#hocus pocus love story

[carm3n-carm3n]

[munsonxangel]

[passionforfiction]

2022 Movies Highlight

This year I rewatched all Harry Potter movies with my brother who was watching them for the first time. I revisited some movies in order to see a new sequel. I enjoyed Marvel movies and The Batman. I watched biopics and Weird Al blew my mind with his parody of this genre. I liked the romances, the fantasy and other genres I watched. The only movie I really didn't like was West Side Story.

Here is the highlight of the movies I watched this year.

[claraghost22]

Happy Halloween!

A day late, but I got one Halloween drawing in! I flipping love Hocus Pocus, it has no reason to be so good. Watched it in art class so got this idea. Basic story I guess would be the three bros get possessed by some witch town peeps (blaming Donnie) so Don, April, and Casey have to handle the mess

Had a lot of fun doing this one and hope you enjoy! Happy Halloween 2024

[theemporium]

[3.1k] after a spell goes wrong, you and lando are forced to hide the fact that oscar isn't quite himself during media day at the british grand prix. it goes about as well as you would expect ft. mediocre magic, a surprised max verstappen and a cute black cat.

[find other fright night specials here]

.

There was a lot more to being a witch than people expected. 

It wasn’t all hocus pocus, waving a wand and standing around a bubbling cauldron whilst chanting in an ancient language under the moonlight. Don’t get it twisted, that was still a part of it. But there was more than cliches and stereotypes, things were a lot more complicated than reading from a spellbook and swishing a stick around. 

It was hard. 

Sometimes, it felt like that one subject in school that just never clicked. You were reading the textbooks, doing the homework and listening to the teacher but, no matter what, you couldn’t seem to get it quite right. Sometimes, you would eventually get it. 

And sometimes, you were left in situations quite like this one. 

Ideally—at least in the eyes of your grandmother—you would have done what every other young witch did at your age. You would have finished school, joined a coven and trained under the watchful eyes of the elders until you had successfully and safely mastered your magic. Upon reaching adulthood, a witch’s magic became more volatile, more unpredictable, more potent. It was vital for her to learn to control it before it overtook her. 

Unfortunately for your grandmother’s sake, you didn’t want to settle down in a coven. You wanted to explore the world. You wanted to learn to control your magic through experience, not through old scrolls and grimoires. You wanted to live, not just survive and learn. 

You did not want to be chained down by ancient rules and practices. 

However, as much as it pained for you to admit it, you kind of wish you had listened to your grandmother around about now. 

It was a funny series of events that led you to meet the two Mclaren drivers. It was somewhere during two race weekends a year ago, a meeting that happened by chance but changed the trajectory of all three of your lives. It was instant connections, late nights spent in hotels and a passion that was far from fizzling after your two weeks together were over. 

And it bloomed. 

You wanted to travel the world and they wanted to show you the world. You wanted to experience life beyond a witch’s expectations and they wanted to share that experience with you. You wanted someone to share your heart with and they wanted to be the ones you trusted with it. 

It felt like the planets aligned, the stars shone and the universe worked its magic to help you cross paths with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri. It felt the invisible string of fate weaving its way through your hearts to bring you together, to keep you together, to intertwine your lives to this very point. 

And, despite the stories whispered in young witch’s ears about the taboos of humans, Lando and Oscar accepted you for who you were, they loved you for who you were. The tales of humans hating and despising and disapproving of witches were squished by your boys in seconds. In fact, they were your biggest supporters in your journey to learn and control your magic. 

Maybe sometimes a little too supportive. 

“Oh my god.”

“Lando—” 

“Oh my god!” 

“Stop panicking!” 

“How can I not fucking panic?! Oscar is a fucking—” 

“Shhh!” You hissed, slapping your hand over your boyfriend’s mouth before he altered the whole McLaren hospitality. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the bubbling of feeling of ‘oh, I fucked up’ becoming more and more prominent. “Just…calm down for a second.” 

Lando let out a squeak of disbelief as he gestured towards the orange cat blinking up at the both of you, sitting in the spot where Oscar had been standing moments ago. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, staring at the orange cat. “Oscar?” 

The cat meowed in response.

“Oh my god,” Lando wheezed, his eyes comically wide. “I can’t believe you turned him into an orange cat. He is definitely more of a black cat, if anything.” 

You glared at the Brit. “Oh, sorry, let me just remember that for the next time I turn our boyfriend into a fucking cat!” 

Lando’s mouth parted. “Uh, babe—” 

“What?”

Lando only nodded back towards the cat, only to find Oscar the orange cat now very much black. 

“What the fuck?” You breathed out, the panic starting to resurface. 

“Change him back!” Lando hissed. 

“Okay, okay!” You rolled your shoulders, eyes narrowing slightly in determination as you stared at the black cat in front of you. “This is fine. I turned you into a cat, I can turn you back into a human.” 

“Ideally soon,” Lando added, staring at the cat with a suspicious glare. Like he didn’t quite believe it was really Oscar. “It’s Thursday. The media team is gonna want us to start filming stuff soon.” 

So, no pressure. 

…

Sometimes, you wondered if your grandmother placed a small, inconvenient curse on you to punish you for not listening to her advice about joining a coven straight after school. 

Because that was the only explanation you could come up with behind your horrendously, inconveniently timed bad luck that would be turning one of your boyfriends into a cat on media day of the British Grand Prix—arguably one of the most important for the team and the boys in the racing calendar. 

It was a purely unpurposeful accident that led to you accidentally turning Oscar into a cat, but you thought you had a little more skill and experience to be able to change him back with the same ease. However, forty minutes later and three breakdowns later—all from Lando, thank you very much—told you that accidental magic was a lot harder to fix than one would expect. 

Or, at least, than you expected. 

“This is pointless!” 

“Babe,” you sighed but the boy was already pacing the small driver’s room already. 

“He’s stuck forever! We will never see that stupid swoop ever again! We will never hear him say ‘Webbah’ ever again!”

“Lando,” you tried again.

“Oh my god, we have to tell Mark! We have to tell everyone! How the fuck are we going to tell everyone?!” 

“Lando!” 

The boy’s mouth quickly snapped shut, his wide eyes staring back at you as you pushed yourself up from your spot on the couch, crossing the room and gently cupping his face. Your thumbs soothed over his cheeks, feeling him relax a little under your touch. 

“Relax, baby,” you whispered softly, your lips twitching upwards as he took a deep breath. “This isn’t ideal but I have messaged my grandmother. She will call back and help us sort out this mess and nobody has to know.” 

“What about the team?” Lando questioned, his brows furrowing together. “They are gonna notice—”

“We will just have to cover up until Oscar is human again,” you said with a determined nod. “It can’t be too hard, right?”

“Right, yeah, of course,” Lando nodded. “Except for one minor problem.” 

You frowned. “What?” 

“Oscar is gone.” 

Your head snapped around, expecting to turn and see the black cat curled up where he was less than a few minutes ago. But he was nowhere to be seen, the driver room now empty apart from the two of you and the door out to the rest of the paddock somehow wiggled open.

“Fuck.” 

…

“If I were a cat, where would I be?” 

“Keep your voice down!” 

“I’m just trying to get into the mindset of Oscar right now,” Lando murmured in response, his lips turned downwards as he rubbed the spot of his arm you just slapped. “If he’s even Oscar anymore. What if he’s stuck with a cat brain forever?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Magic can’t do that. He’s still Oscar. Just…Oscar with very strong cat-like urges.” 

The two of you had managed to sneak out of Lando’s driver room without alerting anyone else on the team that something was wrong. None of them questioned where Oscar was, just simply waving at the two of you walking past as Lando panic-babbled some bullshit about wanting to go see Carlos in the Ferrari hospitality to sort out some details for a golf day before the McLaren media team stole them away for the rest of the day. 

Fortunately, they bought it. 

Unfortunately, it’s a lot harder to look for a cat in a paddock when no one can know you are looking for a cat.

“Should we get treats?” Lando questioned, keeping his voice low. “Or like…a laser?” 

“Yeah, because that will be real subtle,” you murmured with a snort. 

“We need to get into the mindset of a cat,” Lando said with an odd sense of certainty. 

“He would probably be somewhere warm,” you pointed out, tilting your head back to look up at the grey clouds starting to cover the sky. “But that's more of an Oscar thing than a cat thing.” 

“Oscar did say the other day he was going to hog the tire warmer blankets if the weekend had shit weather,” Lando suggested, his brows furrowing together. “What are the chances he’s just…sleeping there?” 

You glanced down at his watch, your frown deepening. “Let’s hope high.” 

…

“Pspspsps!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” 

Lando glanced up, a sheepish smile on his face. “Trying to make him feel relaxed, you know? Like we are one of his people.” 

You raised your brows, taking in the sight of him crawling through the stacks of tires on all fours before shaking your head, deciding it was easier to just leave it rather than ask any questions. 

Your grandmother hadn’t responded to any of the messages, the team were starting to blow up Lando’s phone and the two of you have had to dodge a handful of McLaren employees scouting the paddock for their drivers. 

Safe to say your plan wasn’t working the way you intended. 

“Oscar!” You called out, crouched down as you joined Lando in searching amongst the tires. “Oscar! Come on! We have fish!” 

“Ew, we do?” 

You shot the boy a look.

“Uh, yeah!” Lando quickly cleared his throat. “We have a lovely piece of salmon just for you!” 

“Fuck, maybe we should have brought some fish,” you murmured under your breath.

“What the fuck are the both of you doing?” 

You let out a noise of surprise as your head snapped up, your eyes widening a little at the sight of Max Verstappen standing a few feet away from you. But more surprisingly, the sight of a familiar black cat curled up in his arms. 

“Osc—” You winced when Lando nudged your side with elbow. “Cat! You found him!” 

Max blinked. “Did you just call him Oscat?” 

You smiled sheepishly. “Yes, I did, didn’t I?” 

“Odd name choice,” Max commented, lightly scratching the cat underneath his chin. “I didn’t know you got a cat.”

“He’s new,” Lando retorted, quickly scrambling to stand up and brush his knees off. “Uh, where did you find him?” 

“I heard meowing behind the motorhome and found this little guy trying to puncture some spare tires,” Max grinned, cooing at the black cat. “He’s a menace, isn’t he?” 

“Tell me about it,” Lando grumbled before clearing his throat. “I mean, thanks for finding him! But we will take it from here!”

“You should bring him over some time,” Max said as he handed the black cat off to Lando. “Sassy probably won’t like him but Jimmy might—” 

The cat let out a god-awful screech before he could be placed in Lando’s arms.

“Bastard,” Lando glared at the cat.

“We’ll think about it!” You quickly spoke up, ignoring Max’s odd expression as you quickly took Oscar in your arms. You didn’t miss the way Lando’s glare hardened when the black cat easily curled into your arms, purring away like nothing was wrong. “But we have to go.” 

“Media duties,” Lando supplied with a grim smile.

“Tell Oscar I said hi.” 

Lando only hummed, glaring at the black cat once more before the two of you headed back towards the McLaren garage.

…

Lando was pretty sure his team were going to think he had food poisoning again considering he had told them he had needed to go to the bathroom before they started filming. 

And the fact that had been forty minutes ago. 

“We can’t stay here forever,” Lando muttered, staring at the black cat curled up on his hoodie. Despite refusing to be held by the Brit, Oscar seemed happy to nap amongst his clothes. Lando was trying not to take it personally. 

“I know, I know,” you sighed, frowning as you flipped through your notebook. It was no grimoire, but it had little notes and lessons and spells you had learnt over the years. Your grandmother insisted it was pertinent for a witch to record her progress properly, to take extensive notes to pass on to the witches after her. You were starting to see her point now. “Why have I never turned a person into a cat before?!” 

Lando paused. “Was that question rhetorical or…?” 

You lifted your head to shoot him a look.

“Rhetorical it is,” he nodded, slouching back against the couch. “What if you just abracadabra your hands at him until something eventually happens?” 

“Other than the fact that is an incredibly stupid and idiotic idea?” You retorted before sighing, flashing him an apologetic smile at your biting tone. “It wouldn’t be safe for him or me. I don’t know what spell I would be adding onto and we don’t know what effects it could have on Oscar. For all we know, it could make this change…permanent.” 

The black cat lifted his head to meow in response. 

“He doesn’t seem like a fan of that idea either,” you added, your lips twitching at the way Oscar managed to look so judgemental even in cat form. 

“He doesn’t have much of a brain right now,” Lando grumbled, shuffling away when Oscar hissed at him in response.

“Stop antagonising him,” you chastised.

“He’s the one who won’t let me pet him!” Lando huffed in response. “He’s my boyfriend too.” 

“Is this about Max holding him?” You deadpanned.

“Yes!” 

“Well,” you started, quickly turning back towards your notebook. “In his defence, it was your fault that he got turned into a cat.”

Lando blinked. “How?”

“You were the one who kept pushing me to make you an ice lolly!”

“And you were the one who fucked up the spell!” 

“And that was because you kept tickling me—”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

The room fell dead silent as the three of you stared at the door. 

“Lando? Is Oscar with you? The press conference starts in five minutes, you’re both needed right now.” 

The Brit turned to you with a panicked look.

“Go,” you whispered with wide eyes. “Stall them. I’ll work on Oscar.”

Lando’s brows furrowed together. “Are you sure? I can—”

“Go, we’ll be okay,” you assured him, quickly leaning in to peck his lips. “Promise, baby.” 

“Okay, okay,” he nodded, swallowing harshly. “I can distract them. I can hold them off.” 

That was perfectly possible and capable. 

…

It was not, in fact, possible or capable.

The journalists were like vultures the second they realised the second McLaren driver was nowhere to be seen. Lando assumed his presence and the three other Brits on the couch would be more than enough for the media, especially for Silverstone weekend. It turns out he was wrong. 

So very wrong. 

“Question for Lando!” 

The boy resisted the urge to roll his eyes, instead slumping further back the couch in hopes it would open up and eat him alive. He noticed Alex and George sat to his left, snickering away with their microphones sitting beside them considering they hadn’t been asked a question in the last ten minutes.

“With Oscar out of contention for the weekend, are we to expect McLaren will be focusing on your standing in the championship?” 

Lando frowned. “Oscar isn’t out for the weekend.” 

