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Betelgeuse flicked his cigarette away and she watched it sail through the air before it disappeared, blipping out of her room as if he'd aimed it at a tiny rift in the fabric of reality. "Whelp, it's not the job I ever thought you'd call me for, but it's not one I mind doin'. C'mere."
He was on her so quickly she couldn't swear she'd actually seen him move, his arms twining around her torso then back and over one another like twin boa constrictors. He buried his face in her neck, mumbling a torrent of c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere, lemme see what we're workin' with heres. Lydia screamed. Then she laughed. Then she couldn't stop laughing, which made her attempts to escape from the fifty feet of expanding arms snaking around her all the weaker and more ineffectual. They felt soft and bendable, like inflatable Halloween yard decorations. Pushing and pulling at them only made them deflate and collapse around her hands. Betelgeuse pressed himself against her and nuzzled into her neck as she struggled, and she could feel his hands -- at an impossible and increasingly ridiculous distance from his shoulders -- running along the length of her body, stroking every inch of her. It tickled, which only served to make her laugh more. It felt nice.
I never thought tonight could ever be this close to me by babilonium on AO3
The lovely @sillyysunnyy illustrated a scene from my fic!! I'm so moved by the gesture, and so smitten with this beautiful art!! 🕸🕷🪲🍹