#but I got a bit too into the logistics of the angel x demon couple's holiday celebration.

[villain-in-love]

Apologies for taking a while to send this! But after reading your tags, I'm now very curious about Simeon and Belial. I don't know much about Obey Me, I had to look up Simeon and I find it interesting to think what an angel makes of the holidays celebrated by humans. How about🧣, 🧸 and 🍾 for them?

Okay, so, our angel x demon couple celebrating a religious holiday! But first, a bit of context (which is just my headcanons):

Traditionally, demons don't celebrate Christmas, because why the fuck would they, but overall it's just a matter of principle. Instead, they celebrate New Year as their annual winter holiday. Demons also look more fondly at the pagan holidays, because at least those religions hate them less.

Angels actually adopted Christmas celebration from humans, later on after it's invention. They celebrate it just for fun, they find this human tradition endearing. And going with my headcanon of Celestial Realm that doesn't correspond to just one specific religion, angels overall can celebrate any winter holiday that humans have – it's a matter of a personal taste.

🍾Who do you celebrate Christmas with outside of your F/O? Your family, theirs, friends?

Belial, being a proper demon, doesn't consider Christmas to be her holiday. She usually celebrates a New Year. Often in a company of her brother, Barbatos, and a few hundreds of other guests (most of whom are demon nobility) at the ball that they host in the royal castle. Or, when she gets tired of it, she celebrates it by going alone by herself to the human realm to cause some havoc and mess with humans. All in good fun.

A few times she invited Simeon to celebrate New Year with her – he visited the royal winter ball in the Devildom once, out of curiosity (other angels disapproved of that, obviously, but couldn't do anything about it). And then there were a few occasions when Simeon went out with Belial to the human world. Though, unlike Belial, who was committing atrocities and pushing humans to sin, Simeon was just here to cause mischief and some miracles. And to make sure that Belial doesn't go overboard in her "fun".

Personally, Simeon usually celebrates Christmas in a company of his friends and siblings – other angels from the Celestial Realm. He might have wanted to celebrate it with Belial as well, but he understands that asking a demon to celebrate a religious holiday, of all things, might be tactless.

Though they did spend it together once. It was all Diavolo's idea (obviously) to celebrate Christmas in the Devildom, during the year of the exchange program with the human and celestial realms. Something-something promoting understanding between demons, humans and angels something-something. Belial was very annoyed at her brother's idea, while Simeon was excited and curious to see how demons could possibly celebrate Christmas (and how they can fuck it up). That celebration was more private in comparison to the New Year ball, and was hosted by the royal trio who invited the exchange students (Simeon, Luke, Solomon and Hiromi (my MC)) and the seven deadly sins. This was one of the occasions when Belial was happy to invite the seven brothers because they are pretty chaotic, so at least she will be entertained.

And then there were a few other instances throughout the centuries when Belial herself invited Simeon to celebrate Yule with her. Just the two of them, in her mansion in the human world. Those days were nice, and both of them wish they could do it more often.

🧸: What is your F/O getting you for Christmas? What are you getting them?

What gift can you possibly give to the ancient all-knowing demon princess... Well, probably something that one can find only in Celestial Realm, which Belial rarely visits (she's not exactly welcome there). This year he brought her a new crystal glass wine set, made in Celestial Realm, that makes the drink inside look like a small galaxy. And, of course, a bottle of angelic wine in addition to that.

On the other hand, Belial has no problems because she has enough money to gift him practically anything. But I think that even she would run into the trouble of finding a new gift for Simeon, after more than twenty centuries of friendship. But Belial also didn't just spend millennia of her life fucking around, you know. I guess this Christmas she might give Simeon a painting that depicts one of the scenes from his latest books. Mind you - she spent several years working on it, and finished it off by putting a spell on it that can transport the viewer inside the painting, right into the scene that is depicted.

That is to say, Belial and Simeon are still stuck in a long-distance relationship, and both of them are busy, so they don't get to spend every winter celebration together. So most of the time they just send each other smaller gifts – jewellery, fancy stationery, some smaller artifacts, and of course, letters.

🧣: Does your F/O like comfy winter clothes? Would they wear a funny Christmas sweater?

Actually, yes. Which is a fun contrast with how... exposed his usual outfit is. Simeon mainly prioritizes comfort and soft fabrics, and he's not fond of clothes that are too stuffy. Considering that he's an angel, he doesn't have to be afraid of getting cold, so he's spared from the trouble of being uncomfortable while wearing many layers. So during winter he is likely to just wear a cashmere sweater and a fashionable trench coat outside, no matter how cold it actually is.

