#the most beautiful black cat to ever be. my Halloween cat. my old man. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azurevi · 4 years ago

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3 halloween tales (cater, jade & vil)

This is really random, but the ssr cards for the halloween show have given me many au ideas, so here are my self-indulgent stories inspired by them. The Cater one is especially long because I got a lot of ideas about it. For the Vil one.. it's pretty disappointing how it turned out, but I hope it's not too bad. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS!

WARNINGS : death (all), mild mention of gore (cater), war + mild possessiveness + violence (jade) [let me know if there're more!]

the heart and its eternal weight

Cater is a cemetery caretaker. It isn't that he really loves it, but his father was one. He feels like it is only right to take after his steps.

He isn't into superstitions. Some people find distaste in his job, but it's something crucial for Cater. People, even after they're dead, should still be honored, and so deserve a hospitable place to rest.

Everyday is a routine for him. Sometimes, though, the families of the passed talk to him about their stories and their emptiness once their loved ones are gone. Cater finds the beauty and softness in humans by hearing these stories, and it makes him even more dedicated to his job.

It's natural to him, dying. His father was killed in an unintended accident, and sometimes it seems like his death could have been avoidable just as much as it was inevitable. He just wishes that he had had more time with him.

One of the lessons his father taught him about graveyard caretaking is to beware of ghosts. Those who recently died are more visible and intimate with the world of the living, and so they might appear before humans. Some are inhostile, of course, but there are malevolent ones.

Lore has it that some ghosts prey on hearts. It is said that the heart is the most important part of a human, as it is accountable for life, death and emotions. People believe that ghosts can be revived with a fresh, still-beating heart, and as a result the human giving up their heart will die in place of the ghost. Basically, the heart can also create ripples in the fabric of space-time.

Because of his job, he isn't all that popular among others, and he only has a few life-long close friends, his mother and sisters by him. So even if he has a crush on the most admirable person he's ever seen, he still won't make it known in fear of rejection. He figures that he still has time to figure it out.

And he's wrong. News about your tragic death spread around quickly like wildfire, and he's devastated. It feels wrong to even feel so, because he has never been acquainted with you in the first place.

Your body is buried in his cemetery, and a lot of people come to your funeral that day. Some of your family members are so heartbroken and pitiable, and so Cater offered to be their listener.

All he can hear is about the great work you've done, the care you put into everyone you met, the warmth that radiated off you while you were still alive. It breaks Cater how he's never had the privilege to know you, to experience all your graces with his own perspective.

One night, the moon is lit and hung up high in the sky, so close that it seems to be prying on Earth and the people roaming on it. Cater is patrolling with his lawnmower when he hears quiet and uncertain sobs.

He is creeped out, yes, but he's also curious. He's never seen a ghost before, and it could be a human for all he knows.

He's proved wrong once again, as he discovers your opaque body behind a giant tree. You are hugging their legs close to your chest, and a rotting hole's visible where your heart should be.

There's no way you can be hostile, and you certainly won't kill him for his heart, so Cater decides to approach you gently, tentatively, like you're smoke that will disperse the moment he intrudes.

To his surprise, you can hear him clearly, and even invite him to sit down with him. It's so bizarre -- a ghost asking for a conversation! But Cater doesn't mind as he pops down beside you. He notices how although you were no longer solid, it still feels like tense when his hand passes through you. Certainly it's because you've been dead not for long.

And so the two of you indulge in heartful conversations, and Cater finds himself regretting even more about how he never gathered the courage to go up to you. Mid-conversation you tell him about all the things that you wish you could've done and all the ideas you wished to spread.

Cater probably shouldn't have, but he is so absorbed in your ambitions and kindness that he offers to carry out all these great things for you. After numerous confirmations, you agree too to let him carry out your thoughts.

And so Cater works in his neighbourhood, sharing campaigns and donating, taking care of lost pets and cats and partaking in environment improvement. He's never felt so fulfilled before, and it's the first time he feels like he's genuinely making a difference in the world.

In times he's not representing you, he brings you up on the little hill behind the cemetery where the moon and stars are so close and vibrant, where they all dance in the dark ballroom and pulse in excitement of being seen. He wishes he could show you more hidden gems, but your spectral spirit cannot be too far away from your body.

But it's enough.

A month passes and Cater notices subtle change in your behaviour as well as appearance, like how you're responding with less enthusiasm and how the hole in your chest is growing bigger. When he finally asks about it, he's told that ghosts generally only stay in the world of the living for 49 days, and their heart will rot away in this period. After that, they will have to go to the underworld, never be back again.

Cater is certainly shocked that the lore is more than a children's makeup story. He is well aware of the significance of the heart in relation to the soul and life.

He asks if you'd like to have his heart instead, so bluntly and casually. You seem to return to their original intimate self when you refuse.

"I'm already gone. It's you, the living, who should be making changes,"

So he pretends that you're not getting more and more unresponsive and less and less generous. He turns a blind eye against your wavering figure and how you can't be seen at all in the sun. He plays dumb when in reality, you're slipping away before his very own eyes, heart rotting away like nothing more than a fruit.

It hurts finally knowing and understanding someone and having to lose them.

On the 48th day, you are already but a still, soulless shadow, leaning beside your gravestone and fresh, white flowers. Cater can still see you. Sometimes he thinks that you chose to be seen.

And he can't bear to see you go. To see your dreams go into flames, to watch such a pretty soul just - vanish.

So he gives you his heart. Alive and beating and sentimental. It doesn't even hurt a bit.

You wake up immediately, your eyes glowing and body solidifying.

"What have you done?"

"What I can do to make a change,"

Time is starting to rewrite itself. Cater is going to die in your place. The space around you was warping and folding into itself, softly and rightly like a lullaby.

Just before you slip into darkness, you gather up a whole bunch of rose petals and desperately stuff them into the hole in Cater's chest, as if they can give him life in lieu of a heart, and you are sobbing and clinging onto his still warm arm, never wanting to let go.

It's all Cater wants, to save a wasted soul and to make a difference.

And so he cradles your face, and leans in the moment everything goes black. When he wakes up again, he's weightless in the cemetery, where a bunch of well arranged roses lie on his buried body.

a melancholy specimen

To Jade, beauty needs to be preserved to be constant. It's just like flowers. They die away without proper care.

Just when he thinks he's seen all the beauties of the world and is getting bored of it, he meets you. A blooming flower sparkling in the bland, old boring world around it. He's immediately captivated - how a person can still manage to flourish in such a rotten world where everything is depressing and all man is for themselves!

You're the most elegant piece of art he's seen, and that's something considering that he owns a museum. Innocence lies in your eyes and bravery sings itself between your lips.

You find him just equally amusing -- gentlemanly, insightful and just a touch of flirtation. The two of you fall in love like Alice down the rabbit hole - amused and unstoppable, fascinated by the wonders evolving about.

But the world doesn't give a damn about love, nor do they understand your dreams of a bright future where everything is close to hearts. They call you both madness and nonsense.

"Their souls are tainted with war and sorrow. They are beyond the point of rescue. Victory and glory are all that can feed their ego,"

Jade is disappointed. War has gouged people's eyes out and filled them with wails and ash.

The two of you are the only stars in the night sky, still fighting for salvation, yearning for a better future where trees grow and flowers yearn for the sun. You promote and do your best to lift the veil of darkness off the world.

But the sun doesn't understand either. War keeps going on and on, and people never have the time for aesthetic relaxations. It refuses to shed light on its pitiable humans.

"We should evacuate, Jade. They say a bomb is dropping tomorrow,"

Jade doesn't care and can't care. The most paramount thing is to open his eyes to the beauty of this world. He doesn't want to become one of those barbarous men, tasting dirt and blood on their tongue while they glorify violence and brutalness.

He stays behind while his neighbourhood dies away. You are the only ones yet to leave.

"Please don't leave me, Y/N. You're the only light in my life,"

You can't bear to leave him, and so you stay. The bomb is dropped, and it's too close. Too hot. Too cruel, too inhumane. It ravages everything in its way, burning all the darkened things to the ash and bringing the only beauty left in this world with it.

Jade wails. Broken cries are engulfed by nearby explosions and the cackling of flames. Your soulless body lies amidst the destruction, just another wilted flower in the slit of a rock, deprived of water and sunlight.

He finally understands. Nothing can save the world anymore. It's gone way too far, and it will never recover from malevolence. All he can feel is pity for his world as his heart ache with spite.

Bandages around his hands, he wraps your corpse up completely, preserved underneath the layers. You will be his reminder that there was once a flower in this drought, an anchor keeping him from becoming one of those barbarians.

lifeless silhouette in the dark night

You can never recognize directions. You find yourself stumbling upon a seemingly inhabited mansion in the middle of the woods. Cold and bruised, you knock on its door.

Welcoming you is a tall man with blonde and lilac hair called Vil. His skin is unnaturally white, and his eyes seem to glow like orbs that eat your souls. But you are too tired to make notice of all these details, and he's kind enough to let you stay for the night.

He treats you with ravishing cuisine and a grand bedroom that was as grotesque as the rest of the house. Afterwards, he leaves you to rest, but not before warning you not to get out of the room post midnight.

You oblige- for the first half hour. Then you start to hear wails and footsteps that amplify and disappear. It's impossible to sleep.

The next morning, you confront Vil about it. He refuses to face the questions as he ushers you to get going, and so off you go.

You spend another day lost in the woods, then somehow come face to face with the mansion again. Vil is beyond shocked to see you, but then he breaks into a deep smile.

"It's almost as if you belong here,"

Weirdly enough, you could agree, There seemed to be an invisible force pulling you towards Vil. After dinner, he orders you not to leave the room again before making his leave.

Broken wails. Recurring footsteps. You can't bear it any longer, and you also wonder if Vil is aware of this. He properly is, and thus tells you to stay safe inside the room.

But dumb curiosity gets the best of you, and you open the door and step into the endless corridors.

The wails come from the host's room, where Vil is supposed to be. You're closing in when its door is suddenly flung open, and out runs a panting Vil.

"Vil? What are-"

His eyes are bloodshot and there's red stain in the corner of his mouth. Sweat dots his forehead. He looks disheveled and the complete opposite of how he was during dinner.

"You shouldn't be here. Get back - get back in!"

His voice booms in your skull, and you're running back to your room before you notice.

It's another sleepless night.

To your luck, Vil doesn't wait for you to bring the incident up.

"Don't be creeped ou by it, please."

He seems very uneasy about it, but he's obstinate to give you an explanation.

Turns out that he is a vampire. One that has lived for 500 years and is waiting for his eventual death. He's seen everything in this world and lived through the best and worst of humanity. He understands people's fear about vampires, and so he resides in the remote part of the wood. He only ever drinks the blood of small animals that he hunt, and never has he once killed a man.

He knew nothing about what'd happen to him when he became a vampire. If he'd known about the repercussions, he'd never have become one in exchange of eternal beauty. Now he has to turn someone else into a vampire to end his immortality. It is only a cycle.

Every night the moon rises and spills into his room, and he has to fight his urge to go out and taste the sweet blood of humans.

There are times when he slips and loses control, but he always manages to get back to his senses. But it seems that your presence here in the mansion is awaking his desire to suck you dry.

You're bewildered to say the least, and frankly horrified. But at the same time you feel pity for him, for he is just a man who can't ever do anything as atrocious as hurting people.

And so you offer to end his suffering. Of course Vil disagrees. He just talked about how he never wanted to take a life, and now you're offering yourself to him? He'd never allow it.

But you're even more persistent. You keep staying in his mansion, and his sanity slips a little more every night. And you know that he's contemplating too, for he never tries to kick you out of his mansion.

"You deserve a rest, Vil. For your love and selflessness. For all the unspoken kindness you bestow on others. It is only fair that you get to rest,"

Vil has lived a life. He's but a mere walking corpse now, and a rest -- a sleep -- sounds just like what he needs.

And so he rests. Vil falls into a deep, serene sleep while you endure each and every dark night.

#twst x reader #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland #cater diamond #jade leech #vil schoenheit #sie writes #twisted wonderland imagines

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cherrycocaineee · 3 years ago

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4. Park Jimin - Cafe Date

Sandalwood and bonfire candles burned throughout the house drifted through the open door blanketing my nose while I was hanging up some fake spider webs. Marshall was carrying the bundle of webs in his arms while I weaved them in the corners. Mom came out with a tray with two glasses filled with eggnog; a large smile appeared on her face when she saw how much we’ve done in a short period of time.

“This is beautiful. You kids did such a great job!” She praised.

“Mom,” Marshall said, “we aren’t kids. I’m literally twenty-two, and Brielle is nineteen.”

“You’ll always be kids to me.”

Marshall and I put the decorations down to enjoy the nice, sweet, holiday drink that our mom had brought out to us. While I took small sips, Marshall gulped it down in a single swift motion.

A black Porsche pulled into our driveway, coming to a complete stop inches from our garage door. The windows were tinted, so none of us could see whoever was inside the vehicle, until the door opened and climbed out of they’re seat.

Jimin’s blonde hair and black roots appeared as he lifted himself out of his car, a happy smile on his handsome face.

“안녕 자기!” (Hi, sweetheart!)

Excitement ran through my body as I saw and heard my boyfriend, and nearly lunged myself off the porch while running into his open arms. Jimin and I began dating when I was eighteen years old, and it was great but difficult since he was constantly touring and because he lived in South Korea.

The two of us hugged each other tightly.

“지민, 한 달 더 있을 줄 몰랐어.” (Jimin, I wasn’t expecting you for a month.)

Neither one of us was great at speaking the opposite language that the other spoke but we still tried. If that didn’t show we loved each other, then I didn’t know what did.

We pulled away from each other and he pressed a gentle kiss against my temple. Marshall and my mom came off the porch and greeted Jimin. My family enjoyed having my boyfriend around and they treated him like family because of that. From where we stood, I could still smell the candles burning in the house, surprisingly.

“Jimin, would you like to come in for some eggnog?” Mom asked, her voice sweet and angelic.

A look of confusion swept against his face before he understood completely what my mom was asking him.

“Ah ~ no, thank you. I wanted to take Brie out for some, uh,” he made a drinking motion with his hand, “some coffee.”

Of course I was going, but I had to finish putting up the Halloween decorations for my mom. Jimin even offered to help. So for the next forty-five minutes, Jimin and I put the rest of the cobwebs up and even added some yard decorations including skeletons, tombstones, a scary pumpkin, and more webs in the trees along with fake, realistic bats and spiders.

Taking a step back to view our work, Jimin and I smiled in accomplishment. He turned to me and grabbed my small hand. I tightened my grip. After mom admired our work, Jimin led me to his car, opened the passenger's side, and held my hand as I stepped inside the vehicle. Once he was in the car, he started the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway heading towards a coffee shop a block from my mom’s home.

As Jimin was driving, I looked out the window watching the shopkeepers putting up their simple decorations like jelly stickers and hanging ghosts. Jimin parked the car next to the coffee shop and we scooted out. On the two large windows, there were assortments of those jelly stickers that everyone else had in town. Some were pumpkins, ghosts, bats, black cats, spiders, and more spooky, Halloween characters. Jimin opened the door, the small ring of the bell echoing off the shop’s walls, and gestured me inside.

Pumpkin spice and freshly grounded coffee pierced our noses as we entered and I inhaled deeply. I loved coffee, I loved the smell of coffee, and I especially loved the aroma during the fall. During this cool season, the smell was more intense and the warmth of it was like a blanket for my nose only. The taste was just as euphoric.

Both of us walked up to the counter, listening to the sound of talkative customers sitting at tables, and looked at the menu. I didn’t really need to look, I always got the same thing every time I came here but Jimin did. I helped him with some of the words he didn’t understand and in the end, we ordered. Jimin got an iced caramel macchiato with extra caramel syrup, and I got a pumpkin spice latte. After the barista handed our drinks, we swiped a booth near the window so there was a nice view of the multicolored leaves falling to the concrete as the wind shook them off their branches.

I sat across from Jimin, against the window. Jimin smiled at me.

“How have you been?” He asked, his English better than when we first met, he’d definitely been practicing.

“I’ve been good,” I said, taking a small sip of my pumpkin coffee, “really good actually. How have you been?”

“Really tired, but good. I have been practicing my English more since we have been coming to America more often.”

“I can tell, you’re getting much better.”

Jimin and I took a drink of our beverages before resuming conversation.

“How are you doing with learning Korean?” He questioned, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed the cool liquid.

I frowned and sighed, “it’s much harder than it looks, if I’m being honest.”

I reached into my bag, which I had grabbed as we were leaving my mom’s, and pulled out a notebook that I took everywhere with me. Inside the Five Star spiral notebook were all of my Korean lessons. I opened the notebook and laid it out in front of us. Jimin leaned forward.

“I get really confused on how to pronounce each character,” I muttered.

“It is okay,” Jimin chirped, “I will help you since I am here.”

We spent some time on the lesson and Jimin taught me how to pronounce a lot in a twenty-five minute time span, but now the two of us were distracted by laughing at stupid things because I had mispronounced one of the characters.

My laughter died down as my phone buzzed. Jimin leaned back and rested his arm over the back of the seat while sipping on his coffee. I picked my phone up and glanced at it. The name of my group chat popped up on the front screen and I saw that one of my friends was asking about the assignment due for Mr. Michael’s class. I chose not to answer it right now.

“Important?” Jimin questioned.

“Just a group chat for school,” I informed, “jealous?”

He laughed out and it was the most captivating noise I’ve ever heard. Jimin shook his head.

“Absolutely not,” he giggled some more, “I love and trust you.”

I covered my mouth as a small laugh escaped my own mouth.

“How is school?” He asked.

“It’s going great,” I said, “straight A’s. How’s touring?”

“Oh it is amazing. I love being able to meet Army and be on several talk shows with funny people.”

I smiled wide, “who’s your favorite talk show host?”

“Jimmy Fallon and James Cordon. They are my favorite.”

I loved watching the interviews with Jimin and his group members, they always seemed to have so much fun with it. The idea of him traveling all through America and other countries meeting new people and performing new songs for their fans. I loved traveling, so I hoped some day that I would get to travel too, either with Jimin or alone.

Jimin leaned forward again.

“I was thinking maybe you can come visit South Korea on your vacation,” he said, “I will pay for the ticket.”

My brown orbs widened at his words. I was shocked by his invitation because I never thought he would ask me to come visit him in Korea. But what shocked me the most was what he said next.

“I want you to meet my mom and dad. I already told them about you, they are wanting to meet you too.”

“Oh Jimin,” I whispered, a few tears escaping my eyes and sliding down my cheek, thanking myself for not wearing any makeup today.

He grabbed my hand, “사랑해, 브리.” (I love you, Brie.)

“사랑해요, 지민.” (I love you, Jimin.)

After we finished drinking our coffee, I ordered another to go and we left. Jimin didn’t have to worry about fans seeing him here because the town was so small, so Jimin wrapped his arm around my shoulder as we walked to the car. It was a subtle romantic gesture, and I loved it.

Jimin, once again, opened the passenger’s side and helped me in. I thanked him and he leaned down, kissing me on the forehead. On the drive home, Jimin rested his hand on my thigh and we jammed out to crappy music playing on the radio at that time.

Marshall was sitting outside with his friend, Jackson, when Jimin pulled into the driveway. I looked over at Jimin.

“Do you have somewhere to be, or do you want to come in and watch a movie?”

He took a quick glance at his phone before answering, “I have time. Come on, we can watch a romantic movie.”

Jimin was always a big flirt, even when I first met him. It was one of the qualities that I loved the most about him. The two of us kissed. His hand touched the side face with his large hand, deepening the kiss and making my heart flutter. When he pulled away, I bit my bottom lip.

“Come on,” he said, his voice was husky from the kiss, “let’s go inside.”

Nodding, I followed my boyfriend inside the house. My brother and his friend waved at us as we passed. However, we didn’t stop for long to chat, I knew Jimin would be leaving soon and I knew I would be able to see him for months, so I wanted to spend as much time with him alone.

We decided on an action movie, and cuddled into my bed, entangled into each other’s arms. I looked up at Jimin and felt love and admiration for this man. He was honestly the most amazing man I ever knew. He looked down at me, pressed a single peck on my forehead, and nuzzled closer to me. The sound of his heartbeat thumping against his chest mixed with the sound of the movie playing. I felt at ease and relaxed against him. Everything was perfect.

