

A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd, and Mickey hid himself as much as he could as everyone glanced nervously around them.

“I assure you, these monsters are the worst of the worst! They bring with them nothing but chaos and destruction, and while you may think them your friends, do not be deceived by their lies! They will inevitably betray you, and turn on you as they did me, alongside these wretched creatures!”

The guards beside Mortimer parted, and several others came up from the rear, dragging with them three figures – two large and one small – all chained in irons. The color drained from Mickey’s face. Fairies. The ones who’d helped him and Minnie back at the castle. They stumbled forward weakly, bodies streaked with silver as his had been. Their cheeks burned a feverish red.

Beside him, the people gasped.

Monsters!

Those horrible pests…

Mickey swallowed and drew his cloak a bit tighter.

To Mortimer’s other side, a fourth figure was brought forward, gagged so she couldn’t speak, though she thrashed wildly in her chains.

“Ah, and this poor girl,” Mortimer sighed, feigning regret. “My own servant! Blinked by those nasty things! Who knows if she’ll ever think clearly again!”

Daisy!

The duck narrowed her eyes and lunged for the king, stopped just short by the guard that held her. Mortimer drew back and scowled, wrinkling his nose at her. “Eugh…s-see! Even now, she’s crazed by fairy magic!”

At this point, the crowd was getting riled, and Mickey could practically taste the tension in the air.

“Who are they?!” one person shouted.

“Yeah! Tell us!” another growled.

Mortimer lifted his hands to hush them. “The culprits are the two mice – perhaps you know them – Mickey and Minnie!”

Mickey winced at the sound of his name and ducked his head. He expected the crowd to launch into another frenzy – they did know him, and some of them had seen him just today. But instead they went quiet, and when he dared to lift his eyes, he saw that most of them were looking at each other with uncertainty, though none dared to say a word.

Mortimer was not satisfied by their silence, and scowled. “Oh, please!” he shouted. “I know they’re hiding here! I know they hid here before!”

But still no one spoke. Until one woman, a fox tail swaying behind her, sauntered forward and stared him down. Mickey’s tail did a sweep of the ground behind him. He recognized that fox. It was Moira. “Even if th’did, “ she spat. “None o’ us would till ye! Faerie or nah, they ‘elped us more than y’ever did!”

Mickey’s jaw could have dropped to the floor right then and there, had Mortimer not exploded in a burst of fury.

“Is that SO?” he snarled, fuming. “Does everyone ELSE think the same way?”

Goofy must have returned, because Mickey heard his voice echoing across the crowd, urging on the cries of support. Murmurs and shouts of agreement rang through the crowd and with every one, Mortimer’s frown deepened, until suddenly he snapped.

“FINE THEN!” He shouted, leaning forward on his steed. “Captain! If they won’t help us find those cursed fairies, then they’ll BURN with them!”

Even Pete seemed unsure about that, but when Mortimer screamed at him a second time, he scowled and gave the command. At least a dozen soldiers, torches in hand, burst forth from the ranks and moved to launch them into the wooden homes that flanked them.

Only Mickey couldn’t stand by anymore. Pushing through the ocean of panicked screams, Mickey tore the cloak from his back, revealing his wings and the glow that radiated from them in all their glory. “ NO !” He screeched, leaping forward. And in the single motion it took for his wings to spread, every flame from every torch lifted from its resting place and gathered midair. Mickey froze in the center of the square, as did everyone else. He stared down Mortimer, wings outstretched and hands clawed, as his eyes blazed with fury. The magic flowing from him was something he didn’t understand, but he felt in that moment that he didn’t need to. His breaths came rapidly and sweat dripped from his brow, but only for sheer adrenaline. He’d never felt so unafraid.

Mortimer seemed paralyzed with fear, trembling beneath the ball of fire that now rested above him. But he was either stupid, or too utterly prideful to quit, because his frightened trembling turned to a crazed sort of laugh. “There you are, little mouse!” he sneered. “Very impressive! But what are you going to do next ?”

