Klance + Other smut oneshots

shance 2

With a flick of a wrist, the ancient tome propped against a stack of candles flipped a page. Ocean blue eyes ran over the page before long fingers snapped twice. A thin piece of chalk wiggled it’s way out of box off to the side. It flew straight into the hand that summoned it. Soft humming thrummed up from a dark, slender throat as deft hands worked on copying the summoning circle displayed on the yellowing pages onto the floor.

Lance had spent a month preparing for this night. He had also closed down his shop early today. The full moon was now high, nearing the witching hour. Even being down in his dark cellar, he could tell. He could feel it in his bones. Even better, he had everything he needed to get exactly what he wanted. If this summoning spell worked out, he’d be glad for the mounds of pillows he dragged down here. This was going to be a taxing spell to perform after all. He’d need something to stretch out on and sleep for a day.

A meow startled him from his thoughts, his hand jerking and messing up the symbol he had been drawing. His head whipped around to the fluffy cat who had perched herself on one of the many pillows on the floor. He set down the chalk and smiled, crawling over to her, “Hey, beautiful. What’s my Blue doing?”

The grey cat flicked its tail and blinked at him disapprovingly. Lance rolled his eyes, “I’ve got this, baby. No worries.”

He stood and scooped her up into his arms, “You shouldn’t even be down here for this. Let’s get you back upstairs.”

He carried her up the stairs and back into the main area that served as his potion shop. Bottles of liquids lined the shelves, each labelled properly. He set Blue down onto a table and petted her with another bright smile before slipping back down the cellar stairs, making sure to shut the hatch behind him this time. He dropped to his knees back at the almost finished circle, immediately picking up the chalk stick to finish the circle.

Eager to get this done, he didn’t double check his work and flicked his wrist again. The book obeyed, flipping to the next page. Lance placed the candles in their proper places before  grabbing the animal bones and flowers to decorate the circle’s center as an offering. He snapped his fingers, the extra materials piling off into a corner. He snapped his fingers twice. A short dagger and clay bowl slid themselves over to him. Lance swallowed nervously and picked up the knife. Taking a deep breath, he slid the knife over his left hand and let his blood drip down into the bowl with a hiss.

“Sɒnɑ:,” he whispered as he opened his cut hand. The cut slowly began to heal itself. He used his other hand to pick up the bowl of his blood and set it among the flowers and bones. After he lit the candles one by one in an anticlockwise order, he moved away from the circle, sitting down and crossing his legs. Lance closed his eyes and folded his hands together, beginning to murmur the spell he had spent weeks learning by heart.

As the words dripped from his lips, the chalk on the floor began to glow a dull purple. A pulse of energy shot out from its center, knocking Lance onto his back not even a moment later. The candles all went out at once. Lance’s eyes snapped open in shock, having not read that was supposed to happen. He sat back up quickly, seeing the purple glow darkening to black. The hair on the back of his neck rose as alarm travelled along his arms with goosebumps in its wake. What had he done wrong? He tried to remember as he scooted back along the floor.

A sludge like tar bubbled up around the flowers and bones, swallowing up the offerings. A large object started pushing its way out of the middle of the circle soon after. Lance’s brain scrambled for some kind of answer before it hit him like a rock to the head. The symbol he had been writing when Blue startled him. He winced and slid behind a crate to hide. The room trembled before a loud crack echoed throughout the cellar. Lance peeked over the edge of the crate, seeing the over-sized, egg-shaped object had begun to open up. A humanoid figure emerged from it, the shell melting, rather than breaking, away. It stayed crouched down, its pale, scarred back to where Lance was hidden.