#bts #bts fanfction #bts scenarios #park jimin #fluff #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #bangtan #jimin fluff #jimin imagine #army #bts army #fanfic #imagine

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alkaysani-archived · 4 years ago

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The Old Guard Fanfic Master List

*updated* 15 Oct 2020

MAIN SERIES

AS OUR LOVE SHAPES OUR UNIVERSE (Nicky x Joe - Princess Diaries AU)

to love is to sacrifice, to sacrifice is to love

“Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani,” Charlotte says, and she’s sighing dreamily again and Yusuf definitely has that effect on people. “That young man gets my vote,” Joseph says from behind him. “He goes by Joe sometimes, so he’s definitely of good stock,” he says, and Nicky snorts. “A brilliant one, amazing artist, charismatic. He’s dedicated himself as the right-hand and advisor to his queen mother, and has fully supported his younger sister taking the throne instead of him. He’s friends with Nicolo,” he says, and Nicky blinks, shrugging a little, and his heart starts to go wild in his chest in a way he doesn’t want to understand. “We spent two years of secondary together,” he whispers, glancing at Mia. “Uh…just before they passed, he had to move back home, and I…” he trails off, sighing. --- or the Princess Diaries II AU where Prince Nicolo will do anything for Genovia. And if that means introducing his cousin Princess Mia to Prince Yusuf Al-Kaysani to be her future king, then his heart just has to deal with it. He just wished that it didn’t hurt so much.

i will hold your heart together in mine

“You love me now, right?” “Forever more, my darling,” Joe chokes out, and it takes on a whole new meaning that makes his own ache. “Then my heart will heal,” Nicolo says, and his voice is firm, and fierce, under the exhaustion. “The symptoms will fade, in time. They will,” he adds, his voice muffled against his shoulder. He pulls away and looks up at Joe with wide, glassy eyes. “The universe won’t be so cruel to me to take me away now, when I am finally happy, right?” he says, and Joe burst into tears then, shaking his head, grabbing Nicolo’s face and kissing him, deeply. No. No. He won’t think of it. He won’t think of losing Nicolo. Not again. Not like this. *** or where Prince Yusuf learns the physical extents of Nicolo’s heartbreak, months after they were meant to be fine. But regardless of how much it ails him, his beloved Nicolo continues to have faith that he will be alright. So he must brave through his fears and his worries, as they grow, and build a life and a family, together. Even if it breaks their hearts again. And again. And again.

black cats and lopsided hearts (Joe x Nicky) - 30 Oct 2020

“Permission to keep killing your fiancé with cuteness due to Halloween costumes, please?” Mia asks, and she’s giving Nicolo those eyes again, and this time, Nicolo bites his lip, glancing at Joe. “It might be fun, beloved. It’ll only be for a night,” he reasons, and Nicolo sighs then, nodding his head. “For you, heart.” *** or The Old Guard Princess Diaries AU – Halloween Special where Mia convinces Nicolo and Yusuf to let her dress up one and a half-year old twins Elio and Ayla for this very American holiday.

ONE-SHOTS & STAND-ALONES

JOE x NICKY

not that i need reminding

“You look in love.” Joe blinks, looking up at the voice. There’s a woman, a little younger than Nile, or maybe just her age, sitting beside him on the bench now. She’s smiling at him, and he gives her what he hopes is an equal one, before nodding softly, gently tapping his pencil on his sketchbook. He knows the answer, of course he does. Yes. He is in love. Truly, madly, deeply, or however they say it. He knows all of this already. But he’s willing to play. “And how does that look?” --- or joe gets a vibe check from the universe.

to know those among us

“Mommy, angel! Angel, mommy!” Nicky blinks, putting down the produce he had in his hand. He zeros in on the voice and a little boy staring up at him, jaw dropped and staring, his eyes wide and curious. Then he looks up to find a woman, blushing red, looking absolutely mortified. Even with her darker tone, the flush is clear, making her glow. She looks ready to run, so Nicky just gives her a smile, and then crouches in front of the child, before looking around, humming curiously. “Where, little one?” he asks, putting his hands over his eyes as he continues his search. “Where is the angel?” he asks, and the little boy giggles. It’s a beautiful sound amongst the low bustle of the early farmer’s market. --- or nicky gets mistaken for an angel by a child, so he tells them about real ones

in parts, i fall, i love

Joe needs to finish this portfolio if he wants something to propose to the showcase. And he does. He really does. But someone just sat at his table because the coffee shop is so busy, and their profile is gorgeous, and yep, he’s definitely trashed the outline again because this man is definitely going to be a part of it. “Is there something on my face?” he hears, and Joe pauses. Shit. Joe breathes out so heavily that his glasses fog up, and he looks up to find the man giving him a hint of a smile, tilting his head slightly to the side. “You’re staring,” the man states and honestly, yeah, Joe is. “I’m not.” Idiot. --- or joe is an artist, and he falls in love. and nicky is along for the ride.

with your hands, your whispers

Come on love, that’s it.” “I can’t, Yusuf, please.” He’s gasping, breathless. His Yusuf always leaves him so breathless. It’s too much. And of course, Yusuf knows that it’s too much. He knows exactly what Nicky needs, and what makes him overflow, and it seems like his adoring heart wants him to spill over, again and again in every sense of the word. *** or a take on what nicolo and yusuf were doing before booker and andy got to the hotel in marrakesh

let’s right, these wrongs, together (see accompanying edit here)

If he concentrates hard enough, he can still smell Yusuf on the scarf, and it brings immediate tears to his eyes. Because it’s only been nearly a year, and he’s yearned for the man for longer, way before they got together. And even with all the odds, with all the numbers combined, Nicky doesn’t believe that there’ll be enough time that can pass to heal the pain that’s clawing on his chest at that moment. That has been since Yusuf said it was over. Nile’s legs move from his lap, and suddenly there are arms around him, pulling him close and Nicky closes his eyes, pressing his face on Nile’s neck. “You’re allowed to hurt as long as you have to, Nicky,” Nile says to him, and it’s so, so kind. “You can tell me as much or as little as you can. I didn’t mean to push.” Nicky sniffles. “I still love him,” he croaks out, like it needed to be heard, like his desperation is a call out for his heart. His heart that let him go, that told him that it’s over. *** or the one where Nicky is housemates with Nile after Yusuf breaks up with him. And when he finally opens up about it, Nicky realizes that his current predicament was brought on by misunderstandings and good intentions with ill results. But it’s too late. It’s been nearly a year; it doesn’t matter now. Right? Not if your housemate is Nile Freeman.

hand-shaped bruise (see accompanying edit here)

Prince Nicolò spends most of his days alone. He lives with no one, after all, ever since his parents died. Ever since he was killed by Sr. Merrick and Lady Kozak, his screams ringing out throughout the night until his final breath, only to show up the next day at the farmer’s market. *** or my halloween take on our beloved characters.

BOOKER x COPLEY

when time dictates love

"So not ugly,” Sebastien says, and Aidan looks at Mr. Copley, who just shrugs, smiling. “He is insufferable. Does he know this?” he says, and the man just smiles, both of them ignoring how Sebastien says ‘hey!’. “He does,” Mr. Copley whispers, and he says, and Sebastien’s fingers intertwine with his atop his knee, and Aidan looks away. “But you like him anyway,” he says instead. Mr. Copley chuckles, and he leans to press a kiss on Sebastien’s forehead, who’s no longer laughing. “Yes, but I like him anyway.” --- or a home-care worker witnesses Booker and Copley’s last year together, as time catches up on them

MULTIPLE RELATIONSHIPS

there is no timeline when it comes to this (Booker x Copley; Joe x Nicky - also featuring Joe & Booker bffs and Nicky really giving a damn about Booker)

“I’m happy for you, Yusuf,” Booker says, because he means it despite the ache, and Joe smiles, nodding, and he’s smiling in a way that makes his heart hurt even more. “We love you, Booker,” Joe says because he’s just that person, before driving off as Booker makes his way up to his apartment, steps feeling like lead. He makes the point to check the mail, and he’s not even sure why. He’s never checked mail before, Joe usually did. Booker pauses then, looking at the different ads he pulled out of the box after twisting the key. So many changes already. When he finally gets to his unit, he finds someone standing at the door. They turn when he pauses, and greets him with a smile. “Hello Booker,” James Copley says, giving him a two-finger salute. “You haven’t aged a day.” *** or where Booker’s best friend Yusuf moves out to be with his Nicolo, and he makes the choice to live alone for the first time in years. Booker tells himself he’ll be fine, tells everyone that he’ll be fine, even though the weight in his chest tells him otherwise. but he really has no choice. this is his life now. then James Copley comes home.

OTHER SHIPS & FRIENDSHIPS & NO SHIPS

little things, for the heart (Nile and Joe)

“Are you…baking bread?” Joe looks up at her then, and Nile snorts, walking over to the counter and reaching up to tug on the man’s stray curls, dark tight ringlets dusted with white flour. “Maybe,” Joe says, in a sing-song tone. *** or Nile takes a lesson she learned from her mother and applies it to her new life.

OTHER SERIES

THE NILE FREEMAN COLLECTION (Written for Nile Freeman Week 2020)

nile + love or where Nile meets another queen

nile + sadness or where Nile keeps it real with Booker

nile + alone time or where Nile gets of ice cream and thinks of dying

nile + comfort or where Nile makes Joe feel better, the best way she knows how

MY LOVE, WE STILL HAVE MUCH TO LEARN (Post-Canon Take)

do not let me awake alone (Nicky x Joe)

After Booker’s betrayal, Joe is angry and Nicky suffers through the fallout. And for the the first time in a long time, Nicky understands what it's like to be alone in his grief.And something inside him breaks.

my love for him kills any anger (Nicky x Joe; Joe & Andy)

A month later, Andy finds out that Nicky is talking to Booker.But it doesn’t mean that Joe forgives him. Far from it. They've been through so much for him to just let it go.

a blessing from above (Nile & Nicky; Nile & Joe; Nicky x Joe)

Nile gets used to a few things, three months into her new life. But the one thing that wracks her brain the most is how they deal with loss and suffering.Thankfully, she has a lifetime to figure it out. Because they’re family, and she wants to help them. At least, start them on the right path. They are grown people, after all. Because her Mama raised her right.

#the old guard #the old guard fanfiction #elio and ayla multiverse by L #nicolorenaldigenovia: elio and ayla #mine: elio and ayla #tog princess diaries au #tog prince au #L writes things #mine

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years ago

Note

Ship Questions!

Hotch/Reid

Domestic 🥰

(Also, I’m a huge fan of all your writings! Thanks for sharing 💜)

Thank you! ❤️

Sorry, this got pretty long!

1.) If they get married, who proposes?

Aaron does. Spencer is very comfortable not being married ever, and it's Aaron's drive to ensure Jack is in good hands in the event of his death that pushes him toward marriage. Spencer doesn't exactly want a wedding, but he knows Aaron is traditional and it's important to him, so he goes along with it.

2.) What's the wedding like? Who attends?

This could go one of two ways. 1.) They elope to Las Vegas so Diana can attend and invite literally no one else.

Or, more likely, 2.) They throw a BAU wedding in DC. JJ is the maid of honor and Derek is the best man. Rossi walks Spencer down the aisle and Gideon officiates. Rossi cries. Jack is the ring bearer and Henry is the flower girl.

A mostly unfamiliar face shows up, strolling up during the reception after the ceremony while Spencer is talking to Rossi and Derek. Spencer recognizes him first. "I don't want you here."

William is holding a brochure, pointing to where Rossi's name is listed as the father of the groom. "I would've come if you had called."

"I didn't want you to."

"You could've called," he insists. "You didn't have to write me off like this."

Derek goes to intercede, but Rossi catches him by the arm. "Hey, Reid," he says, looking quite mild. "There's one fatherly lesson I haven't taught you yet."

"What's that?" Spencer is confused at this assertion.

"How to throw a right hook."

William is on the floor, Aaron is covering Jack's eyes, Emily is cheering, JJ is trying to drag Spencer away, Gideon is getting Rossi some ice for his hands, and Strauss is pressing the bridge of her nose trying to decide if they can somehow make this a lawsuit for the bureau or if this is going to create more paperwork for her somehow.

Aaron invites a handful of old lawyer friends and Sean, who does reluctantly show up. Spencer invites his professors and teachers and Ethan. Several of them greet him with, "Oh, I haven't seen you in so long! You've gotten so tall!" which yields the question who was that person, and the answer is always, "A professor from my first doctorate."

3.) How many kids do they have?

In most timelines, only Jack. Spencer doesn't have any desire to spread his genes with his sketchy health history, and while Aaron wanted a bigger family with Haley, he knows it wouldn't be fair to do this to another child, the inconsistent hours, the lack of presence, and besides, Jessica wouldn't agree to free childcare for another kid. Spencer is okay with not being a father in the traditional way, and he's still someone who is very important to Jack, not to mention Henry and Hank and (insert baby name because I reject JJ naming her second child Michael).

But there is another timeline where they've discussed it. Spencer wants to be a father, and he tells Aaron that, and they aren't really sure how to proceed—with their line of work and histories, they aren't eligible for adoption. They look into surrogacy, but Spencer again doesn't really care to pass on his genetic material, and Aaron is having a very hard time shaking off his Catholic upbringing that makes him feel super duper icky and weird about something of his growing inside a woman he doesn't actually know that well and then that child being his and not part of her. They're at an impasse when, on a case, there's a break when a woman is found disemboweled in the dumpster while her newborn infant is wrapped in a plastic bag. There is no family after identification. Social services comes to take the baby, and they both feel like maybe this is some sign from the universe and they're missing out. Later that night when neither of them can sleep, Aaron rolls out of bed and calls the social services contact, and the baby is still floating around the office, not having yet found a foster family. So they take her.

It's several years of paperwork as they transition from foster parents to adopted guardians of Haley Diana Hotchner-Reid. Spencer steps down from the BAU to become a research professor full-time, and he finds cures for antibiotic-resistant bacterial illnesses. He invents a vaccine for tuberculosis. He has a routine schedule, so he's available for the kids all the time, and Aaron doesn't have to leave his job to have the family he wants.

4.) Do they have any pets?

Usually, no. Aaron is afraid of dogs. Animals don't like Spencer. Aaron grew up in rural Virginia, so he likes the idea of having horses like he did when he was young, but they don't have anywhere to put a horse or farm animals, and while Spencer fantasizes about having a farm, he thinks horses and cattle up close are terrifying. But occasionally they wind up with a cat, or even two cats if they're adventurous, and Spencer does a lot of research to start appropriate fish husbandry with a giant, well-kept aquarium where he teaches Jack all about how to properly care for fish (ie, goldfish and betas don't go in bowls, no fish go in bowls).

5.) Who's the stricter parent?

Neither of them are all that stern. Aaron doesn't know how to appropriately discipline a child. He knows what not to do, but he isn't sure about alternatives, and whenever Jack acts out of turn, he feels like it's his fault for letting Jack down and letting him experience so much trauma that twisted his ability to process his emotions in a healthy way. Aaron doesn't know how to provide structure and support in a positive way, and he tries, but it's hard.

Spencer also didn't exactly have any good parental role models. He does have the ability to learn everything there is to know about a child's interests through reading, and he does that to make connections. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn't and Jack has still graffitied the side of the school building and Aaron is having to pay out damages and is trying very hard not to raise his voice and Spencer is like, "Is this what Ash Ketchum would do?" and Jack responds, "I'm thirteen, I haven't watched Pokemon in five years, grow up." Then they enlist a family counselor.

6.) Who kills the bugs?

Neither have bug fear. Spencer will squish roaches and pest bugs as he finds them. However, he thinks unique bugs are quite interesting, and he doesn't kill ants or spiders or crickets. Instead, he studies them. Spiders he always captures and takes outside. Once, Spencer has a piece of paper and a cup and is working very hard on entrapping a beautiful black widow, and Aaron sees it without realizing what he's doing and mushes it. "Why would you do that? Why would you kill an arachnid? She was protecting our home." After that, Aaron lets Spencer handle all the bugs and doesn't interfere since he never knows which ones deserve to live and which ones don't.

7.) How do they celebrate the holidays?

If someone is hosting a Christmas party, they'll attend, but otherwise, they'll stay inside and decorate the tree as a family. Sean is invited to Christmas dinner; he rarely comes. Jessica and her family go to her parents', and Aaron doesn't want to make Spencer uncomfortable by taking him there, so they avoid such gatherings. They make it special with just the three of them, unless another member or two of the BAU wants to squeeze in. Aaron likes to go to midnight mass, and he usually manages to convince Spencer to sit through it one night of the year.

On Halloween, they all go trick-or-treating together.

Easter is the other day of the year Aaron insists they go to church because, "I am nothing if not a Chreaster Catholic." Aaron takes Jack alone while Spencer stays home and sets up a wild egg hunt somewhere in the city, and when church ends, Aaron brings Jack to look for the eggs. Sometimes the rest of the BAU's kids join in.

For Memorial Day and Fourth of July, Aaron grills. Spencer tries once and they spend Memorial Day in the ER and Aaron has to buy a new grill. Likewise, they agree Spencer should not come within three feet of any firework materials, including benign sparklers and the like.

8.) Who's more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Aaron likes to get up early to brew Spencer's coffee the way he likes it, warm the house up, and start breakfast. Spencer never asks him to come back because he enjoys having the house warm and breakfast ready when he rolls out of bed. But if Aaron isn't feeling well and Spencer gets out of bed to do those things, it only takes a couple petulant grumbles on Aaron's part to convince Spencer to slide back under the covers.

9.) Who's the better cook?

Aaron is a much better cook. Spencer, to his credit, tries sometimes. But Aaron has a better understanding of how palates work and also how not to set things on fire. Spencer knows cooking is technically just a science, but it's a science that baffles him, he'll admit, like paranormal science or theology.

#hotchreid #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #criminal minds #headcanons

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

Text

Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80 for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask!

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @howdylilflower, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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victoriareyloficlists · 4 years ago

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4 February 2021 Additions to Reylo Holidays

These fics have been added to the Holiday list located here.

Christmas

Fight, Flight, or F____ by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey gets a dildo advent calendar for office secret santa. Ben is absolutely panicking, his chance with the cute girl is absolutely toast. Poe would be mad that Ben took the wrong wrapped gift from the counter this morning but he can always buy Finn a new one and this is hilarious.) The Sweater Curse in Reverse by Blueyedgurl (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben are roommates. He stresses a bit when Rey starts acting strange, she gives him intense looks while she's crocheting at night and gives him lingering hugs when she comes home to dinner made. Ben fears the worst but soon finds out his roommate is up to something.) Sugar On My Tongue by allstoriesintheend (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 6 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: AU where Rey is a florist in a small town and Ben owns a bakery in the same town. They always work together for special occasions, especially weddings. Everyone in town knows they’re in love but them.) Home for the Holidays by LarirenShadow (AO3 2016 Rated T Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Kylo Ren, in a moment of weakness, tells his mother he'll be home for Christmas and will bring his girlfriend. Problem is he doesn't have one. Enter Rey, his grad assistant. He makes a deal with her so she'll be his girlfriend for the trip home.) Brand New Bag by DhampirsDrinkEspresso (AO3 2020 Rated M Complete, 3 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey doesn't get along with her co-worker Ben...a co-worker who is almost Rey's ideal man and also happens to be the son of her matchmaking boss. When Rey needs help with a children's Christmas party, Ben is sent to save the day-whether he and Rey like it or not.) christmas in the city. by pyroallerdyce (AO3 2020 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben meets Rey in a grocery store, offers to give her a ride home, and they discover they live on the same floor in the same building. They find out they have other things in common too, and maybe there is a future between the two of them.) A Reylo Christmas by Biekewieke (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 8 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: So when Leia Organa asks her Personal Assistant Rey to join her on a family vacation in Mon Torri for the holidays and highlights a big bonus, what is she to do? Only catch... Leia's son is coming along... Ben Solo is the enfant terrible of the family. Broody, sullen and with a huge chip on his shoulder, the young man is notoriously difficult.) Let's Meet Under the Mistletoe by GreyForceUser (ReyandKyloforever) (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Johnson and Ben Solo do not get along. Their first meeting was less than impressive. A change in circumstances forces Rey and Ben to work together to stage a huge black-tie Christmas party in a ridiculously short period of time. Only time will tell if they can stand each other long enough to pull it off or if the whole thing will crash and burn.) Silent Night by avidvampirehunter (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo, one of the higher-ups at First Order Insurance, has spent roughly one year dreading the inevitable—falling for Rey Kenobi, one of his most mysterious and alluring employees. Little does he know that Rey herself has been fighting the same temptations, nor that she may be losing the will to even try. When he ends up drawing her name for the annual Secret Santa gift exchange, the merciless hand of fate pushes them together through the storm raging outside—and in their hearts.) Merry (Fuzzy) and Bright by JaneNightwork (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, 25 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: One night Ben finds a dog abandoned on his doorstep. She's cold, scared, and pregnant. Ben takes her to a nearby vet clinic and meets the beautiful veterinarian Rey, who promises to help him be the best caregiver the dog and her puppies could ask for. Throughout the holiday season Ben and Rey fall in love with the puppies and, of course, each other.) daylight by sparklylulz (sparklyulz) (AO3 2020 Rated T Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Coffee shop employee Rey has a run in with one of the difficult professors. Thus starts a very turbulent friendship until Ben needs a fake date to go with him to see his parents, the first time he's seen his parents in a while.) The Trail Bride by SecretReyloTrash (BadOldWest) (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 47 Chapters, Historical AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Niima finds herself in a perilous situation when her husband dies at the start of their journey West. From the few bachelors on the trail in her party; she attaches herself to the best of her options. That option is the mysterious Banker Ben Solo.) Something About November Chapter 18 by SpaceWaffleHouseTM (AO3 2019 Rated G Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Ben's adopted daughter finds a box of love letters he wrote and never sent, she decides she wants him happy for Christmas. With help from her Aunt Gwen, she sends her the letters.) The Fake Boyfriend Problem by INTPSlytherin_reylove97 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: When Rose accidently tells her parents her roommate Rey was bringing her boyfriend for Christmas, instead of telling them she was bringing her own boyfriend Finn, the girls run into an interesting problem.) How to Keep Christmas by JaneNightwork (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, 26 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey and Ben have had feelings for each other since she began teaching at Chandrila Elementary School earlier that year, but neither knows their affection is mutual. Rey plans to use the the Christmas season––her favorite time of year––as an excuse to spend more time with Ben, and to find a way to tell him how she feels. But can she convince the Grinch-ish Ben to enjoy Christmas with her? Equally important: will her friends Finn, Poe, and Rose be able to stop themselves from matchmaking and meddling and general mischief?) Twas the night before Sithmas... by Hellyjellybean (AO3 2019 Rated T Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo is alone...and he likes it that way. What more does he need on Christmas eve? He has his whiskey and his bitterness to keep him warm. But Christmas magic can do wonderful things, and a visit from a mystical being throws Ben into a world very different from the one he knew. A world were he is married to the love of his life, he is close to his family and a little boy with dark eyes calls him Daddy. But is it all a dream? Or will Ben really get everything he has ever wanted this Christmas?) Blame it on the Mistletoe by deedreamer, HopelesslyReylo (AO3 2018 Rated E Complete, 5 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Wilson doesn’t necessarily hate Christmas, it’s just that she’s never really enjoyed it. It’s too over the top, too full of the same repetitive music and consumerism. That’s not to say she doesn’t enjoy some things about the holiday... So when her new boss —and secret crush— Ben Solo catches her singing in her office, she lies to avoid looking like a grinch. Now she’s agreed to spend the holiday with him and his over-the-top Christmas fanatic family.) Crash my Bandicoot by KyloTrashForever (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 4 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben has lived next door to Rey for ten years now, and he’s been in love with her for most of them. A Christmas break with no one but themselves for company leaves a lot of time for Crash Bandicoot sessions... among other things.) Valentine’s Day