And yes, he would wear a funny Christmas sweater. Ironically - he might hate the design for casual wear, but as a part of the joke - sure!

Meanwhile Belial, who is a snake demon, tends to struggle during winter. Not that the cold can hurt her, but it feels deeply unpleasant. So during winter, she's usually dressed in furs, buried in the warmest of fabrics that she could find.

[onceuponamirror]

heart rise above

///// CHAPTER 2

summary: It wasn’t an experiment with freedom borne of some Americana fantasy; rather, a road trip of purely logistical intentions. The plan was simple. Drive from Boston to Chicago for his sister’s college graduation. That’s it.

Or, he drives a Ford Pickup Named Desire.

Mechanic!AU

fandom: riverdale

ship: betty x jughead

words: 7.5k

chapters: 2/?

[read from the beginning] [read the latest]

I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills 'Til the landslide brought it down

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Sailors tell stories of calms before hurricanes. The wind is mild, friendly even, tickling the sails with soft breezes. The waves are coaxing and gentle against the hull of the ship. The sun is bright and strong. And then—chaos.

These are the kinds of thing Betty thinks about in moments like this. Two screaming—or laughing? She’s never totally sure—children running circles around her, her hands too greasy to try to grab one of them, her hair falling in her face, the garage telephone ringing shrilly, and she just needs it all to stop.

“Kids!” She yells. “Guys, please! Aunt B needs to answer the phone!”

Her nephew jabs her forcefully in the knee. “No! Tag! You��re it!” Then her niece starts mimicking her brother and they both start chanting tag! tag! tag!

Trying to think of a reason why she ever agrees to babysit these two terrors, especially when she has to work, Betty tries to weave her way to the phone.

“Aunt B isn’t playing tag right now, Artie,” she sighs, quickly wiping her hands on the rag next to the big red telephone before making a grab for it. He pokes at her again just as she pulls the phone off the receiver. “Ow! Arthur, stop. Cooper Garage, Betty speaking.”

“How are the Terrible Two’s, then?” It’s Veronica, sounding far too smug for someone who spoils the twins just as much anyone. She and the twins’ other aunt, Cheryl, have been broken up for over a year, but given that it was an amicable split (or, as amicable as two girls equally prone to dramatics can be—hence, the breakup), Veronica has remained a strong presence in the kids’ lives all the same.

“Terrible,” Betty breathes. She wipes her hand across her forehead. “What’s up?”

“So, I should cover my mom’s shifts more often,” Veronica chirps, and Betty feels an inkling of frustration that she practically sprinted across the garage for another one of Veronica’s social calls.

“Oh?” Betty asks, using the moment to brush some loose locks of hair off her sweaty skin. “And why’s that, Ronnie?”

“Boys,” is Veronica’s simple response. “Riverdale is absolutely devoid of them—or any that I haven’t test driven yet—but I always forget that Pop’s gets a surprising number of people off the highway. Girls too, I’m sure, but tonight there were these—”

“Well, I’m sure Pop appreciates that business,” Betty interrupts distractedly, watching her niece wander dangerously close to a tool bench. “Rose! Don’t touch that. You know you don’t play with Aunt B’s tools. Can you go grab your brother and go play in my office, please? You can put on the tv.”

Rose shoots her an embarrassed, apologetic smile and pulls her brother to the back of the garage and into her office.

“Sorry,” Betty declares to Veronica, rubbing her forehead. “They got into my cookie stash again. They’re angels until they touch sugar. You were saying? Boys?”

“It’s fine,” Veronica replies in her typically amused voice. “I should probably get to the point. I know you’re closing soon, but I’m actually calling because I have a truck smoking in the parking lot of Pop’s, and I figure they might need a tow and an allen wrench, or something.”

Ah.

“Okay, don’t trust an allen wrench for anything other than IKEA. Hold on,” Betty chuckles, cradling the phone between her shoulder and neck to reach for her notepad. “Alright, I’m ready. Describe the situation for me.”

“Uh…it’s a truck. Looks kind of old. Actually a rather lovely sea foam color…might be the same palette Jil Sander used in her FW—”

Betty stops taking notes. “Veronica.”

“Right. Not relevant. Well, I saw these two guys get in the car, and after a few minutes, the whole engine started smoking. Seemed like maybe they were trying to get it started.” There’s a sound like blinds shuffling around, and she imagines Veronica is watching from the window. “One is waving smoke around like a maniac and the other has just been banging his head against his steering wheel for the past three minutes.”