“No one has given us a reason for his absence in this conference,” the journalists retorted. “We assumed he was unwell. Do we have reason to believe he isn’t here for another reason?”

Lando bit his tongue. 

“He was seen this morning arriving in the paddock,” another journalist added. 

“Then I’m sure you saw he was here and well,” Lando said, a fake and forced smile on his face. 

“Hey, if you need a driver for that second McLaren,” Alex spoke up as he tried to divert the attention away from Lando—because bless his heart, he is a good friend—after picking up his microphone for the first time in the conference. “I know a guy.”

Lando’s smile felt a little more genuine this time. “Yeah? There’s a few qualifications he needs to meet.” 

“Be slower than you?” Alex guessed, a few chuckles breaking out amongst the crowd.

“Yeah, if he could hold everyone back, that would be great,” Lando grinned. “Just swipe everyone out whilst I just zoom off.” 

Alex cackled, leaning into George as he shook his head fondly. 

“Lando!” A journalist called out and Lando felt his whole body tense up. “Do you think Oscar’s absence shows a lack of commitment to the team?” 

Lando could feel his face scrunch up. He knew his emotions were probably written very clearly across his face if the bubbling anger inside him was telling enough. But before he could lift his microphone and say something that would have the PR team sighing deeply at his snarkiness, the door to the conference room slammed open as someone came running in. 

“Sorry, sorry!” 

Lando’s anger quickly melted away, replaced with something quite like knee-buckling relief at the sight of Oscar settling onto the couch beside him, his cheeks flushed and his hair dishevelled on his head. But he was there and he was human and that was all Lando needed to know right now. 

At least, he tried to tell himself that as Oscar supplied the journalists with some very vague excuse as to why he was late.

“How?” Lando muttered under his breath, leaning into Oscar so the microphones wouldn’t pick up on their voices.

“Grandma messaged back,” Oscar said with a small smile. “She seems confident it worked fine. But she was also three drinks deep into happy hour so, take it with a pinch of salt.” 

Lando raised his brows. “Do you feel okay?” 

“Yeah, Grandma said there shouldn’t be any lingering side effects,” Oscar assured him, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m fine. Promise. I’ll explain later.” 

Lando only nodded in response, shuffling a little closer to Oscar until their knees were nudging against each other. Oscar was there and he was human and he was touching him now, and that was what mattered. He could wait another fifteen minutes before finding out more, before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend and muttering about needing to buy a black cat before Max texted him with more questions. 

Oscar was fine now and nobody knew the mess they had accidentally created. 

“Next question is for Oscar: did you just meow?” 

.

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

I am so excited to present this Hocus Pocus inspired AU requested by the lovely @jackofallrabbits! The boys star as the witchy brothers who return once a fated reader lights the starry candle. They simply must show their gratitude! And what better day to post such a spooky and fun fic than on Friday the 13th?!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, and heavy touching.

———

You turn the key and cut the engine of your car. With a flick, you turn off the headlights. The beginning of a sunset swoops down onto your ill-adjusted vision. The horizon is drenched in purples and oranges as shadows begin to crawl off of trees and their yellowed leaves. It will take a minute or two for your sight to adapt, but you have tilted and revolved the structure waiting just at the edge of the forest within your mind’s eyes for days now. It’s beyond the dirt road you’ve pulled onto the shoulder of.

Blinking slowly, you find the house’s dark silhouette through the boughs of clustered trees, and you sigh at the beauty of its preserved history.

The building is an artifact dating back roughly to the 1630s. A post-medieval English-style home, it contains two stories with an overhanging jetty and stunning clapboard siding that has survived a little under four centuries of existence. Your eyes catch on the windows and your heart sings at the sight. Diamond-paned casement. And there, decorative pendants of celestial bodies, including iron-casted suns, moons, and overlapping symbols of the two. The steeply pitched roof is common for the era and is more renowned in its descendant the saltbox form, but this style boosts its spooky aura.

The Puritan colonists were the ones responsible for importing the style to America as they landed here on the eastern coast. 

It’s no stretch of the imagination to think of witches and execution trials while gazing over the beautiful home. You’re particularly intrigued by the history of the Salem witch trials, and as a historian, you couldn’t deny yourself the chance to enter the building and feed the gnawing need to stand within a piece of history.

Stepping out of your car, a gust of wind carrying the bitter edge of autumn cuts through your brown sweater. You shiver and shut the door as quietly as you can manage. This is hallowed ground. This will supply your ever inquisitive mind which is always looking to the past with a curiosity most insatiable.

You face the home. A footpath lightly serpentines between the trees. Hooligans with destructive tendencies and teenagers on dares will venture here for a spooky, fun time, but are usually caught by the police because the building sits on private property. You asked for permission from the owner of the hundreds of acres of forest land that includes the so-called “Witch House” if you might enter the premises. Given your credentials, you were certain the owner would trust you with exploring the home.

Much to your relief, the owner agreed. 

You look up, arms clutching your knitted sleeves to fight the chill of an October breeze, in awe and reverence. 

From your pocket, you slip out a wrought-iron key with the symbol of the moon overlapping the sun to form a black eclipse and marvel again at the intricacy of ancient beauty. Your fingertips grow chilled in the late hour. The sun shifts from orange to dark, bleeding red like blood from a heart spilled across the horizon. You walk towards the home. 

Perhaps you should have arrived sooner. You were caught in another historical journal depicting the specific timeframe of when this home would have been occupied by its original inhabitants. 

The rumors even now speak of curses and cursed artifacts within the building. Some of it is true—you have confirmed with your own scholarly sources. The original owners were a trio of brothers. They were accused of witchcraft and hanged for the crimes. That much is historically documented and verified. 

What is fantasy is the tale of the brothers casting a curse with their dying breaths, declaring they would one day return if a virgin lit a starry candle on the anniversary of their executions.

Superstition. Most likely, the fear of the townspeople transcended to their children, and their children, down and down until it became a tale to spin on Halloween night around these parts. 

The door is black as you approach it. A stray branch catches on your sweater, pulling on a thread, and you yank yourself free and silently mourn the roughen fabric before returning your attention to what really matters. You must be careful. This entire place is iconic and in need of preservation. 

You slip the key into the lock hole and turn it with a thick, heavy click before the black wood door groans and slides inwards as if inviting you into its sphere. You take a breath. Your boots cross the threshold and you enter the home. 

As is typical of some homes built in the early seventeenth century, an open hall greets you. In the far back is the fireplace with a cauldron still sitting upon an ashy bed. An original wood-carve table and chairs are set to one side as a staircase climbs up into the darkness of the second level. What little red light leaks inside is narrowed and cut up into diamonds by the panes. To one wall, shelves contain dusty and forgotten cooking utensils, once glimmery copper pots, and dinner dishes with designs considered much too gawky in the Puritan era but it causes you to softly gasp.

Your hand covers your mouth as you gaze around you, overwhelmed with the beautiful intricacies of metallic chandeliers holding half-burned tallow candles, and to the other wall lies a bookshelf covered in cobwebs as if the spiders refuse to let anyone examine such precious reads. Your fingers already itch to gently pry out one manuscript and gaze at the original script of whoever wrote it.

But the light—it’s far too dark now. The red has given way to blue and pale indigo. You squint. You reach into your other pocket for a lighter and flick it on. The tiny flame spouts a delicate light. Never would you dare admit this out loud to a living soul, but you so desperately wish to see the home in its authentic state, lit only by the technology the brothers had at the time: fire.

There are thick, yellowed candles lying on the table and clustered together on the narrow window sills. You have no hope of reaching the metal chandeliers but you do spy a candelabra positioned near the bookshelf on a small end table. You light it first with a careful touch of your lighter flame. The wick catches, even after all of these years. You smile softly, your heart warm within your chest as you bask in the essence of this beautiful place.

A few more candles should suffice. 

You slip to the table to light the thick and tall candles. The flames bloom and warm the space in rich light, casting thick shadows from support beams. You almost set your lighter away when you spy one last candle set upon a golden candle holder. The fashioned metal twists and twines with elaborate engravings of shooting stars and slices of sun rays were placed in the corner of the room almost out of sight. The curiosity within you urges you to take a step, then another, and another. You stand in front of the almost forgotten candle.

The tallow is black as midnight. Strange. How did they color this? Embedded within the darkness are speckles of white, splattering the candle like an array of stars. Your eyes stray in search of constellations before shaking your head.

It’s true. There is a starry candle. Perhaps the brothers did dabble in the occult, playing with cards and fortune telling, and being punished with death for their interest in unholy magic. 

The wick is dark and untouched as if it were never lit before. You bring the lighter flame closer. Superstition might worry another, but you concern yourself with logic and reason—explanations of humanity rather than inexplicable forces beyond comprehension. 

Something stirs from a nearby corner shelf. Two long ears twitch. You catch a glimpse of a rabbit with creamy white fur just before it leaps off of the shelf and directly onto your arm. You yelp. Nearly dropping the lighter, you scramble back as the rabbit hits the floor, collects itself, and sits on its haunches.

Green eyes glare up at you. The rabbit, small and bunny-like, stays firmly between you and the starry candle.

You stand with your chest heaving and your lungs scraping out air, almost burning your thumb on the lighter flame before turning around yourself. Where did the woodland creature come from? Did it crawl its way inside like a rat and become trapped within the colonial home? The shot of adrenaline still flowing through your veins leaves your hands shaking.

The rabbit is still watching you with uncanny eyes. Prey animals so rarely stare back at bigger, larger threats. Perhaps it’s a pet. A runaway pet that somehow ended up here, of all places.

You slowly offer out your hand, keeping the lighter away in your other, as you take a step towards it.

It thumps a foot once, as if in warning, then bounds away. You watch it disappear into the house, still reeling from the fright it gave you. 

If Michael was here, he would have laughed and told you to leave with him, now. He never wanted you to go here, especially alone, but you shake such ominous warnings away. He said curiosity killed the cat. You disagreed. This house is a part of history, not a curse. Witches are mere stories, conjured out of historical unrest and the longing to blame bad luck and tragedies upon an individual or three. 

There’s always an explanation for fear superstition or mistrust. It’s far more sad than it is spooky.

You shake your head, smooth out the creases in your sweater, and face the starry candle again. The lighter flame flickers softly as you draw near it.

It is the anniversary of the brothers’ executions. You remember now as the shadows from other candles drape over you like a veil. You are also a virgin.

You laugh to yourself, covering your mouth as you do so. Look at you! You’re getting so worked up because a rabbit jumped at you.

It’s only hocus-pocus.

You tilt the lighter until it engulfs the wick. The flame catches, and you at last snap the lighter shut and return it to your pocket. Your eyes squint slightly at the candle. The wick snaps and bursts into sparks. The flame is not yellow or orange or even blue—it’s pure white like a comet streaking across the sky.

A crack of thunder splits the night sky with a bellow so monstrous, you feel like a child again, fearing a storm. You drop low to the ground, shielding your head as if the very world was going to fall upon you. A spark cracks in the fireplace, conjured out of ash underneath the cauldron before it burns hot and bright. The cauldron immediately begins roiling and bubbling with water. Laughter, great and terrible, and filled with the most jester-like joy sweeps over the room.

The pulse in your ears drowns at any sense but the need to hide. You scramble into the corner, tucking yourself behind the stand of the starry candle and hunker down. Holding your breath, you grab a fistful of your sweater while clutching your chest, and watch the door to the almost 400-year-old house fly open.

Three figures stride inside, looking about the place with wide eyes and disk-like heads framed in jutting adornments not unlike sun rays or shrouded in a heavy, dark blue hood.

“Brothers! We’re home!” The first one, tall and dark with deep red hues to his form, accent in sharp orange sun rays and an eclipse upon his face, turns to face his brother with bright, cat-like yellow eyes. “Isn’t it glorious?”

Another figure steps forward, yellow and off-white. Pale eyes beam. His head is crowned in bright sun rays as well. His spindly fingers twindle together in exuberant energy while he glances about the room eagerly. “Oh, yes, yes! More than anything! It’s as if we weren’t gone for more than a day—though the dust and cobwebs beg to differ.”

He draws a claw—you suck in a sharp breath—along the table’s edge and rubs his taloned fingertips together in disappointment. 

“We must get to cleaning at once.”

“No,” the last figure fixes his hood with silvery digits. Golden jewels hang down the back of his unusual skull, the last and most prominent adornment a thick, golden star pendant. His eyes cast around the room, scarlet, and searching. “We must thank the little mouse who lit the candle.”

He flashes sharp teeth within his wide mouth, shaping it into a hungry grin. You gulp.

“Where are our manners?” The red and dark one twists back to the room with a flourish of his arms. His yellow gaze sweeps over the shelves and floors with a blade-like glint. “Of course, we must thank one so lovely.”

A dark cape drapes about his person. Underneath, a white flowing shirt hangs loosely to his lithe and slender figure, causing you to balk upon staring at such an exposed chest. The other two are no different, wearing similar shirts and dark trousers, but the hooded one bears a thick, longer cape while the sunny figure shares a cape similar to the first.

The yellow one lifts his wrists and frowns at the red ribbons tied around them. Golden bells jingle softly in an ominous chord. 

“How terrible a reminder of our current impermanence,” he growls low in his throat, all cheerfulness lost and causing you to squeeze your ribs in fear.

“Patience, Sun,” the red one speaks, though he too casts a narrowed glance to the black ribbons and golden bells adorning his wrists. “We will affix ourselves back to this world in due time.”

“Eclipse, what a delicious creature I smell.” The hooded figure steps deeper into the home. Blue claws scratch at equally blue ribbons knotted to his hand bones but his attention is terrifyingly fixed on the candle stand just above your hiding spot. 

You shrink further into the corner.

“Yes, Moon? And how lovely?” Eclipse, you assume, asks. His yellow eyes flash.

“As lovely as the stars,” Moon answers.

You watch claws curl around the wooden side of the candle stand, scratching deeply into the wood before a half-moon face emerges from behind, teeth set like a predator’s upon the sight of a wounded animal. Your heart flutters like a bird with a broken wing.

“Hello, little mouse. Won’t you come and play with us?” 

You scream as he leaps behind the candle stand, takes you by the arms, and pulls you to your feet. You struggle to free yourself, crying out as he grabs hold of your wrists and fixes you firmly in place. 