Love's Mystery by Hartmannclan (AO3 2020 Rated G Complete, 14 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Ben Solo only needs one lady in his life; his daughter, Hope. So he is surprised to find himself intrigued by the masked woman who just spilled a drink down the front of his costume. Maybe this year the company Valentine's day dance won't be so boring after all? And what happens when he has to leave suddenly.....) No Chance, No Way by AttackoftheDarkCurses (AO3 2020 Rated E Complete, 7 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Just as Rey's decided to give up on love, she gets partnered to co-write Valentine's themed articles with the office grump, who... maybe isn't such a grump.) Valentine's Day by PropertyOfThaJoker (AO3 2018 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: The cat immediately came to Rey, who immediately held it. “He can’t be more than five weeks old, Ben. He’s a baby. It’s cold out here – he’ll freeze to death. We have to take him home.”) How Much Can Kylo Ren Endure This Christmas by reylology (AO3 2017 Rated M Complete, 10 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: As the CEO of the number one commercial enterprise in New York City, Kylo Ren would think that bringing home a girl for his parents to meet should be the least of his concerns. But when a phone call with his mother takes an absurd, aggravating turn, he finds himself shoved headfirst into a lie. Desperate to prove his parents wrong, Kylo would do anything in order to see the shocked looks on their faces. Even if it means seeking help from the random girl that had just walked into his office for a job interview.) The Best Medicine by Cecilia1204 (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Being stuck in hospital for Christmas was enough to make Ben Solo feel really down in the dumps. That is, until he meets two angels in the form of Rey and her amazing cat.) Halloween

Closet Encounters Of The Thirsty Kind by ReyloBrit (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey dislikes Ben. Ben dislikes Rey. Funny, then, that people keep thinking they've come to this party together, and unfortunate that when cops raid the party, there's only one place to hide. And it's such a cramped and confined place too.) Anything to Win by Erulisse17 (AO3 2018 Rated T Complete, 2 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey hates losing. She hates losing almost more than she loves winning. Which is why she's in the ridiculous position of asking Kylo Ren, the very person who keeps beating her at the singles costume contest, to team up with her to dominate the couples contest and trounce Phasma and Hux once and for all. Working with Kylo is a necessary evil, but really, she'd do anything to win. Anything! Unless... it's falling in love.) Thanksgiving

Trouble for Thanksgiving by Biekewieke (AO3 2019 Rated E Complete, 40 Chapters, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: Rey Kenobi's temporary work visa is about to expire. She needs her boss' signature on her renewal application to get the extension she desperately wants and needs. Only her boss, the infamous Ben Solo, is an asshole. He's notoriously difficult and she knows this firsthand. Nevertheless, she needs his signature on those papers if she wants to avoid being deported by the end of the year... So when Rey tells her about her looming deportation, he finds a way to bend the situation to suit his own needs. Except, for the first time in his adult life, things don't go exactly as planned when he takes her home for the holidays...) I Wanna Hold Your Hand by SageMcMae (AO3 2019 Rated M Complete, One-Shot, Modern AU, Quick Synopsis: To escape Thanksgiving dinner with his mother, author Ben Solo travels to Verona, and hides away in his publisher’s villa. While wandering the city, he discovers Casa di Giulietta and the statue contained within. Some believe touching her will bring you luck in love. Others believe that when her soulmate touches her, she will come to life. Ben doesn’t believe in any of it. Until an accidental brush of his hand results in an empty statue podium and him catching a very confused, very irritated woman in his arms.)

#reylo #reylo fanfic

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theresnosafeharbor4myships · 4 years ago

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TITLE: Sleepy Holloween, Part 2

A/N: Muse unexpectedly decided Ichabbie’s Halloween story needed to continue, so here we are with more floof and cutesyness. Part 1 found here. Also on AO3.

Abbie poured the leftover candy into a Ziploc bag to take to the office in the morning, thinking over the day as her Captain rinsed out their wine glasses and left them to soak in the sink. Quite a few years had passed since she'd squeezed so much Halloween celebrating into one day. The jack-o-lantern carvings, the pumpkin seed and cookie baking, passing out candy while sipping a nice Merlot, showing Hocus Pocus to Ichabod for the first time. Which reminded her... "You know...I really thought you'd relate to the movie more," she mused aloud. Ichabod snatched the towel from the oven handle and faced her as he dried his hands. "Oh?" She nodded, then motioned for him to follow her. "Yeah, there are a lot of things I thought you might empathize with." She opened the front door and pointed to the fiery jack-o-lanterns adorning their porch steps. "We need to put these out," she explained. "By my recollection, you only allowed me three grievances," he recalled, pausing to follow her lead and blow out a candle inside of one of the pumpkins. "And no discussion with which to further detail my deeper sentiments about it and the many aspects that reminded me of myself." She put out another candle. "My apologies, Captain," she demurred. "I'd very much..." She extinguished the last candle with a puff of air. "…like to hear your thoughts on the ways you identified with Hocus Pocus." He held the front door open for her, and she went back inside, him following closely behind. He locked the deadbolt, then stood at military attention, a fine seamen specimen if she'd ever seen one.

"Are you referring to how I resemble Master Butcherson, who was called out of his grave by some witch's spell into a world that couldn't possibly comprehend what that experience is like?" Abbie heard the seriousness hidden in his self-deprecation but couldn't resist teasing him. "Aww, come on, babe, you look infinitely better than Billy Butcherson did. Your centuries sleeping did a body good."

Her flirtatious gaze traveled from his sailor-capped head to his booted feet, and he watched her perusal of him, prepared to counter her move. "You get no points for that one," he scolded. "Even as a benevolent soul, the man was a walking, rotted corpse with moths festering in his mouth."

"My point exactly: I definitely wouldn't've kissed him! But you..." She reached for him, one hand curling around the back of his neck, drawing him down to kiss her briefly before she moved away. He stared longingly after her but continued the conversation. "Then perhaps you meant I'm like the Sanderson sisters." Noting the intent to tease him written on her face, he threw his finger up in the air. "Not in purpose or lack of intellect or gender," he rushed to indicate before she had a chance to cut in, "or—again—re-emergence because of a witch's spell, but in their struggle to understand the modern world, even with supernatural forces and a guidebook in their arsenal." Abbie hadn't considered that angle and smiled indulgently at him. "Fair. Though you've done considerably better than those three. Combined." He dipped his head once in thanks, then continued. "May I also present my resemblance to young Master Binx." "An old, mangy, black-for-bad-luck cat?" Her disgusted look morphed into something sultry. "Ohh, or the knowledgeable pussycat of a relic who wants nothing more than to protect the people he cares about from evil?" She slid her hand from his shoulder to his wrist as she strutted by him, heading towards the stairs. "Madam, I'll have you know—” "Mistress," she corrected him, throwing a flirty look over her shoulder. She wanted to play now, did she? His gaze turned predatory, and he slowly trailed her up the stairs, several steps behind. "Mistress..." he repeated dutifully. She'd reached the second floor landing and turned to face him. "Yes, Captain?" His foot froze mid-step as he drank in the sight of her regal air, fetching dress, petite frame, innocent smile. His beautifully stunning wife who'd procured a costume just for him that had taunted him all night. He promptly lost all train of thought. Abbie saw his eyes glaze over as he stood in awe of her. At least the feeling was mutual. She'd just had a lot more practice at open flirtation than he had and could still function while stunned by him. She waited a moment, indulging in his open attraction to her, before helping him out. "So far, you've compared yourself to a zombie, a trio of witches, and a cursed cat." His eyes narrowed at her as she amusedly reduced his comparisons to their most basic elements. "While you clearly don't think that highly of yourself, I, my dear one, do. Would you like me to tell you who I think you resemble, Captain?" "Most assuredly," he affirmed, holding himself in check a few moments longer. "Have you considered that you're most like Max, the hero of the tale? A gentleman who finds himself in the same country but a new place that doesn't quite feel like home? Interested in a woman who doesn't know what to make of him at first?" Her voice turned dramatic as she continued. "He's harassed by the locals as he tries to find his way in the world, gets wrapped up in something he didn't know could be true, then fights like hell to protect himself, his family, the world, and the woman he loves from evil—not to mention witches—bent on destroying them. And in the end, he saves them all. And gets the girl he's pined after and loves." She dramatically clasped her hands over her heart with a flourish. His eyes never leaving hers, he recovered only enough to move towards her, slowly stalking her again. "You think I'm the hero, do you?" A contented, sweet smile breaks over her face as she walks backwards at his same pace, the sight of him in his sailor's costume trailing after her making her heart beat fast. "Ummhmm."

"And the girl..." "A ravishing beauty," she stated cheekily, throwing the back of her hand up to her forehead in a fainting pose. "Never disputed." His eyes wantonly swept over her as she continued playfully leading him towards their bedroom, the colonial gown far less revealing than her normal wear and all the more tantalizing for it. "Strong and intelligent and wildly brave...a heroine in her own right." "Undoubtedly," she agreed as her back connected with the bedroom door. She absently reached for the doorknob and twisted it, flipping on the bedroom light as she continued backing away from him. "Deserving of some kind of reward, I'd say." "As much as her Captain deserves a warm hero's welcome." He turned off the hallway light as he entered the bedroom, the shadows and light playing deliciously over his devilishly handsome features, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. "If that's all he wants..." Abbie stopped in the middle of the room, waiting for him to reach her. "That's only the beginning," he promised with a low growl as he approached her. "I seem to recall..." He ran the backside of his finger along her cheek, soft and cool to the touch, dropping his hand to her collarbone and running his fingertips across her bare skin as he prowled around her. "Telling you..." His hand never leaving her, his touch trailed heat across the back of her neck. "How I couldn't wait to take this off of you." His whispered breath teased over the skin beneath her ear, the sensuality of it heightened because she couldn't see him, didn't know what to expect next. Still, he barely touched her, his fingers slowly grazing their way around her shoulder and back to her collarbone as he completed his rotation around her. She peered up at him heatedly, anticipating, yearning for his next move. 'Crane on the brain,' she'd called it once--and had had it ever since. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly, satisfaction and desire written on his face, and he leaned down towards her. She tipped her head up, craving his kiss and everything that came after it, but he stopped a hair's-breath from touching his maddening lips to hers. "How does that sound?" he whispered, tantalizing her with his breath against her lips instead of his mouth. "Exquisite," she breathed on a sigh, willing herself to wait for him to ravish her. She was on the edge, as was he—she could feel it. She wouldn't have to wait long. "Enticing. Hot." He couldn't wait any longer, silencing her with his lips, gently at first, then more insistently as she drew his hat off his head, dropped it to the floor, and ran her fingers through his hair. She moaned, and the sound her passion vibrated through him, his hands roaming down her sides and hips to then splay across her back, drawing her into him. His hands set her ablaze, and she expected him to make light work of the dress since he'd wanted to divest her of it all night. Instead, he lingered, his kiss ardent and sensual, his touch exploratory and slow. He reached for the back of her dress where the stays were...should be. His fingers found a zipper instead. "Mm, how very modern," he murmured appreciatively as he withdrew from her, again moving behind her. Abbie waited, senses alert, body tingling, wondering what his clever mind and hands had in store for her.

His finger traced her skin along the back neckline of her dress, sending gooseflesh racing up and down her spine. He kissed her neck, and her head fell to the side, allowing him more access.

“Tell me,” he whispered near her ear. “What does a hero’s welcome look like?”

She eased away from him only far enough to turn around. “Like this.” She collided with him, pressing against him, drawing him down to kiss her as together they moved towards the bed. She felt the corded muscles of his arms and shoulders, his back, his leanness belying his strength.

As they reached the bed, Abbie laid her hand flat against his chest, and he let her push him lightly, falling to his seat He reached for her, his hands gripping her waist as he peered up at her and the satisfied look on her face.

“Do all captains receive this treatment?” he queried.

“Not from me. But you’re lucky.” She winked at him, threading her hands through his hair, mesmerized by her forever-military man.

“Well…not yet,” he smirked at her with a lifted eyebrow.

"If the boat's a'rockin..."

He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head. “Nevermind, Captain. Just kiss me.”

“As you wish, Mistress.” And he did.

#ichabbie #ichabbie halloween #ichabbie fanfic #ichabbie fanfiction #ichabbie fan fiction #ichabbie fan fic #ichabod x abbie #abbie x ichabod #crane x abbie #abbie x crane #sleepy hollow #sleepy hollow fanfiction #sleepy hollow fanfic #sleepy hollow fan fiction #sleepy hollow fan fic #married ichabbie #my ichabbie writing #my writing #personal

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raibebe · 5 years ago

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Guardian

Genre: smut (!) Words: 5.822 Prompt: Guardian Demon Kihyun Warnings: Violence (he’s a demon, what did you expect), dirty talk, fingering, unsafe sex (please use protection, kids), light cumplay (I’m so sorry)

A/N: The beginning is inspired by Clean eyes on AO3, I never finished reading it because it literally destroyed me several times, but if you are into that and into Chanki, I highly recommend it. Thanks to the lovely @im-a-special-bebe who made this beautiful moodboard. She posts those from time to time and they are awesome, so check her out. Also if anyone cares the working title was literally: Kihyun birthday demon, good job me. This is not part of my still unfinished Halloween promts, I just like supernatural concepts who am I kidding Not betaed because I’m a horrible person and because this is already late. So all mistakes are my own. Also I can’t believe I wrote this filth, I legit got possessed in the midst of writing this, I swear. Please feel free to sream at me about this once you’ve read it And most importantly: Happy belayed birthday, Kihyun. I hope your day was amazing and you will nerver read this 🖤

Demon: A vicious creature who is a subordinate to one of the rulers of hell and gifted with different supernatural powers. Some of them, especially the more powerful ones, once were angles before they became tainted by sin and fell from heaven. Oddly enough their name originates from the Greek word Daimon translating to guardian spirit.

You usually weren’t one to go to shitty college parties at a random frat’s house, but your whole week had been fucked up and you really needed to get your mind off of the things that had happened. Not only had you managed to spill coffee on yourself twice but it also was in class in front of your crush. You also had tripped over nothing while running to catch your bus which had resulted in you scraping your knee open and missing the bus. You were also pretty sure a man casually walking the street had seen you fall and laughed at you. And if all of that wasn’t enough, you were pretty sure your crush had also seen you when you arrived late to class, drenched to the bone because it of course had not only started to rain but your umbrella had broken as soon as you had pulled it out of your bag.

So in conclusion your week hadn’t been going well. So what worse could happen if you went drinking alone at this random party because your best friend had cancelled last minute because she had to rush to the vet because her cat was hit by a car? Exactly: A lot of things. First your crush was also here which made you more nervous than it should have. But he was looking illegally good with his hair styled upwards and a neat button down with the sleeves rolled up. And second you had already been tugged away by one of the frat boys, who you shared some classes with, to join in a horrible drinking game which not only left you with a light buzz already but of course when you got up to catch some air outside you bumped into your crush resulting in him almost dumping his drink all over you.

This was what had led to your current situation which was simultaneously best and the worst that could have happened: You were standing in the empty kitchen with your crush, trying to make casual conversation while he was mixing himself a new drink because his old one had ended up all over the floor. “You look really hot today,” he said, letting his eyes roam your body, lips curling into a smirk behind his red plastic cup. Blushing you tried to hide behind your own cup, taking a long sip to calm your nerves. You did dress up a little bit, the dark blue dress showing off more skin than you usually showed and the black stockings hid your scraped knee while also looking cute. “We are in the same literature class, right? I never noticed how good you looked,” he kept flirting, raking his hand through his styled hair. You could just nod, silently sipping your drink until a stranger aggressively pushed past you in the kitchen, making you lose your balance, resulting in you almost falling if your crush hadn’t caught you. Blushing again you apologized for being so clumsy. “Well this isn’t too bad, is it?” Your crush asked, tightening the grip he had on your waist, pressing you against his chest.

Grinning and setting his cup down, he slowly closed the distance between you and him. Just seconds before your lips were touching his, the stranger who had shoved you on his way inside, loudly cleared his throat, making your crush stop and glare at him. “What’s your problem dude?” He asked while releasing you from his grip and walked over to the man, clearly irritated. Even though the stranger was a couple of centimetres shorter, he didn’t back down even in the slightest and stared directly into the other male’s eyes when he spoke. “I would rather not witness you tainting this kitchen or this girl right now,” he spoke calmly, pronouncing every syllable very carefully. “Tainting? What decade are you from dude?” Your crush asked, laughing at the very handsome stranger. His jaw seemed like it was chiselled out of marble, his pale skin just as flawless as his expensive looking black suit jacket and his dark eyes had a sharp edge to them, almost animalistic. When the stranger just raised one of his perfectly arched brows and didn’t give an answer, your crush huffed in anger. “So you ruin my chance to get laid tonight but don’t have the balls to talk back to me?” Hearing that almost made you choke on air. Who had said anything about you having sex with your crush tonight? Was that what he had planned on doing? Was he just after a quick fuck? Sure he already had a couple of girlfriends through the year but you had never taken him for the type to just be after that type of stuff. “I merely don’t want to descend down to your level of standards when it comes to conversations,” the stranger answered calmly, his face an expressionless mask and you couldn’t help the little laugh escaping your lips.

“You find that funny?” your crush snarled and turned back to you, face contorted with anger, making him look so unlike himself. “I... No, I jus-”, you stuttered trying to explain yourself. The way he looked at you really made you feel uncomfortable. “Hm, bitch, cat got your tongue now?” He continued to curse at you, taking a step towards you. “Don’t touch her again,” the stranger interfered, his tone carrying a strange weight that didn’t tolerate any misbehaviour. A wide grin was spreading on your crushes face when he slowly stretched his arm towards you, eyes on the stranger. Crowding your body against the kitchen counter you tried to bring as much space between you and your crush. Your heart was beating furiously, the blood rushing through your system drowning out the sounds of the party. “I’m giving you one last warning,” the stranger growled in response, eyes narrowed in anger. Before you could realize what was happening, the stranger had leapt forward and twisted the wrist of your crushes hand, that was about to touch your skin, making him wail in pain. “I don’t like being talked back to. I ordered you to not touch her and yet you chose to disobey,” the stranger spoke through gritted teeth, “You know what I do to those who disobey me?” When your crush didn’t answer, the stranger broke his expressionless mask and grinned. “I will show you exactly what I do, creature.” Taking the other’s wrist in both hands, the stranger quickly but pressure on the joint until you first could hear bones cracking before your crush screamed in pain, falling to his knees and clutching his hand which was now helplessly dangling off his arm.