Mickey’s tail twitched, and he balled his hands into fists. Instantly, the fire gathered into a whirlwind and rushed into his hands and shot through his veins. He stumbled back, biting his lip against the heat that flooded his chest, but stood his ground nonetheless. “Do ya really wanna find out?”

He could not have known, but the light that surrounded Mickey the moment he’d summoned those flames was something like fire in and of itself. To all who watched, he seemed to be standing amidst a pillar of flame, unharmed, with a look that blazed just as fierce. More than half of the soldiers that accompanied Mortimer turned their horses and ran, leaving a pitiful looking army for the king to command. Mortimer glanced about him furiously, and then turned his attention to the prisoners. It took only a single nod for the guards to know exactly what he planned.

Simultaneously, they lifted their swords to the throats of their victims.

Mickey’s stance faltered.

“If I had to bet,” Mortimer cackled. “I’d say you barely know how to use that magic of yours. What do you think, Mickey? Think you’ll be fast enough to save all four?”

He wouldn’t. He knew he wouldn’t. And it would be foolish to try. He caught Daisy’s eye, and she stared back at him expectantly, as if certain he must have some kind of plan.

In the pouch of his tunic, something pulsed with a strange heat, and Mickey gripped the dragon’s stone with the last bit of hope he could muster.

Minnie. I need you.

The stone cooled.

And then from the four corners of the river that surrounded the square, a rush of water spiraled upwards. Black, white, blue, and green, spiraled together in a miraculous stream of color, and when it met with the ground, a brilliant steed draped in seaweed green reared up in its wake. At the command of its rider –a frankly stunning mouse whose dress still sparkled with the last hints of pearly scales – it pounded its hooves into the stone.

The ground beneath Mortimer and his guards cracked. While his own horse pranced nervously and nearly bucked him off, his guards loosened their grip on their prisoners. Mickey darted forward at once, ignoring the pain in his wings to grab all three of the fae at once and pull them back to relative safety as the bridge before them crumbled. The kelpie galloped forward, and Mickey spotted Minnie as she helped Daisy onto her mount.

The duck wasted no time wriggling free from her gag, and then shouted Mickey’s way. “The amulet! The one Mortimer’s wearing! Get it!”

Mickey raised a brow, confused, as he tried to spot the piece. And then he saw it, an emerald gleam glinting as its tether was tossed around Mortimer’s neck. His horse was still bucking and rearing but as the cracks around the bridge began to dip into the river, it finally tossed him off and galloped to safety, leaving him scrambling on the fractured stone. When Mickey landed in front of him, he cowered, slinking back even in the midst of the tremors. It was almost enough to make Mickey laugh. Almost.

“I’m not like you,” Mickey scowled, and snagged the amulet from Mortimer’s grasp, tearing the string off his neck as he leaped up and glided away. “Still,” he added, turning back when he landed safely on the other side. “Hope ya like to swim.”

The bridge gave way, and Mortimer was swept along with the current, his curses echoing for miles before finally fading away

Then there was silence. Or some semblance of it at least. The villagers watched on, stunned yet grateful, and Mickey spotted Goofy in their midst. He cast Mickey a little wink, and the mouse chuckled lightly. And Minnie…ah, Minnie… There wasn’t a single trace of her wound left behind. Her hair was braided behind her back, a silver streak woven through, and her dress glistened like the sea. She was already tending to the wounds of the other fae when Mickey went to reach for her, but he never got the chance to get to her side.

Light flared in his palm, as if the heat he’d stored had reacted to something. And then he realized, it was the amulet that was glowing, and pulsing brighter with every second. Daisy took notice before anyone else, and her eyes widened.

“No, wait, Micke-!”

#birfdayyyy chapter #lol #StoriesComeAlive #myth & magic #myth and magic #mickey mouse #minnie mouse #mickey x minnie #fanfiction

11 notes · View notes