“My, how sweet,” he purrs in a dangerously low voice that rolls in the back of his throat. “You are the darling virgin who lit the candle, no?”

“Let me go!” You thrash but Moon grins in delight, as if you’re simply too precious. 

“You deserve proper thanks,” He lowers one hand, forcing you to submit with slightly bent knees. “Here is my gratitude, little mouse.”

You freeze as he brings your hand towards his mouth, and a hundred, horrifying visions of him biting your fingers off or sinking his teeth in your palm send your blood into a frozen sludge of fear.

The witch, however, presses a kiss to the center of your palm. The softness catches the gears in your mind and jerks them to a halt.

“Thank you for allowing us to return once more,” he rasps. His scarlet eyes find yours between the space of your thumb and forefinger, and a strange stirring takes hold of your middle.

“This isn’t real,” you breathe. Dizziness begins to take hold.

This must be a dream, a thought gone wild, or inhaled bacteria triggering hallucinations.

Moon’s grin widens. He lowers your hand, loosening his hold for one precious moment. You rip your hands free of his grasp. A low growl escapes him but you’ve already slipped away, your eyes upon the door and spilling with the need to rush out into the night, away from the impossibilities standing before you—

Arms snatch your waist and lift your feet from the ground. You gasp. 

Held in the air, you squirm before a hot breath dusts the shoulder of your sweater. You fall still, your throat bobbing as a mouth presses into the corner of your neck and lays a kiss on the sensitive spot. Gooseflesh prickles up and down your body.

“I assure you, I’m very real, little mouse,” Moon purrs. His hands squeeze your hips once. “And as nice as this… attire is, I would dress you in blues and silvers. You would look proper and powerful, like my brothers and I.”

A squeak escapes you. You shrink against him, caught in his embrace.

“Brothers?” The word rattles out of your throat. 

“This is our home,” Moon whispers. “And you are our most honored guest.”

You manage to pry off his hands from your waist. With a sinister chuckle, the blue and silver hands release you. Without looking back, you run, ignoring the twinge in your stomach that whispers it was too easy to get away.

You hardly get a few steps before the sunny one—Sun—steps into your path. He catches you in his arms and spins you in a waltz at breakneck speed, your feet never touching the ground, before stopping without warning as he dips you low. He looms above you, his smile filled with sharp teeth.

“Let me get an eyeful. Oh, yes, you look good enough to eat,” he simpers. His hand splays along the small of your back and you gawk up at him, still trying to regain your balance after the sickness-inducing whirl. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you.”

“I just want to leave,” you whimper. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? Sunshine,” he laughs, and it echoes with all of his heart—do once-hanged witches have a heart? There is no historical journey to give context to this very moment, you fear.

He lowers his sultry gaze to you. “I wish to only thank you. And I intend to.”

He pulls you back to your feet. You’re still clasped in his embrace like lovers on a ballroom floor. His hand hooks tight to your hip, and his other catches the side of your face. Heat spreads through the marrow of your bones.

On the tabletop beside you, something white moves across the plane of its surface, hunkering behind the thick stack of candles still burning.

His head lowers to your neck. You stiffen as he tilts your head away, opening you to his parting teeth. A tongue, dark and sinuous, flicks out of his maw. A gasp slips from your lips at the wet lick up the column of your throat. Eyelids fluttering, you start to sag as weakness fills your knees. He drags his tongue higher to taste your jawline and finishes at your cheek with a swipe for good measure. 

Your hands find him and clutch tightly to his slender arms. He presses his lips to your ear and with a misty warmth, whispers.

“Thank you for—Gah!”

The white rabbit leaps up from the table, squirming directly between you and his chest, breaking you apart. Instinctively, you jump away just as Sun snarls. The heart-wrenching sound shakes your entire frame as he snatches the rabbit by the scruff before it can scramble back from his wretched claws.

“I’ll boil you alive!” he thunders. He steps towards the cauldron, back where Moon leans against the wall, watching the spectacle with an amusing twitch of his grinning maw. Behind you, Eclipse stands at the door like a sentinel, his eyes still hungry and even furious as he follows his brother’s movement to the cauldron. 

Sun dangles the rabbit, now struggling and kicking but unable to find purchase against the witch’s hold, above the boiling water of the caldron.

“No!” you cry.

Sun’s eyes widen. He turns back to you just as you close the distance and scoop the rabbit in your arms. His claws, pale-boned and wickedly curved, clench around emptiness. Without thought, you turn and run again though there is little hope as you come to the door. Your boots stamp against the wooden floorboards.

The rabbit in your embrace turns its face up to you and mutters in a woman’s voice, “You have no idea what you’ve just done.”

You gawk, stunned before hands catch you by the shoulders. You’re brought to a dead halt. The rabbit leaps from your arms, drops to the floor, and races away into a shadowy corner of the room with only one glimpse of its fluffy tail before you’re left alone.

You twist and face the eldest witch’s attention. Eclipse. His yellow eyes go up and down your body, and you watch in muted shock as two additional arms emerge from the shadows of his cap. He forces you backward, one step after the other until your back is pinned against a dusty wall.

You stare into his eyes, chest rising and falling rapidly. Your pulse pounds in your eardrums.

“I don’t believe this is happening,” you utter.

The witch tilts his head with a wicked grin.

“We’ll make you a believer yet.” He promises, and his deep cords vibrate through your form. “My dear, we simply must thank you for all that you’ve done for us.”

His claws slip over your collarbones. Your breath quickens, a stirring you cannot name unfolding deep within your middle. His extra set of hands fall to your hips and begin caressing the bones. Daintily, carefully, his warm fingertips slip just underneath the hem of your sweater, touching your bare flesh. A shiver runs down your entire body, leaving you to squirm.

“Be a good little comet,” he says softly, “Let me pour my gratitude all over you.”

“I didn’t—I didn’t know it was true,” you stare into his face, marked with a red crescent over a dark shadow, and his eyes pierce into the very nature of your being. “You’re back.”

“Because of you,” he rumbles softly in his chest. His grin pulls higher at the corners.

His claws slip over the nap of your neck and card gently into the small, sensitive hairs at the bottom of your skull. You breathe in. His eyes brighten in pleasure before he slips his sharp but controlled talons over the shells of your ears and follows the arch of your cheekbone. His gaze drops to your lips. Your heart thumps and thumps against your sternum so powerfully, you fear he may hear it.

His lips pull over his razor-sharp teeth and you stop breathing.

His other set of hands begins working up the sides of your torso. He rubs slowly and gently, but you squirm despite this. He touches you far too intimately when you have never experienced such affections before. A mewl escapes your lips. You wriggle as he refuses to relent. 

In answer, his upper hands lower and capture your hands together in one, and pin them above your head to hold you in place. He coos, chastising. A great roil starts in your stomach and expands upwards until your face becomes pink and flushed.

“Hold still, little comet,” he chuckles, and you whimper. “I’m not finished with showering you in all my adoration.”

“Eclipse,” your breath is harsh and hot.

“It is good to hear my name upon such lovely lips,” his voice lowers, husky and scorching. “I knew a virgin would light the candle. I swore it to my brothers as they set us on the gallows and draped nooses around our necks. You are our light, our savior. How could I ever thank you?”

In his words, his burning stare that singes with sincerity, it clicks into place. All at once, you believe what you are seeing with your own two eyes. 

It’s true. He’s back. He and his brothers have returned with magic.

“I have questions,” you say hesitantly in your demureness, “I want answers.”

“Of course,” Eclipse agrees easily. “But first…”

A dark claw brushes your hair back from your face. The flutter in your heart can’t seem to hold still. Eclipse’s grin widens and his eyes soften.

“You have freckles like constellations,” he murmurs in the manner of one gazing at the night sky or one studying an ornate painting.  

Before you can shape words to reply, to say anything that might free you from his grasp, his mouth is upon yours. A sound softly catches in the back of your throat. You fall still under his caressing hands still moving below your sweater. He traces the row of your ribs. You have just enough mind to wonder if he feels your skin prickle in your sensitivity. His other hand clasps your wrists tighter. You gasp against his teeth. 

He pulls gently, hungrily, taking you as if a bite of honeycomb. You become melted honey, easily malleable between his teeth and then molded by his mouth. His tongue invades you. You moan softly at the claim he lays upon you until you become weak in the knees and almost fall. His kiss seals your fate.

He releases you from his maw. You sink slightly, and his arms fall out from under your sweater to properly catch you. He lowers your wrists, returns your hands, and brushes your hair once more from your face.

A chuckle emits from his lips, and you burn.

“You’ll stay with us, won’t you?” he asks, but he waits for no answer as he scoops you into his arms. Feet dangling, you have no choice but to cling to his shoulders and endure his brothers’ attention as he twists around and faces them.

The rabbit’s right. You are in trouble. Michael warned you. He said curiosity killed the cat.

But charm brought it back.

[owlyjules]

My favourite Spooky things to enjoy on Halloween!!

Tought I would make a little list of spooky things to read, listen and watch for the big day!:D

I am pretty varried in scary scale but I tend to stay away from jumpscare! And I will try to not recommend the classic like "Over the garden wall" (1000/10 requiered halloween watch) and the classic movies like "beetlejuice" and " Hocus Pocus" since you guys probably know them well.:) Here goes! -------------------MOVIES-----------------------------

John Carpenter " The Fog"

(Classic old movie, 3.5/5 spooks, old practical horror effect, mood is 10/10 with bonus for having a lighthouse) 2. The Cat people (1942)

(very old movie, and has some old tropes but great tension in some scenes and has that feeling there is a monster about to pop out at any moment without the jumpscare. 2/5 spooky)

3. The Others (2001)

(SPOOKY! One of the first scary movies I watch. still get me. Love it. 5/5 spooky for someone like me.)

------------PODCAST--------------------------

13 Days of Halloween (Season 2 and 3 ESPECIALLY)

(Fantastic ambiance, amazing voice actors cast. Season 2 is in a small seaside town and very Lovecraftian + lighthouse, Season 3 is countryside great depression feel. Both fantastic. 5/5 spookies)

2. Old gods of Appalachia

(one of my favourite podcast. if you like the magnus archive, you will like this! one of the best narrators in the world of podcasting. 4/5 spookies)

3. Ghost Story Podcast

(Not really scary but an interesting investigation into familly history and probable haunt. Just a touch spooky. 1/5) ---------------BOOKS and MANGAS----------------

The twisted ones by T. Kingfisher

(Maybe because I grew up in the countryside with a house similar to that one on my street, it gets me. 5/5 spookies)

2. Even Monsters Like Fairytale

(Kinda villainess manga, kinda twisted fairytale, I highly rec this one! 1/5 spookies)

3. Shadow house

(I would rec reading the manga more than the anime, if only because the art get that mood even better in black and white and Somato is amazing! 3/5 spookies)

4. A guest in the house by Emily Carroll

(Uncanny and such an atmostphere! Emily Carroll is, as always, a master in scary stories! 5/5 spookies!)

5. Anything by Algernon Blackwood

(Old school gothic and short ghosts stories. perfect for your dark academia and victorian haunts feels! You can find a lot in free audiobook form too on youtube and spotify! 3/5 SPOOKIES) ---------------GAMES--------------

Little goody two shoes

(horror pixel art with the dark german fairytale look and yuri? yes please! 3/5 spookies!) 2. The return of the Obra Dinn

(Ghost ship, solving crimes, nautical spooks and amazing atmosphere. 3/5 spookies) 3. Emio, The smiling man

(Investigation game with amazing graphic and live 2d-animations! a touch of the supernatural. 3/5 spookies!) 4. Paranormasight

(Seriously one of the best supernatural games I ever played. can be done in 1 or 2 days, its funny, scary and amazing. 5/5 spookies)

And that concludes thjis little list! I could add even more and Might as I think of some!

[beuxwhoyouare]

Ready to Go

I always thought I would die young. I just don’t forsee a long life ahead for me. It’s not like sad or anything I just think I’ve done all I wanted to. There’s never been like a dream job or goal I’ve ever foresaw in my future. It’s not depression or anything, if anything I think more people should be honest with themselves about being useless and just tapping out of a long life of nothingness.

See. You’ve read this long and didn’t even notice I haven’t mentioned my name. That’s because like my life, my name is equally inconsequential.

I was pondering about ways to easily tap out of life while I sat at the bus stop waiting. Eventually I got on the bus at my usual stop to take me to my usual destination when an older white man slowly waved his hand in front of my wandering gaze.

“What’s out there?” he feebly asked in a weak voice.

I’ve never been asked something on my route before. I kinda just zone out into my own mind like this and-

“Hey kid. You keep zoning out are you okay?” he interrupted my internal thought.

It’s like he knew I was talking to myself but how?

“I’m just in my own head. Sorry did you want the window seat?” I finally replied audibly.

“No. Just making sure you’re okay. Was worried you were one of those druggies or something. Whole life ahead of you and you youngins just throw it all away.”

What a presumptive thought. He really believes that young people can’t have a complex and existential inner dialogue. I think older people don’t give us enough credit. I’m complex, I think.

*hehe*

What’s he laughing at. Wait maybe he is listening to my inner dialogue? Let’s see. Lemme think of something and see how he responds. I don’t want to die, I just want to peacefully tap out of the game of existence.

Damn nothing? He isn’t going to say anything? I’m losing my mind.

“Where do you want to go in life kid?”

HE HEARD ME I KNEW IT!

“I mean let’s say you manifested it enough. Maybe I’m here to help you move on. The worst thing you can do is live a life unfulfilled. It seems like that’s how you’re living.”

“You can’t be serious…What can you do?”

“It’s not really me, more like a pact to the deities that rule existence. It’s the law of the land. Everything in this world is all about balance. Even our lives, if one aspect is out of balance it could throw the whole world out of whack.”

“So what’s out of balance? Just because I’m tired of being aimless in life? It’s not like I’m the only aimless one right?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one, but you’re the only aimless one put in my life. I have so much I wanted to do but spent too much time wasted. I wanted kids, I wanted love, I wanted it all but got sick and spent years withering away in a hospital bed.”

….why is he telling me all this? What can I do about the law of the land? If I could help him I would but he’s talking about myths and hocus pocus.