Yanking your crush by his hair to make him look up, the stranger spoke dangerously calm: “Do not come near her again or I will take my time breaking all of your knuckles separately before I snap your wrist. I might not even stop there. Maybe I will take the time to dislocate your shoulder, break a couple of ribs or shatter the bones in your arms so you won’t even be able to touch anyone ever again. Did you understand?” Still whining in pain the other didn’t answer. “I asked a question, creature. I will not repeat myself.” “I understand, fallen one,” your crush whimpered, baring his throat to the stranger who immediately released his grip as if it was burning him. “Leave this place,” he spat out before looking at you for the first time tonight.

You didn’t even notice your ex-crush scrambling to get up and hurrying out of the kitchen when you felt the stranger’s gaze wandering over your body. To say you were terrified wasn’t even enough to describe the fear you felt. He had just broken this guy’s wrist just because he had tried to touch you again. “You have nothing to fear, girl. I can’t hurt you,” he said after a while. “I think you are perfectly capable of hurting me after what I saw,” you dared to say which earned you a grin from the man in front of you. “I didn’t say that I wasn’t capable of it. I just said that I couldn’t.” Swallowing around the lump that had formed in your throat, you willed your body to not shudder at his words. “We should leave this place. There are way too many disgusting creatures here and I don’t have the desire to let you witness any more violence today.” With that the stranger took your hand in his and led you out of the kitchen, through the mass of drunk people and out of the house.

When he began walking in the direction that your apartment was, your brain seemed to finally catch on to what had just happened and you shook off his hand. Stopping dead in his tracks, he looked down at your now separated hands before raising an eyebrow in question. Gaping at him with an open mouth you just managed to breathe out a “What the fuck” before the scene in the kitchen played again before your eyes. “You just broke that guy’s wrist.” “You just noticed?” He asked teasingly while running a hand through his messy dark brown hair. “He didn’t even do anything.” “He would have if I hadn’t stopped him. You heard him say it.” That knocked the wind out of your sails. He was right of course. But that didn’t mean that you had to admit it. “What if that’s what I wanted?” You asked, feigning confidence that you really didn’t have. For all that you knew this man was aggressive and did not shy away from using violence. “No.” “No? What do you mean no? Who are you anyways to patronise me like this?” You asked the stranger, getting angry. “You may call me Kiyhun,” he answered calmly, scanning the surroundings, probably for any passer-by that heard your shouting. “Oh, I may?” You asked, sarcasm dripping from your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Listen up, princess,” Kiyhun began speaking while shedding his suit jacket, leaving him in a black turtleneck, before draping it across your bare shoulders, “I can sense that you are getting cold, scream at me all you want when I brought you back to your apartment but let me assure you: You did not want to go home and spend the night with that foul creature.” Blushing from his sudden gentle move, you pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, it was indeed getting chilly. When Kihyun began walking again, you hurried to fall into step with him again. You couldn’t quite make sense of him. First he was all violent towards that guy and now he acted all gentle towards you even though he was a stranger to you. You were pretty sure you had never even seen him even once on campus. A man like him stood out with his handsome features and sharp style. How did he know who you were and where you were living? “You still haven’t answered my question though,” you whispered after some time. “What question?” “I asked who you are.”

Wrinkling his nose, Kihyun almost nervously rubbed his neck. “That’s not an easy question to answer, princess. You weren’t supposed to ever meet me.” “What does that even mean?” You asked in confusion. “I was sent to protect you. In secret. From the shadows. It’s what I have been doing for a while now, trying to keep you away from foul creatures like that one at the party. But you are quite the stubborn person,” he chuckled darkly. “I didn’t think you would keep approaching him after you spilled coffee on yourself twice.” “You made me spill my coffee?” You didn’t believe him. How would he have done that if you had never seen him? “One of my many talents,” he only grinned and wiggled his fingers. Rolling your eyes at his innuendo, you groaned: “How are you any better than him?” “Never said I was. Technically speaking I’m worse than him but I already told you that I can’t hurt you, princess,” he told you with a wink before opening the door to your apartment complex for you, mind you without any key. Catching your surprised look he just cryptically said: “Told you those fingers had more talents.”

The walk up the stairs was quiet and before you could search for your keys, Kihyun had already opened the door to your apartment, holding it open for you with a sly grin. “After you, princess.” Blushing at the nickname, you stepped past him, toeing your shoes off and neatly hanging his jacket up. “What... What are we supposed to do now?” You asked him, unsure about what he had meant before when he had told you about how he was supposed to protect you. From what? It wasn’t like you lived in a terrible area of the city where you had to fear getting robbed or assaulted. “Whatever you want, princess,” Kihyun answered, slipping out of his shoes and making his way to your living room like he owned the place. Had he been in here before? Had he broken into your place? “I’m going to make a cup of tea, would you like anything?” You asked him, at a loss what you should do, too many questions filling your head. He just shook his head, inspecting the pictures you had put up on your wall. The little time it took for the water to boil was barely enough to sort out your thoughts. Who or what was the stranger? And what was that whole protecting thing about?

Now sitting on your couch with him, sipping your tea in silence you still weren’t sure what to make of everything that had happened today. “You look like you want to ask something,” Kihyun ripped you from your thoughts. “I don’t know where to start,” you admitted, searching for the right way to ask the question that had been in your mind for a long time now. “What exactly are you, Kihyun? You definitely aren’t human. Humans can’t cause accidents without even being in the same space or open doors without keys. Or tell people that they have been sent by someone to protect you from creatures, not men but creatures.” He chuckled and focused his wandering eyes back on your face. “I thought you would never ask, princess. I already told you part of my name. The rest of my title would be prince Kihyun, fallen angel, one of the 72 demons of Ars Goetia, tainted by lust, banned from heaven by the archangels themselves who used to call me their brother.”

Your mouth opened to reply something but your mind was wiped clean. What does one even reply to something like this? “That’s why he called you fallen one?” You decided to ask to fill the silence that had settled between you two. Kihyun just nodded, his eyes somehow seemed like he wasn’t with you, like he was lost in a memory or something. “And someone told you to protect me?” Another quick nod. “And who was that?” At that he just shrugged his shoulders. “They didn’t reveal themselves. But they needed to perform a powerful ritual to bind a prince of hell.”

“But why do I get a guardian demon? Everyone gets guardian angels.” That statement made Kihyun burst out in laughter. It was probably the most beautiful, melodic laughter you had ever heard. Not quite the laugh that made you laugh with them just for the sake of laughing but a laugh that made you smile softly and tinted your cheeks a rosy colour. “Angels wouldn’t even bat an eye at any human’s problems. They just don’t care. Everyone thinks they are these empathetic creatures who just want the best for everyone which is as far from the truth as it could be. They are cold-hearted, calculating beings with no desires other than keeping everything as it is and follow their orders without questioning them,” he lectured you, raking a hand through his messy hair again, causing a couple of dark strands to fall into his face. You had to grab your teacup harder to not give in to the need to push them back to feel if they were as silky as they seemed. “But what about demons? Aren’t they supposed to just follow their desires no matter what? And just mess with people just because it gives them joy? How does that make them any better?” “We aren’t. But we are different. Angles and demons or more specifically fallen angles are two sides of the same medal. One side cold and indifferent, the other only lead by their own desires. But both seem to only care about themselves,” he spoke calmly, stretching his arms out on the backrest of the couch, picking at a loose thread near your head.

“And what are you supposed to do now? Follow me everywhere like a stalker and keep embarrassing me in front of everyone when a creep is present?” “I suppose,” Kihyun sighed before he grinned at you, flashing his perfectly straight, white teeth, “But embarrassment doesn’t seem to quite work on you. You are quite persisting, princess.” You blushed but didn’t know whether it was because of the pet name so casually slipping over his plush lips or because of his teasing. “How long do you have to do this?” you asked after sipping the lost drop of your tea, gently setting the mug down. “Until the binding breaks I guess. Depends on whoever cast it in the first place. You don’t know anyone who would know how to summon and bind a demon by chance?” “I didn’t even know creatures like demons or angles were real until today. I still don’t really believe it,” you confessed, scared and fascinated by your guardian at the same time.

“Oh, I can show you just how real I am,” the demon grinned and scooted closer to you, your bare thigh touching his, the feeling of the rough denim making you shiver. “Sensitive, aren’t we, princess?” He grinned, placing one of his hands where your stocking met your bare skin, toying with the elastic, letting it snap against your skin in a playful manner. Taking a shaky breath, you tried to not let him affect you so much but he was really close to you and you could swear you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. Getting bolder, Kihyun teasingly slipped one of the straps of your dress off your shoulder, kissing the skin gently before kissing his way up to your neck where he sucked harshly on your pulse point, leaving a purple bruise behind. Moaning in pleasure you bared your neck for him, granting him further access to your sensitive skin. You felt his chuckle more than you heard it, his teeth scraping against your skin making you whimper.

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me to stop, princess,” he spoke, his lips almost touching yours while his hand on your thigh slowly made its way to the hem of your dress. When he didn’t hear any words of complaint but only heavy breathing, he captured your lips in a heated kiss, claiming your mouth. Not wasting any time, he hiked your dress up and pushed your thighs apart to cup your panty clad sex, grinding the heel of his hand against your clit. Kihyun swallowed the moan that escaped your lips and let his tongue slip between your lips. Tangling your hands in his messy hair you tried to push him even closer to you, your body arching against him. Grinning he broke the kiss. “Eager to find out how good I can make you feel with my hands alone?” He asked while taking in your already wrecked appearance: Your eyes were blown wide in pleasure and you ground your hips shamelessly against his hand when he had stopped moving it against you. “Answer me, princess,” he whispered into your ear, his free hand grabbing your hair and exposing your neck to him. “Please, Kihyun,” you managed to say, biting down on your lip to stop the moans from spilling out. Chuckling he pulled the damp fabric of our panties to the side so he could gather your arousal on his fingers. “So wet for me already,” he moaned before attaching his lips to your neck again while slipping a finger inside you, pulling a satisfied moan from your lips which turned into a whine when he didn’t start to move his finger immediately instead gently circling his thumb on your clit. “You have to work for it, princess,” Kihyun breathed, placing a kiss on the abused flesh on your neck, where a dark bruise was already forming. Sighing while grinding your hips against his finger, you formed the words he had wanted to hear: “What do you want me to do?”

Growling deep in his chest, he captured your lips in a bruising kiss and thrust his finger into your heat harshly, filling the silent room with obscene noise. You broke the kiss with a loud moan when he added a second finger and crooked them just right so he was massaging your sweet spot. Just when you felt your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly quick, the demon quickly pulled his fingers from your heat and pushed them past your lips instead before any complaints could leave them. Almost instinctively you sucked on the digits and swirled your tongue around them, tasting your arousal. “I want you to undress, princess. Then you will sit on my lap where I can spread your beautiful thighs apart and reward your little pussy for being so obedient,” the demon demanded, his voice deeper than before, rumbling in his chest, before he pulled his finger from your lips and sat back against the couch, spreading his legs out. Wanting nothing more than his hands back on your body, you stood up with shaky legs, gradually slipping the second strap of your dress off. “You are in no position to tease me, princess,” Kihyun growled, palming himself through his jeans. The sight of his cock straining the dark fabric made your mouth water. Almost ripping your dress and panties off of you, you fell to your knees in front of him, stroking his strong thighs, eyes fixed to his hand moving lazily along the outlines of his dick.

“You want me that bad, princess?” You only managed to nod before he grabbed your hair and pushed you against him, making you nuzzle his clothed erection. A shaky breath left his parted lips when he felt your hands undo his pants to push them down, the lack of underwear making you chuckle. His cock wetly slapped against the skin of his abdomen where his shirt had ridden up, a bead of precum glistening at the head. When you just stared at the bare size of it, he grinned smugly. “What are you waiting for, princess?” His voice snapped you out of your stupor and you gave his dick a couple of experimental strokes, spreading the precum to make the slide easier. Licking a stripe from base to tip, tracing one of the prominent veins, you took the head into your mouth while looking up at him. A curse left his lips and he rested his head back when you sucked harshly and swirled your tongue along the sensitive slit, tasting him. Feeling proud that you could make him loose his composure like this, you closed your eyes and slowly took more and more of his length into your mouth, bobbing your head and wrapping your fist around the part you couldn’t fit. “Fuck princess you look so good like this, your pretty lips around my cock, sucking it like you were made for it.” Kihyun’s praise made you moan around him, ripping a growl from him in response. “Look up at me,” he commanded and you gladly obeyed, moaning again at his appearance. He had taken off his turtleneck, exposing the pale flesh of his strong chest. But what turned you on even more was his heated gaze that had turned his eyes into dark pits of obsidian.

He grabbed your hair again, pulling you off of his cock with a wet pop. Catching your breath, you both just stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. You were sure you looked just as fucked out as he did, squirming on your knees and pressing your legs together, your sex clenching around nothing in need. “Get up here, princess,” Kihyun ordered, tapping his lap. Not before pressing a last kiss to the flush head of his cock, you slowly climbed onto his lap and claimed his lips in a kiss that was more teeth, tongue and want than anything else. When he grabbed your hips to grind your pussy against his erection, you loudly moaned into each other’s mouths, trying to swallow the sounds. “Please, Kihyun,” you begged again, bracing your arms behind yourself on his thighs, trying to get more of that sweet friction by rolling your hips down against him harder. “Not yet, princess,” he moaned, reaching between your bodies to rub steady circles on your sensitive bundle of nerves, making you cry out both in pleasure and frustration, “I want to see you cum like this first, squirming on my lap, desperate for me to fill you up with my cock, spreading you open.” Another loud moan left your lips at his filthy words. This man would be the death of you, you were sure. You were grinding against his length like a horny teenager trying to get off as fast as you could just to finally feel him inside you. You gasped loudly when he closed his lips around one of your nipples and twirled his tongue around the sensitive nub. Grabbing onto his messy hair, you held him in place, squirming between his hand on your clit and his hot mouth. Feeling your orgasm threatening to wash over you, you aimlessly yanked at his hair, suddenly feeling something hard beneath your hands. Looking down in confusion you saw two little horns hidden in Kihyun’s hair. The realization that he actually still was a dangerous creature along with his eyes looking up at you from where he was still sucking on you nipple, made you trip over the edge, your orgasm hitting you hard.

Throwing your head back in pleasure you felt his grip around your hips tighten. The moan of the demon’s name got stuck in your throat when he suddenly lifted you up and thrust his length into you while you were still shaking and clenching around nothing from your orgasm. A loud curse left Kihyun’s lips when he ground his dick inside you. “Fuck, you feel so good, princess, squeezing my dick like that.” Still riled up despite your orgasm, you kissed him feverishly, fingers finding his horns again, stroking along the base of them. Gasping against your lips, Kihyun bucked his hips up, fucking his erection even deeper into you. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” the demon growled into your ear before sucking another hickey on your neck. Grinning you lifted your hips and sank down on him again, loving the slow drag of his cock against your sensitive walls. Picking up a slow rhythm, you tried to find the right angle for him to hit that spot inside you that made you see stars. Gasping when his cock was hitting it just right, you yanked at his hair to pull his lips from your neck to kiss him feverishly. Moaning into the air between you, you picked up the rhythm of your hips and gently massaged the base of his horns before whispering: “Fuck me like you mean it, demon.”

That made something snap inside Kihyun, an inhuman growl escaping his throat as he gripped your hips hard to hold you in place to fuck up into you hard and precise, making you squirm and moan in pleasure. “Watch your mouth, princess. Even with you on top of me, I’m the one in charge, you understand that?” He spat out between ragged breaths, landing a harsh slap on your ass, making you arch in his hold. Suiting the action to the word, he placed his feet more firmly to the floor, getting more leverage to slam his cock inside you. With each thrust his hips met yours and you let your head fall beside his, the breathy moans you let out only spurring him on even more. “Is that what you wanted, princess?” he growled, “You want to cum all over my cock?” Not able to form any coherent sentences, you just let out an embarrassingly high pitched moan, clutching tighter to him, raking your nails down his shoulders, feeling the knot in your stomach already tighten. It just took Kihyun to slip a hand between your bodys to rub quick circles into your clit, to trip you over the edge, the orgasm hitting you even harder than the first one. Your whole body was trembling and it felt like your blood had been exchanged with molten lava. You let out a string of curses, clutching tight to your guardian demon, riding out the pleasure with soft circles of your hips. Yanking his head down so you could kiss him again, you lazily licked into his mouth.

“I’m not finished with you princess,” Kihyun breathed when you two separated, grinding his still hard cock into you, making you whimper, your body still sensitive. He gave you some time to come back down from your orgasm, gently running his hands along the curves of your body. “Come on princess, be a good girl for me. Hands and knees, let me see that beautiful ass,” he instructed when your legs finally had stopped shaking, lifting you off of his cock. You couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped your lips at the sudden emptiness when you shifted on the sofa, arching your back. Chuckling he grabbed a handful of your ass and kneaded the soft flesh. Almost purring you wiggled closer to him until you could feel his cock slide against your backside. Grinding against you, the demon pushed a hand between your shoulder blades so your upper body was pressed against the cushions, making your back arch. “So pretty and all spread out for me,” he murmured, grabbing the base of his erection tightly and teasing your entrance with the head of his dick. “Please,” you begged, needing him back inside you.

“If you ask so nicely, who am I to deny you?” The demon growled, pushing into you in one swift move, wasting no time in setting a harsh pace, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the silence of the room along with your moans and his groans. When he started to grip your ass so tight, you were sure you’d have bruises tomorrow, pulling you back onto him and his rhythm faltering you could tell that he was getting close. Growling deep in his chest, the demon grabbed your hair, pulling you up so you where flush against him, the change of the angle making you cry out and clench around him. “Fuck, princess, keep squeezing me like that and I won’t last much longer,” he panted into your neck, snapping his hips more vigorously and reaching around you to rub tight circles in your clit. “I’m so close please don’t stop,” you begged him, tears close to spilling over from all the pleasure you were feeling, throat raw from all the moaning. When you were right on the edge of your orgasm, you clenched down around him, squirming in his hold. But that was already enough to send him over the edge, spilling his cum deep inside of you, biting down on your shoulder to muffle his load moan.

Groaning he let go of you, causing you so slump back against the sofa, his softening cock slipping out of you. “No, no, no,” you squirmed, pushing back against him, “Need you back inside me.” “Don’t worry princess,” Kiyhun chuckled, watching his cum drip out of your clenching pussy, “Three time’s the charm, they say.” Dragging a finger through your folds, he gathered the cum that had leaked and fucked it right back into you, ripping a moan from your throat. “Ass up,” he commanded and you immediately obeyed, arching your back further. Slapping your ass once, the demon fucked three of his fingers into you before attaching his lips to your clit, sucking harshly. With how close you had been before he had reached his climax, it didn’t took long for you to be right on the edge again, your moans rising in pitch. “I’m gonna cum,” you choked out, not even realizing the tears that were staining the pillows beneath you. “Cum for me, princess,” Kihyun breathed, barely audible over the sound of your moans and whimpers but the vibrations it send to your clit send you over the edge for the third time that night, your whole body going taut before every strength left you, slumping against the cushions, legs twitching. Pleased with how fucked out you were, the demon pulled his fingers from your twitching heat, licking them clean from your arousal, humming in satisfaction.

“You believe me now when I tell you I’m real despite being a demon?” He breathed into your skin when he kissed his way up your spine before pulling your body flush with his, wrapping you up in his arms. “Very real,” you murmured, reaching to tread your hands through his damp hair, trailing your fingers over his horns, making a sigh leave his lips. “I like those,” you giggled, taking a closer look at his dark horns peeking out from his messy hair. Chuckling he nuzzled his head into your hand. “If you keep scratching them like this, I’m going to fall asleep in no time.” “No round two?” You playfully pouted at him. “I don’t think either you or me have another round in us right now,” Kihyun grinned, running a hand along your still shaking thigh. “How come you are this exhausted? I thought demons tainted by lust could go for longer,” you teased him, pillowing your head near his heartbeat. “Restricting myself costs quite some energy, princess. I didn’t plan on suddenly knocking various furniture everywhere because my wings decided to sprout because I lost control completely. My horns weren’t supposed to come out either,” the demon said, voice already heavy with sleep. “You have wings? Like with real feathers?” Pulling you closer to him, he softly kissed your hair. “If you are a good girl and stay out of trouble, I might show you sometime.”

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ms-maj · 4 years ago

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For @bettycooper on the most fantastic day of her birth! [I maaaaay have been given a slight heads up since someone wouldn’t give up the goat ;)] Thank you for all the brilliant insights and beautiful gifs and for being one of the most considerate and chill people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. You give and give and give and I am very, very lucky to call you friend. Happiest birthday, Cat! I hope you enjoy! <3

‘Tis All Hallows Eve and throughout this great house

Dark creatures are stirring, go and hide little mouse.

Bats line the hallway, there’s cobwebs on the stair;

The veil is now lifting, the other side is just there.

Reach out and touch it, magic flows from your hands,

Fingers burn with the powers passed by time, through the sands.