Betty presses her lips together to suppress a giggle at the mental image. “It sounds like it overheated, but I won’t be able to diagnosis why without seeing it,” she concludes, glancing over her shoulder at the office window. “Hm. They probably need a tow to get it here, but I can’t leave the kids…or fit them, two guys, and me in the truck. And Jason and Polly have that thing tonight, or I’d make them come get them.”

“Why don’t you bring the kids and leave them with me? I’ll take them home, or bring them over to the garage at the end of my shift. Pop’s got enough colored pencils to keep them occupied.”

“That might work,” Betty muses. “Okay, sounds like a plan. Tell those guys not to touch anything, and that a tow is coming.”

“Sí,” Veronica replies. “And call me when you’re done with them, if I don’t see you first. I wanna talk about the boys, because one is trés cute. Try to find out if he’s single, would you?”

“If it comes up naturally, sure,” Betty sighs, thinking that Veronica gets more romantic mileage out of Betty’s livelihood than she herself does. “Alright, it’ll take me a minute to wrangle these demons. See you soon. Thanks, V.”

“De nada. Besitos!”

They both hang up, and Betty presses another number into the buttons. She’d call Polly, but she’s famously bad at answering her phone. Jason picks up after a ring. “Hello? Is everything okay?” Her brother-in-law sounds frantic. “Is anyone hurt?”

“Breathe, Jason,” she laughs. “Everyone is fine. I just have a little dilemma here at the garage. I need to go pick up a car at Pop’s, but can’t fit the kids with everyone in the tow truck on the way back. I’m gonna leave them with Veronica at the diner, and she’ll bring them home if this ends up going too long. That alright?”

“Oh. Sure, Betty. Sorry again for leaving them with you last minute. Wh—oh, sorry, I have to go, the charity auction is starting. Thanks for checking. Have a good night!” And then he’s gone. Betty sighs, and wipes her hands on her blue work jumpsuit. If the boys are as cute as Veronica said, she briefly wonders if she should put on a bit more mascara. But there’s not really time, and she’s got a job to do anyway. So she settles for retying her ponytail and washing any leftover grease from her face.

“Kids!” She calls, and they come scrambling out of her office. “Who wants to go for a ride in the tow truck?”

After a resounding chorus of “We do! We do!” and gathering all their things into their little backpacks, she corrals them into the truck and sets off for Pop’s. Like everything in Riverdale, it’s not a long drive, but Rose and Artie are shoving at each other and it’s distracting for the whole ride.

She exhales. She loves her family. She loves her family.

Pulling into the Pop’s parking lot, Betty immediately spots the purpose of her trip; a mint green Ford pickup is stalled in its spot, the remnants of smoke stacks lingering overhead. Veronica is leaning against a nearby car in a yellow Pop’s uniform, talking to a well-built redheaded guy, and there’s another person still sitting in the driver’s seat, his head slumped against the wheel.

At least he’s stopped hitting his head against it, Betty thinks. She parks right in front of him, so it’ll be easy to hook up later on.

She and the kids pile out of the tow truck, and they immediately race over to Veronica, who scoops up Rose in her arms. With the kids’ bright red hair next to the stranger’s own, they could be a little family themselves. She shakes her head and marches over to the Ford.

“Hi there!” She says, knocking lightly against the metal door frame. “Heard you needed a hand.”

The guy looks up, eyes narrowed. He has dark hair stuffed under a gray beanie, a handsome, angled face and a smattering of attractive freckles and moles. This must be the cute one, Betty thinks, though Veronica seems happily preoccupied with the other guy.

“So it would seem,” he says, after a long moment of sizing her up. “You the mechanic we were promised?”

If he’s going to be one of those guys who underestimates a blonde woman under the hood of a car, he doesn’t show it. “Yep,” she says brightly. “Mind if I take a look at what I’m working with?”

With an incredibly burdened sigh, he slips out of the driver’s seat. “Let’s get this over with,” he mutters darkly behind her. He doesn’t seem to be in the best mood, though it’s not like she can blame him. Then again, she rarely comes across a customer happy to get their car ripped apart to be fixed, so she’s used to the attitude.

“So is the truck yours? Wow, is this a F150 ‘76? Haven’t seen one of those in a while,” she says, trying to clear the air.

“’77,” He corrects, a bit defensively, though she’s not sure why. He shifts from one foot to another, looking uncomfortable. “She’s not much, but she’s mine. A dependable old girl. Usually.”

“She’s a beaut,” Betty assures him. Veronica was right; the color is very nice. She flashes him an excited and secretive kind of smile that he clearly looks like has no idea what to do with. “I always love the diagnosis period.”