The bus made an abrupt stop next to a big park near a historical reserve in town. The old man grabbed my arm and dragged me with him off the bus, across the street to the park.

“Dude your boney arm is hurting me. I’ll follow you just let me go”

“We’re here anyway. I can feel one of the deity’s presence around us. All you have to do is say your true hearts desire out loud for it to become true. You can’t move on and I can get a chance to fix my life’s shortcomings.”

My true hearts desire? Doesn’t he get it my problem is I don’t have a desire. There’s nothing fueling me.

“That! Say that out loud.”

“I KNEW YOU COULD HEAR ME! But how?”

“Your inner dialogue was calling to me like a siren. I’m telling you I was meant to hear it. To run into you! This moment was meant to happen.”

Honestly resisting the occult is too much work anyway. I don’t know why I’m even poking and prodding into his story. What is it going to do for me in the end? He’s offering me a way out.

“I don’t have desire. I don’t have a goal. I’m not sad, I’ve lived an okay life but I’m done.”

“I want a real chance to live life. I payed my dues. Please all I ask for is a real chance.”

If felt like all the sounds of nature stopped. The sun suddenly disappeared and it felt like a spotlight appeared above us. All I could see was the old man when he disappeared in front of me. It all disappeared in front of me. Then silence. Well everything was silent from then on. My request to tap out was granted.

“Keven. I like that name, I definitely look like a Keven now. This is a good place to start I think?”

I feel bad that a young person could fall out of love with existing. There’s so much young people have to live for and he just wanted to die? I’ll live the best live for the both of us.

I’m quite the looker now too so that should probably help on the having kids and starting a family front. Although he’s a little short for my liking. You know what no I’m going to be grateful for this new life I’ve been given. There’s still some memories in my head that belong to him. I think he might be gay….well I never got to explore those things in my time but it doesn’t help the kids dream.

Whatever I think starting today I’m going to be Bi. I’m gonna search through these memories and continue working out. Seems like it has a positive impact on people’s outlook and morale. Maybe that’s where the kid went wrong. He didn’t seek ways to be happy. I’m choosing happiness and choosing to be fulfilled.

Let’s start by jerking this thick beer can growing under my shorts though…and maybe seeing if this hot couple in the gym might want a newly confident Latino twunk third.

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Haunted Nights & Cozy Frights with the 141

Pairing: Poly141 X reader

Warning: Mostly fluff

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy this little Halloween special!

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The crisp chill of Halloween had settled over the safe house, but instead of facing down missions or danger, you were tucked away with Task Force 141 for a night of laughter, warmth, and a bit of harmless fright. Price had suggested a night off to celebrate, a rare moment when everyone could relax, and the idea of celebrating Halloween with the 141 had taken off surprisingly quickly.

After a morning spent gathering snacks, decorations, and costumes, you all returned with enough to transform the safe house into something more like a Halloween hideaway. By the time evening fell, there were flickering candles casting ghostly shadows over the walls, string lights hanging like tiny stars, and a cluster of jack-o’-lanterns with lopsided smiles, carved by Soap himself. The sight was almost cozy—if you ignored the haunting shadows.

The boys were all (mostly) dressed up, and it was a sight. Price looked almost regal in his vampire costume, cape draped across his shoulders as he flashed you a small smirk. Gaz had gone all-in on a pirate costume, complete with a plastic sword and a red headscarf. Soap’s mad scientist costume was practically a work of art; he’d loaded himself up with mismatched goggles, neon goo in syringes, and messy hair to complete the look.

And then, of course, there was Ghost. He had adamantly refused to wear a costume, still dressed in his usual skull balaclava and tactical gear. After some good-natured pleading from the others, he eventually allowed you to clip a tiny, skeletal bat pin to his vest, though he grumbled about it the entire time.

“Feel properly dressed now?” you teased him, grinning as he inspected the tiny bat.

He gave you a steady look, a hint of humor in his eyes. “That’s as far as it goes, love,” he replied, his voice soft. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You held back a laugh, though it was hard to resist with the tiniest bit of “Halloween spirit” pinned to Ghost’s vest.

The movie marathon began with *Hocus Pocus* — a fitting start for a Halloween night. The group settled in on the couch, snuggled under blankets, bowls of popcorn and candy between you all as the Sanderson sisters filled the screen with Halloween charm. Soap, of course, got invested in every twist and turn of the story, while Gaz munched on popcorn and offered occasional commentary on the costumes and magic spells.

Ghost sat beside you, his usual silence a comforting weight, though he didn’t seem to mind your occasional comments on the movie. You found yourself inching closer to him under the pretense of needing more blanket, though he didn’t seem to mind that either.

The smell of popcorn and hot cider filled the room as the evening wore on, and just when everyone was fully immersed in the movie, a small knock echoed from the front door. Soap practically shot up, his eyes lighting up with excitement. “Trick-or-treaters!” he whispered loudly, scrambling over to grab the candy bowl and make his way to the door.

The rest of you watched as Soap greeted the kids, all dressed up in colorful costumes that made you smile. There was a mini werewolf, a princess, and a very tiny Frankenstein, each of them eagerly holding out their candy buckets as Soap complimented their costumes and handed out treats.

When he returned, he was grinning ear to ear. “Those kids are adorable! One of ‘em said I looked like a ‘mad scientist monster,’” he laughed, shaking his head. You handed him a candy bar, shaking your head as he dropped back into his seat with a look of pure delight.

Each time the doorbell rang, someone new would take a turn at the door, eager to see what costumes would show up next. Gaz earned himself a small following after a little boy dressed as a pirate got incredibly excited by his costume, giving Gaz’s plastic sword a big thumbs-up before running back to his parents.

And then, as fate would have it, a kid dressed as a skeleton caught sight of Ghost when he stepped to the doorway. The kid’s eyes went wide, clearly mesmerized by the dark figure towering in the doorway. He took a brave step forward, tipping his head back to look up at Ghost.

“What’re you supposed to be?” the kid asked, voice full of curiosity.

Ghost hesitated, glancing at you before leaning down slightly to answer, “The boogeyman.”

The kid gave a thrilled squeal, clearly delighted with the answer. You caught Ghost’s eye as he straightened, a faint but amused look in his eyes as he shrugged.

“Seems the kids think you’ve got Halloween spirit after all,” you whispered, grinning as you gave his arm a gentle nudge.

He huffed softly, but there was no hiding the faint smirk under his mask.

As the night went on, the movie marathon shifted to *Halloween Town*, and the trick-or-treaters slowly dwindled. With each knock, Gaz and Soap took turns answering the door, while you, Ghost, and Price stayed nestled on the couch, watching as the Halloween Town characters brought magic and whimsy to life. By the time *The Nightmare Before Christmas* came on, everyone was fully relaxed, cozied up under blankets and leaning against each other in a comfortable tangle of limbs and warmth.

At some point, Price got inspired by the cozy atmosphere and dim lighting, leaning forward with a grin. “Who’s up for a real scare?” he asked, his tone playful but somehow ominous.

You raised a brow, a smile tugging at your lips. “What do you have in mind?”

Price’s voice dropped as he launched into a ghost story, his deep, rumbling tone bringing each detail to life. He told a story about an old platoon that had once ventured too deep into an eerie forest and never returned. His voice carried just the right mix of tension and suspense, making you and Gaz share a nervous glance as the shadows danced across the walls.

“Bloody brilliant,” Soap muttered, leaning forward with wide eyes as Price wrapped up the story with a twist that sent shivers down your spine. Just as he finished, a loud creak echoed from somewhere nearby, making you all jump before Soap dissolved into laughter.

“Relax, everyone. Probably just the wind,” he chuckled, though even he looked slightly uneasy.

When it was Ghost’s turn, he told a bone-chilling story about an abandoned manor house, his deep, gravelly voice sending a thrill down your spine as he leaned in, his eyes glinting with dark humor. His tale had everyone enraptured, the silent weight of his words filling the room as he described the dark hallways and ghostly figures that lurked just out of sight.

You found yourself leaning closer, the steady warmth of his presence a comfort against the chill of his story. When he finished, a stunned silence filled the room before Soap let out an exaggerated shiver, pretending to hide behind Gaz.

“Good one, Ghost,” Soap admitted, grinning as he clutched his blanket a bit tighter.

Ghost gave a subtle nod, looking pleased with the reaction.

As midnight approached, the movies slowly faded out, leaving everyone wrapped in a cozy quiet, warmed by the leftover cider and wrapped up in blankets. Price adjusted his cape and settled back, his arm resting behind you as you felt Soap lean against you on the other side. Gaz had pulled a blanket over his head, pretending to doze, while Ghost stayed close by, the subtle weight of his arm against yours a comforting presence.

Price lifted his mug in a quiet toast. “To Halloween — and to a night well spent,” he said, his voice soft.

Everyone murmured their agreement, voices blending together in a chorus of warmth and quiet laughter. You felt a wave of contentment settle over you, surrounded by the people who meant the most, feeling safer and happier than you could ever remember.

Leaning into Ghost’s shoulder, you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of the group lull you into a peaceful calm. The quiet sounds of the house and the warmth of Halloween settled in as you drifted off, perfectly cozy and right where you belonged.

Hope y’all enjoy! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

I know that Halloween is over but I still gotta talk about this Hocus Pocus au I thought up

(Human) Adam just moved to Salem, the witch capital of the U.S and the whole town is telling ghost stories of Lucifer Morningstar, the famous male witch who swore he’d be back to take revenge on the townspeople before he was hung by the neck until dead.

Adam thinks this is a crock of shit, so he and his new friend Lute and his sister Emily sneak into Lucifer’s house (which has since been turned into a small museum) legend tells that Lucifer can only return if a virgin lights the black flame candle and Adam is being less than honest about his sexual exploits to his new friend.

As a joke to freak them both out he lights the candle. Unfortunately for him, it works and the witch appears in a violent gust of wind

That’s all I got but I just like the idea of Adam trying to escape from witch Lucifer

MY DUDE I LOVE THIS!!! @fanofstuff01 @beef-brisket

And I'm going to have him and Lute be like freshmen in college so Adams like 19-20 and Emily is like say a senior in high school her and Adam are a year apart.

And yes they had Emily out trick or treating because she's short en to get away with it and said "teenagers are allowed candy too".

-

Lute: Adam come on this isn't funny, the curse is real.

Adam: It's not real because witches and magic aren't real. The trails were just so they could hang a bunch of people who didn't agree with their beliefs.

They looked around the museum house and at night it's creepy especially being in the woods. Emily turned on a light so they could see.

Emily: Can we go?

Adam: No look at all this cool stuff! And that book? Says it's bound in real human flesh...... Gross.

Lute watched as Adam went over to the black candle.

Lute: Don't light that! If a virgin lights the candle it's said that Lucifer Morningstar will come back from the dead.

Adam burst out laughing: Good thing I'm not a virgin then.

Emily raised a brow: You only dated Eve for like a week.

Adam: You can have sex in a week!

The truth was they only made out a little bit and then her folks didn't want her having a boyfriend until after she graduated from high school.

So yes, Adam is a virgin. But his fucking sister doesn't need to know that!

He pulled out his lighter and smirked, curses and magic what a load of shit.

Lute: Adam no!

Adam lit the candle: See, nothing to-.....

The house started to violently shake, the floorboards glowed underneath and a laughter could be heard.

Lute: The fuck!?

Emily glared at Adam: A virgin lit the candle.

Adam: W-what!? It's okay! I'll just blow it out!

He blew out the candle but the flame came back.

Lute and Emily's eyes went wide when they saw a man that matches Lucifer's picture come out from the back room.

Lucifer: And who do I owe the pleasure to? Hmm? Oh, you.~

Adam turned around and jumped, what the fuck!?

Lute: We should go.

Adam: Good idea.

They all turn to run out the door, Emily and Lute make it out but the door slams in Adams face locking him in.

Adam: Fuck!

Emily bangs on the door: Adam!!

Adam tried pulling on the door but it was no use. Chills crept up his spine when a low laugh echoed in the room. He turned to see Lucifer standing there with his book now in hand.

Lucifer: Oh, you weren't leaving already were you?~

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some autumnal movies/series 🍂

i am nothing if not an organised little goblin who can not stop themself from making a good list. this is just in case you want something with that fall vibe but can't think of any. just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

winter | spring | summer

🥧 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

nosferatu (1922) 

sabrina (1954)

the creature from the black lagoon (1954)

psycho (1960)

rosemary’s baby (1968)

the rocky horror picture show (1975)

halloween franchise (1978-)

friday the 13th franchise (1980-)

an american werewolf in london (1981)

dark crystal (1982)

a nightmare on elm street (1984)

ghostbusters (1984-)

ronja rövardotter (1984)

clue (1985)

princess bride (1987)

the witches of eastwick (1987)

elvira mistress of the dark (1988)

dead poets society (1989)

when harry met sally (1989)

ghost (1990)

the witches (1990)

death becomes her (1992)

hocus pocus (1993)

addams family values (1993)

interview with a vampie (1994)

the craft (1996)

the first wifes club (1996)

the scream franchise (1996-)

halloweentown (1998)

practical magic (1998)

you’ve got mail (1998)

the blair witch project (1999)

sleepy hollow (1999)

chocolat (2000)

amelie (2001)

the lord of the rings franchise (2001-2003)

scooby doo (2002)

school of rock (2003)

mona lisa smile (2003)

peter pan (2003)

pirates of the caribbean franchise (2003-2017)

north & south (2004)

pride and prejudice (2005)

the descent (2005)

just like heaven (2005)

the devil wears prada (2006)

the lake house (2006)

penelope (2006)

el orfanato (2007)

juno (2007)

ratatouille (2007)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

the edge of love (2008)

twilight (2008)

the curious case of benjamin button (2008)

julie & julia (2009)

jennifer’s body (2009)

dorian gray (2009)

coraline (2009)

true grit (2010)

the cabin in the woods (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

wuthering heights (2011)

perks of being a wallflower (2012)

the odd life of timothy green (2012)

hotel transylvania (2012-)

the conjuring franchise (2013-)

what we do in the shadows (2014)

the riot club (2014)

as above so below (2014)

john wick (2014-)

the age of adaline (2015)

the witch (2015)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

the edge of seventeen (2016)

paterson (2016)