Make notes in your grimoire as witches fly through the sky

We must ready our spirit, for Halloween is nigh…

“Isn’t your cousin in Prague?”

Betty looks up from her computer, the glasses she only wears when she’s been staring at the screen for an extended time sit on the edge of her nose. “What? Cousin?”

He’s waving the square of black cardstock in her direction as he shakes his head. “Your one, single cousin. The slightly over-the-top, heiress extraordinaire who has spent the last five years gallivanting across the globe.”

“And what about her?”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jughead drops next to her on the couch. Reaching over, he kisses her cheek before slotting the paper between her and the screen. “It would appear Hill House is done.”

Betty can’t help the snort that escapes her as she runs her fingers around the aged edge of the parchment. “I should say I’m surprised but, honestly, I mean, it’s Cheryl. Why wouldn’t she hand-write invitations to a soiree on the...’Hallowed Blossom Grounds’?”

Jughead is not wrong per se when he says the house is done. Thornhill has been under construction since Cheryl and Toni broke up, and she absconded from her second year of college. She made her way to Italy, where she stayed for a year before delving deeper into Europe; the art, the fashion, the architecture all appealed to her at a cellular level. Or that’s what she’d told Betty when asked about when she’d come home. (When the manor is restored or that vile harpy dies. Her words.)

He leans over and takes the invite back from her hands to re-read it. “Like either house there isn’t large enough to have this shindig, she has to be sure we plebs all know it’s the entirety of the property that we shall be partying on.”

Betty slides her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she watches her boyfriend’s eyes roll. He leans back against the cushions, the hem of his t-shirt inching up ever so slightly. “At least we have an excuse to get dressed up this year,” she closes her laptop, sets it on the table and straddles him before he has a moment to realize what’s happening.

“And we can finally scratch the main house off our list—” The invitation flies from his fingertips and lands in the middle of the coffee table as his hands come down around her ass. He stands, wobbly as she laughs against his lips, and she’s carried to their bedroom. The costumes can wait another day.

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Betty’s proud, and a little relieved, when he comes back with the Addams. Though he refuses to wear pinstripes, much to her chagrin, she's quick to realize that plum, crushed velvet looks better on him than it has any right to.

Unfortunately, there hasn't been time to confer on much else. It’s been a busy few weeks. Betty’s been working non-stop; crime doesn’t stop for Halloween parties apparently, and her particular skill set always seems to be more needed in the periods just before and just after Halloween. She’s spent hours recently in front of both screen and microscope, scraping particulates into vials rather than getting ready for the ostentatious event.

And as much as Jughead has bitched and moaned about the lack of foresight in sending a group of traumatized twenty-somethings invitations in the same manner as a psychopath, he’s channeled a lot of that anxious downtime between conventions into ensuring his Gomez is true and pays proper homage to both John Astin and Raul Julia.

It makes for an incessant fluttering in her chest whenever she thinks of him. She finds it funny, the way he insists that it’s their friends who are the extra ones, but as they finally turn toward the mansion she sees the seventeen-year-old boy in him, the one who almost lost himself as the Game Master, and the beautiful, complex, eccentric man he’s become.

“I think that’s Archie’s car,” Jughead pulls their small SUV next to the blue sedan. The governor’s drive is filled, cars of all makes and models line both sides of the freshly poured asphalt. “At least we won’t be alone in the cesspool Cheryl considers a social circle.”

Betty takes one last look in the mirror before tossing strands of her silky, black wig over her shoulder and exiting the car. “And it's a beautiful night.”

Jughead hums in response and then, “This place gives me the heebs,” shuddering as the car doors click closed, the lock tone sounding terribly loud in the eerie stillness.

“You and me both,” Betty adjusts the hem of her billowing sleeve, the sleek black dress not giving her much room to breathe, let alone walk the entirety of the Blossom estate. She squares her shoulders, channeling the power and grandeur of befitting Morticia and slides her hand into that of her waiting boyfriend.

The foyer’s black marble floors gleam, shadows dancing in the flickering candlelight. The tables, four round with two on either side of the room and a long six-foot buffet table between them, are dressed in crisp white linens, centerpieces of crimson and black, and not a soul in sight.

“Hello?” Betty calls into the void. She’s answered only by the reverberation of her own voice. She looks to Jughead, sweeping the black strands of her wig from her face, she moves toward the tables. The two tables on her right are full of cut crystal flutes filled to the brim with golden champagne, the left is full of hors d'oeuvres, and sat perfectly center of the large table is a silver tray. On it, a parchment envelope with a red wax seal.

“Jesus,” Jughead exhales while retying the belt of his costume. “I knew Cheryl had a penchant for the dramatic but even this seems a little extreme.” Suddenly looking a little green around the gills, he swallows before speaking again. “Her mom isn’t…”

Betty turns around quickly and lays her palm against his cheek. “No, it’s not Penelope. I talked to Cheryl yesterday and she’s assured me that the bitch is still under lock and key."

"Good, she can rot."

"Should we just—” she twists back, reaching for the envelope but Jughead swats her hand away before it makes contact.

" Really? You're just gonna grab that, no glove, no napkin, just bare-handed in the home of a known poisoner?" He questions, eyes wide, hands grabbing at her waist and twirling her away from the table. “You’re an actual crime scene investigator, Betty. What are you doing?!”

“Jug, Juggie, I’m gonna need you to breathe,” she frames his face in her hands, tilting his head so his eyes met hers. Under the chandelier, his hair reflects the incandescent glow in it’s slicked parting. “It’s just Cheryl being Cheryl. It’s just a party,” her fingers curl and slide down his face, thumbs stopping on his chin. “I think she’s trying to reclaim this place for happier times and this is part of it. Make the bad good or something. I don’t actually know but I know she is in therapy and I guess this is just her convoluted way of working past the demons and ghosts.”

His head drops to the side, expression nonplussed, and he sighs. “Just, use a napkin, or something. I can’t help that my paranoia is bound to run rampant when things like Blossom and Gothic Horror Hellhouse are dropped back into the vernacular.”

Her heart breaks just a little as she wraps her arms around his neck. “I promise I will be more careful as we go along. I don’t know what Cheryl has in store but I imagine this is how she’s making use of the grounds.”

His hands haven’t moved from her waist, he simply tightens his grip and pulls her closer. “I’ll try to keep an open mind, and remember that this is actually for fun and not a ploy to murder us and our closest friends.”

“Atta boy,” Betty closes the gap between them, pressing her lips against his reassuringly. “Now, let’s get this party started.” She waggles her eyebrows excitedly, tossing the long black locks of her wig over her shoulder as she turns back toward the table. Jughead slouches behind her, his head resting on her shoulder, as her napkin covered hand reaches the envelope.

Sliding it back across the table cloth, Betty snags a knife from the appetizer table and slips it under the crimson seal.

Carefully, Betty uses the napkin to remove the parchment from the envelope and lays it out on the table. Jughead slides off her, moving closer to the table without actually touching anything.

His eyes squint as he tries to read the intricate script from so far away. “I can pick it up if you—”

“Because I’m sure you brought your glasses to the Halloween party?”

“Oh, my dearest, Gomez, where on Earth would I conceal glasses in this dress?”

She hears him suck in a breath and feels it, hot, on the shell of her ear. “Are we ticking this off the list first? We are all alone, Tish, you can be as loud as you want.”

Betty can feel the knock in her knees, the way her chest heaves at his tone and heat of his words. Her breath leaves in pants, short bursts of unadulterated lust she swallows down and tamps out. “You are incorrigible, Jones,” her voice drops to an even quieter tone. “And if I thought Cheryl and any of her other guests who’ve already completed their quests weren’t possibly watching, I would absolutely take you up on that.”

“Fair point,” Jughead sighs, straightening up and turning his attention back to the task at hand. As his eyes scan the words his hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Did she write these? Or did she actually pay someone? Because if she did, as a professional writer I am offended.”

Betty snorts a laugh and reads the text herself. “Oh Juggie, you are not wrong.”

Fortunately, Betty doesn’t think it’ll be too long before they get themselves through Cheryl’s finely woven tapestry of what she deems fun.

Welcome fiends, on this most holy of days

You’ve entered the first chamber and now you must play.

From this greatest hall to the haunted gallows

The path you take shall leave you hallowed

Once, full oak barrels lined its walls

But it’s been an age since the empire did fall

It has been told of spirits who wander

But you must come closer to set them asunder.

“I can’t believe this,” Jughead flicks at the padlock that’s keeping the man door closed, and them from their next set of instructions.

Betty rolls her eyes, reaching up under her hair in the back and pulling out an extra bobby pin she had used to help secure the long wig. “What kind of party would it be if I couldn’t show off the fruits of my questionable morality?”

She can barely see the pin as it disappears into the lock. The night is dark, cool, the crisp vein of fall’s majesty. The moon is full but the sky is overcast; clouds cover like sticky cobwebs blotting the light from the stars. “Mmm, I do love every shade of your gray.”

Her lips pucker and the sound of her air kiss carries loud enough for him to hear. There’s a click, the tumblers drop and the lock falls into her hand. The door swings open, a flickering incandescent light moves back and forth across the dank space. It stills, and light slowly starts to fill the barn before it starts to strobe slowly. Betty and Jughead step through the door to find another set of tables and several cages of varying size, all filled with all different types of corvids.

“Please tell me those things aren’t going to be released and we have to reenact Hitchcock before we can get the next clue, because honestly Betts, your cousin can fuck herself.”

“She wouldn’t dare. Cheryl knows perfectly well that I couldn’t run in this dress if my life depended on it.”

“And how do we know this is Cheryl? I mean, I know you said you talked to her about the party but this all just seems…”

Betty laughs. “Even more extra than usual? Understood. But that’s because, between you and me, I think she’s been missing home, and everyone, a lot, and she just wants to make sure in her patented Cheryl way that no one forgets her while she’s gone.”

She swears his eye roll is audible, because she can’t see him but knows implicitly that his eyes do indeed roll. “Why couldn’t she just hire a gourmet chef to cater? That would certainly be more endearing, and remember worthy, than having to trip the night horrific down memory lane.”

It's at this point, the birds, she realizes, are mostly fake. No, not fake fake. Taxidermied. Of course. “She’s still a Blossom, Jug. We internalized our traumas and turned them into our motivations, our tools to perform. Cheryl ran away, and now, the only way she can deal is to face everything head on. Take back the bad…”

“Make it good, right, right…” Jughead is muttering as his hand sweeps across his brow.

It’s been hard, Betty knows, to try and disassociate yourself from your familial legacy. Especially when said path leads you back to a level of depravity that you can barely wrap your head around. While she, like Jughead, have embraced their darker sides, it doesn’t mean that all the bad just disappears when you wake. His demons become characters in his books, their battles scratched out on napkins and receipts and any piece of paper that crosses his path when the inspiration strikes. He has bouts of anxiety that have to be quelled with medications, but some that breathing exercises and soft conversation will help to pass.

Betty knows it’s mostly been the combination of therapy and lack of downtime that have really helped to keep him from slipping off the edge.

“But in all seriousness, please, why did she call the elementary school and ask for third graders to write these clues?”

The space between them fills with the smell of apples and cinnamon, the small cloud from the vape pen lingers in the air. She takes the small black tube from his outstretched hand and holds it to her lips. Inhaling slowly, Betty lets the sweet, sticky intoxication take hold and inherently knows that Jughead is going to be kite-like in order to get through the night.

And she is five hundred percent okay with this.

The pen is back in his hands and at his mouth before she can exhale. Her words come out with a cough. “I actually think it was fifth graders. But the education standards in this county are seriously slipping. You should consider changing profession, I imagine most children would love to learn from such an encouraging and engaging critic.”

He snorts. “No fucking thank you. At least not, you know…” The pen is back in his pocket, his hand now scratching at the back of his neck, the slicked down hairs starting to stand under his ministrations. She reaches out and lays her hand over his and he sighs. “Maybe someday.”

Jughead slides their hands from his neck and holds her fingers to his lips before they drop and swing between them. “Until then Mr. Jones, I believe this ‘clue’ is all yours.”

Betty squeezes his hand before she steps out of his grasp; she’s looking for something to grab the awaiting envelope with. He crouches, eyes level with the sleek, black paper, fingers folding and interlocking in front of his face.

The lights strobe, flashes of wings and glinting steel catch her eye while she feels out the table. Her fingers catch the rim of a small, cut-crystal glass. She grabs the vessel and sniffs—smoke and peat—and throws back the contents in a single swig. It burns most pleasantly. Almost instantly a live crow caws, drawing her attention back to the task at hand.

She finds napkins, pushes a few up her sleeve for later and hands Jughead one so he can start the reading and direct them to their next locale.

He grabs the edge and hits the seal against the table, disrupting all the living birds who respond in discordant chaos. The paper slides from the envelope, and somehow, through the strobing lights and cacophony, he's able to read.

What is it that makes the Blossoms bloom?

The very thing that sealed their doom.

Planted soldiers, row by row

Did we reap of all we sowed?

Follow the pieces dropped from my bough

Into the circle, cast a Samhain spell.

“Did she have to go full on nightmare Wizard of Oz? A path through the maple grove? Wholly unnecessary.”

“Something about a tree, and it looking like something busted it out of it?” Betty stumbles, her heel catching on a root. Though she curses under her breath, she realizes it’s one of the very few Cheryl’s team had missed fixing while covering the entire path with the fallen leaves. (The rest she had incinerated, of course. The maple grove couldn’t look picturesque with all those leaves just laying in hodgepodge piles, after all.) She’s happy to see the tables set only a few yards away. “I was only half listening, but I remember her saying it was the perfect kind of creepy.”

He scoffs. “This whole place is the perfect kind of creepy. And if you knew all this nonsense was happening,” he turns toward her, thumbs hooked in the belt loops of the purple velvet smoking jacket, crooked mustache above a crooked smile, and looks her up and down. “Why the fuck would you wear those shoes? I mean, I’m not complaining because you look INSANELY hot but if you knew we were going to be walking over the palatial levels of acreage, then maybe—”

“True. All true. But would Morticia trade fashion for practicality? I think not, " Betty steadies herself at the main table, only slightly larger this time though still round, once again flanked by a beverage table (with a keg of cider it would appear) and another covered with small, apple tarts.

The night glows around them in all it’s autumnal splendor. Fairy lights wrap around the bases of the maple trees and twirl up through their branches. Pumpkins, some meticulously carved and others whole, fill the spaces between the trees, the tables, and line the path away from the grove.

Jughead seems to be enjoying himself, he’s at least not as tense as he was to start. His steps are lighter, he’s quicker with a smile, and he’s laughing with an ease that she hasn’t seen in far too long. The vape pen slips back into view and she smiles, but declines when he offers it. The scotch from their last stop is starting to slink in and much more inebriation will not serve her well. She picks up a glass and flips the tap on the cider, filling one for her and one for Jug, who takes it without preamble. Betty lets out a small sigh of relief when he sips the contents and doesn’t start to question the intentions behind it. In fact, he looks like he quite likes it. She starts sipping on her own, gags a little, and quickly places the cup back on the table, wishing she’d have downed more of the Islay deliciousness instead.

“This one is all you, m’lady,” Jughead tips back his cup before grabbing her discarded one and doing the same.

Her head shakes in mock annoyance. ��Can you please try and maintain a modicum of sobriety? I’d like to make it to this party in one piece.”

A raised eyebrow meets her, followed by the click of the tap and the glug of liquid spilling into his cup. “I thought this was the party.”

She can hear the cider sloshing as he lifts the glass but it’s overwhelmed by the sharp hiss of her black, stiletto nails as they slice through the seal wax. “Only in your dreams.”

Her eyes scan the scrawl, pinching close briefly as she gets to the end. When she turns around to show Jughead he’s right there. She sucks in a breath and clutches the clue to her chest with a muttered Jesus.

He smiles devilishly. “You’re right about that,” his hands circle her hips and he pulls her flush. “In my dreams it is most definitely only you and me. But we’re not doing any of this.”

“Oh, what are we doing?” she asks breathless.

His head dips and he leans toward her, stopping just shy of their lips meeting. She squeaks out his name, a petulant whine, but he does not acquiesce. “I think you know exactly what we’re doing in my dreams,” Jughead digs the tips of his fingers into the flesh of her waist, the palor from the makeup looking particularly ghoulish in the din. “But more than that, even though the thought, and promise if I’m not mistaken, are most tempting. It’s just that when it’s you and me I know everything is going to be okay. That no matter how dark or cold the night you’ve always got my back.”

Betty shivers almost as if on cue, tears burning at her eyes, she reaches out quickly and grabs his face. While the paper flutters to the ground, her thumbs run up the sharp cut of his cheekbones before her lips crash into his. They have more than enough time to spare, she thinks. Besides, she knows exactly where they’re going next.

Your next adventure you needn’t enter

But prepare to face a greater task

For the next clue will not be at the ready

And there shan’t be a soul around to ask.

Follow these pumpkins

Keep close the light

Only two more remain, dear friends,

To make it through the night.

Thistlehouse was the big bad. She knew it the way he reached for her hand as its impressive visage rose from behind the treeline.

He’d only been back a handful of times, and only because his Toni had threatened his personage, so when she and Cheryl had broken up he swore up and down that he wouldn’t go back if he could help it. Yet here they were. She had assured him it would be different, that they were different, that there was nothing they weren’t in control of.

And control was most assuredly something he liked.

So she relented: the color of their bedroom, their sheet thread count, his preferred costumes (not that she put up a fight about being Mortica Addams). Once agreed upon, he dove right into the original series, watched every film iteration, studied cosplays; she watched as he got carried away by the sheer drama of it all. Jughead, she was aware, couldn’t help but love himself some drama. She recognized, quite quickly, that he had the same vim for creating their narrative, the same kind of spark that emerged when he switched from writing novels to creating graphic novels.

Betty remembers watching as that switch flipped inside of him, the magnitude of feelings when he saw his words start being represented by an artist. Then the elation of being beholden to filling those intensely rendered scenes with the words that conveyed all the expressed feelings, and did them justice.

She sees the way his eyes light up every time he mentions a storyboard, hears the excitement in his voice when his characters come to life, when they transfer from paper to corporeal and feel real and tangible in his hands. She wants to be a part of that for the rest of her life.

She shivers, pulling at the tightest section of her sleeves and tries to cover more of her arms with the taut fabric. Wordlessly, his arm slips around her waist, pulling her close to his warm body.

Sometimes, on the nights when the heaviest thoughts pervade her mind, and she starts spiraling through all the things she should have done differently, he does the same thing. Gathers her in his arms, whispers all the things he loves about her into her hair.

It's the hours (days, months, lifetimes) of listening, of shared experiences, of perspective that propelled them together and held them there. After a brief, albeit necessary step back the summer following their graduation, they came back together stronger and more committed than before. And it's sustained them these last eight years.

"What are you thinking?" His lips ghost across her temple as the tables come into view.

She smiles, lacing her fingers through his and pulling them to her mouth. Betty kisses his knuckles and nuzzles closer. "Just how lucky I am to have you."

"The feeling is very, very mutual, " he leans down and is met with a sweet kiss. She feels a tug on the hand wrapped around his. The moment they separate she's spun away, the wide hem of her dress flaring around her. She lets out a laugh and Jughead starts twirling her, spinning them through a sloppy tango toward their objective.

It's been too long since they've been this carefree, that deadlines and court dates and conventions and lab work have become their normal. They try not to allow them to take precedence in their lives though, try to ensure the living, breathing, real people always, always come first but some days that’s harder work than others.

They dizzily bump into the drinks, glasses clinking off one another as they spill onto the tablecloth. This only makes the laughter come more freeky. They take the libations, toast one another and drink down what Jughead hopes is the last vestige of maple rum in existence.

While he ravages the snack table, Betty reaches for the last envelope with shaky hands.

One more trek awaits, before your final stop

Please take this chariot, you've done nothing but walk

Follow the lights, you'll be lead right to us

To cold to enjoy it, though to look is a must

You may not believe it, but heed these words true

Your life may very well change down by the pool.

The golf cart whirrs to a stop just before Thornhill’s swimming pool. Betty turns it off and steps out, the light emanating from the thousands of cream colored candles that line the far side reflects and dances on the still surface. Candelabras from three to ten feet tall, tea lights, chandeliers, votives, pillars; you name it, that candle had a place surrounding the dark water.

“Do you think Cheryl spent more on candles than we did on the down payment for our house?” Jughead muses coming to stand beside her, elbow jut out in invitation. Betty smiles softly when her arm slots through the space. She grips tightly, her cheek coming to rest on his bicep.

“I think Cheryl probably spends more than that on even stranger things, on a daily basis,” they laugh low, content to be close, aware that their blissful solitude will soon cease. It’s just ahead—the white canvas tent marks the end of their path.

Betty’s heels echo with each step. She can’t tell if it’s as loud as it sounds in her head but reverberation seems to stutter with her pulse. The table that seemed to loom so far in the distance is mere steps ahead. This time, a gold tray rests dead center atop the crisp, clean linen, the final black envelope lies just within its confines. There are two, blood-red flutes on either side, waiting for the final clue to be read.