She sticks her head under the popped hood. She makes a lot of hm's, and ah's, and oh's under her breath as she digs around the engine. There’s almost no compressor left on one of his cylinders, which is probably the source of the breakdown. It’s been almost fried completely through, but otherwise, the engine is in pretty good shape, though there are certainly a couple of dark spots on its horizon.

“You’ve taken pretty good care of this car,” she says, briefly poking her head around the hood.

The guy clears his throat, looking slightly pained. “Uh, that was mostly my dad. This was his truck and I think he still fiddles with it when I’m not looking. But probably hasn’t for…a while. I haven’t done much more than change the oil every now and then.”

Betty hums and turns back to the engine. “Well, he’s done a good job.” Then she straightens, and wipes her hands on the rag that hangs from her belt loop. “So are you a good news first, bad news second, kind of guy? Or a—”

“I’m a bad news first, more bad news inevitably second kind of guy,” he says wanly. “So level with me. How bad?”

“Honestly, it’s not!” She says quickly, though he looks suspicious. He passes a fleeting glance over at his friend, but he and Veronica are still talking a few cars away. The kids are running in circles around them. “Really. You’ve got no compression left on one of your cylinders, which is easy to fix. And your truck has got great bones. But…the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

He squints at her. “Are you making an Aristotle joke?”

“A bad one,” she sighs, smile fading. “Basically, I don’t have parts for a truck this old on hand right now. I just used up my last one a few days ago. And we’re the only garage in town. Now, I can order them, and they really shouldn’t take too long, but it could be a week before they arrive. Maybe sooner if my guy in Hudson hasn’t left for vacation yet. Once I get the part it’ll be done in a couple days. But…”

“But?”

Betty sighs. “But I don't know how far you’re planning on driving this car.”

He blinks. “We came from Boston, heading to Chicago and then back. Why?”

“I was worried you guys were on a road trip,” she says under her breath. “I'm not totally sure the truck can make it back from Chicago. It might, it definitely might, but you've got a couple of weak spots all over your engine that could cause another breakdown. Just a professional observation.”

The guy stares longingly at his truck. Something is working across his face.

“Some people might cut their losses here,” she wagers, taking a stab at what he’s thinking. He looks up sharply. “Might say that sinking money into a truck a over decade older than them is a waste.”

He doesn’t correct her, so Betty assumes she’s not far off. “But like I said, this truck has really great bones. It was built well before planned obsolescence, and all that. So I could do a quick fix of your compressor issue here and send you off, but honestly, your head gasket and one of your valves aren’t long for this world either. If I rebuilt about half your engine, it would run flawlessly for probably another ten years.”

The guy stares at her. “Don’t mechanics have a reputation for saying stuff just like that, to get you to spend more money?”

“Yes,” Betty agrees. “We do. But I know what I’m talking about. You can trust me.”

“That’s definitely what someone I couldn’t trust would say,” he murmurs apprehensively, running his tongue over his teeth. He blinks over at Pop’s, a sort of wistful look warring over his features. “I’m not saying yes, for the record. But let’s say, theoretically, I’m interested in my truck running for another ten years. Just how long would rebuilding an engine take?”

“Well, couple weeks, if I get the compressor within that window. I’ve got most of the things I’d need for the engine already. But I'd be able to get started right away.”

“So we’re talking, full picture, about three weeks,” he summarizes flatly. He appears thoughtful, rubbing his hand against his jaw. “That’s cutting it a little close. I have to be in Chicago in a month. And what the hell would we do for three weeks in some podunk farm town?”

Betty bristles; she’s not sure he meant to say that last part loud enough for her to hear it, but she sure as hell did.

“I’m sorry your truck broke down here, but I can assure you we have all the amenities of modern times here in Riverdale. Flushing water, even internet,” she says, in a perky voice that she knows belies her annoyance.

With the long day she’s had chasing two six year olds all over her garage and just the mounting exhaustion of the past year, she’s not in the mood to humor the snobbery of a stranger. And, maybe, just maybe, if she’s being honest with herself, she doesn’t disagree with him and it strikes a damn chord.

There isn’t much to do in Riverdale, a fact she’s been musing over her whole life. But it’s not like she has the option to leave, so she’s not really interested in sympathizing with his anguish over a three-week pit stop.

He seems to realize his mistake, as his ears redden. She adds pointedly, “We’re also on the MetroNorth line. So you can go down to New York City while I fix her up. Or you can head up the Hudson Valley. You’re not married to staying here.”

He looks embarrassed beyond his depth, but doesn’t apologize. He nibbles on his lips instead. “Yeah, okay. How much are we talking?”