20th century woman (2016)

the love witch (2016)

mary shelly (2017)

murder on the orient express (2017)

get out (2017)

a quiet place (2018 + 2020)

the guernsey literary and potato peel pie society (2018)

on the basis of sex (2018)

knives out (2019)

ready or not (2019)

the lighthouse (2019)

little women (2019)

the gentlemen (2019)

emma (2020)

ammonite (2020)

the dig (2021)

fear street trilogy (2021)

good luck to you, leo grande (2022)

the batman (2022)

fresh (2022)

bodies bodies bodies (2022)

mr malcom's list (2022)

totally killer (2023)

slay (2024)

🧦 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

moomin (1990-1992)

twin peaks (1990-1991)

x files (1993-2018)

buffy the vampire slayer (1997-2003)

gilmore girls (2000-2007)

supernatural (2005-2020)

vampire diaries (2009-2017) / the originals (2013-2018) / legacies (2018-2022)

downton abbey (2010-2015)

the walking dead (2010-2022)

once upon a time (2011-2018)

american horror story (2011-)

teen wolf (2011-2017)

peaky blinders (2013-2022)

outlander (2014-)

how to get away with murder (2014-2020)

the magicians (2015-2020)

izombie (2015-2019)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

stranger things (2016-)

ghost files / buzzfeed unsolved (2016-)

lucifer (2016-2021)

shadowhunters (2016-2019)

anne with an e (2017-2019)

the good fight (2017-2022)

riverdale (2017-2023)

manifest (2018-2023)

killing eve (2018-2022)

succession (2018-2023)

you (2018-)

a discovery of witches (2018-2022)

the chilling adventures of sabrina (2018-2020)

dickinson (2019-2021)

virgin river (2019-)

carnival row (2019-2023)

the witcher (2019-)

the umbrella academy (2019-2024)

sanditon (2019-2023)

good omens (2019-2025)

the haunting of bly manor (2020)

i’ll be gone in the dark (2020)

queens gambit (2020)

the great (2020-2023)

shadow and bone (2021-2023)

the nevers (2021-2023)

wednesday (2022-)

interview with the vampire (2022-)

vikings valhalla (2022-2024)

lessons in chemistry (2023)

my lady jane (2024-)

[bunnelbaby]

Here is a list of frightfully fun shows and movies for you to get into the spirit of Halloween!

🍂 Fright Krewe

🕸️ Dead End: Paranormal Park

💀Curses!

🦇Gravity Falls

🎃 Kaidan Restaurant

🍂 CreepSchool

🕸️ Supernatural Academy

💀 Isadora Moon

🦇 Frankelda’s Book of Spooks

🎃 Scream Street

🍂 Grizzly Tales for Gruesome Kids

🕸️ Beetlejuice (1989)

💀 Phantom Investigators

🦇 Mona the Vampire

🎃 Tales From the Cryptkeeper

🍂 Bunnicula

🕸️ A Tale Dark and Grim

💀 Scooby Doo

🦇 Over the Garden Wall

🎃The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy

🍂 Courage the Cowardly Dog

🕸️ Scary Larry

💀 Aaahh!!! Real Monsters

🦇 The Owl House

🎃 Casper’s Scare School

🍂 Sabrina the Teenage Witch

🕸️ The Real Ghostbusters

💀 Super Monsters

🦇 Dude, That’s My Ghost!

🎃 Monster Loving Maniacs

🍂 Ghostforce

🕸️ Moville Mysteries

💀 The Strange Chores

🦇 Funnybones (1992)

🎃 The Haunted Hathaways

🍂 My Babysitter’s a Vampire

🕸️ Strange Hill High

💀 Martin Mystery

🦇 Wizards of Waverly Place

🎃 Eerie Indiana

🍂 The Ketchup Vampires

🕸️ So Weird

💀 The Ghost and Molly McGee

🦇 Zombie Hotel

🎃 Creeped Out

🍂 A Babysitter’s Guide to Monster Hunting

🕸️ Phantom Pups

💀 Scaredy Cats

🦇 Gargoyles

🎃 Making Fiends

🍂 Goosebumps

🕸️ Bump in the Night

💀 R.L. Stine’s The Haunting Hour

🦇 Growing Up Creepie

🎃 Ruby Gloom

🍂 Zombies: The Re-Animated Series

🕸️ Tutenstein

💀 The Nightmare Room

🦇 Monster High

🎃 Are You Afraid of the Dark?

🍂 Deadtime Stories

🕸️ Vampirina

💀 Scary Godmother

🦇 Count Duckula

🎃 School for Vampires

🍂 The Curse of Bridge Hollow

🕸️ Nightbooks

💀 Wendell & Wild

🦇 Frankenweenie

🎃 The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About Halloween!

🍂 Spookley the Square Pumpkin

🕸️ Coraline

💀 Pooh’s Heffalump Halloween Movie

🦇 Oscar’s Handmade Halloween

🎃 Curious George: A Halloween Boo Fest

🍂 The Little Ghost

🕸️ Daddy, I’m a Zombie

💀 Monster House

🦇 Halloweentown

🎃 Howard Lovecraft

🍂 Mostly Ghostly

🕸️ The Little Vampire

💀 Don’t Look Under the Bed

🦇 Spooky Buddies

🎃 The Nightmare Before Christmas

🍂 Corpse Bride

🕸️ Haunted Mansion

💀 Monster House

🦇 Under Wraps

🎃 Little Monsters

🍂 The Dog Who Saved Halloween

🕸️ Paranorman

💀 Hotel Transylvania

🦇 Hocus Pocus

🎃The Halloween Tree

(Gif Credit) (Divider Credit)

[lovelytsunoda]

still alive | pato o' ward

summary: pato's girlfriend really likes halloween. in fact, it's her whole brand. especially since her dad starred in 'scream' and 'scooby-doo' and 'five nights at freddys'. like seriously, this holiday was made for her

pairing: pato o' ward x lillard! reader

yn.lillard just posted to her story!

yn.lillard just posted

liked by patriciooward, matthewlillardofficial, indycar and others

yn.lillard its the most wonderful time of the year

see all comments

patriciooward my skeleton gingerbreads are cooler than your skeleton gingerbreads

-> yn.lillard say sike rn! we all know mine are better. i can call my dad and he can be the deciding vote

-> patriciooward no need, i ate them all already anyways :)

-> yn.lillard i love you you big dork

-> patriciooward i know. but do you love me as much as you love billy loomis?

-> yn.lillard see it sounds odd when you remember that to me, he's just uncle skeet.

davidmalukas you got the pumpkins i got the paint and the hocus pocus dvd. what do you say we all meet at yn's dads and have ourselves a pumpkin painting party?

-> yn.lillard you just want to drink beers with my dad and uncle skeet, don’t you?

-> matthewlillardofficial how does friday sound?

user they give such black cat orange cat energy

patriciooward added to his story!

yn.lillard

halloween horror nights

tagged: patriciooward, elbaoward

liked by patriciooward, yourbestfriend, skeetulrich and others

yn.lillard its a hot ghoul summer!!! #hhn24

see all comments

elbaoward please tell me you got a video of pato screaming when the clown on stilts came up behind him

-> yn.lillard of course i did, i'm the best girlfriend ever

-> patriciooward delete that

-> yn.lillard what are you going to do to make it worth my while? 😏

patriciooward repeat after me: pato you are the sweetest most loveable man on planet earth. god created men and then sent me as an apology

-> yn.lillard someone has a big ego (i love you too sweetheart!)

alexanderrossi so where is this video of pato

-> patriciooward GONE

-> yn.lillard ill send it to u when im done jumping his bones

-> matthewlillardofficial YN YMN LILLARD

user theres so much hot in this post i dont know where to look

Pato O'Ward talks victory at Milwaukee, summer break with his girlfriend and the first time he met future father-in-law Matthew Lillard

yn.lillard and patriciooward

tagged: patriciooward

yn.lillard hey google, play i miss you by blink 182

see all comments

yourbestfriend i realize there was a specific lyric you were trying to reference there but it is not coming across right bestie

-> yn.lillard ok let me be more specific *clears throat* HELLO THERE THE ANGEL OF MY NIGHTMARES THE SHADOW IN THE BACKGROUND OF THE MORGUE

patriciooward we can live like jack and sally if we want and we'll have halloween on christmas ❤️

-> yn.lillard and in the night we'll wish this never ends, we'll wish this never ends

user oh that boy is so whipped

skeetulrich kid why did i just get a text message from lover boy here asking if i knew your ring size?

-> yn.lillard YOU WHAT

-> patriciooward no reason!! totally not planning something!!

-> matthewlillardofficial ahem. do we need to have a talk?

-> patriciooward nope! all good here!

yn.lillard just posted to her story

[location tag: calgary, alberta]

MESSAGES BETWEEN YN AND HER FATHER

daddy

I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. And remember, I still have the Ghostface costume so if you ever need me to get rid of him, just give me a call.

yn

DAD! I promise you'll never have to do that.

daddy

Good. I'm looking forward to having him as my son in law.

[sailoryooons]

Maybe suga x reader where they watch a scary movie together. One of them is scared and the other pretends to be scared, I don’t care who 😊 just a cute fluffy mess. Friends to crushes, they can confess or not (whatever you want to do) but I just wanna giggle and kick my feet LOL 🥺

☾ Pairing: Yoongi x gn reader 

☾ Summary: Yoongi hates scary movies. He’ll never tell you that of course, content to suffer through your October scary movie marathon if it means getting to snuggle up to you on the couch. 

☾ Word Count: 1,254

☾ Genre: Humor, Fluff, Mutual Crushes

☾ Rating: SFW 

☾ Warnings: Mentions of being afraid of movies/clowns, Yoongi has Trauma from IT lmao, mentions of movie deaths, unconfessed feelings, a little bit of pining, really nothing else 0 this is short and sweet. 

☾ Published: Sunday, September 15 2024

☾ A/N: I actually love the idea of Yoongi who is afraid of scary movies but watches them because it makes reader happy :) I hope you enjoy it!! 

☾ A/N 2: There are no gendered terms or references to this reader, so I have labeled it as general neutral for the purposes of this fic. 

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Main Masterlist ☾ Ask ☾ Haliween 

Yoongi has never liked scary movies. He remembers the first time he saw one, having snuck into the living room when his older brother wasn’t watching to curl in the armchair, eyes fixated on the screen. He remembers the way his fear became deep rooted, eyes wide as a killer clown murdered everyone in Derry, dragging them down to the sewers.

He’s hated scary movies since then - especially ones with clowns. 

Yet he can’t help but let you drag him into your annual month-long marathon of Halloween movies. Some of them aren’t so bad - your marathoning isn’t exclusive to things that terrify him and keep him staring up at the ceiling at night with the bathroom door open and lights on. Like Hocus Pocus - that was a great film and he’d slept soundly afterward. 

Tonight is not going to be like that. You’ve primed him for days leading up to tonight, gushing about how Scream is your favorite and you want him to try and guess who the killer is before the big reveal. He’s not very good at guessing, but the way your eyes light up when you open your apartment door to find him with popcorn and soda in hand make it worth it.

A lot of things are worth it with you. Like going to the farmer’s market on a really busy day, or going to some pretentious coffee shop forty minutes away because their rose latte is your favorite, or being dragged to a very crowded bar to see a band that you like. 

Your friendship with Yoongi shouldn’t make sense. You like bright sunny days and going outside on walks, venturing into crowded places to watch people, introducing yourself to new friends and chatting with people at the bar. Yoongi likes cold and rainy days and staying inside, keeping to himself at the few places he’s familiar with, and tucking away in a corner with his headphones. 

He likes to say you adopted him as a joke, but it’s not really a joke. You have adopted him into your friends circle, bringing the quiet boy from your freshman algebra class into the fold. Years later, you still greet him with the same oozing excitement as the first time you introduced yourself, bursting at the seams with kindness. 

“You didn’t cheat and look up anything, right?” you demand, suddenly serious as you sit down on your couch and fold your legs. He smirks and shakes his head, brushing the dark hair out of his eyes as he sits in the middle. “Good. You need to make honest guesses.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I know the rules.”

Your grin is blinding and for a second, the world is nothing but the beat of Yoongi’s thundering heart and your smile. He blinks and shakes it off, watching you from the corner of his eye as you settle into the blankets, throwing the corner toward him to keep him warm. 

Tentatively, he pulls the covers over his knees as he pulls them up onto the couch. The blankets are from your bed so they smell like you, vanilla and cinnamon. Hitting the lights on the back of the couch, you douse your apartment into darkness as the TV flickers to life, opening up the movie’s beginning.

Yoongi’s heart is already pounding. Both at how close you are and at the anticipation for what’s going to come on screen. Slasher movies aren’t his favorite, a little too realistic for him to comfortably watch them. 

Still, he watches with muted interest as Casey answers an old school phone, leaning on a counter while the world’s most unsettling voice talks to her through the receiver. 

“That voice would freak me out,” Yoongi admits. “What’s that one we watched with the you’re gonna die in seven days?” 

“The Ring.”

“Yeah. People need to stop answering phones.”

“You gonna stop answering my phone calls?”

He pouts. “No.” 

Your laugh is like tinkling silver. He grins, pleased as you lean toward him, shifting so that your arms are pressed together and your head is resting on his shoulder. He lets you snuggle him despite the fact that for the next five minutes, he can barely follow what’s happening on screen because his heart is slamming and his thoughts are dizzy. 

Yoongi has no idea if you know how he feels. He doesn’t think you do - there’s no way you’d cuddle up to him and make him flustered and confused if you did. You’re not the kind of person to lead him on, which leaves him stranded in a sea of do you or don’t you like him. 

It’s a puzzle he keeps trying to solve himself without asking you, which has resulted in zero solves or answers. 

Yoongi flinches the first time Ghostface comes on screen, mouth tilting downward. You peer up at him, eyes wide. The TV light reflects in your eyes as you watch him, a question in your gaze. He clears his throat. “Caught me off guard.” 

“Uh huh.” 

Yoongi feels his heart race when Casey begins running across the field on screen. He can almost imagine what it must be like to run for your life, chased by some crazy person in a mask and - 

The movie pauses. He blinks and looks at where you’re watching him, smirking. “What? He asks, eyes wide. “Why’d you pause it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you don’t like scary movies?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Yoongi, you’re squeezing my thigh.”