Without pause, Jughead reaches for it. “It’s blank.” He waves the card in front of him. Betty watches his fingers slide over the parchment, flipping it between them and examining it before the flame.

She swallows, stepping back. “I’m afraid you won’t find your answer there.”

His head turns before his body, the expression inscrutable. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying there’s nothing there. No hidden message writ with heat sensitive ink. No impressions traceable with charcoal.”

Her hands shake but there’s nothing she can do to stop them. He’s facing her now, cardstock forgotten it falls to the ground. “Betty, you promised,” his voice thick with the kind of worry that constricts all the pieces of her heart.

“I promised you would be safe. That we would be safe. And we are! There is not one part of this night that I haven’t carefully cultivated to make this an enjoyable experience,” she worries her lip between her bottom teeth when he looks away from her.

“Why? What is all this about?”

“Trust me, I know. Why would I do this? Set all this up and make you relive one of the collective worst nights of our life?”

His head swings back to her, expression screaming DUH, with the severe angle of his brows and the depth of the creases that have formed there. His arms cross over his chest as he waits for her to continue.

“I know I can't fix all the bad. But this one thing I wanted back, for the both of us. I want you to be able to go to escape rooms, or watch murder mysteries, or get surprises without triggering your PTSD. I want you to be able to stop looking over your shoulder, every minute of every day. I know how hard you work to get through, but I don’t just want you to have to put on a brave face and breathe through all those fear responses. And believe me, I’m aware that this is not a cure or therapy or anything more than me trying to reclaim something awful with something beautiful.”

She steps in front of him, bright green eyes wide and shining with unshed tears. She explains that she knows how much he loves Clue but can’t play it because sometimes it takes him to a place where he’s Mr. Body and everyone around is trying to simultaneously kill him and solve his murder, and he’s the only person in history who can say that’s too much like real life. And she hates that. Hates that he has to channel so much of that pain and anger and anxiety into characters in fictions, even though she knows it’s one of his healthier coping mechanisms. Hates that even with all the therapy and medication and love in their lives that his pain underscores so, so much of him.

“I really do love Clue,” he sniffles, tears forming in his eyes.

Betty laughs, taking his hands in her own. “I know you do. And I just want you to be able to enjoy everything, and I know I can’t make everything right. That’s not possible nor is it my job. But what I can do, is be by your side, be with you on those days when the thoughts are too heavy and you need help carrying them,” she let’s go of a shaky breath, hoping the mermaid skirt doesn’t fail her as she carefully kneels on the blanket that’s laid out next to the sparkling water.

“Betty,” his voice trembles like she knows hers will.

She releases his hand for just a moment, sliding a final, velvet envelope from the sleeve of her gown. “Forsythe. Pendleton. Jones. The Third.” Betty peels back a fold with each of his names that pass her lips. On the square sits a ring, mahogany, with a braided birch inlay, lined with soft, gleaming willow. “Jughead. The person who knows me best. Who has seen all the bad, who knows exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, and doesn’t just love me in spite of it, but because of it. You have given so much of yourself to keep the people you love safe. The huge heart, and compassion and forgiveness know no bound. And when I was young and dumb I tested the bounds of your empathy and love and risked everything because I was afraid. Because loving you was so easy and so all-encompassing I thought something had to be wrong. But the only thing wrong was me and you somehow loved me still. Your love has always been a tether, this undeserved filament that's kept me from floating into the ether."

Betty pauses to breathe, laughing though her tears, and picks the shiny wood ring up between her dark, matte nails. Their eyes meet in the excessive candlelight and Betty is infinitely thankful for waterproof mascara. “I am grateful that you stood by me. Helped me

The hand she holds trembles as she slides the ring to his finger. "If I could form a coherent thought...I would." This time he laughs with her.

"Whaddya say, Jones? Make an honest woman of me?" The ring buttresses against his hand, the pale braid of birch almost silver in the moonlight. “Marry me, Jones.” She whispers into the night.

“For the record,” his arm slides down her forearm and grasps around her elbow. She’s on her feet, level with him before she knows she’s even standing. “Yes.” His lips crash into hers, bodies practically melding into one as her fingers twine through his hair, disrupting the slick without a single care.

The lights from the main house flash on, music erupting from hidden speakers and suddenly life is breathed back into their hushed, reverent silence.

"Does everyone in there know?" He practically pants once they break apart.

"You can't think I did any of this on my own right? You're the creative and I'm, " she sighs, her fingers twirl in the hair at the nape of his neck. "The luckiest human in the world."

He leans in again though this time they're both distracted by the sound of people moving toward them. He practically whines, "Now we're never going to check Thornhill off our list."

Betty smiles devilishly, her red painted lips twist and press ever so slightly against the shell of his ear. "Oh, did I not mention Cheryl has graciously offered an entire wing so that we may properly celebrate our engagement?" His eyes go wide while over his shoulder their friends all step into view. "Save the enthusiasm for later, you can show me just how happy you are as soon as we're congratulated by five hundred of our closest friends."

His eyes narrow and fix. "We stay for two hours, anyone who doesn't fit into that time frame clearly doesn't matter. And then you show me to our room, and I prove to you, over and over and over again that this is the best night of my life."

They don’t last an hour.

#bughead #bughead fanfic #bughead fanfiction #betty cooper x jughead jones #for cat

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h-styles-babes · 5 years ago

Text

Something Wicked

Hi guys! After a couple years of telling myself that I’m going to write a fic for Halloween, I’ve finally done it! I’m honestly kind of proud of myself, but I don’t think I would’ve gotten it done if not for my wonderful cheerleaders and ego boosters: @thicksniall @stylishmuser @harrysdodgyankles @takemedancingmaine @harrytheehottie @feminarrie @booksncoffee @fireawaynjh @midnghtcities @pagesuponstpages @almondharry

(I’m sure I missed someone, but ya’ll know who you are.)

This ended up being a long longer than I originally intended, so I will be posting it in two parts. Second part will be up tomorrow afternoon.

Thank you so much for reading!

Words: 13k

Warnings: Smut

Leaves crunched beneath three sets of feet as they trudged through the thick layer of fallen foliage that covered the forest floor. A crisp wind blew past the trio, whipping the girl’s hair around her face and ruffling the thick strands on the boys’ heads. The younger one was glad in that moment for the dramatic haircut he’d gotten just the month previous. Nothing was worse than trying to brush out his curly locks out after a windy day.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Harry asked, trying to shove his hands further into the leather jacket he was wearing. He’d much rather have been in a nice comfy jacket, maybe a nice fluffy jumper underneath, but no. Niall had been very adamant about both Harry and their other friend, the only girl in the group, Andie needing to be dressed in dark, “witchy” clothing for this occasion.

Niall was a photography major and needed some fall themed photos for a project. Andie had been his first choice as a model because…well, she already fit the aesthetic so well.

Andie, whose full name was even Andromeda (how much cooler could she get?) dressed year round like the epitome of a modern witch. If an item of clothing wasn’t black, it was blood red or deep purple, and she wore jewelry with symbols of the occult on it, and sometimes cats and bats. But that was because she thought the animals were cute. Whenever anyone ventured to ask why she dressed as she did, she simply shrugged and said, “I look cute.”

And she wasn’t wrong. The dark pallet of her clothes contrasted with the pale smoothness of her skin and flaming red of her hair. Her eyes were the most peculiar part of her, though. While they were most typically a pale blue, nearly grey colour, if you looked at her long enough, her friends would swear they’d turn purple.

So, Andie had been the obvious choice for the female model. Niall had mostly chosen Harry as a favour. Don’t get him wrong, Harry was an extremely attractive man and had the looks for a model, but Niall was especially being a good friend.

For as long as the two had known each other, Harry had harboured a huge crush on Andromeda.

They’d first met their first year of uni in an English class, where they’d been the only two people who’d completed the summer assignment of reading Pride & Prejudice. They’d joked together about the incompetency of their peers, and the rest was history.

Harry had obviously been first taken with her looks, because she had this almost otherworldly quality about her that was hard not to be drawn to upon first glance. But, very quickly, he’d realised her personality was exactly the type to which he responded most. She was quick and witty with enough dry humour to catch him off guard for just a moment before he started laughing. When he’d first brought her around his other mates, like Niall and Louis, they’d initially been a little taken aback by her appearance, but one joke about one of her professors that both Louis and Niall had the semester before, and it was like they’d all been the best of mates for years. She’d been hanging out with them ever since.

It had now been two years, and Harry had still not done anything to make it known that he was interested in her romantically. Everyone except for Andie knew about it, so his other friends had taken to trying to work their magic to get them together in different scenarios that had them spending ample amount of time together. Harry had yet to make a move, though, and he was running out of time. This was their last year at uni and then who knew where they’d all end up?

“Because the wind will do great things for Andie’s hair. And the leaves are pretty. Just stop complainin’ and this’ll go quick,” Niall told him.

Andie chuckled at both Harry’s whinging and Niall’s snappy response. Those two were like and old married couple. Andie found it endearing.

“Oh, perk up, Harry,” she encouraged, shoving her shoulder into his own. The heeled boots she was wearing got them closer to a similar height, so when she looked at him, she didn’t have to look up to meet his eyes. “It’s a beautiful day out, even with the wind. Now, put on your Blue Steel and take some proper photos for our dear Niall.”

Harry grumbled nonsense under his breath until they reached the clearing Andie had suggested to Niall as the setting for his photoshoot. It was a place she liked to come to get away for a little while when the constant happenings of the world for to be too much. It had an energy pulse to it that was calming and cleansing. It was good when she needed a breather.

It was also her prime spot for casting spells that required more than she inherently possessed in her being.

This particular spot in the forest just outside of the bustling center of Surrey was filled with ancient energy that had been infused by witches before her. There was an ancient enchantment placed around it that connected it directly to the energy at the core of the earth, coupled with the ageless magical energy. It was like a safe haven for all witches of pure intentions and those that needed its protection. Andie had chosen to attend uni here specifically to be close to this magical wonder.

Meeting Harry and Niall had been a happy coincidence. And keeping her status as a certified witch the whole time was nothing short of a miracle.

“This is beautiful, Andie,” Niall exalted, looking around. “It feels so…” Niall took a deep breath and sighed, “good.”

Even mortals could feel the good energy of this place.

This spot in the woods was almost completely cleared of trees and plants, aside from the plush grass. However, sat directly in the middle of the clearing was a large, pitch black rock. It was an obsidian boulder, which was a great medium for harnessing magical energy when more than a witch possessed was needed for a spell. Andie had spent many a full mood with artifacts surrounding the rock, incantations falling naturally from her tongue.

“This is pretty sick, mate,” Niall awed, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the stone. Andie couldn’t be sure if mortals could feel it, but the rock emitted a thrumming flow of energy, like a satisfied cat purring in your lap. She wasn’t even touching it, and the stone was sending a steady vibration through her being. Just standing there was making the magic that flowed through her system surge with the need to be used. This was not one of those visits, however.

“I figured it would be good for the shoot. It’s very autumn-y,” Andie agreed.

Harry joined them and ran his hand over the stone. His eyebrows raised in surprise. “It’s warm,” he marveled. He looked up to the sky. It was completely overcast that day, rain definitely threatening, and it had been since they’d woken that morning. He was confused as to how the stone could be so warm with no obvious source of heat.

“Obsidian is said to have magical properties,” Andie told him, tongue-in-cheek, trying not to laugh at her private inside joke. “Maybe you’re a little magical yourself, Harry.”

Andie watched as Harry’s cheeks tinged pink over her comment. She knew of Harry’s crush on her. In all honesty, she had a crush on him too. And she would have acted on it long ago, but she couldn’t risk Harry’s safety with her magical abilities. By simply being a witch, she was constantly at threat of being found and attacked. Everyone thought the witch trials had ended in the eighteenth century, but they were wrong. There were still the select few that targeted witches because of bizarre religious views, sort of like they prosecuted gays and certain races. And while those witch hunters were few and far between, she couldn’t risk getting closer to anyone than necessary. Even if it was just to prevent him from finding out her secret, it was all for the best.

However, it didn’t mean she would turn down the opportunity to shamelessly and harmlessly flirt with him and get him a little flustered.

Niall quickly called the two to order to get to work. The sun would be setting in about half an hour, and they had to get the whole shoot done in that time. He’d be able to take a set of them while the sun was actively setting, to really capture the essence of autumn, the sun blazing through the gaps in the leaves that were turning colours with the onset of the season. They were going to turn out beautiful.

Andie was trying to help Harry pose in a more causal position against the obsidian rock when an overwhelming sense of dread flooded through her body, nearly drawing her to her knees. She braced herself against the rock and Harry reached out for her, asking if she was alright. Honestly, Andie wasn’t sure, because she’d never felt something so strong and draining before. It stole her breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping. When Harry grasped at her elbows, it was like the contact burned, searing her skin. She looked around them with bleary eyes, sensing there must be something around them that was causing her such a severe reaction, given that she’d never had such an interaction with Harry before.

Just over Harry’s shoulder, she spotted a smoky, dark figure, menacing in just the way it made Andromeda feel, like something was tugging at her heart. It was shrouded in a dark, wispy cloak and the feet and hands that peeked around the edges were skeletal with bits of flesh clinging to it, like a decaying corpse. Andie had never seen one personally before, but she’d recognise the entity anywhere. It was a wraith. There was no telling how long it had been wandering the earth, but it was most likely the result of an immortality spell gone wrong.

Witches were already at a high predisposition to live longer lives than humans—typically around 150 to 175 years—but some sought out to live forever. There were more steadfast methods to achieve this, like drinking from The Fountain of Youth or consuming a tea steeped from the leaves of to Everlasting Tree, but both were rare to come by for the typical witch. There were spells that claimed to cast eternity on the witch who performed it, but if even the slightest mistake was made or the witch did not harness the correct amount of power, a wraith was borne from the offered life force of that witch. These dark entities were doomed to an eternity roaming the earth, seeking out life forces to steal to sate their own need for vitality. Before they administered their final, soul-sucking touch, they’d latch onto their target and slowly but surely submerge them into a crippling depression, priming them for offering over their very soul and all their energy when the wraith was ready.

And this one had just attached itself to Harry’s flourishing life force.

~*~*~*~*~

“Hey, S, I need your help,” Andromeda hushed out into her mobile, Niall and Harry walking a few paces ahead of her, back to Harry’s car. Andie was doing her best to cast the protective spell she’d long ago placed over herself over Harry to keep the wraith at bay. It wasn’t the strongest ward she could conjure up, but it was what she could manage around two mortals without an active incantation or new spell altogether.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked, sounding like she’d been pulled from sleep, which was entirely possible. When Sarah wasn’t busy being one of the senior witches in their coven, she played in a band that typically took gigs in bars and pubs. She’d probably been out until three in the morning before going straight to her job at the local chemist at five. She typically got off at one in the afternoon and went straight to bed. Given the hour, she was probably only asleep for three or four hours before Andie called. She’d be more apologetic, but this was sort of an emergency.

“Harry’s got a wraith attached to him,” she whispered frantically into the mouthpiece, watching to make sure Harry and Niall weren’t paying attention to her. They were still walking beside each other, laughing about who knew what.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding,” she gasped, suddenly sounding much more awake.

“Obviously not. I’m keepin’ it back with a pretty typical warding spell, but it’s not gonna last. I don’t know enough about this stuff to do anything about it.”

“Keep Harry close for awhile. Do what you can with the warding spells. I’m gonna visit a friend who might be able to help,” Sarah said, already sounding like she was getting dressed. “Maybe ask your mum if she can add some strength tho these wards.”

“No way,” Andie vehemently disagreed. “She figures out I got my friends close enough to magic to attract a wraith and she’ll kill me.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sarah scoffed. “Anyone can attract a wraith, magical or not. They’re life suckers. They don’t care where the source is coming from. Coulda happened at any time.”

“I took them to the clearing,” Andie told her.

Sarah was silent for a few beats, obviously realising it was no coincidence that Harry had been latched onto by the demon. “Okay, don’t tell her that part.”

Andie choked out a laugh, covering it with a cough so she wouldn’t draw too much attention to herself as Harry held the passenger door open for her once they reached his car. She thanked him and slid into the front seat.

“Alright, I’ll do what I can. Let me know when you figure something out,” she told Sarah. The older woman agreed and they hung up.

Andromeda watched with apprehension as the wraith lingered outside the car, unable to interfere directly with the human world. It just followed alongside the car as it traveled back to the university. The ward that Andromeda cast around the car was keeping it further than it would normally follow, creating a physical barrier that it couldn’t cross. While from what she knew about wraiths, it would linger around Harry for weeks, if not months, before executing its final blow, she was erring on the side of caution. She’d spend every second of everyday with Harry until they figured out how to get rid of this thing if that’s what it would take. She wouldn’t let harm come to her best friend because of her stupid decision to bring them to a magical space. She thought the protections put around the clearing was enough to keep out all the nastiness of the magical world, but apparently the energy emanating from it was enough to attract the desperate ones, too. Her mistake.

Andie was too focused on keeping up the stretch of her spell to notice the silent interaction Harry and Niall were having via the rearview mirror. Niall had initially tickled the back of Harry’s neck between the bars in the headrest to get his attention, and then started making expressions with his eyebrows and mouthing words to his friend in the reflection. Niall was trying to silently convince Harry to ask Andie to hang out further, since it was a Thursday and neither of them had class the following day. It wasn’t unheard of for Harry and Andie to hang out together, separate from the rest of their friends, but Niall needed Harry to make it very apparent that his intentions weren’t just about friendship. They only had this year left to get their shit together, and Niall wanted to see it happen, if not for Harry’s sake, then for his.

Harry eventually rolled his eyes and nodded, relenting to his friend’s insistence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hang out alone with Andie, he just didn’t want to make it awkward when she realised he liked her as more than a friend. But he supposed he had to swallow his pride and get on with it at some point, and there was no time like the present. And there was nothing like two years of silent pining to make a guy want to finally make a move.

As they got closer to campus, Harry cleared his throat intentionally to get Andie’s attention, since she seemed pretty spaced out, her eyes focused on some invisible point just beyond the passenger window. She very slowly turned her head away from whatever she was staring at, and only tore her eyes away at the very last second, before looking at Harry. She had an expectant look on her face.

“Was wonderin’ if you and Niall wanted to hang out at mine. Have some beers, watch a movie?” he suggested, already knowing Niall was planning to decline. They obviously hadn’t decided on a concrete plan, but Niall would jump at any opportunity to get those two alone.

“Sorry, mate, can’t,” he declined, genuinely sounding solemn. He honestly probably was, since he wouldn’t get to witness two year’s of handiwork on his and Louis’ part finally coming to fruition. But it was for the greater good. “Need to get to work on editin’. Lots to do before I turn these in.”

Harry nodded. “Right. What about you, A?”

Andromeda had to work to prevent her face from lighting up at his suggestion. The whole ride over, she’d been trying to work up a way to get Harry to keep spending time with her so she could keep her eyes on him while Sarah was of getting whatever information they needed from her mysterious source. However, she hadn’t been anticipating him handing her a reason on a silker platter.

Instead, she gave him a small smile, like she usually would when she was agreeing to hand out with him. “Sounds good. Take me home first, though? I need to get some stuff.”

Her and Harry usually ended up staying at the other’s flat overnight when they did movies, so her request wasn’t odd. While she would get some things to change into, she also needed a few things to complete a protection spell over Harry, so that he’d be safe, even when he wasn’t in her presence. She’d still spend as much time with him as possible until they could figure out how to drive off the wraith, but she couldn’t be with him all day, everyday. They still had classes and jobs to get to and lives to live that made that impossible. She’d cast this more general spell first in order to give him a layer of protection, and then she’d get to work on finding a spell that more specifically warded off dark entities. Maybe her mum would have information on such matters. She was a member of the enclave, so the protection of magical beings and mortals alike was sort of her specialty.

They dropped Niall off first, so that he could get to his editing. Then Harry drove Andie to her flat. She insisted he come up with her, since she didn’t want him left waiting in the car. She had a bunch of things to gather and a cat to feed, after all. Not to mention, the projection of her warding spell only cast so far, and three levels up and two hundred yards away from the car park were a bit out of her range. She was powerful, but no simple spell had that sort of distance, unless it was cast on the other individual.

Harry fed Beelzebub, Andie’s three year old black cat, while she was off in her room, getting a bag together. Bub, as Harry affectionately shortened his name, seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face that sort of begged off anyone new that hadn’t been around him before, but Harry knew better. While Bub’s eyes looked like they were set in a constant furrow, he was a really sweet cat that loved chin scratches and head butted anyone that was at the appropriate height. Which was exactly why he hopped up on the arm of the couch, next to where Harry was sitting, after he’d finished his meal. He dipped his head to bump the top of it against Harry’s chin and promptly began purring. Harry gave Bub a good rub down, starting at his chin, working his way over the top of his head, and down his back, lingering at that place toward his tail that made him arch his back.