She puts her hands on her hips and spares the engine another sigh. “Parts…hm, you don’t need everything…the head gasket is gonna run it up…compressors are about 120… So I’d say about 700 for all the parts. Labor for this kind of work is about 1500. I’ll bundle it and do it all for 2 grand.”

He pulls his hat from his head for the sole purpose of running his hands through his hair. She has a moment to appreciate his thick, dark curls before the hat is forcefully shoved back on. He looks frustrated, or maybe anguished, or maybe on the verge of a total mental breakdown. Or maybe all of the above.

He crosses his arms. “That seems low. What’s the catch?”

“It is low,” Betty exhales, half-forgiving him for his offense despite herself. She knows it’s not what her father would’ve done—but it’s her garage now. She can run it how she wants, including into the ground. Still, one of these days, she’d love to learn how to hold a grudge. “No catch. You just seem like you’re in a bit of a bind.”

He stares at her like she’s just touched down to Earth on a spaceship. Then, he shakes his head to clear his shocked expression, and thrusts his hand out. “Deal.”

She shakes his hand, and there’s a brief, but startling, moment where her skin sparks against his. It might just be static electricity, but he seems to notice it too, because he quickly pulls his hand away.

“Thanks, Betty,” he says quietly, much to her surprise. At her look, he gestures to the embroidered nametag over her heart. She glances down at it, having forgotten it was there. Forgot she was wearing this greasy, disgusting jumpsuit in the first place. “I’m Jughead, by the way. And no, that’s not the name on my driver’s license, which I guess you’ll see when I fill out whatever forms, so please just…call me Jughead.”

She raises an eyebrow, but it’s 2017 and she goes by Betty, so she’s not about to judge. “Gotcha. Okay, well I’m gonna load up your Ford to the tow. You’re my last call of the day, so how about I drop you at the local hotel and you can come by tomorrow to fill out the paperwork?”

Jughead opens his mouth, but Archie, Veronica, and the kids are making their way towards them and he promptly clams up.

“They’ve reminded me I promised them pie about fifty times now, so we’re going to head on in so I can deliver on that. A Lodge always keeps her word,” Veronica says, tossing her silky black hair over her shoulder.

Betty rolls her eyes, dropping into a squat so she’s eye-level with the twins. “Fine, but I’m not taking them back after you’ve pumped them with more sugar. Okay kiddos, say goodbye to me!”

“Bye!” They say in cheery unison, running into her open arms. They give her quick hugs and then dash into the diner, with Veronica crossing across the parking lot after them. She passes them a brief, delicate wave of her fingers and then disappears through Pop’s door.

Jughead’s friend stares after her like she’s water and he’s the desert. She isn’t surprised. Veronica tends to have that effect, even draped in polyester. Betty will have to double check which one her friend thinks is the cute one, because otherwise there might be tension on the horizon between the two boys.

But then, Betty realizes that Jughead hasn’t even spared Veronica a passing glance. Instead, he’s staring at his truck. He seems to sense her eyes on him, because then he looks her way, his face unreadable. 

“So what’s happening?” The redhead asks, forcing his gaze away. “Did you get it fixed?”

“As if it’d be that simple, Archie,” Jughead sighs. “No, we’re definitely stuck here. Or, the truck is. For a couple weeks, while Betty here licks the wounds we’ve inflicted.”

His friend, Archie, seems to realize Betty is here for the first time. He hastily makes his introductions and then turns back to Jughead. “A couple of weeks? Aw, man. I had all these plans for our road trip.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Jughead says, a bit tersely. “If you’d given me any time to prepare, I might’ve had the truck checked out before we left. Instead she didn’t even make it 400 miles.”

Archie frowns. “I’m sorry, dude, I just—”

But Jughead cuts him off with a noisy exhale, then shakes his head. “No, I’m sorry. I’m tired. Let’s just crash and figure it out in the morning.”

Betty slips away and starts unhooking her tow chains, deciding the two friends might need a moment to work it out. She’s a mechanic, but she often feels more like a bartender in a seedy TV procedural; the type of arguments she overhears picking people up from the side of the road could fill a book.

Archie and Jughead don’t seem as willing to fight, though there’s still clearly a bit of tension as she snaps the hood down and latches the Ford to her tow truck. While she’s fiddling under the carriage of Jughead’s truck, she overhears the last bit of their conversation.

“…just saying it might not be the worst place to stay for a little while,” Archie is murmuring wistfully, and Betty can imagine he’s staring after Veronica in the diner.

“I guess not,” Jughead replies, after a long, thoughtful moment. She can’t see his face, but there’s something markedly hidden in his voice. She inhales, unsure of the sudden prickling on her skin. “I guess not.”

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