He becomes hyper aware that his hand is on your thigh, squeezing tightly as his anxiety increases. He feels warmth spread up his neck and he lets you go, turning away to hide the way his ears and cheeks turn red. You giggle and he squirms under the embarrassment, looking anywhere but you.

“Come on,” you urge. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You like scary movies.”

“So?”

“So,” he emphasizes, pouting. He won’t look at you, suddenly interested in his nail beds as you continue to stare at him. It’s dark in your apartment and you still sit close to him, thigh pressed against his. “I enjoy doing what you enjoy.” 

“We can watch something else.” 

He shakes his head. “Really, it’s okay. I want to find out who the killer is.” 

You chew on your lower lip, the silence heavy for a minute. “Would it help if I held your hand?” His eyes shoot up to look at you, checking if you’re serious. It seems you are, all the humor vanishing from your face as you stare at him with an earnest expression. “Only if you want to.”

“Maybe.”

Your lips twitch in a smile. “What if I told you it would help me if we held hands?”

“Then definitely.” 

When you smile, Yoongi knows you’re onto him. He feels his stomach flip when you lean in close, the smell of vanilla and cinnamon making his head swim as you press a chaste kiss to his cheek. He feels warm all over, fingers and toes buzzing as you settle back into the couch much closer to him. 

He stretches his hand toward you and you link your fingers with his. He grins at the warmth of your palms and the way you tug your laced fingers into your lap, leaning into his shoulder again. Hiding his smile, he relaxes into the back of the couch, ready to take on any scary movie in the world if it means having whatever this is with you.

“Press play,” he urges, leaning his head on yours. “I can definitely do this now.” 

-

TAG LIST

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[gibbysoup]

🌙 𝓗𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓾𝓼 🐈‍⬛

Chris x reader

“Oh come on it’s just a bunch of hocus pocus”

Chapter 1

Warning: 90s bullying, almost fight, crying

A/n: I don’t own the rights to hocus pocus, I changed a couple things to fit this story

Halloween, a day that y/n truly just never understood. Even when she was a little kid, she thought the idea of putting on a costume and getting candy was a dumb idea, and as a now teenager, she definitely still thought it was dumb.

Moving to a new town wasn’t exactly what you wanted to do for your junior year of high school. You were happy at home, you loved sitting in the sun and jamming to Jimi Hendrix. But that was now all coming to an end as you now had to start wearing a coat in October due to the weather in Salem.

After a shitty day of school, all you wanted to do was take a nap, listen to some music or catch a scary movie on tv. But your parents had different planes for you. Your little sister Dani had been persistent on you taking her treat or treating around the new town. They thought it would be good for her to meet kids her age in the neighborhood. The only problem for you was that your parents would be going to a Halloween party that night, so you were now on trick or treating duty.

———————

“Let’s go, hurry up. The bewitching hour’s about to begin!” Your father yelled up the stairs to you and Dani. She ran down the stairs, eager to show your parents her witch costume. Once your father saw Dani he smiled at her. “That’s very scary, wow!” He then turned to you. “What about you, y/n, what are you supposed to be?” He asked you.

She looked at him. “A little leaguer..” y/n said, dead paned. She hadn’t put too much effort into her costume. It had been a while since she had actually trick or treated. She could tell that her father was just trying to get her a little more excited about the holiday, but she just stood there, frowning in her baseball cap and jacket.

Your mother came in, holding a camera to take a of the three of you to capture the moment. “Say Halloween!” She beamed.

“Halloween!” Dani and her father said, well she just stood there, a slight scowl on her face.

———————-

Y/n was carting Dani around to different houses so she can go trick-or-treating. Every house was decorated to the max. lights, pumpkins, fake spider webs and witches. Dani was clearly enjoying getting candy and going house to house, but y/n just dragged her feet the whole way.

“Lighten’ up, y/n.” Dani told her older sister, annoyed that she was clearly bringing the mood down.

Y/n heard this and rolled her eyes. “Can we go home now?” She requested, but Dani just shook her head.

“Nope.”

Just then y/n spots Jay and Ice and some of their friends harassing the kids passing by for candy. She knew those kids were bad news and she didn’t want Dani caught in the cross fire. And just before y/n had been tormented by the two earlier didn’t mean that Dani should be subjected to it.

“Let’s just go this way.” Y/n said, trying to get Dani to make her way to a different house that she could collect candy at but Dani headed straight for Ice and Jay, ignoring y/n. “Dani!0 she shouted, trying to get the attention of her younger sister, but it was no use.

“Ding ding. Ding ding.” Ice heldup his leg so Dani can’t passed him when she tried to enter the house.

“Stop and pay the toll, kid.” Jay told her.

“Ten chocolate bars, no licorice.” Ice said, gesturing to her pillowcase filled with candy.

“Dump out your sack!” Jay shouted at her.

“Drop dead, moron.” Dani spat, trying to make the boys leave her alone.

“Yo, twerp. How’d you like to be hung off that telephone pole?” Ice asked her, a slightly threaten tone in his voice.

“I’d just like to see you try it. Cause it just so happens I’ve got my big sister with me. Y/n!” She said, trying to scare the boys away from her.

Jay and Ice were clearly not impressed or intimidated by this threat. But they especially weren’t scared when they saw y/n walk up.

“Hollywood. Oh no.” Ice said, pretending to be scared of the girl as she approached the two boys and there group of followers. She had earned the nickname Hollywood due to her being from California. Apparently everyone in Salem thinks that just because you live in California means you live in Hollywood.

“So you’re doing a little trick-or-treating?” Jay asked, stepping closer to y/n.

She shook her head. “I’m taking my little sister around.” She answered.

“That’s nice. Whoa, I love the costume. But what are you supposed to be? A New Kid on the Block?” He asked her, his little minions laughing at his joke.

“For your information, shes a little leaguer!” Dani said, not making the situation any better.

“Whoa, little leaguer!” Jay said, He and Ice started to fake play a game of baseball to mock y/n. Dani tried to walk by again, but was unsuccessful.

“Wait a minute. Everyone pays the toll.” Ice reminded her.

“Stuff it, zit face.” Dani sassed back.

“Why you little…” ice said, moving to hit Dani, but y/n quickly stepped in the way, protecting her sister.

“Hey, Ice…” y/n shoved her bag of candy at him. “Here. Pig out. Come on Dani, let’s go.” She said, grabbing her little sisters hand and walked her in the other direction.

“See you later Hollywood…” Ice taunted, waving goodbye to the girls as him and his crew laughed.

—————-

Y/n and Dani walk up the steps to another house for more candy. Dani was still upset about the interaction prior. “You should have punched them.” Dani told y/n.

“They would have killed me.” Y/n said to her. Not only were they bigger than her, but she was also out numbered.

“At least it would have made your reputation at school a little better.” Dani snarked.

Y/n was fed up, she had a bad day, a bad Halloween, and overall just a bad life. “Hey! You just humiliated me in front of half the guys at school! So collect your candy and get out of my life!” She yelled. She didn’t even know what she was saying, she was just letting her anger and humiliation speak. But the look on little Dani’s face just showed heartbreak.

“I wanna go home! Now!” She exclaimed, storming off.

Y/n rushes off after her, finally tracking her down as Dani was now crying into a hey-barrel that was a part of someone’s Halloween decorations.

She looked down at her crying little sister who had her face in her hands as she weeped. Y/n knew this whole move was non of her fault, so she shouldn’t even be taking this anger and frustration out on her. She sat down next to her.

“Dani, I’m sorry. It’s just that I hate this place. I miss all my friends. I wanna go home.” Y/n confessed. “It’s just been hard..”

Dani looked up at y/n, tears streaming down her face. “Well this is your home now, so get used to it.” Dani said, sniffing and wiping her nose.

Y/n sighed, she knew that Dani was right. She needed to except that Salem was there home now and they were stuck here, well she was stuck here until she graduated and went off to collage.“Yeah. Give me one more chance?” She asked her little sister, hoping she could be forgiven.

“Why should I?” Dani gave her a skeptical look.

“Cause I’m your big sister.” She said, causing Dani to laugh, then reach up and hug her older sister. Y/n wrapped her arms around Dani, holding her in a tight embrace before looking up at the sky. “Whoa, did check that out.” She pointed out to Dani to look up and see.

“What?” Dani questioned, her curiosity peaked.

“Something just flew across the moon.” Y/n said.

Dani looks up and y/n jumps at her and scares her a bit. They both laugh. It was a sweet moment being shared by two sisters.

“Let’s go, jerk face.” Dani giggling. Y/n didn’t say anything back, instead she just laughed at her childish insult.

They both stood up and turned to look at the house, only it was a beautiful mansion.

“Whoa!” They both said, staring at the large building in amazement

“Check out this house.” Y/n said.

“Ah, rich people. They’ll probably make us drink cider and bob for apples.” Dani said, looking up at her other sister. They both gave a nod and walked into the house.

The entered the Foyer seeing that the door was wide open. “Trick-or-treat?!” They both said, looking around. Dani’s eyes went wide when she spotted a huge cauldron full of candy. “Jackpot!” Dani said, immediately running over to get her share of candy. “They got kind sized candy bars!” Dani said excitedly, holding up a chocolate bar to show her sister.

“Y/n Denison..” a voice said, she looked up and saw none other then Chris sturniolo, a boy from one of her classes that she totally was crushing on. She slightly froze, dropping whatever candy she had in her hand as he made his way down the stairs. She was now starting to wonder how he even remembered her name.

“Chris…hi..” she had said, slightly nervous to now be in his house. She was suddenly worried about how she looked or where her hands were placed.

“Oh, chris huh?” Dani smirked, looking up at y/n.

Y/n looked down at the younger girl and gave her what can only be described as a death glare, hoping it would shut her up from further embarrassing her in front of her crush.

“I thought you weren’t into Halloween.” Chris said making his way down the large staircase, coming to greet the both of the two girls

“I’m not, I’m just taking my little sister, Dani, around.” She said. Y/n wasn’t at all surprise that Chris had remembered what she had said earlier in class that day and about Halloween being made up by the candy companies.

Chris shot y/n and Dani a warm smiling before speaking. “Well that’s nice, my brother used to do that with me and my brothers.” He said.

“I always do it.” Y/n told Chris, acting like the whole thing was her idea, but Dani had to butt in and open her mouth.

“My parents made her.” Dani told Chris. Once again, y/n shot her little sister a death glare, giving her a slight elbow to the shoulder, hoping that would give her the hit to stop talking.

After a moment of silent had passed, Chris spoke. “Do you guys want some cider?” He offered the two girls.

“No.” Dani said flatly, but at the same time, y/n answered. “Sure!”

Chris went over and got two cups of cider. One for him and one for y/n. He came back and handed the other cup to y/n. “Thanks. So, um, how’s the party?” She asked him.

“Boring. It’s just a bunch of my parent’s friends. They do this every year. I’ve got candy duty” he said. “Or well, I was supposed to have some help but my bothers seem to have forgotten that there supposed to help me.” He said. He motioned for his brothers to come join him. Two boys who looked identical to Chris walked over. She knew Chris was a triplet, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember there names.

Matt and nick had entered the foyer, dragging their attention away from the party. “This is Nick and Matt.” He said gesturing to each of his brother’s respectively. “This is y/n, and her sister Dani. They just moved here for California.” He explained, then looking back at you.

“Wait there’s three of you?” Dani questioned, looking back and fourth at the three teenagers.

“Yeah Dani, that’s kinda the whole point of triplets.” She pointed out to her.

Dani looked up at y/n. “Duh…I know what triplets are.” She said, rolling her eyes. The three boys laughed at the interaction, knowing the sibling back and fourth all too well.

“By the way, Dani, I love your costume, I’m like, really into witches..” Nick said, complimenting Dani on her purple witch costume.

Dani seemed to light up at the compliment. “Thank you, and so am I. We just learned about those sisters in school.” Dani said, clearly very into her conversation with Nick, he even leaned down a bit to get to her level.

“Oh, you mean the Sanderson sisters?” Matt asked, inserting himself into the conversation. “We know all about them, our Mom used to run the museum.” He told her.

Dani’s eyes seemed to widen at the mention of a museum. “here’s a museum about ‘em?” She asked excitedly.

“Yeah, but they shut it down because a lot of spooky things happened there.” Nick said, obviously trying to spook her out a bit.

Just then an idea popped into y/ns head. “Well, why don’t we go to this old Sanderson house?” She suggested.

At the mention of this, Dani shakes her head no. Chris and his brothers look at y/n, trying to figure out if she was being for real or just messing around. “Well come on, make a believer out of me.” She challenged, knowing it was pretty much just an excuse to maybe spend some more time with Chris.

The brothers shared a couple looks, before finally speaking again, and it was Chris. “Okay, let us go change first.” Chris said. “They won’t miss me, trust me.” He said to the two before going upstairs with his brothers.

Once they were out of ear shot, Dani turned to y/n and looked up at her.“y/n, I’m not going up there. My friends at school told me all about that place. It’s weird.” She protested.

Y/n crouched down and got to her sisters level. “Dani, this is the boy of my dreams. He’s like the cutest guy at school.” She tried to explain.

“So, have him take you to the movies like a normal person.” She pleaded, but it was no use.

Y/n sighed. “Dani..Look, just do this one thing for me and I’ll do anything you say. Please? Please?!” She begged her sister. “I’m asking you this as your only sister..”

Dani thought for a moment. “Okay, okay. Next year we go trick-or-treating as Wendy and tinkerbell, with the wings, or it’s no deal.” She offered.

Y/n sighed once more, before finally giving in and compromising with her sister. “Okay, okay, deal!” She said.

A/n: omg…the support for this story is already insane…thank you so much! Hope you enjoy the first chapter!

Taglist: @keerahsturn @fratbrochrisgf @izzykinzz678 @st7rnioioss @jamiesturniolo @v33angel @kaisturni @valkatriee @sturnschrissy

[naffeclipse]

Charm Brought It Back Pt. 3

Reader x Witches!Sun, Moon, & Eclipse

Commission Info

The lovely @pure-plum request a third part to @jackofallrabbits's and my Hocus Pocus AU! I'm so excited to share this next installment. The witch boys are far from done with the little historian and Michael has some explaining to do. Sun needs to share some vows and Eclipse tries to explain some things on the roof of Michael's home. Enjoy!