By the time Harry had completed the circuit a few times, Andie had rejoined him. She tapped the toe of her boot against his to draw his attention from the cat that was currently impersonating a motorbike on his lap. Andie had never known Beelzebub to purr so loud until Harry had made his first visit to her flat two years previous. He’d promptly sat himself in Harry’s lap and flipped over to expose his belly. He starting purring as soon as Harry scratched his fingers down the vulnerable pudge, and the rest was history.

Bub had been bestowed some magical properties upon his adoption into Andie’s life, as was normal for pets of witches, so he was more sophisticated and intelligent than a typical house cat—which were pretty smart anyway—but that didn’t mean he was above endless scratches and rubs.

“Ready?” Andie asked.

Harry looked from the cat in his lap to his friend stood in front of him. “Why don’t we just bring Bub with us? He’ll be fine at mine for a night.”

“Then who would be here to scare away any potential freaks that try to get into my flat?” Andie argued, sending a wink Bub’s way. He gave a short, succinct mew, as he knew his main duty when Andromeda was gone was to guard all the magical and nonmagical things that resided in her flat. Bub may only be a seven pound cat, but he wasn’t just claws and teeth. Those magical properties had been bestowed upon him for a reason.

“Fine. I just feel bad leavin’ him here by himself,” Harry said. He scooped Beelzebub up from his lap and set him down on the cushion beside him. He rubbed his head against Harry’s thigh as he stood. Andie swore that if the cat wasn’t magically tied to her, he’d have found a permanent home with Harry by now. He loved her, sure, but he had some weird obsession with her friend.

“He’s a tough guy, he’ll be fine,” Andie assured, not for the first time. Every time they went from Andie’s flat to Harry’s, there was always a brief conversation where Harry tried to get Andie to take Bub to his for the night. She wasn’t really sure why Harry didn’t just get his own cat, considering it seemed he wanted one so bad. She had thought about maybe looking into cats for adoption for him on more than one occasion over the years they’d known each other.

The ride back to Harry’s flat was quick. They only lived a few blocks away from each other, which was nice when they were in the need of company at odd hours of the day. She was able to walk to his flat in less than five minutes at any given time of day, and it was a fairly lit path, so it felt okay to walk at night. While she was protected pretty well from all things supernatural, she wasn’t immune to human predators.

Harry was in the process of getting something together for them to eat when Sarah called Andie back. She walked back into Harry’s room, where she knew she could get a bit of privacy, before pressing the green button.

“What’d you find out?” she asked, getting straight to the point. Time was of the essence with this thing, and they didn’t have any to waste.

“I just got into contact with my lady. She doesn’t know anything off the top of her head, but she’s looking.”

“Looking? Sarah, I need answers. I can feel this thing lurking. I got stuff to place his own warding spell on him, but it’s not gonna hold it back long.”

“Well, it’s a good thing he’s got one of the world’s most powerful witches with him,” Sarah told her firmly. “I trust you can keep ahold of this thing. Talk to your mum. And I’ll get to you as soon as my source gets back to me. She’s good, Andie, but there’s barely any literature on wraiths. We’re doing what we can.”

Andie groaned and leaned her head against the door frame of Harry’s room. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just…he’s my best mate.”

“And you’re in love with him, I get it,” Sarah assured.

“Wait, what?” Andie asked, head shooting up from her slouched position. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, c’mon, Andromeda, don’t play dumb.”

Andie sighed, lightly banging her head against the doorjamb. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing can happen. But I need him safe.”

Sarah was silent for a few moments on the other end of the line. Finally she said, “He will be. Give me a couple days.”

~*~*~*~*~

When Harry fell asleep that night, Andie went about very quietly setting up all the things she needed to perform her warding spell. Considering Harry was one of the heaviest sleepers she’d ever met—he’d slept through not one, but three fire alarms in their dorm building their first year of uni—, she didn’t bother with a silencing charm for the a spell that wasn’t going to take her longer than ten minutes to perform.

She carefully placed her four stones at the compass points of Harry’s living room, creating a magical energy barrier around the flat and its resident. She then unfolded a small tapestry with the symbol of the three goddesses, the ultimate symbol of protection in her family line. Anyone bestowed with a protective ward by a person of her lineage on this symbol was set against anything that could try to intrude upon their lives. The wraith was a different sort of entity, of course, but it would keep it at bay as long as Andromeda kept up the protection. It wasn’t a fail-safe, but it would have to do until they got a better answer.

Andie set the Harry’s token in the center of the middle moon on the tapestry. She’d been a bit of a creep and found Harry’s hair brush in the bathroom and collected his hair off of it. She supposed she could have found his pair of reading glasses and used those, but there was always a chance that a token that didn’t contain the subject’s DNA could render the spell void, and that was a chance she wasn’t willing to take. So she made sure his little clump of gathered hair was within the center moon before stepping back from her tapestry.

She waved her hand in a sweeping motion over the room, lighting all the ritual candles she’d placed in the room, lighting it in an eery haze. She closed her eyes against the sudden onslaught of energy she felt surge through her body, taking a deep breath to properly channel it. Her body knew when some more powerful magic was about to be used and it rushed through her veins, lighting them on fire in a way that was supremely pleasant. If she had to compare it to anything a mortal would experience, it would be like that feeling right before an orgasm, where every inch of your body was on edge, waiting for that one last thing that finally pushed you over. She could see why lesser witches could get addicted to the act of using magic like this.

Andie rubbed her fingers into her palms, that sensation sparking, and then held them both over the tapestry she’d placed on the floor. With one last deep breath, she began muttering the warding incantation under her breath. It was a slew of Latin words she knew by heart. It was one of the first spells a young witch learned, since it was relatively simple, but powerful when done correctly. She’d memorised the words by the time she was eight, and she was glad to not have to cart around a spell book everywhere she went.

She was only into her second line of incantation when there was a crashing sound from the hallway. She gasped and opened her eyes, her eyes automatically locking on Harry’s wide, shocked ones. Andie could’ve sworn in that moment that they both were not breathing. Harry was frozen in shock but Andie was frozen with the fear of being caught. She was still composed enough to take in the fact that Harry was in nothing but a pair of boxers and an entirely too large jumper that nearly hung off his shoulder and covered down the tips of his fingers. Such a contrast to the tight jeans and leather jacket he’d been wearing earlier in the day. Her heart would have leaped at the sight of him if she wasn’t completely hung up on the fact that her biggest secret had just been revealed to her best friend.

“What the fuck?” Harry finally uttered.

“Shit,” she spat. With a dismissive wave of her hand, the candles all blew out and the lights overhead turned on, bathing the room in a more normal light.

“What the fuck?” he asked again, louder this time, more emotion laced in his voice.

“Harry, I can explain,” she told him, reaching her hand out in a calming motion.

He stumbled back into a small cabinet he had in the middle of his hall. “Jesus. Your eyes were…”

“Purple, I know,” she appeased, trying her best to use a soothing voice. She knew he was more than a little surprised and possibly equal amounts of freaked out, and she didn’t want to exasperate it. She never wanted for him to find out she was a witch, especially like this, right in the middle of a spell. Granted, it was a spell for his protection, and one of the simpler setups that could be going on in his flat, but it was still a shock to mortals witnessing it for the first time.

“What…”

“Harry, why don’t you sit down? Lemme finish this, and then we’ll talk.” At this point, his protection was more important than whatever potential shock he was in. While her heart was sort of breaking from the concerned look on his face, she needed to do this.

Harry stumbled into the first chair in his living room, sort of sliding himself into it over the arm, never taking his eyes off of her. “What is…this, exactly?”

With a snap, the artificial overhead lights went out again, and a wave of the hand brought the candles back up to full flame. “A protective ward. A simple spell, but you can’t interrupt me, Harry.”

Harry nodded his head in a sort of mindless, perpetual motion, muttering some sort of affirmations to himself under his breath. Andie was sure he was trying to convince himself this was all normal, but she didn’t really have time to fret over him in that moment. She had more important business to complete.

Andie raised her hands out, palm down, over the center of her tapestry again, and she began reciting the incantation quickly under her breath. Harry watched as the flames in the candles grew brighter and larger as her chanting went on, admittedly getting concerned when they started flickering violently, like there was a strong gust of wind in the room. Adversely, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the atmosphere, a ringing taking up residence in his ears. Andie’s eyes were darting back and forth quickly under her lids, lashes fluttering. Sparks of electricity seemed to be erupting from the ends of her fingers, creating a crackling, static sensation in the room. Harry felt like his skin was tingling. He was in too much of a daze to really be concerned about anything, though. His best friend was currently doing what was arguably magic in his living room.

Andie’s volume of muttering rose until she was speaking at regular volume, and the light of the flames seemed to brighten to almost that of natural daylight. Harry sunk himself deeper into the cushion of the chair he’d claimed as the spell seemed to be coming to a head. The energy surged in the room, making the hairs on Harry’s body stand on end. A cold chill flashed down his spine as her chanting stopped and Andie’s eyes flashed open to meet his just before the candles all blew out at once. There was no mistaking it. Her eyes had been glowing a bright purple in that second before everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~

Harry had remained silent and unmoving the entire time Andie had been cleaning up from her spell. She could have just magically whisked everything into her bag, but she figured one magical happening was enough for the night.

She had gotten him a glass of water and placed it into his amazingly steady hands. Then she’d helped him from his seat and walked with him to his bedroom. He seemed to still be in shock, so she’d laid him down in his bed, back where he’d rumpled the sheets from earlier, and turned to leave. She could understand his despondency, so she was going to give him the night to sleep it off, and if in the morning he wanted her to piss off, she’d leave. But for now, she would stick by him, just in case.

“Wait,” Harry called, his hand grabbing her wrist as she’d turned to walk out of his room.

Andromeda looked down to his hand that was burning into her skin, up his arm and to his face, his head already resting on the pillow. He’d lost that vacant look in his eyes and he was now looking at her like he always had: with a little bit of adoration and a lot of honest interest. The bright green of his eyes scanned over her face, most likely looking for something that would make her look like the monster she was sure he thought she was after everything he’d witnessed. She never wanted Harry to think she was anything else but just herself, but she wouldn’t blame him if he told her to leave and never come back. It wasn’t easy to deal with and accept that your best friend from the last couple years was a witch. Not even Harry could feasibly be that understanding.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t hate you,” he said bluntly.

Andie’s eyebrows furrowed. “How did you…”

“I can see it on your face,” he shrugged. “And I know you. I don’t hate you. I’m shocked as fuck, but I’m okay. We’re okay.”

Andromeda let her eyes roam over his face for several moments, taking in his smooth features. He looked okay, as far as external emotions went, and he was verbally telling her that he was okay. She supposed she had no choice but to believe him. He still had to know why he had walked in on her doing magic in his living room, though. “I’m just trying to protect you,” she whispered.

“From what?” Harry asked. His thumb was now gently gliding over Andie’s wrist where his hand was still clasped.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time.”

Andie could tell from the look of determination in his eyes that she wasn’t going to get out of this one. When Harry had his heart set on something, it was very hard to get him off the scent.

With a sigh, she gently shook off Harry’s grip and bent down to take off her socks and then her jeans. She should have been more apprehensive about slipping into Harry’s bed without her trousers on, but, honestly, it was a semi-regular occurrence when they had sleepovers. She wasn’t willing to sacrifice her comfort for some weird perception of modesty.

She slid under the covers Harry was holding up, nestling in on the pillow his own head was occupying. He dropped the blankets back over her, and she pulled it up to just under her chin. She felt Harry’s warm feet slide past her own, and she didn’t hesitate to tuck her toes between his calfs. For all the energy constantly flowing through her body, her toes were always frozen. And Harry was always hot. It was a no-brainer.

“Where should I start?”

It took Andie nearly an hour to get through her explanation to Harry, the whole time silently thanking him for remaining quiet and holding off to ask all the questions she could see swimming in his eyes. When she finally sighed after she finished, he surprised her by not asking all those questions she was sure he had been holding back the whole time. Instead, he just slung an arm around her waist, pulled her closer as he let his eyes fall shut, and whispered a quiet thanks. Andie was shocked by his behavior, but not enough to let it prevent her from swiftly falling asleep, comfortably resting in his arms.

~*~*~*~*~

“So the whole witch trials thing in America?”

“I mean, it’s possible someone was actually a witch, but as far as any witch history can tell, they were just victims of a crazy strict Christian society that saw anything that was “other” as bad and dubbed it as witchcraft. There’s a chance someone was practicing hoodoo or something similar, but we don’t think there were any legitimate witches there.”

“And hoodoo is different from witchcraft?”

Andie took a sip from her latte before answering. “They’re both magic, technically, but they garner their power from different sources. Hoodoo is mostly based in the spiritual, sort of like a religion. There’s a lot of tie to the afterlife and the power passed beings can offer. Whereas witchcraft is based on the existing energy in the earth and its creations. Every living being on earth has the ability to harness this energy, witches were just bred inadvertently to have better control. When I cast spells, I can feel it in my every cell.”

Harry nodded, looking thoughtful as he peered down into the hot chocolate he’d ordered. “I sort of noticed that last night. I could physically feel it run through my body when you’d completed the spell.”

Andie hummed. “It’s not uncommon for the recipient of a spell, especially protective ones, to experience an energy transfer upon completion of the ritual. In a nutshell, I’ve connected my magical energy to you in order to keep you protected from any sort of magical harm. As best as I can anyway. Some magical and supernatural entities have a bit more power than I can put into a basic warding spell.”

“And I’m reckoning wraiths are one of those entities.”

Harry and Andie locked eyes, and she was reluctant to nod her confirmation.

The duo had stayed up until nearly three in the morning, Andromeda best explaining what she could about her being a witch and why it was that she was taking extra steps to put a protective ward around Harry. He’d accepted it easily enough, but she was pretty sure it was just because he was starting to drift off into sleep.

When they’d woken that morning, she was expecting to be in bed alone, Harry off somewhere freaking out over everything that had happened in the wee hours of the morning. Instead, she’d opened her eyes and immediately been confronted with Harry’s own green ones, seeming nearly translucent in the morning light steaming through his window. Their legs were tangled together, so tightly that Andie wasn’t really sure who's limbs were who’s. Their noses were nearly touching, both their heads resting on one pillow despite Harry having a pretty spacious queen bed. And while they’d woken up plenty of times snuggled together after a sleep over, they’d never woken up that close.

If Harry was startled by it, it didn’t show. He’d simply smiled at her before placing a soft kiss on her nose. He’d suggested heading to the cafe around the block for breakfast, and here they were, only twenty minutes later.

Andie wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but she was going to act like it was any other day if that was the way Harry wanted to play it.

“Unfortunately.”

“What about them is so special?” Harry wondered, swirling his mug, most likely to mix up some of the chocolate that had settled at the bottom.

“Wraiths are created when dark magic goes wrong. Usually a resurrection ritual. If it’s performed incorrectly or the witch isn’t channeling enough energy from the right sources, something goes haywire, and the result is a manifestation of all that, since it can’t be channeled to whatever resurrection the witch was trying to perform.”

“There’s a difference in magic types?” Harry asked, his brows puckering in confusion. Andie would think it was adorable if they weren’t in the middle of a very serious conversation.

Who was she kidding? She thought it was adorable regardless of the topic.

“Of course. I like to think of magic like the internet.” Andie grabbed a napkin from the dispenser at the end of the table and looked for a pen in her purse. Coming up empty, she glanced at Harry and pressed a finger to her lips, telling him to keep quiet about what she was about to do. She rubbed her fingers together before pressing the tip of her pointer finger to the napkin. It started writing like a pen onto the paper, and Harry emitted a startled gasp before quieting down.

Andie drew out a triangle and then a line through the top of the shape, imitating an iceberg in water.

“The tip is the surface magic. It’s about ten percent of the entire magical ability of the universe.” She drew an arrow to the small section at the top and labeled it. “Hypothetically speaking, anyone can access this part of magic if they really wanted to and dedicated their time to learning how. But all witches can harness this magic pretty effortlessly. Some spells are a little harder than others, but it should be no real strain on a witch.”

She drew a dotted line about halfway through the rest of the triangle that was under the waterline she’d drawn. She made another label for the center portion. “This is what we’ll call advanced magic. This can only be accessed with dedication and an ability to harness energy from other sources, like the earth and crystals and natural phenomena. New moon, blood moon, eclipses, all that. It’s a bit more of a stretch for most witches, but it can be achieved with a bit of hard work. Witches with an inherently stronger bloodline can pretty easily access this portion.”

Andie finally circled the lowest portion. “And this is dark magic. It’s all the stuff that betrays the laws of nature. Necromancy, possession, time travel, teleportation. When a witch fucks it up somehow, bad things can happen. Usually to the witch trying to perform the ritual, but sometimes to nature itself. Thus, wraiths are created.”

“And now I’ve got the result of botched dark magic following me around?” Andie nodded. “Love that for myself.”

Andie couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped. Harry wasn’t one to commonly use popular slang or phrases, so when he did, it was startlingly hilarious.

“While I’m glad you can joke about it, it’s not something to take lightly. I’m workin’ on getting some information about how to get rid of it. Either just disconnecting it from you or putting it back in whatever hell hole it came from.”

“Considerin’ that thing was made from dark magic, sounds like gettin’ rid of it is gonna be hard,” Harry sighed, pushing his mug away from him.

Andie paused. How was she going to tell her best friend that she was part of the most pure witch bloodline in the world? That her mother was pretty much the strongest witch that had ever lived? That she herself was bound for that same tier once she hit her twenty-fifth birthday? It wasn’t exactly something you just drop on an unsuspecting mortal. Though, she supposed you didn’t just tell them you were a witch, either. Given the extenuating circumstances, maybe it wasn’t the most shocking thing he’d heard that day. And hopefully all the revelations wouldn’t get her in trouble with her mum or the council. She had an obligation to protect the mortal world from any magical threat, and Harry was her best friend.

“Can we go back to mine?” Andie suggested. She grabbed the napkin she’d drawn on and crumpled it up in her fist before shoving it in her pocket. No need for any curious waitress to come along and see that.

“Sure. Wanna go get my car?” Harry asked.

Andie shook her head. “No, follow me.”

“Andie, your flat is a ten minute drive. That’s nearly an hour walk.”

“Who said anything about walking?”

“Please tell me you’ve got a broom.”

Andie laughed and shook her head, leading him out the doors and into a deserted alley.

~*~*~*~*~

“I thought you said teleportation was dark magic.”

“There’s ways around most of the magical no-no’s,” Andie shrugged, dropping her bag by her front door. “Conjuring a portal is not technically teleportation. It requires an already established ending point. So, this mirror, for example.” She pointed at the mirror right by the front door of her flat that they’d just stepped through. “I’ve bewitched it to act as a portal. I can arrive to it from any given location, and I can use it to access other portals. But I can’t just decide in the middle of my day to pop into Paris for an afternoon trip. Unless I knew a specific portal location.”

Harry gazed at the mirror for a few moments, probably trying to see if there was anything physically out of the ordinary from any other vertical mirror he’d ever seen. He eventually gave a short nod and said, “Neat.”

Andie started the kettle on the stove as she regaled to Harry the importance of her family line.

“My family can be traced back to, like…the inception of witches,” she told him. “And there’s only three families that can say that. So, those three families have always made up the council, as well as elected witches from prominent covens.”

“You have a council?” Harry asked, tucking himself beside her as she prepared their teas. Her kitchen wasn’t very big, so it wasn’t difficult to be in each other’s space, but this was intentional. He’d pressed himself into the sliver of space between where she stood and the counter, not seeming to have any care that her elbow was brushing against him with every move that she made.

“Witches need governing bodies, Harry,” she said pointedly. “Why do you think dark magic is considered taboo? That wasn’t just something every witch decided on independently. In the early nineteenth century, it was voted on by the council that the usage of dark magic is punishable by death, if that witch hadn’t killed themselves in the process.”

“This sounds a lot like that season of American Horror Story,” he commented.

Andie smirked. Harry and her had watched all the seasons together on Netflix the previous summer.

“Sort of,” she shrugged. “We have rules and laws and our own judicial system, essentially. But the whole competition for Supreme thing and those weird tests aren’t true.”

“So no, like, Queen Witch, then?”

Andie bobbled her head around, a mix between and nod and a shake. “Not necessarily. Some witches are more powerful than others, based on bloodline. But that doesn’t give them superiority over other witches.”

“And I’m guessin’ you’re in one of those bloodlines.”

She glanced over at him while pouring the water in their mugs, trying to gauge his reaction. His face was almost annoyingly still, betraying no real emotion beside his genuine interest. There was no telling what he was really thinking. Considering all that he’d been made privy to, Andie reckoned this stuff was easy.

“Yeah. My mum is the oldest living female of the succession, so she’s considered the most powerful. And as her daughter, I’m second in line.”

“Do men ever possess that title?”

She shook her head. “No. Not unless there are no other females. So like, if I had a brother, and both my mum and I died, he’d acquire that power.”