Content Warning: Suggestive themes, heavy kissing, heavy touching, injury, blood, violence, fire, (temporary) animal death and (temporary) character death.

———

On the outskirts of town, where the buildings and the suburban life thins into winding roads and wild, pale orange and deep red trees, is Michael’s home. He lumbers towards it like a creature from a 1950s movie.

Weaving between your footsteps is Vanessa, the talking rabbit. Her ears stay pricked and her wide, green eyes scan the starry skies constantly—blades of dead grass stick to the legs of your pants. Holes decorate your sweater, and your breathing has yet to level into something less frightening by the night's events.

You close your eyes for a brief moment to contain all the terror within you, but you almost trip on the dark pavement of the road. Michael reaches out to steady you with a rotten hand. Straightening quickly before giving him a glance of reassurance that you're alright, you nod. You stare at the putrid flesh of his fingers. Your stomach twists.

His dark eyes, alit only with twin, pale pricks of light, linger upon you. The weight is unbearable.

You’re not walking much better than the cursed, rotting man with a broken leg. When you asked him if it hurts, he said no. He can’t feel much of anything. You almost burst into tears, but he told you to keep going. It’ll be alright. 

You don’t know what to think anymore.

“There, up ahead,” Michael's voice churns with gravel. He gestures with a putrid arm. “My house. We’ll be safe there.”

It’s a bonte-white structure, a touch old considering the peeling paint on the outside as well as the overflowing garden of lavender—but you understand now why the flora flourishes on the grounds. 

Two stories tall, the roof slants over the attic. On top, a cupola framed in square panes of glass gives a small sense of safety, like a lighthouse on a cliff overlooking a stormy sea. The dark shingles slope down over the upper-level windows. 

“Do you know where Afton’s home is?” Vanessa speaks, and it almost startles you out of your wits. Her small, fuzzy head turns towards him while he reaches the front gate and shoves it open. You follow in afterward.

Your brow crinkles. When Michael first approached you, inquiring history of some genealogy he was doing on his family, you did point out a few historical buildings and locations within town. He said he needed your research for… personal reasons.

“I do, thanks to our friend,” he gestures to you. 

Vanessa flatly says, “The virgin.”

You cringe as the rabbit hops onto the porch. Michael stops before the cement steps with a quiet growl.

“Don’t say that.” He turns to you. “Can you help me up? I’m sorry, I smell like death.”

“It’s okay,” you smile, then immediately grimace at the stretch while you take his arm. “It’s not… going to fall off if I tug you up, right?”

His dark hair falls across his forehead while he shrugs. “I hope not.”

With that cheerful reassurance, you hook his elbow. Shadowing his step, you help him lift his bad leg onto the step, and pull the rest of his body afterward. Repeating the motions, you fall into a natural rhythm by the time you reach the front door. All the while, your mind whirls at Michael’s current condition while the rabbit waits impatiently at the door and the bizarre events since you lit the starry candle. 

“You didn’t tell me…” you say softly but fall short. You don’t want it to be an accusation, but you want to know. “You didn’t tell me about the brothers.”

He turns his face towards you. The clogging scent of decay infiltrates your nostril and you’re forced to cough to clear it away. Spying the yellowed cusps of his molars between threads of his cheek flesh conjures a sickness in your middle. His half-rotten lips press together into a thin line.

“It’s hard to approach someone with ‘Hey, I’m a witch hunter, just like my great ancestor who hung witches.’”

“Michael,” you chide.

“I warned you,” he says.

“I know.” You shake your head. Reaching out, you grab the door handle and push it open. “We need to brace your leg. Just because you don’t feel hurt doesn’t mean you aren’t.”

“Cursed,” he corrects quietly. “Not hurt. It could have been worse.”

His eyes drift to Vanessa, who stands guard for one moment, staring out into the darkness, before he returns his attention to you.

“I can still do things, though I wouldn’t want to be caught by the witches. They would torture me for eternity if they had it their way, I’m certain,” he drips derision.

A dark fist squeezes your heart. Heavy and pained, you guide Michael into his home. You’ve been in here once or twice, advising him in his research since he asked for your help. It was fun. You like talking about the town’s history how many historical homes are still maintained in the area and what significant events took place on what are now random fields or paved parking lots.

“Do you have some wood boards or planks we can use for a splint?” You ease Michael onto a blue couch, ripping slightly at the seams along the arms. The pale wood coffee table is overrun with books, an assortment of old and dark pages worn by time. You’re tempted to flip through titles, but fear keeps you on track. Michael might dissolve into dust and bones right before your eyes. 

“Yeah, under the sink. I have medical supplies in there.” Michael nonchalantly grabs his ripped jeans leg by the knee and hauls his broken leg up to prop it across the coffee table. A part of you squirms to see the unnatural bend in his shin bone, the leg all but collapsing. He continues without missing a beat, “Don’t worry about cleaning the wound or painkillers.”

“O-okay.” You sound far away. Those aspects are important to treating any injured person but what rules apply to a cursed man? Dizziness circles your skull as you stumble into the kitchen. A few dirty mugs are left in the sink. Rummaging underneath it, you find a black tote filled with medical supplies, a suspiciously, well-prepared assortment from bandages to antibacterial ointments. Needles for sutures wink up at you. Wooden stints wait as if expecting you.

Why does Michael have so much emergency aid prepared? It would be nice to think of Michael as simply a man who is well-prepared for the worst, but after tonight, how can you believe that? He’s a witch hunter in the modern day. 

There’s so much you don’t understand. 

Picking up the entire tote, your questions follow you back into the living room. Vanessa sits on her haunches on the coffee table, her fur still caked with streaks of dirt as she examines Michael’s broken leg. He straightens on the couch as best as he can when you kneel beside his wounded leg.

Following Michael’s instructions, you set the splints around the limb, up his knee, and over the top of his shoes. 

“Ties,” Michael says, “right here.” He leans over and fishes through the tote until he finds dark cords. 

You tie it carefully. You don’t want it too tight or else it could cut off blood circulation—if that is still functioning within his walking corpse. Dismissing the idea, you shudder and finish off the knot. 

“Do you have salt? More charms?” Vanessa asks, her attention upon Michael.

“I do. Weapons too,” he says.

“Wait.” You straighten, stepping back to gaze at both of them. This is not a normal conversation. This is not a normal get-together with a zombie and a rabbit—you need answers. Now.

“What is it?” Vanessa asks, her little rabbit face perturbed by your behavior.

“What is going on? No one has given me a straight answer all night.” You cross your arms, clutching at the torn sleeves of your sweaters. 

Michael and Vanessa share a glance as if they’ve known each other far longer than just this evening. Isolation settles upon you.

Michael faces you, testing the splints to see how well they hold. They remain rigid around the broken limb.

“The brothers are witches. They’re very real, and they’re very dangerous,” he says, his dark, sunken eyes holding your gaze. “My ancestor, William Afton, was a witch hunter. He hanged them for their crimes.”

“They were supposed to stay dead.” Vanessa’s voice lowers. Shame and hatred mingle into a chord under her tone. “I was there the day the brothers were hanged. I was the one who led Afton, my master, right to their home. For that, the brothers cursed me with immortality and this wretched body.”

Her ears flick. A heaviness settles over your chest, and your breath quickens into a shallow, desperate rhythm.

“You mean… all this time?” you whisper. 

Vanessa stares at you. Her green eyes are unreadable.

“All this time, I guarded the starry candle. Until you came along,” she seethes for one brief moment.

“Vanessa,” Michael’s voice cuts over her. “Don’t… I shouldn’t have let anyone go there, much less alone.”

“There’s the ceremony we must worry about,” she jumps in place, twisting to face him. “We must only wait them out until dawn, and they will return to their graves.”

Your head spins. The witches who spun you around and purred in your ear have wrecked so much havoc, even after their demises. You turn away.

Michael calls out your name.

“Do you have a shirt I can borrow?” you ask, not looking back at him. Your fingers knot ceaselessly into the fabric of your sweater, widening the holes further. 

“Of course.” Michaels’ voice softens. “Up the stairs, in the attic. Take whatever shirt you want. There’s something else we need to tell you, though. Can you wait a moment?”

“No,” you whisper, then shake your head, “Just… Just give me one minute, okay?”

You don’t wait for an answer as you step out of the room. Hurrying up the stairway that leads to the attic, you hear a hushed exchange. The rabbit harshly wonders if it’s wise to let you leave. You hurry up the steps.

The landing is open, sprawling with chests shoved against walls and a dusty desk left beside a window overlooking the garden sprawling with lavenders down below. A sack of wooden and leather charms sits near the top of the stairs. Across the room, a bed sits with a thick, brown quilt depicting yellow and orange flowers in geometric patterns over the cover. Does Michael sleep up here?

You venture forward, finding a closet with bi-folding doors. You nervously touch your fingers to the handle. Michael said it was alright, but somehow, this feels like an invasion of privacy. A little funny, considering you don’t know as much about your friend as you thought. 

Sliding one open, you find a few shirts hanging. Plaids and button-ups and pullovers, all with the faint hint of Michael’s musky, woody scent. You reach for a fisherman’s sweater, green and thickly textured. Lifting the hook off of the rack, you gingerly handle it with grimy fingers. You make a quiet sound of equal disgust and annoyance at yourself.

Look at you. You’re a mess. You went to explore a historical home and brought three witches back to life. Michael and Vanessa know who the brothers are and the brothers have seemingly claimed you as an intricate piece in a ceremony you have yet to understand.

You should listen to what the witch hunter and cursed rabbit woman have to say. Learning more and diving deep into the past has never been a feat you’ve shrunk away from, but you feel so strange. Confused. 

Phantoms of Eclipse’s hands slip underneath your sweater. Moon’s vows circle your head in a chant, spell-binding and complete. Your stomach burns with the memory of Sun pulling you onto his lap and flying off. 

This should be simple, like a fable. The witches must be defeated and the village saved. Historically, however, witches were only innocents. They were victims of powerful people and scapegoats for natural disasters and widespread sickness. They weren’t luring children away into the house of candy. They were simply practicing an art or culture that so few understood.

A gentle stroke of pity fills you when you think of the brothers and their hangings. Were they truly so evil they deserved to die?

You hear a soft creak of wood just above your head. Your eyes lift to the ceiling. The home is old. It’s bound to groan and settle in around you. Though your heart briefly knocks against your ribs, you clutch at your holey sweater and remember what you’re doing.

Michael and Vanessa are waiting for you. There’s more you don’t understand, and you have to face it. You lower your shoulders and close your eyes, then shiver.

A cool draft ghosts through the room. You turn, dropping the red sweater on the bed. Curiously, your eyes roam the windows, searching for which one hangs open—and why you didn’t feel a breeze before.

A spiral staircase leads up into the cupola. You peer skyward into the black, starry darkness through frames of wood. One of the glass panes is slightly ajar, pushed in, and left precariously loose. A chill slips against your skin through the holes of your sweater.

Was that always open?

Your spine tingles; the sensation of no longer being alone. 

“Hello, sunshine,” a cheerful, dripping voice slips into your ear from behind you.

Sun.

You inhale sharply. Before you can scream, a hand clamps over your mouth. An arm, lithe and solid as iron, wraps around your waist. The witch lifts you off your feet. Struggling, you claw at the hands holding you. Panic surges into your veins as you’re carried across the room and then twisted around to face your abductor. Without his warm, dark palm leaving your lips, Sun pins you onto the bed. You gaze up at him, eyes wide as he grins devilishly. He immediately slots his knees on the other side of your legs, hovering above you like a dark red sunrise, securing you in place.

A quiver runs through you. Your middle returns with a familiar warmth while you roam over his visage. His wide, pale eyes greedily devour you. His other hand softly pets your collarbone, hooking the collar of your shirt to expose more skin.

“There you are.” His thumb softly swipes your cheek without giving you room to speak. “I feared the fool rabbit and the rotten witch hunter spirited you away from us. No need to fear, my darling. We’ve come back for you.”

You whine underneath his palm. His grin widens as if he finds your little muffled sounds adorable. Sharp teeth glint in the near darkness of the attic.

Squirming, you grab at the edge of the bed and attempt to pull yourself out from under him. Sun clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dove! I haven’t gotten a kiss from you yet.” He shakes his head with great sorrow. “Don’t you want to hear my vows?”

He snatches your wrists, one by one, and shackles them in his one fist. He lifts them over your head and holds them against the headboard. Your heart thunders at how easily he contains you. Yet, you twist and flutter at him so close. A scent of honey and wildflowers falls from his cloak, sweet and intimate. You gaze up at him, little more than a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“It’s truly breaking my heart,” he feigns dramatically slumping. “My eldest brother has the pleasure of knowing the taste of your lips, and my twin has spoken his vows to you, but what of me? What am I supposed to do but die of heartbreak?”

He leans closer. Your eyes dart to his mouth and back to his gaze, holding you in a feverish, boiling want. A swipe of his tongue wets his teeth. A heat floods your cheeks.

“Shhh, sunshine. I’ll remove my hand so long as you’re good.”

You weakly nod. Your jaw trembles under his palm before the witch spears you with one last warning. His grin, however, grows. His hand lifts away and frees your mouth. Nervously, you lick at your lips while he studies the movement with pleasure staining his expression.

His hand falls, his dark satin fingertips flowing down your chin before ghosting over the sensitive cords of your throat. As if painting with his hands, he follows the curve of your collarbones. You wince when his claws cut through your poor sweater as he warms your chilled body with his palm pressed against your shoulder.

“Will you allow me the honor of becoming your husband?” He holds your gaze. 

Your breath slows as his hand falls to your side and begins softly caressing you through a notable tear in the knitwear of your shirt. A shiver spreads across your body from his touch. He tilts his head, his sun rays cutting through the darkness in a peacock-like twirl.

“Will you allow me to worship you endlessly, to be at your beck and call, to endure curses and terrors, and to witness blooming gardens and bright days by your side?” He sighs so sweetly as if he can’t stand the thought of stalling a moment more. “I’m afraid you are simply too lovely. Let me show you my devotion, then you may say ‘I do.’”