“What if you never have kids? What happens then?”

“My mum has two younger sisters. The line would fall to her and her children.”

“So, it’s kinda a royal family situation?”

“Pretty much. Except female-oriented.”

“Why is that? Do you know?”

Andie handed off his tea, prepared just the way he liked it, with a dash of milk and one spoonful of sugar. Andie preferred hers plain.

“It’s got to do with females being able to bear children, and their inherent connection with the earth because of it.”

Harry was quiet for a few moments, seeming to finally take a moment to think things over. Andie ushered him into her living room, where Beelzebub was napping contently on the arm of her couch. Darn thing hadn’t even stirred when Andie and Harry had stepped into the room, simply opening one eye to see who it was. When he’d deemed them nonthreatening, he’d closed it and went back to sleep.

After nearly five whole minutes of silence, Harry spoke up.

“Is this all to say that if anyone can get this fuckin’ thing off my back, it’s you?”

Andie paused before giving him a reluctant nod. “Yep.”

He was quiet again, staring pensively into his tea, which he’d only taken a couple tentative sips out of. Suddenly, but with a sureness Andie was almost surprised to see out of him, Harry reached his hand out and grabbed onto the one she had resting in her lap. He slotted their fingers together and gave it a brief, tight squeeze before looking up at her.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

~*~*~*~*~

Until Andie got some answers or leads, she insisted that Harry stay with her in her flat when he wasn’t in class or at work. She was hoping that the ward she’d put up around him, as well as the protections she’d put up around her flat were enough to keep the wraith far enough away to let Harry carry on like normal. It seemed to be working, as she’d never seen the thing more than one hundred yards away at any given time. And when Harry couldn’t be in the protection of her home or in her presence, she sent Bub with him to keep an eye on him and alert her if anything was wrong. Luckily, it’d been a week and nothing tragic or harrowing had happened as of yet. She knew she couldn’t become comfortable in the mundane, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She’d received a call from Sarah a few days prior, letting her know that she’d contacted someone who might have some insight, and she was just waiting for them to be available to come to the UK. The witch was apparently a pretty prominent facet in a large American coven, so she had her hands full, but she was trying to arrange things to help Andromeda. She was glad to hear that something had panned out, but it seemed like now it was a waiting game.

However, for as anxious as Sia was about getting answers and keeping Harry safe until that time, she was actually really enjoying being with Harry so often. While they hung out regularly before, now it was amplified. They were living together, for all intents and purposes. When she got home from class, Harry was there, revising at the kitchen table. When she got hungry, Harry helped her prepare food or called into a local restaurant to order take out. When she woke up in the morning, it was to the sound of Harry singing in the shower—beautifully, she might add. It was really unfair how amazing Harry was at pretty much everything he did.

Spending all this time together was really playing with Andie’s emotions, though.

Since she didn’t have an extra bedroom, Andie and Harry shared a bed each night, so they fell asleep next to each other, and if neither of them had an early class, they woke up together. Harry was usually awake first, so Andie would wake to his leg brushing against hers and the back of his fingers brushing her hair away from her face. And the way he would look at her when he woke her like that…she couldn’t describe it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to describe it. She was thinking too far into it would leave her with a perpetual migraine.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Harry to have the feelings she knew he was harboring. She harbored them herself, admittedly. All his little touches and the way his eyes would linger on her when she came or went from any room would make the butterflies in her stomach take manic flight. She loved every second of his attention, but she kept trying to convince herself that nothing could come of it. While it wasn’t uncommon that witches had relationships with mortals, she didn’t want to put Harry at more risk than she already had with the whole wraith situation. With the type of power that Andie possessed, dark forces liked to follow her around. It was only natural that they would sense the weakness of a mortal and latch onto him. She didn’t want that. She had to protect him. Partially because she had a moral obligation but mostly because she loved him.

Her love for Harry had never been more apparent and strong than the last week they’d been in close contact nearly 24/7. And there was no denying that she’d been in love with him for nearly as long as she’d known him. She couldn’t even lie to herself anymore, let alone her friends, both mortal and witch. Sarah never let her forget it, and while they were keeping from Niall that they were currently staying together, he seemed to be picking up on it whenever all three of them were together. Andie could see the knowing look in his eye any time Andie would laugh at one of Harry’s stupid jokes and place a hand on his arm, or when she would reach over and wipe something from his face with no hesitation. She steadfastly avoided Niall’s gaze when she knew he was giving her a pointed look. She didn’t want to give anything away in her guilty look.

“What are you thinkin’ so hard about?”

Andromeda gasped and gave a little yelp, nearly jumping a mile in the air. She whirled around from her spot at the stove where she was browning some ground beaf in order to make some spaghetti for dinner. She slapped at Sarah’s arms a few times in retaliation, groaning out her frustration with her friend just popping in unannounced and scaring the shit out of her.

“Jesus Christ, S! Make some fuckin’ noise, will ya? Gave me a fuckin’ heart attack.”

“Sorry, figured you’d heard me,” she shrugged, peering over Andie’s shoulder to see what she had going on the stove. “Wasn’t tryin’ to be quiet.”

“I wasn’t paying attention, and I sent Bub out with Harry.”

“That’s what I’m here about,” she said. “Why are you makin’ this by hand?” she added as an afterthought.

“Just because I can use magic, doesn’t mean I should,” Andie huffed, rolling her eyes. “Besides, I like cooking. Anyway, what have you got?”

“Got word from my source,” Sarah said, watching as Andie filled up a pot of water to put on to boil. “Said she’ll be here by Wednesday. Wants to make sure your portal will zap her in from America.”

“There’s no restriction on distance, as long as I accept the transportation request. Have her send it over, and I’ll get it done.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Does she have concrete answers?”

Sarah was silent for more than a few beats, so Andie looked to her after she’d lit the burner under the water. She was chewing on the inside of her cheek, her ultimate tell for her anxiety.

“What is it?” Andie asked, dread filling her stomach.

“She has answers, but there’s no guarantee that it’ll work,” Sarah said hesitantly. Andie was working extra hard on not letting her sinking emotions get the better of her. She didn’t have time to freak out. “There’s no official records of successful wraith banishments.”

“Just because they’re not recorded doesn’t mean they didn’t happen.”

“Exactly,” Sarah agreed with a succinct nod. “My source claims to have witnessed one, and she has a text from the early seventeenth century that outlines a ritual that is supposed to do the job. I haven’t seen what it entails, but it’s worth a shot.”

Andie blew up her cheeks and let out the breath between pursed lips. She turned off the burner for the meat before looking back to Sarah. She nodded.

“Okay. Just let me know what time on Wednesday. I have class at eleven. I’ll skip if I have to. I’m sure Harry would, too.”

Sarah agreed just as the front door of Andie’s flat opened, Harry sort of stumbling in the door with his book bag and a few bags of groceries, Bub sneaking in behind him just before he closed the door. He hung his keys on the hooks near the portal/mirror and toed off his shoes.

“Hey, I know you’re makin’ spaghetti tonight, so I picked up some French bread and a couple bottles of wine. And I also got stuff to make chicken parmesan tomorrow. Oh, and some more coffee creamer. I used the last of it this morning.”

Harry didn’t realise there was someone else in the kitchen until he walked through the doorway, stopping short when he saw Sarah standing beside Andie. They’d never met before, as Andie had always tried her hardest to keep her witch friends and coven away from her mortal friends. It was easier to keep track of conversations that way, and it prevented any slip-ups beyond Andie’s control. While she trusted her coven with her life, she couldn’t control what came out of their mouths, and she couldn’t risk that around her mortal friends.

“Hey,” Harry greeted, eyes glancing between Andie and Sarah, obviously a bit confused.

“Harry, this is my friend, Sarah. Sarah, Harry,” Andie quickly introduced.

Harry and Sarah exchanged pleasantries, and Andie could see that Harry quickly realised that Sarah was also a witch, not just some random friend she’d never introduced or brought around.

“You staying for dinner?” Andie asked Sarah as Harry unloaded the groceries he’d brought home.

“Nah, just wanted to pop in and update you on what was goin’ on,” Sarah declined. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you on Wednesday.”

Andie bid her friend farewell and watched as she disappeared through the portal.

“Is she in the same coven as you?” Harry asked? He flitted around the kitchen to get the bread-cutting knife and a cutting board as he waited for her to answer.

“Yeah, she’s a couple years older than us, but we’ve always gotten along really well. And she’s travelled a lot, so she’s got a lot of connections. She’s our go-to when we need contacts.”

“She the one that’s trying to get ahold of someone to help with the wraith thing?”

Andie added the spaghetti to the boiling water as she nodded. “That’s what she was here about. The other witch will be here Wednesday. Hopefully, we’ll have some concrete answers soon.” She didn’t want to tell him about the lack of substantial evidence that any of it would work. No need to stress him out when he’d been handling all of it so well up to that point.

“Well, I can afford to miss a couple classes if I need to,” he assured.

“I figured. I’ll let you know when I get a better idea of when she’ll be here.”

The changed the conversation after that, talking about their days as they finished up dinner. Harry helped her plate the food and take it to the table before pouring two glasses of wine. Harry asked if they could play some music, so Andie asked him what album he wanted. They agreed on the Rumours album, and with a wave of her hand, the record player set itself up and started playing the album softly through the speakers around her telly.

Harry asked her about the abilities she had that weren’t related to specific spells and incantations. She explained that it came with the “powerful bloodline” thing, as not all witches had the sort of telekinetic abilities she did. It could be learned, sure, but it would never be like the natural ability Andie and her family had.

By the time they finished dinner, they’d finished the bottle of wine Harry had opened before they sat down. While Andie was not even close to drunk, she was pleasantly buzzy, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much at Harry’s stupid jokes and wild stories about people he came into contact with at his job at the record store near campus.

Andie was still chuckling at Harry’s last joke when she took their plates to the sink to rinse them off and load the dishwasher. Harry was quiet, and Andie figured he was going to turn off the record player or something, so she startled when she felt hands on her waist, not gripping, just gently resting.

“I’ll do the dishes since you cooked,” Harry offered, his voice quiet, nearly drowned out by the music that still played in the living room.

“No, it’s fine,” Andie denied. “It’s like three dishes, and I’m nearly done.”

“Then just let me finish.”

Andie chuckled again, turning off the faucet. “Harry, really.” She turned to look at him, and the sound that was in her mouth died when she saw the look on his face.

Harry didn’t say anything, either. His eyes flit over her face, probably taking in the slight widening of her eyes at her surprise and the way her lips were gently parted from the words fading from her lips when she’d turned around. His left hand left her waist and reached up to push her hair back from her face, carefully tucking it behind her ear. He let his fingers linger, tracing over her jaw.

The buzz that had been lingering in her veins quickly dissipated in favor of the static Harry’s fingers were zapping into her skin. Andie gasped lightly as his index caressed her bottom lip.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered.

Harry stepped closer to her, pushing the small of her back into the edge of the sink and placing his thigh between both of hers.

Andie thought if Harry ever gathered the courage to kiss her or start anything with her, she would deny him. In the nicest way possible, of course, because Harry was a sweet baby angel who was too pure for this world, but it would still have to happen. She didn’t want to get him tangled up with anything that could be dangerous for him.

But that was the exact opposite of what she was doing now that the situation had actually presented itself. When Harry leaned down and barely brushed his lips against hers, she was the one who leaned forward and pressed harder, effectively pulling them both into a kiss that had both of their hearts racing. Andie was the one to wind her arms around his neck and reach up onto her toes so Harry wouldn’t have to lean down so far. She was the one that sifted her fingers through the cute little curls at the back of his neck and pull him tighter into her. She was the first one to dart her tongue out, swiping lithely at his bottom lip, and gave a little satisfied moan when he opened to her, his tongue meeting with her own.

Though she wasn’t sure who it was that led them down the hallway to her bedroom, their mouths still pressed firmly together. She did know, however, that Harry was the one that closed her bedroom door, shadowing them in darkness. Andie didn’t hesitate to swipe her hand and light the candles that were scattered around her room.

With a light shove, Andie plopped on her bum to the bed. She scooted back further into the center, watching as Harry stood at the edge, watching her closely. Andie was sure she’d never seen Harry so serious and still, save for the light heaving of his chest.

“You sure?” Harry asked, his voice nearly a whole octave deeper than it usually was, a slight growl to it.

Andie nodded.

Harry proceeded to provide Andie with the most scintillating strip tease she’d ever had the pleasure of witnessing. While that probably wasn’t his intention, watching as he shucked his cosy jumper to reveal a plain white t-shirt underneath, then watching him peel that off to reveal every inch of his toned stomach and broad chest, along with all the dark ink that was scattered over his smooth skin was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

He paused after removing his shoes and socks, his hands poised at the fly of his jeans. He looked up at Andie from under his lashes, looking her over from head to toe.

“You gonna join me? Or am I gonna be naked on my own?”

Andie swallowed hard, a little surprised and a lot aroused by the commanding tone in Harry’s voice. She quickly reached to take pull her shirt over her head and then wiggle off the skirt she was wearing, leaving her in her knickers and the thigh-high socks. When Andie reached around to undo her bra, Harry finally un buttoned his jeans and pulled them down with his boxers, finally letting Andie see all of him. When she saw his cock, standing stiff and proud from between his hips, she gasped.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, but not quiet enough to prevent Harry from hearing. He was big—a lot bigger than any other man she’d ever been with, and while it was a bit daunting, it only served to excite her more.

Harry smirked at her before kneeling on the bed, making his way between Andie’s legs. He ran his hands from her ankles, over the soft material of her stalkings, up to her exposed skin of her upper thighs and hips, before hooking his fingers into the lacy material of her panties. He looked up at her as he leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh.

He made quick work of pulling her panties off and tossed them off the side of the bed. Andie went to peel her socks off, but Harry caught her hands.

“Leave ‘em on.”

Andie nodded and pulled her hands away, leaning back into the pillows that were propped up on her headboard. Harry followed her, resting his hips against hers and using his elbows beside her head to hover over her. He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss, swiping his tongue once along her lips before trailing his own across her jaw and down her neck, placing a teasing bite at the junction between her shoulder and her neck. Goosebumps rose along her arms.

She ran her hands down Harry’s back, gently gliding over the muscles as they tensed and relaxed with his movements. He skimmed his lips along her collarbone and down the center of her chest, taking a detour to her left breast, and then her right, laving his tongue and teeth over her erect nipples, pulling little mewls and moans from her mouth. He drug licking kisses down her stomach, stopping briefly to place a kiss just below her navel, but continuing his pace down to her mound.

He pressed a light peck to the hood of her clit before sliding his tongue out to lap at her folds. He moaned as her tangy flavour burst across his tastebuds. She was already wet, despite them not doing much but kissing and lightly touching. He couldn’t wait to get more of her in his mouth.

With that little taste, he couldn’t stop himself from completely covering her with his mouth. Andie shivered as he darted his tongue into her entrance, gathering her arousal before drawing the tip up and flicking lightly at her bud. Andie shot her hands into his hair, pressing his head closer to her center. Harry took the hint and took a broader lick at her clit before pursing his lips around it, giving it a cursory suck. Andie moaned loud, dropping her head back into the pillows. Her fingers tugged at Harry’s curls now, hips thrusting up to meet his pulsing sucks. He wound his arms around her thighs, keeping her close to him as he buried his face into her sweet center. He couldn’t withhold his own moans as more of her arousal flooded into his mouth, her hole fluttering and clenching around nothing. He swapped his mouth for three of his fingers, rubbing swiftly at her clit as he pushed his tongue into her entrance.

Andie took a shuddering breath. She was completely overwhelmed with his attention, on the verge of falling over the edge. His grip on her thighs were preventing her from rubbing more vigorously against his mouth and fingers. She needed more though.

“Harry, please,” she gasped. “Need more.”

He reluctantly pulled his mouth away from her, licking his lips. “What do you need, love?”

Andie didn’t realise when the words, “Choke me,” came out of her mouth. She didn’t have time to process it and be embarrassed, though. Harry’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, before he leaned back down to wrap his lips back around her clit. The fingers that were previously rubbing at it moved to enter her, two sliding in easily with how wet she was for him.

She let her head drop back, reveling in the new sensation of Harry’s fingers rubbing at the soft spongy spot inside her. She hummed when his free hand trailed from it’s place around her thigh, up her stomach and chest, and eventually around her throat. His fingers deftly found each of her veins running up her neck, applying light pressure. That mixed with the weight of his palm resting against the center of her throat was exactly what she needed to finally succumb to her pleasure.

Harry moaned against her center as her walls clenched against his fingers and her wetness coated his chin and palm. He kept rubbing and sucking her through it, Andie eventually having to shove him away by the crown of his head.

He crawled up her body, pressing sporadic kisses as she came down from her high. Her legs bent up to cradle Harry’s hips against her own, bucking up into the feeling of his erection resting against the curve of her pelvis. Harry groaned into the curve of her neck before pressing a kiss to her jugular. He drew his knees up on either side of her hips and wrapped his arms around her back, pressing their chests together and lifting her so she was straddling him.

“Want you like this,” he sighed into her mouth.

“Okay,” Andie agreed. She had no hesitation in reaching between them to take ahold of his cock and place it at her entrance. Slowly, she sank down on him until they were flush against each other. They moaned into each others mouths.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Harry panted.

“So fuckin’ big,” Andie returned smiling into his neck.

Harry snickered as he thrust his hips up into her, causing her to gasp.

Andie got the hint and started rocking her hips against his, groaning each time he hit the deepest part of her. They were in a position that had her clit perfectly rubbing against his pubic bone. She wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to keep up the position, but she was going to really enjoy it while it lasted.

Harry helped her along by gripping her hips and propelling her motion, keeping his head buried in her neck, licking at kissing at her skin between his moans. When he realised she couldn’t keep it up any longer, he laid her back down on the bed, lifting her legs by the back of her knees, pressing her thighs into her chest. His cock was so hard that he had no trouble sliding back into her with no aid.

“Fuckin’ soaked for me,” he grunted. “Like the way I fuck your cunt, darlin’?”

His hips were pounding into her so hard Andie had to reach up to brace her hands against her headboard to avoid bashing her head into it. Of all the ways she’d imagined Harry would be in bed, this was not it. He was always so gentle and kind, so seeing his muscles all bunched with effort and his skin shiny with sweat and the words coming out of his mouth and the strength behind each of his thrusts…it was a lot.

Andie sobbed out a moan when he brought one of his hands down to rub his thumb along her clit in a quick flicking motion. Her orgasm barreled through her, her mouth opening in a silent scream as she lost her breath. Harry didn’t slow through her climax, simply just forced his hips harder to overcome the strong clenching of her walls around him. He was barely keeping it together, since she was so tight, but he was determined to draw at least one more from her before he finished himself.

“So fuckin’ beautiful when you come for me, pet.”

Harry withdrew himself as he tried to catch his breath. He tapped on her hip to get her attention, motioning for her to roll over onto her stomach. She nodded before gracelessly flopping over, only being careful enough not to accidentally knee him in the junk. That would be a tragedy in the middle of all this.

He grabbed her by the hips to lift her onto her knees, keeping her chest pressed to the bed. He asked her for his hands and gathered her wrists in one of his fists at the small of her back. He used the leverage to draw her back onto his cock, his balls slapping against her skin. Her moans were load even when muffled into her pillows as Harry drove into her at a punishing pace. Andie’s hands flailed in his grasp, trying to find purchase on something to grip onto in her haze of pleasure. Harry saw this and released her wrists to clasp one of her hands with his, her other one reaching down beside her to grip at her sheets.

“Harry,” she gasped when he changed positions, angling his hips so he was hitting that sensitive spot inside of her. She got that telltale sensation that she had only experienced by herself before, that full feeling and that tingling pleasure that said she was going to explode. “I’m gonna…”

He reached under her with his free hand and rubbed against her clit, too close to his own orgasm to keep her on the edge.

Andie couldn’t hold it back any longer. With a few sure passes of his fingers and his unrelenting pace, Andie was cumming harder than she was pretty sure she ever had, especially with anyone else. Liquid pulsed from her body in rhythm with Harry’s thrusts. She was moaning out unintelligible words.

It took Harry a few seconds to realise that she was ejaculating all over his thighs and her sheets. If the strong fluttering of her pussy was enough to send him over, then seeing the evidence of her orgasm all over his skin was really overkill. His stomach clenched hard, forcing him to double over on top of her, pressing his chest to her back. He laid sucking kisses to her shoulders as he came down, both of them panting and sweaty.

After several moments, Harry pulled his hips from hers, breaking them apart with a groan. He flopped onto his back beside her, pulling her off her knees and into his chest. Her pale skin was covered in a light sheen of sweat and her pupils were still blown out when she looked at him. She licked her lips before smiling coyly at him.

“Wanted to do that for a long time,” she told him.

Harry smiled and pushed her hair back from her face like he had in the kitchen earlier, which had led to their time in bed. He pressed a quick but passionate kiss on her lips before saying, “Me, too.”

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