A tender pang in your heart ripples through you. Gazing into his pale, wide eyes, you fall into them. Would someone so evil have so much good to say? Would he ask for your hand in marriage if he truly meant harm?

“Sunshine?” Sun purrs gently. “It’s alright. You can speak your vows later.”

“Wait,” you whisper. Your gut twists as you think of Michael and Vanessa. Your friends are cursed, and they have the power to undo it. “Michael and Vanessa are suffering. Can’t you remove the curse placed upon them?”

Sun’s mouth pulls taut into a razor-sharp grin, but he doesn’t truly smile. Your stomach clenches with dread.

“How sweet to think the enemies of my brothers and I deserve mercy.” He withdraws his hand from the hole in your sweater and slips down to the hem slipping up your waist. His thumb slides over your hip bone. Softly, he begins circling it and you must bite your bottom lip to keep from gasping at how gentle his touch is. 

“Please,” you say quietly. You curl your fingers, still trapped under Sun’s grip. “I can’t say what you want me to say until Michael and Vanessa are free.”

“Hm,” he hums, the sound rolling deep in his chest, “A great gift to demand as our bride. Why don’t we speak of something else? Something more delicious.”

Your lips part as he leans down. His face is mere inches from your own, and you feel a buzz upon your mouth in anticipation. Shyly, a pink blush fills your face.

He draws his hand from your hip and takes your chin in his hand. His thumb gently brushes your bottom lip, holding you in place.

“You have the most beautiful freckles,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded and sultry. “Your lips are like roses. Won’t you let me stain myself in them?”

“Sun.” You want to turn your face away, but he’s so close. You can smell the sweetness of his person, and your core becomes molten. 

His mouth finds yours, and heated light falls over you. You fall utterly still under his gentle and smooth, practiced motion. Pushing and pulling, like steps to a dance, he kisses you. His tongue softly swipes at the seam of your lips, asking for entry. A mewl catches in the back of your throat. Insistent but gentle, Sun’s tongue finds its way past your teeth. The molten heat within you becomes lava, volcanic, and you are filled with his feverish desire to love you.

His grip softly flexes against your waist and wrists. Your back arches slightly, and his hand slips underneath you to support your spine. He draws you flush against him. Your sweater rides up, and you feel the soft fabric of his billowy shirt and the smooth, marbledness of his torso. A great fluttering erupts within your chest. Dizzy and struck by his full attention, you are molded by the sheer heat of his affection.

You’ve never felt such love before.

His tongue caresses your own before he draws it slowly out of your mouth. A stretch of spit follows before it snaps. He breaks the kiss, leaving you cold. You whine, afraid to never have such a connection again. You fall back to the mattress but Sun’s hand splayed over your back refuses to let you go, and you remain fast against his body.

He chuckles. “You are so sweet and precious. I have had lovers before, but you are the one who will stay with me. You are mine.”

You breathe out heavily. Your chest is gooey and warm, and your heart beats to a fiery tempo. 

“It’s alright,” he speaks in a low growl, passionate and terrifying, “Accept my vows, and I will love you for eternity. I will give you my heart on a silver platter. I will be your undying servant. I will dance with you every dawn. Sunshine, say ‘I do.’”

It’s on the tip of your wet lips. The words. The one phrase that will somehow evoke magic and time and fate, and make you entirely his.

“Oh, Sun,” you breathe, shaking your head.

Would it be wrong? Couldn’t you show him that he has too many curses? There are other ways he and his brothers can use their magic, right? They don’t have to be like this again.

“One more kiss,” he breathes against your cheek, fingers curling against the dimples of your spine before he bows over you. Your breath catches at the touch of his lips—

Footsteps thunk, slow and uneven, up the stairs. Michael's voice calls out to you, gently, but the undertone of concern does not miss your ears. The splint is working. The quick scurry of little claws scrabbling upwards echoes towards you and the witch about to kiss you.

Sun snarls silently. 

You clench your hands.

“Don’t hurt them,” you whisper, “Please.”

He levels you with a look, a glint of a blade-like calculation.

Rising, Sun pulls you after him in a whisking motion. Your vision spins as your hands fly down to cling to his shoulders. Taking your hips, Sun secures you against him, glaring daggers at the steps leading into the attic room before Michael’s purple face emerges, then widens in alarm and fury. Vanessa bound inwards and jerks to a stop, stunned. 

Sun cackles as he skips you backward in a dizzying, near glide upwards to the cupola. 

“Go and rot elsewhere, witch hunter!” he calls out. You clutch at his arms as he pulls you towards the askew window pane. The night breeze causes your hair to flutter around you. Sun grips you tighter, bowing close and protective over you. “It’s a beautiful night for a wedding, don’t you think?”

“No!” Michael shouts your name, stumbling forward at a break-neck speed. Vanessa scrambles up the thin, narrow steps with bounding legs.

Before you can cry out, Sun bends in half, forcing you down with him as he sticks one leg out of the window, and in one smooth motion, taking you in his arms like it’s your wedding night, he slides you out of the window and onto the roof of Michael’s home. You catch the last fleeting glimpses of Michael and Vanessa, both slapped with horror.

Sun extends his hand. With a hushed but fierce chant, magic heats the air. The little hairs on your arms prickle with a sizzling sensation as Sun casts a spell from his lips. The glass becomes molten, shining orange and taffy-like as it remains stuck within its frames, and then with one more word, Sun changes the glass once more. It warps and expands, becoming almost triple in thickness. 

You catch the sight of Michael throwing himself up the stairs. A warning flies from your lips. Whether he can’t hear you or he can’t stop himself if he wants to or not, he flies into the glass. He bounces off of it as if it were a steel wall. He hits the other end of the cupola, almost falling down the steps before he catches himself.

You gasp sharply. Clinging to the shoulders of Sun’s cloak, he purrs in delight as he slips carefully down the old, faded shingles.

“It’s alright, sunshine.” He pecks your cheek as the sloped roof descends to a dangerous lip with only the gutter acting as a barrier between you and a 20-foot drop. “Eclipse should have cursed the witch hunter into a rabbit. A yellow one with purple eyes. I would have let you keep him as a pet. Vanessa, too, if you ask nicely.”

“Don’t drop me!” your voice rises shrilly as you tuck your face against his neck. “Please.”

“Oh, I’ve received enough lectures from my brothers,” he laughs, then presses close to your cheek, contrite. “Please, forgive me, my darling. My excitement overtook me. I merely had to have you—and our vows still haven’t been exchanged!”

He steps over one of the windows, taking you to the south-facing side of the house, away from the window you both emerged from. Sun is light and graceful as he crosses the dizzying slopes of the roof. 

“The bride returns,” a familiar voice crones. Eclipse.

Lifting your head, you start as Sun slips towards the very lip of the roof. There, floating right in the open air, dozens of feet above the lavender garden, is Eclipse. Moon perches on an arch upon the roof with a disgruntled expression twisting his face while he strokes the warm, honeyed wood of Sun’s broom.

“I’m surprised you didn’t drop our bride once more,” Moon drips with venom. You gaze at him, remembering how he pinned you to the mausoleum wall. A bubbling roil returns to your middle.

“Silence, brother,” Sun growls, “You had your chance to exchange vows and you lost it to a fool imp and a vermin!”

Moon’s red eyes soften upon you when your gazes meet.

“Hello, little mouse. We almost lost you.”

“Moon,” you say softly, blinking against the starlight.

“Come here, little comet.” Eclipse opens his arms out to you. You openly stare. With ease, he balances upon the slender reddish-brown wood of his broom, his cape descending around him like wings. His grin is sharp and earnest, all at once. “We must make haste.”

“Wait, wait,” you try to shake your head but Sun passes you easily onto Eclipse’s lap as if you were mere feathers. 

“Sun?” Eclipse looks to his brother.

“No, I didn’t get vows in return,” he huffs, “the nasty witch hunter has a habit of interrupting private engagements.”

“I thought so.” Eclipse faces you. You sit securely upon his lap. His black cloak drapes slightly over your legs in the manner of a warm blanket. He gently takes your chin in his hand. You are still at the slight trace of his other circling your waist and securing you close. “You need to perform the ceremony with us.”

“Why? Why is it so important I perform the ceremony with you?” you ask softly. The cool air sends a chill down your back. Eclipse frowns before he hugs you close to his chest, sheltering you from the elements.

For a beat, he is silent. He strokes your arm with the back of his hand in slow, tender motions. Your eyelids flutter under such gentleness.

The sound of glass cracking jabs into the air, muffled but distant. A sharp growl echoes from Moon and Sun. You try to twist back to see if Michael is emerging onto the roof but Eclipse hums sharply, regaining your attention.

“It’s important because of you,” he answers gravely but with no less affection. “I have waited a whole life and death for you. As have my dear brothers. Sunrise will be here soon.”

“Sunrise?” you ask, confused. You’ve heard them tell of the bells ringing for them at dawn. “What does that mean then?”

Eclipse cups your face, forcing your attention upon him despite the rush of footsteps scrambling over the roof, and the harsh breaths and sharp curses.

“You love us, don’t you?”

Your lips part breathlessly. His eyes hold you in molten gold, and you become unbalanced once more.

Do you?

Can you marry these strange and handsome witches the very night you brought them back from their graves?

He drops his touch from your mouth and softly caresses the back of your hand. He looks down at it, admiring the small hills of your knuckles and the softness of your skin.

“We don’t have long,” he says. “We have already devoted our hearts to you, little comet. You have the power to—”

“LET THEM GO!” Michael shouts.

Eclipse’s head snaps back to the roof. Sun and Moon are clawing over the singles, the former giving chase after Michael. Shards of glass stick out of the sleeve of his torn shirt, embedded into his flesh; he seems to ignore the wounds entirely. Moon snatches a white rabbit rushing over the arch of the roof with a swipe of his claws. A sharp squeak of pain echoes from Vanessa. Holding up his catch like a fox with his meal, the witch cackles. 

You startle and start to wiggle desperately off of Eclipse’s lap. 

“Please!” You extend a hand towards Sun and Moon. “Don’t hurt them!”

Eclipse begins to wrap both arms tight around you, despite your struggle. Michael recklessly charges down the slope of the roof and reaches deep into his pocket. Producing pale lavender petals, he tosses them like confetti into the air just as Eclipse curses, then shrieks as the petals fall over you both like rice at a wedding.

“No! We’re running out of time!” Eclipse shrieks as he rapidly swipes at his person, removing the petals with a pained expression, but his golden eyes hold you captive. “My bride.”

You sadly shake your head. A dark mouth swallows your heart in a twisting torment: to stay or to leave. To forsake your friends or to give in to your suitors. 

On a nameless fear, you turn back to the roof and fling yourself off of Eclipse’s lap. His claws swipe at your sweater, ripping a tear into the back of it but you managed to land on the lip of the roof. The gutter buckles. You scream. Michael yanks you by the collar of your almost-ruined shirt and drags you up the roof. Sun cuts into his path.

“Nasty little corpse,” Sun snarls, “I’ll teach you to stay dead.”

“Sun, don’t!” Your eyes widen.

His pale eyes flash to you, his wicked grin easing. In the brief moment of Sun’s distraction, Michael squeezes several petals and a charm in his fist. The lethal design flashes in the starlight. Michael hurls the charm and the few petals left. When the charm hits Sun’s chest, a sharp sizzle echoes. The witch yelps, writhing as you fear a searing of flesh before he manages to fling it off of him. Sun is left clawing at where a mark burns through the fabric of his shirt.

Up the roof, Michael scrambles, towing you after him, trying as you might to look back at Sun in your worry. You reach a hand out towards the witch. He stops in his writhing to look back, but Michael pulls you faster until your feet almost give out from underneath you. Across a peak in the roof, Michael zeros in on Sun’s broom.

“Michael,” you say, but he is already striding towards it. Using his un-splinted leg, he brings his boot down hard on the broom until it snaps and cracks in half.

“Afton!” Sun howls, “I’ll make you pay!”

You hear a sharp snarl from across the roof. You face Moon clutching Vanessa as he begins the mutterings of a curse. Vanessa is kicking with her hind legs and writhing. His black claws wrap around her dirty white fur before she manages to twist and sink her teeth into his hand. A growl, pain-filled and brimming with loathing, echoes before he hurls her away from him. Vanessa falls down the roof and over the edge.

“Vanessa!” you scream out.

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Michael utters, dragging you back to the cupola. “Go, go, she’ll be outside on the grass, and then we’ll run.”

“No, no, no!” you half-sob. You lock eyes with Moon, his expression unreadable. His eyes are red like blood but he makes no more to stalk after you as Michael shoves you through the shattered window. Thick shards of glass lie upon the steps of the narrow staircase and the wood frame is splintered. 

“Hurry,” Michael urges. He pulls you rapidly through the attic room. He stops only to snatch a leather bag and throw it over his shoulder. “It’s not safe here anymore. They’ll curse it. We have to get to town, shake them off our trail.”

“But Michael, Vanessa,” you sob and realize how stupid you are to trust the witches. They are violent. They are wicked.

You wanted so badly to kiss them.

“Focus up,” he says firmly. “Stay with me.”

You catch a whiff of smoke. You and Michael both pause on the top of the staircase leading to the ground floor, and peer up to find flames licking at the wood of the cupola greedily, and descending further, and further down.

“Fire. Of course,” Michael mutters. “Let’s go.”

He yanks on your arm and you both fly down the steps. Out of the door, you scramble over the porch and onto the lawn, finding the still form of Vanessa on the grass. Just like Michael said. You tear away from Michael to snatch up the rabbit’s body in your arms. You turn her head and find blood splattering the side of her face. Her poor, broken body hangs limp in your hands.

“Vanessa,” you wail.

“Run. It will be okay.” Michael pulls you after him. He races down the lone road, towards the light of the town. 

Twisting back once to stare up at Michael’s home now descending in rapid, unnatural flames of bright orange, you almost fall at the sight of it becoming ash. Upon the roof sit three witches, watching you race away. Their stillness pierces your heart. You sob once more and kiss Vanessa’s head in apology. You didn’t mean for her to die.

Why would they do that? You begged them not to.

Michael keeps running an awkward gait with his splinted leg and his rotten flesh. You keep pace, shoes slapping on the pavement, hugging a dead rabbit to your heart with tears spilling down your face.